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obx-paradiseonearth · 4 years ago

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Could you do kook boys x reader (reader dating rafe but best friends with all 3) pls🥰

Absolutely! I made it a headcanon I hope that’s okay! Enjoy lovely!

// Dating Rafe and Being Best Friends with Kelce and Topper //

You started out as best friends, you’ve known them all since middle school, you were ridiculously shy and they were the type of boys who were super loud, always trying to make the shy people speak

You know the type, the idiot boys who are always like “why don’t you talk? You know you can talk, right?”

Yeah, the idiot boys

Well one day you just weren’t having a good day, bad hair day, homework done but not well, and you tripped on your way in the door; you were basically verging on a level five meltdown and god help the people who push you over the edge

A.K.A. Rafe Cameron, Topper Thornton, and Kelce Smith

“Hey, Princess-” that’s what they’d been calling you for weeks, it made you seeth and blush at the same time, “saw that fall earlier, it looked kind of nasty. You ok?”

You had rolled your eyes, closing your locker a little louder than you had intended to but you honestly didn’t care, “what do you care, Thornton?”

Their eyes had widened and you would have laughed if you weren’t already fuming, your fingers clamped around your biology textbook- that’s another thing for the list, you despised biology- half a second away from slamming someone’s head into the ground, yours included

“We’re just worried, Prin-”

“Don’t you say it, Cameron. Don’t fucking say it.” You had bit out, stepping towards him, your free hand curled in a fist

Kelce had laughed at that, slapping Rafe on the back, “you fucking heard her man. Little mama finally found her voice. I’m proud.”

Your cheeks had gone hot instantly but you didn’t step down, “not much better, Smith.”

“Yeah, well tough,” he had grabbed your textbook, stacking it on his identical one, “you coming or what?”

That was it, that was all it took for you to be one of them, it all happened super fast to be honest, after that you started sitting with them at lunch- well, they started sitting with you- and hanging out after school, they started closing ranks around you in every class and in the hallway, you were untouchable from that moment

They were pretty hardcore too, always around- not that you minded- and always tensing when other people gave you weird looks, Rafe especially, always ready to swing at someone for simply walking past you wrong, his jaw always tight in the cafeteria and hallway

You would ask them for the first year a lot why they even hung out with you

One night the summer before freshman year of high school you were especially persistent

“I’m serious guys, what’s the deal?” You were at the beach, digging your toes into the sand as you watched the sun set.

Rafe and Kelce were rough housing, rolling around on the surf and howling with laughter, Topper was next to you, handing you a diet coke with his eyebrows furrowed

“What do you mean?”

You had bitten your lip, feeling a little ridiculous, “why are we friends?”

At this point Rafe and Kelce were listening too, their eyes glued to you, “why not?”

“I just said I’m being serious, Top. I mean it, I don’t understand. I’m a nobody and yet all of a sudden you guys are always around, in full force, a fucking brigade. Is this a joke or something? Make the loner girl part of the club and then drop her? Are you guys fucking hazing me? I'm going to go into freshman year thinking everything will be rosy and you guys are going to dump pigs blood on me or some shit.” All of a sudden you were crying, shoving the bottle into the sand and standing, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet

“Woah, woah, woah,” Rafe had stood when you did, clearing the space between you much too quickly, “where’s this coming from, Princess? Did someone say something to you? I swear to god if someone fucking said some-”

“No one said anything, ok? Chill out. It just doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense.”

The tears were freely flowing by this point, fuelled by both embarrassment and anger, all of the boys speechless, Topper verging on tears himself as he dug his fingers into the surf, trying to think of anything at all he could say but nothing was coming to mind

It was Kelce who finally spoke first, wrapping his arms- sticky from the ocean and hinted with the dregs of sunscreen from earlier- around your shoulders and squeezing tight, “what’s gotten into you, mamas? You’re spiraling on me. Take a breath, yeah? We’re friends with you because we want to be. Does there need to be more reason than that?”

You had thrown your arms around him, your whole body shaking from the tears, “I’m sorry, Kels. It’s just so much. I’m confused.”

Rafe and Topper had pulled it together by now, circling around you, their hands on your back

“We don’t need a reason to be friends with you, What’s so confusing about being liked. You’re fucking amazing.”

“I’m not kidding, Princess. If someone fucking said something.”

“I know, I know. You’ll kick their ass.”

High school rolls around soon after that and things only get more intense, but in a good way, you’re always busy, weekdays and weekends, day and night, always with one or more of them, doing everything together

They get more popular in high school, Topper joining the football team and Kelce joining the track team, leaving you and Rafe to spend more time together alone, going to their games and track meets together, dressing up in the school colours and cheering like mad, sitting in the front row together

One night, during one of Topper’s games, you’re on the edge of your seat watching the constant back and forth of the game, tapping your foot and fingers relentlessly, your eyes glued to the field, and all of a sudden you feel someone grab your hand

When you glance down you see a ring- Rafe’s ring- and he rubs his thumb over your wrist, neither of you say anything but that’s the first time you realize you feel something different for the boy, he’s your best friend but he’s also more

All of a sudden you start getting nervous around him, dropping your books and stumbling over your words when he’s around, feeling your heart pick up whenever he sits next to you, especially when Kelce calls shotgun in Topper’s Range Rover and the two of you get shoved into the backseat together

One night in particular you guys drive out of town to go to a drive in movie theatre that Kelce has been raving about and like usual you and Rafe are forced into the back- lately that has been happening more and more- and you zone out, lost in the movie, when you feel a hand on your thigh

Obviously it’s Rafe’s, warm and curled around your leg, and he leans over, his mouth right next to your ear, “come cuddle, Princess.”

You nod at him, not trusting your words, and he wraps his arms around your hips, stretching his legs on the back seat and pulling you onto his lap, his head on your shoulder, his hands now around your stomach, you’re certain he can feel your heart pounding through your back which is pressed against his chest

He smells like oranges and you can’t even pretend to focus on the movie anymore, your attention fully on the way his hands smooth up and down your sides, eventually dipping under your t-shirt and splaying against your ribs

“Rafe-” you have to whisper in order to not catch the attention of Topper and Kelce who are absorbed in the movie- “what are you doing.”

“I like you,” his lips find your jaw, his hands squeezing your ribs, “like a lot. I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

Your breath catches when he says that, tensing on his lap, wondering if he’s being serious or if he’s just playing at something, “don’t play games with me, Rafe. It’s not nice.”

He grabs your jaw, pulling your eyes to meet his serious ones, “haven’t I more than proven that I don’t mess around when it comes to you? I like you, Princess. Fuck, I could say I lo-”

“Don't say it, Rafe. Please. We’re best friends.”

Your heart is pounding, your heart in your throat. You want him to say it, more than anything, but it’ll complicate things in your circle and these boys mean more to you than anything in the world and you don’t want to risk losing Topper and Kelce in the process

“I don’t care, I love you.”

Your whole body lights on fire when he says it, your veins singing to life in the dark backseat as he tightens his hold on you, his eyes searching yours for any indication that you feel the same way

“Rafe, I-”

“Just say you love me back. I’ll let it go but I need to hear you say it once.”

“Of course I love you, Rafe Cameron. You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I don’t.”

He doesn’t waste any time opening the door, pushing you gently out of the car and tossing a quick “we’re going to get popcorn, be back in a few” to Topper and Kelce

He tugs you behind the concession building, pushing you against the brick, his hands on your hips, his blue eyes dark and burning into yours, his eyebrows pulled together, his lips pursed, like he’s trying to figure something out

Meanwhile your heart is pounding so hard you’re pretty sure it’s trying to escape your chest, you feel like you could throw up from all the adrenaline pumping through your veins, every second feels like minutes and by the time a minute passes you feel like you’ve been staring at Rafe for hours, on edge and wanting nothing more than to pull him impossibly closer to you

“Rafe come on what are you-”

Just like that he snaps out of it, pulling you by your hips towards him and planting his mouth against yours, kissing you like a madman, his lips hot and surprisingly soft, his mouth tasting like the candy he had bought at the gas station on the way here, pushing your back against the brick and slipping his hand around the back of your neck, every movement desperate and perfect at the same time

“I thought you were going let it go,” you mumble between kisses, your hands tangled in his hair

“Changed my mind, Princess,” he quips back, his mouth never leaving yours

You head back to the car a few minutes later, quite reluctantly, your heart pounding still but this time from the thought of sharing what you had just done with your other best friends. You obviously can’t keep it a secret- that never works it only makes the rift bigger- but the thought of them distancing themselves is terrifying

You silently slip back into the backseat, your hands shaking and your lips swollen, it’s silent for a few seconds, the air tangibly thick, your stomach rolling once more, until you’re ready to snap

“So, where’s the popcorn, huh?” Topper’s eyes meet yours from the rearview mirror and you almost barf, your eyes starting to water

And then they laugh

They fucking laugh

Like hooting, barking, howling laughter

And you’re beyond confused, your body buzzing, until you finally force a “what?” out of your mouth

“Mamas, you didn’t seriously think he wouldn’t tell us did you?”

“He’s been planning this for like a whole two months you idiot. Surprised you didn’t see it coming actually. It was so fucking obvious.”

“Gee, thanks Top. Love the support.”

“Stop you know you love me.”

Rafe just slides an arm around your waist, pulling you back to him and laughing with Kelce, “had to keep it a secret.”

“So does this mean none of you hate me?”

“Mamas, chill, you could kill a city of people and I still wouldn’t hate you.”

Nothing really changes after Rafe tells you he loves you, you start dating but you’re still as thick as thieves with Kelce and Topper, still hanging out with them as you always had before, going on drives with Topper and helping Kelce study for his English homework

Really the only thing that changes is that you make-out more with Rafe, it’s a notable change too, that boy is dangerous with his mouth, but he’s still your best friend at the end of the day

If anything you’re less nervous now that you’re out of that weird confusing period of time where you didn’t know what you felt

When winter formal rolls around you all still go together as you had planned at the beginning of the year, Kelce spikes the punch- also as planned- and you spend the whole night giggling with them about the most stupid shit

“Has anyone else seen Tommy Galagher’s tie? I think I’m going to seriously barf if I have to keep looking at it.”

You slap Topper’s chest lightly, trying not to laugh at the true statement, “then stop looking at it, Top. You’re an idiot.”

He slings an arm over your shoulder, scoffing lightly, “says the girl looking at it right now like you want to burn it.”

You do laugh this time, tugging on his jacket, “I didn’t say you were wrong, did I?”

“Okay, but has anyone checked out how fine Mrs. Campbell is looking this evening?” Kelce pipes in and all four of you burst into a fit of giggles

You dance with Rafe to all the slow songs, your head on his chest and his arms tight around you, smiling when you hear the occasional “go get her tiger” from Kelce

Eventually you ditch the event, going back to Kelce’s place and changing into casual clothes before heading to the beach for a bonfire, just the four of you despite the fact that all of you- including you- had been invited to numerous after parties

You bring a few beach blankets, spreading them near the dunes and falling into a huge pile of limbs and more giggles, the top half of your body on top of Rafe’s chest, Topper’s head on your lap, Kelce sitting next to you, his hand in yours, pleasantly drunk and pretending like he knows anything at all about palm reading

Topper points at a few stars, spouting out names and stories about them that he definitely made up, causing everyone to laugh again, Rafe’s chest shaking under your cheek, his arms falling around your shoulders as you slowly drift off to the lull of your best friends and your boyfriend

You couldn’t ask for anything better than this

I hope you like it and feel free to send in ideas <3

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanon #topper thornton #Kelce smith #Rafe Cameron obx #topper Thornton obx #obx headcannon #Kelce smith obx #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks headcanon #Kelce smith headcanon #topper thornton headcanon

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many-gay-magpies · 3 years ago

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@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

#magpie writes #magpie's writing adventures #enhypen fanfiction #enhaverse fanfiction #enhaverse writing #enhaverse #enha theories #gay yearning #bloodlust

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jincherie · 5 years ago

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potion 609 | pjm & ksj

- COMMISSION -

✩ — pairing: seokjinx reader x jimin ✩ — genre: poly, magic au, roadtrip au, mutual pining, borderline crack, fluff, slight angst ✩ — words: 10.8k ✩ — rating: sfw ✩ — warnings: *sobbing* they’re so stupid man, they’re so stupid ✩ — notes: this took a bit longer than expected, if only because like everyone else in the world rn I’ve had a few unprecedented issues in my life pop up to deal with. I hope u all are well and if you’re not, that you get better soon. please enjoy this mess! <3

A four day roadtrip into the depths of the mountains with the two best friends you’ve recently realised you have feelings for is probably the last thing you need. It becomes a reality, though, when Seokjin and Jimin bring home a cursed doll that reacts with the potion you were making and lands you all cursed yourselves; both forced to say whatever comes to mind and bound to each other. Now stuck in close quarters with your two idiot best friends who for the life of them can not shut up for the foreseeable future while you venture to fix this, you’re beginning to doubt whether you or your heart can survive this trip in one piece.

masterlist | — posted; 24.03.2020

“Oh my god… y/n. What have you done?”

You glare, hard, at the male standing dead in the middle of the room, currently in the midst of being accosted by two idiots you happen to call your best friends. If you hadn’t thought quick and chugged a silencing potion before frantically texting Namjoon, you have no doubt you’d be stuck in the same situation as them right now.

“Please, please, please help us!” Jimin is clutching your professor by the arms, shaking him like a madman. Some of the goo coating his soiled silken grey shirt flings onto your professor’s, and you watch him physically recoil. “I can’t live like this! Jin might be hot but he’s so incredibly stupid and if I have to listen to his unfiltered thoughts all day every day I’m going to lose my [quack]ing mind!”

As much as it pains you, you’re so stressed and exasperated right now that you can’t even laugh at the fact that your professor has spent all of two minutes in the room and already has cast one of his stupid censoring spells on the two of them.

“Excuse me?” Seokjin sounds, smacking Jimin on the arm. “You think I’m hot? Why don’t you tell me more often!! You know I like hearing it! You’re so stingy, honestly. No wonder y/n likes me more.”

At Seokjin’s unwitting confirmation of Jimin’s words, the shorter male turns a look of absolute plea to your professor, grip tightening. The man in his hold then turns to you, looking an odd cross between bewildered and annoyed. Before he says anything more, the two idiots continuing to bicker beyond him, a voice sounds from behind you.

“She can’t talk,” Namjoon supplies smoothly, stepping to your side and slinging his arm around your shoulder with a dimpled grin. “The potion seems to have had the opposite effect on her, oddly enough.”

You resist the urge to spin and pin the male with an impressed look at how smoothly he just pulled that out of his ass, especially after performing a strong silencing spell on you barely a minute ago.

“Well, these two can definitely talk,” your professor says, and the deadpan tone and expression coming from him, someone who is usually so mild mannered and sweet, almost makes you choke on your own spit. Even if you wanted to laugh, Namjoon’s silencing spells are no joke and you can’t let out even the slightest of chuckles. “It seems that not only has the potion bound all those covered in its contents—the three of them—but these two in particular… It seems as though their filters are completely gone, and they’re just saying everything that comes to the top of their head. And I mean— everything.”

Namjoon makes a pitying sound, giving your professor an empathetic look. Meanwhile you are standing and contemplating whether it would be a better option to throw yourself off the nearest bridge rather than stay and deal with this mess. It’s tempting, you admit, but one thing stands in the way…

You look down, catching sight of the translucent, glowing cord of runes and sigils that winds around your wrist, trailing off in the direction of the bickering duo a few metres away. A wave of something like exasperation floods through you, tinged with hints of self-pity.

Of course one of the side effects of this stupid cursed mishap is that you physically cannot stray more than 3 metres from dumb and dumber over there. Like, at all. You’ve tried. It was a massive effort just to get them close enough to the doorway that you could go into the other room with Namjoon so he could give you a hit of magical shut-up juice.

“Please help us!” Jimin whines, louder than before. He is successful in capturing the attention of the entire room, and he stomps his foot. “Professor Lim, please! Have I not been the best student you could ever ask for? Helping in your shop and bringing you cursed items from across the globe?”

Once he starts, he doesn’t stop—which isn’t all that different from usual except this time it’s like you’ve twisted a tap on and the handle has then broken, leaving the pipe jetting out water with no way of cutting it off. You think you’re really going to go insane if you’re stuck with these two any longer.

“I can’t help you!” your professor bursts, tearing himself away from your friends’ pleading grips. “Look, I have no idea what on earth y/n was attempting to cook up in there that made it react with the cursed doll like that—”

I was EXPERIMENTING, you defend silently, thankfully unable to voice your thoughts.

“—but it’s out of my jurisdiction, boys. Judging from the runes on those bindings this is some high level magic, and kind of, uh… niche. I only know barely a handful of people that might be able to help.”

“Who?” Jimin and Seokjin demand at the same time, eyes wide with hope—for all of Seokjin’s rebuttals to Jimin’s earlier whining, he doesn’t seem too overjoyed at the prospect of being stuck with him for longer than necessary either.

At the question, your professor gives a somewhat sheepish laugh. “Uh, well… the closest is a witch I knew back in my university student days. She’s not that far geographically, but she lives at the top of one of the mountains in Dusk Dew Valley and the magic of the forest means you can’t zap in or out so… you’re gonna have to drive.”

“That’s not so bad,” Seokjin comments, at the same time that Jimin squints, suspicious.

“How long?”

Your professor clears his throat, averting his gaze—personally, you’re on the edge of your metaphorical seat. “Uh,” he begins awkwardly, like he wishes he didn’t have to say what he is going to next. “Probably about… four? …five days?”

Aside from the background sound of cursed goo sliding down the walls and plopping onto the floor in fat, glutinous globs, the room is silent. Your gaze goes from your wrist, to the ugly doll on the floor a few feet away (where it landed in the midst of the blast—they hadn’t gotten very far into the room before things went south) and then to Jimin and Seokjin, who have been your closest friends for the better part of your adult life and with whom normally you wouldn’t mind spending such an amount of time with.

Except, thing’s aren’t really as they are normally, and lately you’ve started noticing some feelings rising within you that are getting harder and harder to squash. You don’t think you can make it out of this in once piece, and a look to the side reveals Namjoon’s doubtful expression that tells you he thinks the same.

[ DAY ONE ]

The trip, for the few hours you’ve been on it so far, has proved to be taxing in more ways than one. Case in point:

“Namjoon! Stop playing that hippy garbage and show us your mixtape! What are you, a coward?”

Next to you, you can sense Namjoon’s hands tighten on the wheel—you might have fought tooth and nail to get shotgun but he’d been coerced somewhat unwillingly into the driving seat. He has a provisional licence and still has some supervised driving hours to complete, so it was with a pout that he climbed in next to you earlier today and has been behind the wheel ever since.

The reason for the twitch that’s developed under his eye and the white tint of his knuckles as they grip the wheel lies in the seats behind you—Seokjin and Jimin have been running their mouths for the better part of the last few hours and don’t seem like they’re going to be shutting up anytime soon. To be fair, at the start they were just talking about normal things, but then one of them said something somewhat antagonistic about an hour and a half in and they haven’t stopped bickering since.

In the seat behind them, Jungkook and Taehyung – two friends who had somehow been roped into this abridged roadtrip— sit with looks of pure, unadulterated regret on their faces.

“This is my mixtape,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, Seokjin shrinking back into his seat in response with a chastised look. It takes all of a split second for Jimin to snicker, no chance for sweet, sweet silence to bloom before they’re back to bickering once more. You almost give in to the urge to slam your head against the dash again. Almost.

“Why couldn’t they both have turned out like y/n?” you hear Jungkook question in something that must be his attempt at a whisper (yet that still reaches you at the front of the car). Taehyung sighs, like the weight of the world has suddenly rested itself on his shoulders and he now finds himself with the task of carrying it for the rest of eternity.

“They’re too stupid,” Taehyung answers, somewhat cryptically. By some show of mercy from up above, neither of the two idiots in question hear him insulting them.

You squint at Taehyung through the rear-view mirror, wondering if he’s onto you. He doesn’t seem like it, what with him now playing ‘I Spy’ with Jungkook and cheating with his magic, but then again you know Taehyung to be awfully perceptive when he needs to be. You’ll have to ask Namjoon to make sure he doesn’t blab to dumb and dumber behind you or you’ll never hear the end of it.

“You know what? This wouldn’t have happened if y/n didn’t pick you up like a stray dog in her second year!”

Ears alert at the sound of your name, you turn your head to nail the two with a suspicious look while Namjoon keeps his eyes pointedly to the front and on the road carving a path between thick rainforest greenery. Seokjin is sputtering at what Jimin just announced, eyes whipping between you and Jimin incredulously. He has the exact look on his face that a child does right before they tattle on their older sibling to their mother for being mean to them.

It really is like raising two kids though, honestly, you lament. You should see if you can get family benefits from the government.

“Excuse me? If anything, I picked you two up like strays. You should have seen her that first day she came up to me, all pleading with these puppy dog eyes, asking if I would be her mentor. She was so pitiful I couldn’t bear to say no.”

WHAT?! That’s not how that went! You glare at Seokjin for spewing mistruths, reaching for something to throw at him in the front cup holder. He has a look of regret on his face, like what he said was never meant to enter the air, but it’s out now and you’re gonna pelt something at him for it. It’s their fault they’re cursed to say whatever the hell comes to mind, anyway. It’s just unfortunate that 80% of the things that come to Seokjin’s mind happen to be things that shouldn’t be said out loud. You’d say the same for Jimin but his percentage is a little lower, more like 50-60%, so you’ll let him live for now.

“Oh my gods that is ENOUGH! Both of you shut up! Please! Or so help me Hecate I will turn this car around and dump you two on the side of the road to walk!”

Surprisingly, Namjoon’s reprimand works and the two males snap their mouths shut, eyes wide. You haven’t forgiven Seokjin for his sleight, so you make sure he sees you glaring before you turn back around. You can hear him gulp.

Before you met Seokjin in one of your classes at the academy, it had always been you and Jimin. The two of you grew up in the same gated community in the same cul-de-sac—you with your aunt, and him with his incredibly rich and highly esteemed parents. You always saw his parents before you ever saw him, and (somewhat unfairly) you judged from their stony expressions and default looks of disdain that he’d be just like them—cold, stuck up and probably someone who would bully you for not living in a home with actual parents. It was a bit of a sore spot for you back then.

To your complete and utter surprise, everything you assumed of him was turned on its head when he found you at the park one day, angry-crying in embarrassment due to the nasty fall you’d just had. Some other kids had dared you to do a trick on the swings that required some air magic, but you’re not very strong in that area. Yet, like the stupid, proud child you were, you attempted it anyway and ended up scraping your knees raw at the edge of the playground. Not wanting to get in trouble and terrified at the sight of blood, they’d fled and left you there gritting your teeth and trying not to wail in pain. You were in the middle of plotting your revenge on each and every one of them while pressing a hand to your knees when a voice had sounded from beside you and scared the living daylights out of you.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Honestly, he had been so sweet and kind that you didn’t even realise straight away that he was the same child that lived in the house across from yours. From the beginning you couldn’t stay strong against his big, puppy eyes, and you ended up letting him help when he offered. You always were a bit better with plants and herbs, trees flowering when you tickled them and dandelions dancing around you in glee as you passed through meadows on the way to school. That didn’t help much in the area of healing, though.

Jimin, you were surprised to learn, actually was quite adept at healing magic, despite his affinity being for water—or maybe that’s part of the reason why. He’d wiped the tears on your cheeks and pressed them to your knees with small, careful hands—they’d glowed before your eyes and a tingle and a tickle later, they were completely scuff free—smoother than they had been when you were a baby, you remember marvelling in awe.

That moment then, you’ve concluded many times, was the moment you first started to like Park Jimin.

All through high school, you liked him. Sometimes painfully so. Eventually, even without the nurturing and watering that comes with requited feelings, that bloomed into something a little too alike love. Right as you entered your undergraduate at the academy, you decided to do yourself a favour and attempted to squash that flower down, to rip it out of your heart. But alas, it was rooted too deep. You were helpless but to continue dealing with those feelings.

That is, until Seokjin came along.

You could say that he was your next infatuation, but it was a little more complicated than that at the time. The way that you came to like him… is a little different.

You might have developed your crush on Jimin instantly as a child, but with Seokjin the feelings built slowly within you for weeks as you sat with him in classes and began to hang out with him outside them. It was the kind of thing that you don’t realise until it smacks you suddenly in the face one day at the most inconvenient time—for you, you realised the feelings that had blossomed within you one afternoon at an ice cream parlour after watching Seokjin shove the entire dessert into his mouth on a dare, ending up looking like a chipmunk with crushed waffle cone threatening to escape the seal of his lips every time he laughed. It was gross as hell and you’d never been more stupidly attracted to him in your life.

Seokjin eventually was absorbed into your little friend circle, and that’s how it has been for the past two years. The two of them bicker often, but it’s usually playful and it’s just the type of dynamic they happened to fall into. You’re growing a little concerned now though, because it feels like these arguments are slowly getting more and more serious now that they don’t have the ability to exercise their filter.

Frowning to yourself in thought, you turn your gaze out the window and try not to think about it too hard. This roadtrip will be over before you know it! Surely!

— X—

“JIMIN! YOU ALMOST SET MY PANTS ON FIRE! STOP, Y—OH my god you ACTUALLY DID! JIMIN!”

Chaos.

That’s what has overtaken your small little roadside camp. As it grew dark and Namjoon grew tired after driving all day, all of you had made the unanimous decision to stop for the night and set up camp. It was part of the reason Taehyung and Jungkook had agreed to come—they’re always down for an adventure and they’d never been into these mountains.

Yoongi and Hoseok, two other friends that ended up joining your troupe as an extension of Seokjin, had only agreed to come along because they are, in fact, huge plant nerds—and this forest is full of magical flora that Hoseok went absolutely starry-eyed at the mention of. They brought their own car and hence didn’t have to deal with the vexing nature of the journey in the company of Seokjin and Jimin, but they were quickly enlightened once you all stopped to set up camp.

Hoseok is the one that screamed, and considering the flames currently licking the dark material of his slacks, you think he’s well within his rights. A part of you is worried you’re about to be set alight as well, but the rest of you is catching up with what you just saw.

Jimin’s magical affinity, as you’ve known ever since you were kids, is for water. Seokjin’s, as you found out quickly after meeting him in college because he likes to show off, is for heat, and combustion. Put plainly, his affinity is fire.

And yet, when Jimin went to magically pull the water out of Hoseok’s pants after Jungkook spilled the ramen pot on him, it hadn’t exactly gone as anyone expected. For one, Jimin’s hands had glowed pink instead of blue, and instead of seeing water seep out of Hoseok’s pant leg, the entire camp watched as a spark formed from Jimin’s fingertips and went flying towards it.

Long story short; Hoseok’s pants are now on fire and Jimin is freaking out.

The campers that aren’t currently affected (read: everyone but Hoseok and Jimin) are instead almost wetting themselves in laughter at the situation.

“If this is a joke it isn’t funny!” Jimin exclaims, waving his hand in the air. You don’t know whether to focus on him or on Hoseok leaping out of his pants behind him and throwing them on the ground to stomp the flames out. Both are funny, especially when Jimin’s frantic waving doesn’t conjure water as he desired but instead more sparks.

“JIMIN NO!”

The rest of the camp pauses their laughter and scrambles in alarm to dodge the sparks falling, diving out of chairs and rolling out of the way in their desperation—well, everyone but Seokjin, who is currently laughing so hard his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s rolling on the ground in a different way. You make a face of disdain—you could have chosen anyone in the world to befriend and subsequently fall in love with, and you chose these two? You’re a little disappointed in yourself.

“I can’t believe it!” Seokjin is howling, cradling his stomach as he curls on the ground. You wince at the leaves currently tangling in his hair. “Are you telling me you didn’t—didn’t know our powers swapped? Oh my gods, Jimin—”

Your gaze whips to the shorter male, who looks like the visual definition of both unimpressed and murderous. “Are you saying you knew? And you didn’t tell me! You ass—”

A sense of resignation settles within you as you anticipate another fight on the horizon. Their bickering has only worsened through the day, and at this point you’re not above physically gagging them. You brought spare socks, babey.

“Of course I knew! I sneezed in the bathroom earlier and had my ass suddenly embraced in cold water. Are you telling me you didn’t notice when we were drinking juice boxes before and the straws kept melting in your hands?”

Well, everything you’re hearing is news to you—you had no idea before this incident that their powers had been mixed up as well as everything else. They are masters of their own affinity, but have no experience whatsoever with the other’s, so you’re anticipating (regretfully) a lot more incidents like this.

At first Jimin’s face is contorted in something like sympathy and disgust, but that quickly shifts into embarrassment—the tips of his ears join his cheeks in flushing pink.

“No, I thought I was just sitting too close to the fire!” he retorts, pointing a finger at the older male. “I never use fire for anything, how was I supposed to know?!”

Seokjin opens his big mouth to fire something back, but is thankfully stopped in his tracks by Yoongi cramming a pizza slice in there. Seokjin immediately starts chewing like the action triggered some evolutionary reflex, like when you put a finger in a baby’s hand and they grip on instinct.

“Can you both shut up?” he grouches, only bold enough to send Jimin a glare since Seokjin is older than him; it doesn’t stop him from running his mouth at him, though. “I can and I will mix something up to knock you out. Hell, I’ll even get y/n to help—I hear her potion is part of what landed you in this mess.”

You were not expecting to be dragged through the dirt at the end of that. You send the male a glare, flipping him the bird before stomping off to go get some of the desserts from the car. He’s lucky you already silenced yourself or you’d be ripping him a new one by now.

Stupid! Stupid boys! All men do is talk, eat hot pizza and LIE!

Thankfully, you have time to cool off before dinner is over, the atmosphere mollifying now that Jimin and Seokjin’s lives have been threatened and their fear of god (or rather, fear of one Min Yoongi) has rendered them silent once more. You almost forget they were even bickering earlier until it comes time to retire for the night and tents have to be allocated.

Of course, after the day and dinner you’d all just had, it was decided unanimously by all those not currently afflicted by a curse that you, Seokjin and Jimin should share a tent. The others happily retreated to the two other tents set up by the cars, and before you could even smack someone in protest they were gone.

Ten minutes and your entire nightly routine later finds you laying on a king-sized blow-up mattress, squished between your two best friends with the blanket up to your chin. Surprisingly, despite the bickering that occurred when choosing tents, they’re silent now—but not asleep. The occasional sigh gives them away. It’s dark, but the moonlight filtering in through the material of the tent allows you to see the planes of their faces a little more clearly. Both are frowning slightly, Jimin staring at the ceiling and Seokjin looking at the runes over his wrist.

You want to sleep, but the air is heavy with the weight of something yet to be said.

“We’re… sorry, y/n.”

You turn to Seokjin in surprise, eyes taking a moment to adjust to his profile. He’s avoiding your gaze; you feel Jimin’s head turning to face the older male as well. Seokjin sighs, closing his eyes and carding a hand through his charcoal-coloured hair.

“This is our fault,” he continues, resting his hands atop the blanket, over his stomach.

“Hyung,” Jimin voices, tone cautioning. It piques your interest and you file it away for later.

Seokjin turns his head, looking at Jimin for a long moment before turning it further and looking at you. You can’t help but wonder what he just said to the other with his gaze, but for now you’re taken with the soft glisten of his eyes as they meet your own.

“Sorry,” he repeats, clamping his mouth shut after. You squint at him for a long few seconds before releasing him from your gaze and shrugging.

You’re forgiven, I guess. Especially since this is technically also my fault, even though I didn’t know that stupid charmed perfumes could react with cursed dolls… where on earth did they even get that thing?

At your shrug, Seokjin grins brightly. “Great, now that you’ve forgiven us, I have a favour to ask.”

You’re not left wondering what he means for long, because in the next second he rolls over, turning his back to you.

“Can you spoon me? I wanna be the little spoon tonight. Makes me feel safe.”

Letting out the biggest sigh you think you ever have in your life, you roll your eyes but oblige his request and shuffle over to slip your arms around his waist and hug him from behind. He can’t see your smile, so you don’t have to worry about saving face.

“Seriously? Right in front of my salad…”

You reach behind to smack Jimin, and he laughs, quickly scooting over to follow your suit and slip his arms around your waist, curving his body around yours. It makes your heart race, and for the sake of your sanity you pretend that you don’t have one and so don’t have to deal with its traitorous reactions. Heart, what heart? It’s Donut Tuesdays that keeps your blood pumping, babey!

Now that the air is clear and warmth seeps between the three of you, runes around your wrists glowing brighter than before, it doesn’t take long at all before the three of you pass out, slipping eagerly into the tender embrace of sleep.

[DAY THREE]

Needless to say, the tranquillity of that night did not last very long at all.

You’re on the third day of the trip, with at least one more expected to go, and for the duration of today’s drive, the entire car has been in a foul mood. Last you saw Yoongi and Hoseok, they were grumpy too, but you don’t doubt now that they’re away from the bickering duo causing you all such stress that they’re in much better spirits. Sadly, the same can’t be said for you, or anyone else stuck in the same car as you.

Today’s driver is Taehyung, and you swear you’ve seen the thought to drive the car into a ditch flick through his gaze more than twice in the past few minutes alone. It alarmed you at first, but now you’d welcome it, to be honest. Anything to escape your current reality.

You already knew that Seokjin and Jimin enjoyed talking and hearing their own voices, but never before have you been faced with such a long, extended situation where they just do not shut up. It’s wearing you down, you have to admit. As Namjoon’s silencing spell wore off last night, you almost blew your cover and tore into them for it. They just can’t help themselves! They’re lucky that your priority is making sure that your thoughts aren’t revealed to the air, so much that you forwent killing them in favour of topping up the silencing spell.

There are some things that have been lurking on the tip of your tongue in the past few months that you just cannot risk saying aloud. You’d rather lose said tongue.

Everyone has long since given up attempting to shut your two idiot friends up, and so your suffering continues, unabated.

“You wanna bring up all the times someone has ditched for selfish reasons? Alright, how about we talk about all the times you skipped movie night because you ‘had a pop quiz to study for’, when really you were out sleeping with half the students in your Aquatic Magics class!”

While you might have been expecting something petty to come out of Seokjin’s mouth, you most definitely weren’t expecting that. Your head whips around at lightning speed, wide eyes locking onto Jimin who looks like he’s just been electrocuted. He sputters, eyes flicking from you to Seokjin rapidly.

Lately, in the past few months, Jimin has been calling in rainchecks for your weekly movie nights. Usually the three of you relish in the opportunity to sit back and relax, and none of you were inclined to skip, but Jimin had told the both of you that the professor he’d gotten this semester is particularly fond of giving weighted pop quizzes. Now that you’re thinking about it, he’d actually skipped more times than he’d attended this this year so far...

You hadn’t even suspected anything before now, but meeting his gaze reveals all you need to know that he’s guilty of what Seokjin said. Immediately, you’re incensed.

You selfish—

He’s lucky you’re magically silenced right now, but Seokjin can still talk, and that seems to be a problem for him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, scowling at Seokjin.

“I saw you on my cousin’s tinder and she told me all about what you’ve been up to the past few months! Said you’ve made your way through almost all of her friends at this point, and always on a Friday—our movie day!” Your mouth drops open as Seokjin flings Jimin’s dirty laundry into the air for all to see. Jungkook lets out a hiss through his teeth, wincing.

“My god, hyung, you’re a whore—”

“I would have said fuckboy,” Namjoon interrupts the youngest to supply helpfully, keen to exact some form of revenge on Jimin for the suffering he’s had to endure in the past three days.

“I am NOT a fuckboy!” Jimin squawks and his face goes so red you’re sure he’s going to combust. “I’m not just some—I have feelings! I’m capable of having feelings for someone!”

“Yeah, you’re really proving it with all your escapades you ditcher,” Seokjin folds his arms, scowling at the younger. Nice! You applaud him in your head. “Good to know your friends mean so much to you that you’ll drop them at a moment’s notice for a quick fuck!”

“How can you say that when you know that just like you, I like—” As quick and heated as he starts off, Jimin suddenly cuts off, snapping his mouth shut with wide eyes.

The car is silent, even Taehyung’s ears perked in their direction. Confusion takes up most of your brain space—had he just been about to reveal that he likes someone? At once, your heart skips a beat and squeezes painfully. Do you want to know who it is, when you also know it can’t be you?

Because why would Jimin blow off nights he is meant to spend with you to play around with other girls, if you were the one he liked?

Trying to keep your face schooled, you turn back to the front, sinking into your seat slightly and missing the way Taehyung’s gaze flicks to you as you do so. You wish that things had stayed as they were, when you’d moved on from Jimin and you only had Seokjin on the brain. It wasn’t that long ago, but unfortunately for you, it’s no longer the case. Your brain and heart have never been so overloaded.

Evidently feelings for Jimin aren’t like the chicken pox, and you can catch them again.

Even stewing in your own thoughts as you are, the prolonged silence confuses you when you notice it a few moments later. Unable to help yourself, your eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror, catching sight of the way Seokjin is sitting, scowl from earlier replaced by a look of deep thought, his brows furrowed and arms still crossed. For a minute you puzzle over why exactly he is being quiet when Jimin was the one under fire, replaying the events of the conversation over in your head once more. You freeze when it strikes you, your own face scrunching in thought.

"How can you say that when you know that just like you, I like..."

For a second you sit in shock, a slight cut of betrayal skirting around your heart. Are they serious-- both your best friends have feelings for someone and have told each other, but not you? Disregarding your own refusal to admit your crush/es to them (mainly because they are the crush/es in question), you don't think you've ever felt so betrayed in your life. If your crush wasn't incriminating to admit out loud, they would be the first to know! You focus on the feelings resulting from their treachery that are drifting over you so that the sting of knowing that they like someone else is a little less noticeable.

This trip is a disaster and as soon as you can speak again you're filing for friend divorce.

x--x--x

Oddly enough, the rest of the day is spent in almost silence. Apparently that last little argument finally taught the two of them a lesson, because they haven't uttered a word since. You caught them glaring at each other once or twice, but apart from that there was a distinct lack of JinMin bickering. Taehyung's mood was quick to turn around after that, and he made sure to turn the music up so that if they started talking again he wouldn't hear it. Jungkook and Namjoon seemed relieved that they could finally have their own conversation, and you... well, you spent the rest of the day's trip staring out the window and blasting your own music, like a moody teenager.

Needless to say, you're in a bit of a funk. One might even say you're upset.

You can't believe them! How much else do they withhold from you and only tell each other? You feel like you don't even know them right now, and do your best to make sure they know it by glaring at them every time they meet your eyes. Because of this, setting up tonight's camp teeters on being a slightly uncomfortable affair.

You're so annoyed (and hurt, but you're not acknowledging that emotion yet) that when dessert is brought out, you even go so far as to take the last piece of their favourite one. The looks on their faces as you cram the entire strawberry crepe cake slice into your mouth in one go is almost funny enough to redeem them, but by this point you've had all afternoon to stew and you're not going to be having a change of heart any time soon.

By the time it's late enough for everyone to be retiring, you've pointedly ignored the two males enough that when you look up and don't see them anywhere, you have no idea where they've gone. Apparently your confusion is in plain view for the rest of the group to see, because Namjoon snorts. When you look over, he speaks.

"They went to grab their toiletries from the car," he informs you, rocking dangerously on the camping chair he's currently seated in. "I heard one of them call the other a tart on the way over though, so they're probably fighting again by now."

You huff, wondering if they've even noticed you're upset with them. Well, it's not like they'd said anything to you-- then again, that is precisely the problem. But still, they're stupid and you don't know if they've connected the dots yet. It's not that hard though!

...Are you overreacting?

It's possible. Learning that they like someone, and intuitively knowing it isn't you, well... it's done a bit of a number on your ego and your heart, and maybe you're overcompensating. Not for the first time, you wonder if there is a potion that can numb your heart and cancel out feelings. That would be great!

"You're wondering if they've noticed you're mad at them?" Taehyung's low register surprises you when it sounds next to you-- you didn't realise that he'd moved seats. Given your attention, he continues, "They most definitely have. Although, they're kind of stupid, so they can't agree on why you are."

"To their credit, they both realise it's something they've said." Namjoon drags a hand down his face with a sigh, "Except the thing is, they've both said so damn much."

You frown, tilting your head in thought; your eyes end up staring unfocused at Jungkook where he sits across the fire, poking his finger in the dirt and making flowers sprout. Your best friends? Having some degree of self-awareness? It seems almost too good to be true.

Yoongi and Hoseok have plodded off in the midst of your zoning out, apparently going to look for a certain mushroom that has unique magical properties and happens to grow near here. Gradually, the other three sitting with you disperse and you use a minor spell to reduce the flames of the campfire to a smolder. You figure it's been long enough that Seokjin and Jimin are probably back at your tent by now (you were really zoned out just then, so you have no idea if they went past or not), so you head to the car to grab your own toiletries and go about your nightly routine. Just because you're on the road doesn't mean you can afford to neglect your skin.

Considering you expected silence and an empty space when you rounded Yoongi's car and turned towards the van, you're more than a little surprised to both see and hear people. Immediately, you halt, expecting them to turn and notice you, but they’re so wrapped up in their own conversation that they have no idea you’re there. It only takes you a moment longer to realise it’s Jimin and Seokjin, who apparently haven’t succeeded in actually getting their toiletries and have instead been talking this whole time.

Well, you don’t know if you can call it just talking.

They’re arguing again, you can tell that clearly, but for once you have no idea what is being said. What you can catch of their voices is hushed and somewhat vexed, emphasised by the occasional arm movement and finger jab. You’re tempted to step closer just so you can hear what they’re discussing so angrily, but don’t even get a chance to properly consider it before Seokjin is snapping loudly and answering your unspoken question.

“You know what we read! We both read it! So the fact you almost said in the car—”

“But I didn’t say anything,” Jimin snaps back, sounding crankier than you’ve ever heard him. His eyes are dark and he leans forward as he speaks, tense. “But you know what, if it bothers you so much, and you want it to be you, then why don’t you say something? Why haven’t you said anything before now? Nothing is stopping you!”

Seokjin’s response is lower than you can catch, heated if the tension in his shoulders is anything to go by. What Jimin says next is also spoken lower than you can hear, but Seokjin does you a favour in the next second when his voice raises in outrage.

“--you wanna know why? Huh? Maybe it’s because I realised lately that it’s not just that— I like you!”

You freeze, an ellipsis materialising in your brain in the stead of any coherent thought. The world around you and the conversation in front of you doesn’t wait for you to catch up.

Jimin blinks, mouth open in preparation to throw back a retort. He shuts it, something passing through his gaze that you can’t quite discern. He speaks a moment later, but you can only catch bits and pieces of it. “Both…? Seokjin… stupid idiot…”

The next bit comes clear as day to your ears, though.

“I like you too…”

All at once, the situation comes crashing back up to speed in your brain and everything catches up with you. Your head doesn’t really know how to process it but your heart is already ahead and shrinking in your chest.

Are you fucking kidding me.

You don’t know what comes over you, but from what you can discern it seems to be a cocktail of incredulousness, anger, and heartbreak. Ruining your cover, you stomp over to the van and march right between them to the boot, yanking it open more aggressively than you need to. The two of them exclaim in surprise to see you, but are left reeling as you simply grab your toiletries bag and turn on your heel before stomping away, ignoring them completely.

You cannot believe the cruel twist that fate has just slapped you across the face with, like a massive silicone dildo giving you a black eye. Earlier today you learned that your two best friends — who you’ve recently realised you have feelings for— actually have feelings for someone. And alright, that shit hurted, but you could have seen yourself getting over it some time in the future.

But to find out that that person they like is each other and you’ve essentially been third wheeling for the entirety of your friendship? Call you a drama queen but you have such a mix of emotions in you that you almost feel nauseous. For the sake of simplicity, you decide to label that concoction anger and wash your hands of it.

Storming back through the camp to your tent, you ignore a bewildered Yoongi and Hoseok emerging from the treeline and instead try not to rip your toiletries bag with the harsh grip your fingers have on it. Throwing it into the tent that you’d left open after setting up, you follow it inside and then turn to rip the zip down. You’re tempted to simply leave it at that before you decide that’s not enough and you hold out your hand, charming it so that it wont open for anyone but you.

Satisfied with your last spiteful act of the night, you rush through your routine and head to bed, blood boiling all through the night until you wake up the next day.

x — x — x

“Did you kick Seokjin and Jimin out of your tent last night?”

Not lucid enough to have noticed him standing next to you by the van as you munch on your cereal with half-closed eyes, you jump in fright when Namjoon’s voice crosses your ears.

And what if I did? You have the impulse to voice that thought, but the slight itch in your throat reminds you that, for the time being, you’re still silenced. At your own behest, sure, but not being able to quip sassy retorts back at people has been steadily getting at you these past four days.

Instead, you simply shrug, and Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Trick question! We know you did because they came to our tents last night pleading for us to let them in because they couldn’t get into theirs.”

Well, you suppose that considering the three of you are bound and can’t be more than a few metres apart, it’s lucky that their tents were so close to your own. You frown at what he says though, squinting at Namjoon. Your point?

As though he’s perfectly in tune with your thoughts, he readily elaborates. “So what did they do to warrant that? I didn’t realise you were that upset with them.”

His words make you remember what you’ve been trying not to think about: last night.

Your mother always told you that sleeping on it would fix almost everything, but you’d woken up in just as bad of a mood as you’d gone to bed with. It’s petty of you to be angry at them for liking each other, just because it’s not you, but there is also the fact that they’re your best friends and hadn’t told you a single thing. The betrayal of it all is one of the things that stings most, as dramatic as that is. Whatever, you’re allowed to be upset and you’re going to exercise that right.

Namjoon doesn’t get an answer because you scull the remainder of your milk and cereal in one go (leaving him in something akin to a state of shock) and promptly walk off to get dressed.

When everyone piles back into their respective cars today, it’s with a lighter air than the days previous. This is because, as Jungkook had announced excitedly before you all departed, you should be arriving at the witch’s home in a little over a few hours. Honestly, you’re ecstatic, because you don’t think you can handle being around Seokjin and Jimin for a while after this.

In your bid to think about literally anything but the two males boring holes into the back of your head with their eyes, you instead allow yourself to daydream about how things are going to be in the next few hours. The witch is probably old and nice, wise and knowledgeable. She’ll get it, and she’ll probably support you if you call the boys names. Sisterhood of witches!

x — x

Hours later and you’re standing outside of an industrial concrete home, not too dissimilar to the Cullens’ house from Twilight, except it’s overrun by plants and vines that curl and flower across the mass of grey in gorgeous patterns. The door has just slammed in front of you after Namjoon explained who you were and why you were here, and you’re now listening to the sound of many chains and bolts sliding on the other side of the wood.

The witch is nothing like you thought and you feel like your fate has fallen into some questionable hands.

When the door opens once more, now unrestricted by chains, you’re met with the sight of the woman you’d driven four days to see and plead with. Needless to say, she isn’t what you expected at all— somehow despite the fact that your professor had literally explained what to expect before you left on this little roadtrip.

She stands, somewhat short but still graceful with long inky hair that curls down her back untamed, slipping over her shoulders at the front. Her skin is the kind of bronzed that tells of time spent in the sun and out in the wilds, and the loose clothing hanging from her form is light and breezy looking. Her eyes are dark and sleekly lined for a cat-like effect, lips stained dramatic red in contrast to the rest of her chill get-up.

She’s really out here living her best life, you think in wonder.

“Lim said you’d be coming… I’m Sunmi,” she voices, staring shrewdly at all eight of you one at a time until her gaze passes over you, Jimin, Seokjin and the runes binding your wrists. Her nails tap against the doorframe that she’s braced against as she hums in thought. “...Come in.”

When she turns and moves further into her home, the rest of you hover awkwardly before kicking into gear. Yoongi and Hoseok dismiss themselves, having spotted some ‘exciting’ plants back by the treeline, and so it is just you, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon and those other two you don’t want to think about that are left to follow the witch into the house.

You follow her as she walks around the whole floor, gathering certain things as she goes. At her request, Namjoon fills her in on exactly what the issue is— he’s apparently a bit intimidated by her keen gaze and grumpy disposition, because he stutters a few times while recounting your situation to her. Taehyung and Jungkook, considering that they’re just along for the ride, spend the walk looking around in awe. Sunmi has a lot of artefacts on display in her home, some with runes you’ve never seen before in your life, not even in textbooks— kind of like the ones on your wrist.

“Alright, you three wait here,” Sunmi stops all of you in what seems to be a sitting room of sorts decorated with soft greens and white, pointing at Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook, and then the lounge. “If I’m going to fix this… curse...I will need only the three of them. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Her words are polite, skirting along the edge of being curt. Obediently, like puppies, they follow her instructions and take a seat with wide eyes. Satisfied, the witch turns to you and the idiots behind you.

“Come, in here. Be quick about it.”

Hastily, you follow her finger and enter the room situated off to the side, hearing Seokjin and Jimin scramble behind you. What greets you is dark blue walls with stars smattered across them in metallic gold, the carpet plush, dark grey. There is a desk pushed against the wall, and a large table in the middle of the room that is framed by a few plushly upholstered chairs. You get the sudden urge to cough, throat itching slightly, but hold down the urge as best as you can and ignore it for now.

Sunmi closes the door behind her, taking a moment before moving to the table and placing the items in her arms down. She then leans forward, eyes pinning all three of you in place; you hear Seokjin let out something like an ‘eep’ from just behind you, and have to remind yourself that you’re angry at him so you can’t find it cute.

“Look, I moved all the way out here so I didn’t have to deal with people,” she begins, straightening and crossing her arms. You avoid her gaze, instead focusing on the large window behind her, and then the vase of white and violet blooms in the middle of the table; you wonder if they’re responsible for the sweet, syrupy yet musky scent that accentuates the room. “Let me cut to the chase so that you leave and I can get back to what I was doing sooner.”

Somewhat taken aback by her words, you’re left blinking in surprise while she simply continues, pointing her finger at your wrists and then in the general direction of the boys.

“These runes are specific to a certain deity, one that isn’t often invoked because of how temperamental he is, but one that usually deals with things in the area of love. Specifically, unrequited.”

As she spoke, she started to move around the table, now approaching your little huddle. On instinct you take a few steps back, shifting slightly behind your two friends. You catch a glimpse of their faces as you move, and you’re surprised at how pale and stiff the two of them have suddenly become. Jimin’s silver hair begins to steam slightly, the tips of his ears flushing red.

“Now, usually what people return with after visiting him, is blessings. These, however,” she points to the runes, “Are what happens when one insults him.”

Jimin gulps, and Seokjin swallows before speaking hurriedly, “We didn’t mean to take the doll! We didn’t know it was his…”

Sunmi rolls her eyes, holding her hand out. “Give me the doll.”

You hadn’t even realised it was in Jimin’s hands until he jerked and hastily placed it in her hold. It’s as ugly as ever and you can’t help but glare at it.

“This isn’t about the doll,” Sunmi says, cocking her hip and appearing the epitome of unimpressed. “The runes reveal that the insult lies within a request for a blessing. You did something wrong, and the doll became a conduit for his retaliation. You must have been desperate to go to him of all love deities, so how on earth did you manage to mess up the simple process of requesting a blessing?”

While you're standing with a blank face, struggling to keep up with all the information being unloaded on you, the two men beside you bow their heads in something like shame. When your brain catches up, you realise with chagrin that she’s saying they went to a temple or shrine of a love deity to ask for a blessing— and bitterly, you connect that it was likely for each other.

“Wh— but we did everything right!” Jimin is the one protesting now, eyes wide and fingers fiddling. “Isn’t this because of y/n’s potion?”

Bastard! You can’t believe he’d try to pin the blame on you!

You’re beginning to simmer, throat tingling as you swallow angrily, and like he can sense it, Seokjin sends you a nervous look.

“What? This has nothing to do with a potion,” Sunmi scoffs, sending you a somewhat pitying look. You pretend it’s because she’s sympathising with you for being stuck with these two. “All the potion would have done is cover you in goo. This is—” she grabs your wrist suddenly, turning it to observe the runes on the underside before making a noise of realisation. “— this is because you went to a deity that specialises in unrequited love and asked for blessings in love that wasn’t unrequited.”

Sunmi releases your hand and you’re left reeling, quickly realising that they must have asked for blessings in love with each other— which, as you’d overheard last night and are now painfully aware of, is anything but unrequited. Oddly enough, the two boys next to you appear confused.

“No, that can’t be right—” Jimin starts, but Sunmi doesn’t let him finish.

“The runes don’t lie,” she says plainly, moving back to assemble some things before taking something that looks incriminatingly like a bong into her grasp; you don’t even remember her grabbing it on the way here. “They’re like a signature, almost. I know what I’m talking about, baby boy.”

Jimin goes bright red, hair steaming even more, although you can’t tell whether its from anger or embarrassment. Knowing him, probably both.

“Jimin,” Seokjin warns, shooting the younger a look when he opens his mouth to retort; apparently having Seokjin’s magic has made him that much more hotheaded. Seokjin shakes his head and Jimin clenches his jaw with the effort it takes him not to talk.

“Right, well, it seems like the three of you have some things to unpack— it bound you in particular for a reason. I’ll break the curse for you, but I need to drown this doll in some blessed water before I can get started.” Sunmi is already turning on her heel and walking towards the door before she even finishes. “Stay in here and don’t cause trouble.”

And then she leaves, and for some reason the resounding thud of the door swinging closed behind her is like a metaphor sealing your fate.

For the first few seconds after her departure, the room is silent. The two men beside you are frozen, but it doesn’t take long for them to pick up on the waves of anger beginning to emanate from you. They turn, sharing a similar expression of nervousness and slight fear. They look like they’d like more than anything to disappear right now, but of course that isn’t an option, especially when the curse currently afflicting you all means that whatever comes to their brain is immediately blurted into the air.

“Look, y/n, uh… we can explain.” Jimin takes a step forward, holding his hands out as though to placate you. For some reason even just that is quick to irritate you further, and you glare at him. How is he going to explain, you wonder? The witch has pretty much already spelled out everything you need to know about exactly why you’re in this situation.

They went to the shrine of some obscure love deity to receive blessings on their ‘unrequited’ love — which happened to be requited because the person they were asking for blessings for was each other — and then proceeded to insult the deity and take a doll from the shrine, which the deity then used as a conduit to curse the three of you. You get all that, loud and clear. What you really want to know is why the hell you got roped into this punishment and forced to experience all this shame and humiliation.

“Look, about the shrine— we didn’t only go for personal reasons! We knew there was a doll there that the professor would be interested in,” Seokjin hurried to elaborate, before throwing a dirty look to the side and proceeding to incriminate his friend. “Actually, the only reason we even went at all was because Jimin suggested it.”

You don’t know why they’re so eager to shift the blame; you’re happy to include both of them on your shit list.

Jimin seems to grow so incensed at Seokjin’s comment that his mouth grows that much looser and he’s speaking before the thought can even materialise in his brain. “What the fuck, dude— we both agreed to go because we both read that page of her diary that we found the cat playing with! Stop trying to pin this on me, it was a group effort you jerk!”

For a second your brain is filled with white noise as what he said sinks in.

Then you’re pissed.

So pissed, in fact, that you don’t even feel the familiar tingle in your throat when it occurs and you’re exploding before you even realise that the silencing spell has worn off.

“Are you kidding me— YOU READ MY DIARY?!” both boys flinch, eyes shooting wide as they take a physical step back. You’re so angry you’re almost shaking. This is ridiculous! Faintly, you realise that you should shut up but now that you’ve started you can’t make yourself stop.

“This is unbelievable! Not only did your stupidity and your stupid heart-ons for each other end up dragging me into being cursed, but then you went and made this the worst four days of my life!” You jab your finger at them, voice so loud it’s ringing in your own ears. “I can’t believe I like you two! I’m so fucking angry at you— when we get home I’m performing a cutting spell so I don’t have to love you anymore, so fuck BOTH of you and go kiss behind a tree or something!”

You’re slightly out of breath by the time you finish, still fuming but feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest. About a second later you realise that the spell has worn off and you just tore their heads off, but your brain is a little preoccupied with everything so you decide to deal with the mental repercussions of it later.

Both boys are silent, looking at you with wide eyes. You’re just beginning to wonder why when Jimin starts to speak, eyes shifting. “y/n did you just… did you just say—”

At his words, you reflect on exactly just came out of your mouth and instantly horror washes over you, your heart dropping through your chest.

Yeah, you like reading about accidentally confessing in fiction but now you’re suddenly feeling a lot of regret and you’re not so sure you’re a fan of it anymore.

You’re saved from having to muster a response in the current black hole that has become your brain by the door opening, Sunmi returning with three squishy, heavy-looking items in her hand that you quickly recognise as water balloons. The realisation comes a little too late, though, because you don’t even have time to move before she’s pegging them at all three of you and next thing you know, you’re standing there soaked, sputtering and shocked.

“What the hell—?!” Seokjin spits out the water that got in his mouth, gagging.

“Specially blessed water, procured by yours truly,” Sunmi says simply, moving into the room just to place the doll back on the table, along with a bowl. She reaches into it and throws something like ground stardust on you, sending you all into a coughing fit once more. “Alright, the curse is dissolved. Your speech issues should be solved, but the runes that bind you… they might take a little longer, a day or so, to wear off.”

She smacks her hands together, dusting them off as she delivers the three of you with a sly look. “I’d tell you good luck, but while I was soaking the doll I realised why the three of you in particular were bound. It’s the same as I said before— your feelings aren’t unrequited, for either of the people that you requested blessings for.”

“Either of the people?” you echo, regrettably inclined to talk now that you’re able to again. Sunmi sends you an amused if somewhat exasperated look.

“I’m sure they’ll tell you,” she says cryptically, before angling her body to the others. “Now my work is done, get out. I miss my solitude. Also, I’m keeping the doll as my fee. It’s ugly as hell and is gonna look fantastic on the wall by the dining table.”

Still processing what she said before all of that, your group is hassled out of the house in a blur and before you know it, all six of you are standing in front of her door and witnessing it slam in your faces for the second time today.

Namjoon is the first to recover and is ridiculously cheerful as he speaks; you’re confused as to why until he sends you a knowing look and you realise that he, along with the other two youngest, probably heard your loud, shameful confession to both boys. He’d never said anything about knowing of your feelings, but you knew he knew. You could feel it in your bones. Also, his expressions aren’t as impassive as he’d like to think they are.

“Right, well! Back to the car everyone! Someone go get Hope and Yoongi. The sooner we head back, the sooner I can forget the weird things I saw in that living room!” He then grabs Taehyung and Jungkook around the shoulders, turning with them and steering them away in the direction of the car. “The sooner I can also get those fish bread things at the market near my house. Gods, I miss them.”

“You have an addiction, hyung.” You hear Jungkook say, his voice growing fainter the further away he grows. You stop attempting to listen after that, turning back to the other two males who you’re surprised to see haven’t budged and are looking straight at you.

“We went to the shrine for you,” Seokjin says suddenly, before you can ask them what they want. You blink, shock smacking you in the face. “We read a page of your diary— which we didn’t realise was a page of your diary until it was too late — and saw that you liked someone, but it didn’t say who.”

“We both wanted it to be us,” Jimin intercedes, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes. His cheeks, along with Seokjin’s, are flushing pink. “Because as you no doubt heard last night, although we like each other… we liked you first. So I think you were drawn into this mess because we both like you… and each other.”

“And, um, like the witch said,” Seokjin gulps, now somewhat tentative. “Our feelings aren’t unrequited… which means that you like us too…?”

“Well, yeah,” Jimin mutters, smacking the other male on the arm. “That’s literally what she said while yelling at us, idiot.”

What they’re saying… is this a love triangle with all sides filled in? It’s a lot to process at once, and they give you a second as they watch the gears turn in your head.

“You…” you pause, struggling to put words together. Finally, you give up trying to be eloquent and slap a hand to your face, closing your eyes. “You both are so stupid— so stupid. I can’t handle this right now.”

When you open your eyes, you’re met with looks of fear. You squash that emotion by jabbing your finger at them, runes still faintly on your wrist. “When we get home, I’m gonna beat you. Then, I’m gonna give you a kiss, and then I’m gonna beat you again, and then we’re going to talk about this. Got it?”

They’re fighting grins at your words, Jimin snorting as they both nod hastily.

“It’s a date,” Seokjin says cheekily, cackling when you raise your hand at him.

“Can we have a hug, y/n?” Jimin hazards a plea, stepping forward with puppy eyes directed full force at you. “It’s rough when you’re angry at us.”

“You deserved it for all the shit you two said,” you say, rolling your eyes but opening your arms nonetheless. They exclaim in happiness and dive forward, almost making the three of you fall over in their zealousness. You feel your heart ease as you hold them both in your arms and they hold you.

Maybe this trip and whole ‘getting cursed by a cranky love deity’ thing isn’t a complete disaster after all.

Then again… you still have the trip back.

a/n: to the commissioner, I hope u like it!!! thank u for reading and if u enjoyed it please lmk with a like and/or rb!! thank u !! love u !!!

627 notes · View notes

kirishwima · 5 years ago

Note

Heeeeey you miss me? 🥰 I’m in a funk currently and need some cute headcanons for the RFA and Seran. (Situation: MC worked themselves to near death, so now they’re taking a few weeks to recover from over working. How would the RFA [individually] respond??) Dont feel pressured to, do it if your able. Thanks love! ~Corvus

awe hey fluff!! I’m replying this a little late, but hope it’ll still cheer you up a little!! Hang in there ^^

YOOSUNG:

* He’d noticed MC has been more tired than usual, how they’d come home from work a sluggish mess, refusing to even drink or eat anything-merely dropping onto the couch and falling asleep within minutes.

* Yoosung was so worried, but he didn’t know what to do-of course he took care of MC whilst they were home, cooking them dinner and sitting with them to keep them awake until they ate at least a little bit, carrying them to bed when they fell asleep on the couch...he tried telling them to take a break from their work for a few days, but MC wouldn’t hear it, insisting they had to keep going as much as they could.

* Well, the day they’d crash came sooner than they’d think-one moment they were fine, working like usual, the next they were passed out cold on the floor, their co-workers rushing around them and frantically calling an ambulance.

* Luckily MC had assigned Yoosung as their emergency contact so he immediatly got a call from the hospital about MC’s condition-even though he was in class, at that moment he shot out of the lecture room, running to the hospital until his knees gave out.

* The doctors explained the situation to him-a mix of burnout syndrome with dehydration, which led to a perfect combo of MC’s blood pressure dropping low enough to make them dizzy and pass out.

* They explained to him that MC would need to take at least a couple of weeks off of work to recover, that they should rest as much as possible and try to relax-think about their work as little as possible, do some more enjoyable activities when they have the strength to.

* Yoosung took every word of the doctors to heart-once he took MC back home, he called his university to say he’d be unable to attend classes for a few days, and spent his time looking after MC-from making sure they’re drinking water every hour, to eating three full meals a day and relaxing in bed-the moment they tried to get up to do some chores he’d pick them up and carry them back to bed with a disapproving frown-MC giggled, but didn’t tell him how much like a mom he felt at that instant.

* They were just grateful to have a boyfriend that cared so much about them.

ZEN:

* Being a fellow work-a-holic, he’s been through burnout syndrome more than a couple times-so when he saw MC’s fatigue, how they’d barely have the energy to talk when they came back home, he knew instantly what’s up.

* He begged MC to take some time off, but they simply shook their head with a tired smile, telling him it’d be fine, that they would be good as new after a goodnight’s rest.

* Well, MC couldn’t be more wrong. See, when you’re stressed to the bone, your body reacts, of course it does. And one of the ways it reacts is to lower its immune system, making you all the more prone to colds and flus.

* By morning, when Zen shifted in bed to caress MC’s cheek and gently wake them up, he found their skin burning, a clammy sheen of sweat on their forehead.

* Scared, he shook them awake, jumping out of bed to look around for a thermometer. MC was drowsy and woke up with a hacking dry cough, one they had for a few days now but kept trying to surpress when around Zen.

* Sure enough, MC was burning up. Without a second thought, Zen picked MC up like a ragged doll, helped them get changed and dressed into something warm, and dashed them to the emergency room, catching the eye of every doctor and nurse in there.

* It took little time for a doctor to examine MC-the problem was clear, they had a bad cold, but it was more than that, the doctor informed Zen. They seemed way more fatigued than the average cold should turn them into, and their blood results were a mess-everything was in the lows, along with more medical jargon Zen didn’t really understand-he just wanted to know what’s wrong with his MC, asap.

* “To put it simply”, the doctor continued, MC’s lab results in their hands, “given the hours they told us they’ve been working, it’s most likely they’ve been suffering from burnout syndrome, which eventually led to them getting this seasonal flu. They’ll be fine, we’ll prescribe some mild medications for the cough and fever, and with enough rest they should make a speedy recovery.”

* Zen was the gentlest he could be whilst watching over MC until their cold passed-he was the one to call their workspace and tell everyone about their condition, and then called his own workspace-MC begged him to go to work as usual, they’d hate to be the cause of him missing a role-but Zen shooed their worries away with a quick kiss.

* “Your well-being is more important than any role could ever be baby” he promised them, and it was true-nothing mattered to him more than MC. And he’d make sure to prove that to them in the upcoming days.

JAEHEE:

* Honestly, Jaehee’s no fool-of course she’s worked herself to the point of passing out before, and she’d be damned if she let the same thing happen to her MC.

* The moment MC came home a tired sleepy mess two days in a row, Jaehee knew they’d be on the downhill of fatigue and burnout within a matter of days. She explained all that to MC, who was slouched on the couch with their eyes half-shut, but MC tried to brush it away as nonsense.

* Well, Jaehee wouldn’t have it. She apologised to MC, but leaned over MC on the couch, snaking her hands around their waist...

* ...and snatched MC’s phone from their back pocket. She sent a short yet polite message to MC’s workspace about their condition and how they’d be unable to go to work for a few days, even though MC groaned and grumbled about it for hours, but soon enough their boss replied, saying it’s fine as they gave a heads-up notice, and that someone else would be replacing them for a few days.

* Jahee still had to go to work as usual, but before she left in the morning, she made sure there’s a hearty breakfast ready for MC along with grinded coffee beans, and told Jumin about the situation so she could leave work earlier than usual to go back to MC-say what you will about Jumin, but he also cared about his friends’ well-being, and of course allowed Jaehee to leave, even telling her if she can work from home she’s more than welcome to not come into the office the next day.

* Jaehe took Jumin’s offer, and the next morning when MC woke up, they woke up to the pleasant scent of coffee and waffles, and as they staggered into the kitchen they saw the loveliest of sights-Jaehee, an apron tied around her waist, the sun beaming through as she cooked and hummed a happy tune, her lips pursed into a small smile.

* MC couldn’t help it-they were so in love with this woman, they just had to dash up to her and wrap their arms around her waist, kiss the heck out of her as a thank you for everything; and Jaehee’s little shy giggle only made their heart flutter further.

JUMIN:

* He wasn’t home for a couple of days as he was also busy with work, so he wasn’t there to see MC’s condition deteriorate-how their work hours lengthened, how they came home dead to the world each night.

* Of course he talked with them via texts daily, and they seemed as cheerful as usual in their messages-he’d love nothing more than to call MC and hear their voice, but as they were busy and he had a day packed with meetings, he never got the chance to.

* One day his phone rang from an odd number-it was Yoosung, and before picking up, he noticed the flutter of notifications from the RFA messenger on his phone, wondering what this’d be about.

* Yoosung was frantic on the phone-he told Jumin how they’d been looking for MC all day and they wouldn’t reply to anyone’s texts, and that when they decided to check MC’s workspace, they found out from their co-workers that MC had passed out during their shift and was rushed to the hospital where they were at right now, the whole RFA there with them.

* Jumin dropped everything. In that instant, that was the very first time he felt this breath-shuddering feeling, the one that makes your heart still-fear.

* He ran out of the conference room and into the car-he didn’t even wait for Driver Kim to come drive him, no, he instead grabbed the car and drove like a madman to the hospital, nearly crashing at every turn, and definitely bumping into another car whilst parking-he didn’t care, not right then, when his MC was in danger, their life on the line-

* Well, okay, their life wasn’t really on the line, but for Jumin, any little thing that could happen to MC was life-or-death to him.

* He ran to their room, and found MC, awake and alert albeit a little tired, the rest of the RFA gathered around them-they had an IV hooked to their arm, but otherwise they seemed okay.

* He collapsed beside them on his knees as he saw their small smile, hiding his face in his hands.

* “I was so worried..” he whispered to himself, and only looked up when he felt MC shift and run their free hand through his hair; they seemed sad even though they were smiling down at him.

* “I’m sorry I worried you” they said and Jumin shook his head, grabbing their hand in his and kissing their wrist.

* “No, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I promise you, I’ll never leave you alone again. Never.”

* He wasn’t exaggerating-the moment MC was back in the penthouse he took two weeks off, and called MC’s work to tell them they’d be resting for the following month-and well, no one could say anything to one Jumin Han, now could they?

* He spent mornings cooking them both breakfast, something he was surprisingly good at-he’d bring MC fresh tea and breakfast in bed, would spend the day with them and made sure they were resting while he caught up with what work he could on his computer.

* He’d never admit how scared he was, but MC knew-there was no need for words. They took care of him as much as he took care of them, and slowly, they’d both be able to put this behind them-and MC vowed they’d care for themself more, for Jumin’s sake at least.

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* He got worried when MC came home from work silent as a mouse for a few days, barely nodding to him in response to his greetings. They seemed so tired, they refused to eat and simply staggered up to their bedroom to fall asleep in their day clothes, much to Seven’s dismay-he hated seeing MC like that, but he had no idea what to do.

* One morning he woke up later than usual, which was normal-MC had to get up earlier for work, but with his scedhule being as flexible as it was, he’d sometimes wake up with them, or sometimes he’d sleep in, after workign late into the night.

* Only this time as he woke, he felt MC still sleeping next to him-but it was a workday. Did they oversleep? Should he wake them?

* Gingerly, he shook MC awake, and his heart got caught in his throat-though they were breathing, as much as he shook them MC wouldn’t rouse. He ended up pinching them to get a reaction, and even then it was barely a small groan, their eyes fluttering half-open.

* “Baby, are you okay?? What’s wrong?!” he asked, cuppign their face between his hands.

* MC seemed deleriously drowsy. “I’m-I can’t move I’m so-tired” they trailed off, their eyes fluttering back shut.

* Seven frowned. He didn’t know what to do, so he decided to consult the internet while he let MC sleep some more-their symptoms seemed to match up with burnout syndrome, something he’d experienced often too, after days of being wide awake and working away on his laptop.

* He decided to let MC sleep in, and messaged their work through MC’s phone to let them know they were sick and would have to stay home for a few days.

* By late afternoon, MC woke up-they were still drowsy, and more than panicked when they checked the time-but Seven was there to calm them down, running his hand through their hair as he gave them a cup of tea to drink.

* For the next few days he took care of them in every way he knew, how he once took care of his beloved twin-he’d make sure they ate properly, that they drank enough water, and when they seemed a little better, that they took a walk out together for fresh air.

* He’d never show MC how scared he was; but with the way MC held his hand, squeezing tight, he knew they knew. And he knew they’d never let their health get this bad ever again.

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

* Honestly, he’d been nagging at MC for days on end to take it easy-they’d been coming home from work so tired, and it broke his heart to see them this way. He tried to talk to them, firm but gentle when he said they should take it easy, but MC merely brushed him off, insisting they’d be fine-they could take care of their health.

* Well, if that’s the way they wanted it, fine-Saeran wouldn’t intervene. He simply kept a watchful eye on them.

* Until one day, as MC staggered back home from work, their gait unsteady-the moment Saeran came to greet them at the door and took in their disshelved state, he knew something was wrong.

* He had little time to react-one moment they were standing there, their hand on the door, the next they were falling to the floor like a raggedy doll, and Saeran barely managed to dash and catch them before their head hit the floor;

* He was panicked, his eyes wide, his heartbeat stammering in his chest-but instinctively, he knew what to do.

* A short while later MC fluttered their eyes open, taking in their surroundings-they were on the couch laying down, yet in their peripheral vision they could see Saeran-he was sitting beside them, holding their legs up from the knees, his face the picture of panic.

* When he saw MC awoke he let their legs fall, leaning over them to cusp their face. “MC? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

* MC nodded, weak but alert. Saeran sighed, relief flooding him as he leaned his head onto MC’s belly, letting his shuddering breath and tear-filled eyes hide on the fabric of their shirt.

* “I’ll call your work. You’re staying home for the remaining week, wether you want to or not”. He tried to sound convincingly menacing, yet the tremor of his voice betrayed him. MC nodded nontheless-it was the first time they saw Saeran this shaken up, and they didn’t want to make him feel any worse.

* He looked up, letting MC see his reddened eyes. “Don’t do that again please just-you mean so much to me. I can’t MC, please don’t-please look after yourself. Please.”

* MC tried to sit up-Saeran shifted to stop them at first, but when they frowned at him he sighed, helping them sit up on the couch. They brought their hands around his neck, one sliding down to his back as they laid their head on the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry”, they whispered on his skin.

* Saeran shook. “No, no don’t be sorry-Just be healthy. Please, that’s all I ask of you. Don’t leave me.”

* “Never Sae, I’ll never leave you-we’ll stay home together for a few days, gather our strength. How’s that sound?”

* Saeran shifted away from them, eyeing them with a small tired smile. “Yeah. Yeah” he said as he leaned close, kissing their lips between every few words “I’ll take good care of you MC. I’ll nurse you back to full health, I promise.”

* And he did. He’d cook them meals, even though most ended up burnt or undercooked-MC loved them nontheless. He’d bring them flowers from the garden and sit beside them in bed as they talked for hours, would watch over MC when they fell asleep midway through a conversation-his heart stilled until he heart their breathing even out, scared every time they went silent.

* And thye’d get better. Healthy again, back to the bright MC Saeran loved. And they’d thank him for taking such good care of them, but Saeran would shake his head with a blush, insisting he did nothing-he was just glad MC was okay.

* “I love you”, was the underlying message, but neither of them had to say it-they knew already. They knew.

-send me a mystic messenger headcanon/prompt for characters reactions!-

#wow i rarely write for Saeran i should do so more often #mysme #mystic messenger #asks #prompts #mysme prompts #mystic messenger headcanons #jumin han #yoosung kim #jahee kang #saeran choi #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #zen #hyun ryu #thefluffwriter

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confusedweasleys · 5 years ago

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Elemental Desire (Part One) - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

A/N: YO what is up kiddos?? I’m so happy to be back writing on here! And I’m on break so that means tons of stories for you lil ones! This is my first series that I’m writing and I’m super excited lol! (Also sorry I didn’t get to the prompt, that will come in later chapters hehe). Also, for the person who requested this, I decided to make it a series with Stiles (Teen Wolf)!

Request: @sry-stlinski

Prompt: “What a shocker, you have an excuse? (#142)

Triggers: Cursing, Mentions of Drinking, Panic Attack

Word Count: 2,573———————————————————————————————————

“Y/N. Y/N. Y/N!” I jerked awake as someone gently shook my shoulder.

“Ehg! Stiles get off me,” I said, slapping his hand away. “Why did you wake me up?” I groaned.

“If you wouldn't fall asleep in class, I wouldn't have to wake you up,” he said cheerfully. He grabbed my bag. “Come on come onn,” he whined. “Let’s go, it’s lunchtime and I'm hungry.” I groaned. Why did I fall asleep? I really didn't want to have lunch with him today. With any of them really. But Stiles was already out of our history class with my bag. Slumping my shoulders in resignation, I followed him into the hall. “Come on I’m hungry,” Stiles whined, waiting for me to catch up with him. I huffed.

“Stiles, I have homework to do.”

"See that is just not true,” he said, smiling at me. “We take all the same classes, and I know for a fact that essay we just handed in was your last assignment before winter break. So not only do you have lunch free, you are also free all of winter break,” he finished. Stiles looked at me with a satisfied smile. I groaned again, knowing he was right.

“Fine,” I said, following him to our lunch spot. Recently, the little pack had taken to sitting outside. Although I’d been avoiding everyone lately, I did enjoy the change from the stuffy cafeteria. I trailed behind Stiles as we reached the group, wincing. They don’t want you here Y/N. The voice was in my head again. No one wants you here. Leave before they notice you. I pushed the voice out of my head and walked towards my friends. I settle between Stiles and Kira, resting my head of Kira’s shoulders.

I wouldn’t say that I’m good at making friends, but something about Kira and I clicked. From the first day I met her, she was always there for me and I was always there for her. That was just how it worked. Even with the comfort of my best friend, I felt anxious as I looked around the group of people laughing and talking. You aren't welcome here. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down as I noticed the dirt start to shift below me, and the breeze pick up ever so slightly. Kira seemed to notice my shift in demeanor and looked over at me as the voice returned in my head. They don’t want you here. He doesn't want you here. The wind picked up even more, to the point where a few of Lydia's papers flew away. I sat up abruptly and grabbed my backpack from Stiles' lap, trying to stay calm and shut the voice out at the same time. “Shit guys, I forgot to turn in my essay!” I exclaimed as I rushed into the school building. I barely made it into the girls’ bathroom before the voice broke through into my head. They don’t want you. They don’t like you. You are nothing. You are nothing. You are nothing to them. You are nothing to him. I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop, stop, stop, please stop, I thought. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. "Stop please stop!” I screamed out loud, feeling a rush of power through my chest. I felt a wave of water drench my entire person. Opening my eyes, I realized the entire bathroom was soaking wet. What the fuck. Did I do that? I started mentally panicking. Was there another monster or demon in this town. We had had a weird year last year certainly, but everyone had agreed that it was over. What is going on? I groaned and wiped the tears and water my face off with a few paper towels. Crying was common enough. Being completely drenched from head to toe? That might catch a few more stares.

I tried to clean myself up as best as I could before leaving the girls' bathroom - and running directly into someone. “Oh I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking-”

“Y/N?”

“Stiles?”

“Why are you soaking wet?” he asked, blinking his eyes in confusion. “It’s freezing outside. Are you ok?”

“Oh I’m fine,” I lied. “What are you doing going into the girls' bathroom,” I said, attempting to quickly change the subject.

“I wanted to see why you just lied and ran away from our friends,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me. “But now I’m more curious as to why you’re soaking wet,” he said.

“The girls’ bathroom was soaking wet, and I slipped and got completely drenched.” Another lie slipped out of my mouth.

“Y/N, I’m not stupid. Your hair is soaking wet,” he said.

“I told you, the bathroom was drenched.”

“Fine. There was a huge puddle,” he said with his trademark sarcasm. “But I'm going to drive you home because you are completely drenched.” I bit my lip. I did not want to spend 15 minutes in the car alone with him.

“Stiles you have class right now.”

“So do you,” he said cheerfully. “Come on we’re going,” he said, grabbing my shoulders and steering me out of the school before I had another chance to decline.

I had decided the key to avoiding the topics I didn't want to talk about (basically boys and the supernatural) was to keep him continuously talking about literally anything else. Which meant I had to initiate the conversation. We got to his old jeep and I tossed my soaked bag in the back. “Feel like telling the truth yet?” he asked me.

“I already did Stiles,” I said in a singsong voice. There goes that plan.

“So that would be a no,” he said, rolling his eyes and starting the car. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

“Um, study,” S said, hoping to steer away from that topic as well. I really did not want to be hanging out with the group right now. With the scary supernatural voice in my head and well, her, the group wasn't exactly my happy place at the moment.

“Yeah no, I don’t think so. It’s the first night of break. You will come ice skating with us and you will have fun. Then we will get drunk and you will have even more fun.”

“Stiles,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Not taking no for an answer,” he said, swerving the car into a sharp left - the opposite direction of my house.

"Stiles where are we going?” I asked with an exasperated sigh.

“To my house.”

“I need clothes.”

“No. You'll leave if I take you to your house.”

“Fine. I’ll come out if I can get clothes and shower first. If you haven't noticed, my clothes are sopping wet and it’s 5 degrees outside.” Stiles eyes lit up as he smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back. This boy has way to much control over me.

“Well that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” We talked for the rest of the drive back to my house, and we laughed and joked like we normally do. And even though I tried to hide it, I still heard the voice in the back of my head. he doesn't love you.

Eventually, I was able to shower and get changed into very warm clothes. And I was dreading ice skating. I didn't think I would make it through the night with Lydia slightly flirting with Stiles while he looked at her like a puppy dog. It honestly made me sick to my stomach. So I made my way downstairs in a tee shirt and Christmas pajama bottoms, with the full intention of telling Stiles to go without me. I wasn't feeling well I would say. I walked to the living room where Stiles was laying on my couch hugging a pillow to his chest. “Nope,” he said, not even looking at me.

“But-”

“Go change,” he said, turning to face me. “You are feeling perfectly fine, and we are going to go have fun,” he said. “Now go change,” he said, throwing the pillow at me. I huffed and stomped back upstairs to quickly change. Fuck. How does this boy know me so well?

We drove to the small ice rink at lightning speed. Stiles informed me that because of my “little stunt”, everyone had beat us there.

“Well if you hadn't forced me to come, you would be on time wouldn't you?” I said.

“On time and alone. And sad,” he said, twisting his face into a look of mock sadness. I laughed and unbuckled my seatbelt as we reached the ice rink. It was a quaint little sight. The ices rink was full of skating families, couples, and friends, and decorated with every sort of Christmas lights. It looked like it should be on a Christmas card. Stiles and I grabbed our skates and went to lace them up. I smiled at my penguin socks as I laced up my skates at a much faster pace than Stiles.

“Come on slowpoke, you made me come,” I said, poking his arm and putting. I skated, very clumsily I might add, to a familiar pair in the middle of the rink. “Kiraaaa,” I said as I skated right into her. Kira fell onto her butt.

“Hi Y/N,” she said, laughing and groaning as Scott hauled her off the ice. "Where's your boy toy?” she asked me looking behind me. For a split second, I was confused, until I followed her gaze to a very clumsy Stiles making his way over to us.

“The overgrown child, who is not my 'boy toy' I might add, is over there.”

“Who’s not your boy toy?” Stiles asked winking at me. I rolled my eyes

“Doesn't matter,” I said, grabbing Kira’s arm. “Come on, we're here to skate anyway. Sorry Scott, I'm stealing you girl,” I added. Kira, blushing like a madman, tightened her grip on my arm and rather forcefully led me away. She groaned as we skated away from the two boys. “Uh-uh-uh, payback,” I said, cutting her off before she could complain. Kira had known about my crush on stiles for pretty much the entire course of our friendship. I, in turn, had listened to her gush about Scott for the entire course of our friendship. Aside from repeatedly almost dying together, talking about our crushes on the two brunette boys was a key factor in our developing friendship. One year later, and things were still pretty much the same. Although, I was pretty sure Scott and Kira had hooked up. Whenever I asked her about she changed the subject.

Kira and I skated around the rink a few times, me seemingly getting worse over time, before deciding to rejoin the boys. After about ten minutes of searching for them on the small, crowded rink, Kira spotted them in line at the hot chocolate stand. Typical. Kira and I tugged off our skates before walking up behind them. “I just don't know what to do,” Stiles was saying to Scott. “There is absolutely no way she feels the same way.”

“What's up guys,” Kira interrupted as my heart twisted in my chest. Of course Stiles would be talking about Lydia when she wasn't even here. that girl had a hold on Stiles so strong I was surprised he didn't literally fall at her feet. Her, not you. And right on cue. My lovely evil voice friend was back in my head. Get out, I thought back. Now is not the time. I tried to turn my attention back to the conversation, which just consisted of Scott trying to cover up whatever the two had been talking about while Stiles stuttered incoherently. I wonder if any of your friends actually like you. The voice pushed its way back into my head. Maybe they feel sorry for you like Stiles does. Everyone has someone in their life that is more important than you. Scott has Kira. And Stiles -

“Stop it,” I said out loud. My three friends turned their heads towards me. “N-no not you guys,” I said, laughing shakily. I pointed my hand towards a kid a few yards away. “That kid was about to cut himself on his skates.” I lied through my teeth. Only Scott looked convinced. “Crap guys, it's almost nine!” I said, pretending to check my watch. “I forgot I was supposed to tutor someone tonight at 8:30. I'll see you guys later.” I turned around before anyone could respond and hurried to return my skates.

“Y/N!”

“Thank you, thank you! I said hurriedly, giving the rental man my skates back. “Y/N,” Stiles said catching up to me. “What the fuck is going on? I know you’re lying about having to trust someone tonight, and I know you were lying earlier today. What the fuck is going on?” he asked again.

“I’m not lying Stiles, I'm just stressed. It’s just making me a little crazy.”

“You're lying again,” he said, clearly frustrated.

“I’m not lying! Why do you even think I’m lying?” I said walking away from him.

“Because I know you. You don’t rush off to random places or forget about appointments. You don’t forget to turn in assignments. And when you lie, you don’t make I contact.”

“That’s not true,” I mumbled looking at my hands. Stiles stared pointedly at me.

“Come on,” he said, pulling me back to the car. I resigned to getting into the passenger side, and he drove away from the crowded area. We drove in silence until he pulled off the road on the edge of the woods.

“I don't understand what you have going on in your life that is so bad or complicated that you can't tell me about it. We’ve always told each other everything. And now you’re acting weird and I don’t know how to help you,” he said.

“I don't have anything going on!” I exclaimed, fling my arms into the air. “And I’m not acting weird! I’m fine.” I watched the air outside start to swirl. Fuck I need to get out of here.

“If you won’t tell me what’s bothering you and you need some time that’s fine. Let's go do something. Just the two of us. We can at least take your mind off of whatever is stressing you out.”

“Nothing is stressing me out,” I said, growing more agitated. He doesn't actually care about you. He feels bad for you. “Stop, stop, stop!” I said, feeling something build inside me. Outside the car, the air swirled more intensely as it was joined by flurries of snow. Stiles looked at me, bewildered.

“Yes, you are obviously the epitome of fine,” he said sarcastically. “You need to calm down,” he said, turning serious in an instant. “I think you're having a panic attack,” he said.

“No no no,” I said. “I-I need to go,” I said.

“What?” he said even more bewildered. “Where?”

“I-I was supposed to be home a half-hour ago,” I said, clenching my fists. Stay calm.

“What a shocker, another excuse,” he said dryly. His sarcasm quickly turned to real concern again as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Y/N what is going on?” he asked again in a pleading voice. “Please,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.” Don't talk to him. He doesn't really care.

“I need to go,” I said, fumbling for the door. Stiles tried to lock the doors, but it was too late. I scrambled out of the car and into the woods.

“Y/N no!” he shouted. “No, come back!” He ran out of the car after me, but I had a huge head start. He wouldn't catch up to me. I ran through the woods as a sob wracked through me. Violent wind and snow swirled around me so powerfully I couldn't even control the direction of my momentum. And like a mantra, the voice began again. Unloved. Worthless. Friendless. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Stop! STOP!” I screamed. I felt a huge weight burst from my chest as wind and snow swirled seemingly straight from my body and into the sky. And then I passed out in the snow.

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sugaabooga · 5 years ago

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Lifting Hopes

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, e2f

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: very very brief mention of being bipolar ??

Synopsis: Based on the btswritersguild December prompt: “I can’t believe I got stuck on a ski lift with you, of all people”. You and Hoseok had never gotten along. Maybe all it takes to become friends is to get stuck on a ski lift together.

A/N: I wanted to upload this fic like nxt month so i dont just disappear on you guys for like three months again, but winter and the holidays ARE LITERALLY OVER. so yah. i decided to post it rn ahahha

“He’s coming?” you spit out in distaste.

Seokjin places a hand against his head in annoyance at your complaints and intensifying frown.

“Please, Y/N,” he rolls his eyes. “Stop being a child.”

You frown, pulling on your snow boots instead of the Nike slides you lounged in during the long drive up to the mountains.

The door on Jin’s side slams closed, leaving you to struggle to put on the ski jacket over your thick bundles of clothes. Bracing yourself for the cold, you quickly pull on your beanie and slip on your hood, then step out through the car door.

You shiver as the cold, sharp wind hits your cheeks and your less layered legs.

You trudge through the thin layer of snow laying on top of the asphalt towards Jin who was holding the trunk half-open due to being distracted by a text on his phone.

“Hey!” you bark, startling Seokjin from his wits which makes you burst out in laughter.

“Ah! You scared me!” he yells with a slight smile, eyes blown wide. You roll your eyes at his overreaction and open up the trunk.

“Technology in this modern world,” you mutter as Jin snickers at your comment.

Jin slips his phone into his back pocket before slightly nudging you over to help carry out the stack of snowboards and skiis. Your friend group had split up, making you and Seokjin go off on the roads with all the snowboards and skiis loaded in the trunk while the rest were bringing themselves and other small necessities.

“Don’t mind Hoseok too much,” Seokjin grunts, lifting some snowboards out as you help unload some of the skiis. “If you guys start arguing, I’m going straight back home without you.”

You roll your eyes as you start putting on your gloves. “If we start arguing, that’s totally your fault. Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

“Because then you wouldn’t come!”

“Of course I wouldn’t!”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Exactly my point. You’ve been avoiding the whole group since our winter break started. You didn’t even come to the Christmas party!”

“What’s the big deal if I don’t show?” you mutter.

“We all miss you, Y/N,” Jin pouts. “Don’t forget that you and Hoseok are our friends despite you guys butting heads all the time.”

You sigh, nodding in defeat.

It was known to your whole friend group that you despised Hoseok. Despite the man being a beacon of light and even managing to befriend Yoongi who was quite similar to you, Hoseok was unable to break through your dense wall.

In the beginning, you found Hoseok’s bright energy annoying and his jokes not funny at all. As Hoseok realized his usual friendly antics were not working around you, he switched to teasing you which really felt like you were getting made fun of. But was it really bullying if you were also spitting out savage remarks and ten times more hot-headed than him?

If someone saw it, they would be persuaded that you were the bully and Hoseok was the victim.

The thing that angered you even more was that your retorts only seemed to encourage Hoseok to talk to you and mess around.

You even tried to ignore him, but that deemed impossible when that boy really got on your nerves from the way he blindingly smiled at you with a knowing glint in his eye while quietly saying a back-handed insult that only made the others burst out in laughter.

Honestly, it was more of a playful joke than a harmful insult but you truly could not stand Hoseok’s annoying, shrill laughter and spiteful voice which made everything sound like an insult to you.

Jin hums in satisfaction, about to open his mouth, probably to nag you some more, before he lets out an “oh” and starts waving around his arms like a madman.

You grit your teeth, hoping Hoseok wasn’t the group that came up yet.

The universe is never on your side.

You remain standing still, taken aback when it is, in fact, Hoseok whose group came up to the ski resort first. You make a slight disgruntled noise when you make direct eye contact with him as soon as you turn around. You quickly avert your eyes when Hoseok’s lips curl into a bright, toothy smile and instead turn around before he can fully greet you to wave your hand at the smaller man next to him.

“Glad you’re still alive after those three hours in the car with Seokjin,” Yoongi says, making Jin shoot him a glare.

“Hey! I’m not that bad to be around,” he frowns, turning to you. “Right, Y/N?”

You merely shrug in response, making the other boys laugh at Jin’s pouty expression.

“It’s cold!” Jimin shouts, curling his body over. Taehyung and Hoseok take the opportunity to jump on Jimin’s back and it soon turns to a loud, giggly group hug between the three men.

You sigh, refraining the strong urge to roll your eyes as Jin starts joining the weird tackle/hug and Yoongi merely stands still with eyes blank, mumbling nagging words at them.

To your relief, the last group arrives soon after, Jungkook having driven Namjoon, Seri, and Hyejoo over.

Seri and Namjoon animatedly talk about something, both always having been interested in similar topics, while Jungkook and Hyejoo awkwardly shuffle over to the rest of you.

You almost want to laugh at the pairs’ awkwardness who were known as the two most distant friends in the group, besides you and Hoseok.

Hyejoo immediately jogs over to you once she sees you waving at her. She wraps you in a hug, dramatically leaning all her weight onto you.

“I MISSED YOU, Y/N!”

You giggle as you step away from her with a smirk. “How was the car ride?”

Hyejoo sighs with a tense smile. “As awkward as it can be. Why did Namjoon insist he sit in the back with Seri?”

Your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected information. “What?”

Hyejoo nods, briefly glancing at the said pair with playful bitterness. “Those two have been hitting it off. It’s weird, considering how they weren’t that close until the past few weeks.”

You furrow your brows with a soft “huh” but before you can think of anything of it, Jin declares that everyone grab their boards and someone collect the amount for the ski lift pass.

You decide to take charge of collecting the money, going around and collecting the bills from each person.

“How much?”

You look up at the question to see Hoseok staring down at you with a small smile for the first time that day as Taehyung counts the bills from his wallet on the other side of Hoseok.

You suddenly feel weirdly light-headed. “Uh. . .”

“Eight dollars!” Taehyung answers for you, handing over the correct amount to you with a boxy grin. “Are we the last ones?” he asks, lifting his board to hold it under his arm.

You nod as Hoseok pulls out his little bag from under his thick jacket and Taehyung shuffles off to the side. You hold in a snort at the sight of Hoseok’s bag, having seen that in every single trip your group went on.

It was cute. Not that you would ever say that out loud.

You quickly count through the pile of cash and realize you and Hoseok were the ones remaining to pay as Taehyung shouts Jimin’s name, running up the snowy hill with some struggle from the extra weight and thick clothes.

You breathily laugh at Taehyung’s humorous figure, slightly shaking your head at his actions and rummage through your pockets for your bundle of cash that you had set aside prior to the trip to pay for your own pass.

Not being able to feel the bundle, you grow slightly panicked. You hated losing money, and your empty pockets make you heavily sigh.

Hoseok gives you the eight dollars, eyeing you curiously at how you take it with a grim line on your face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, slightly concerned.

You give him an odd glance. Why would he care?

“Uh. Yeah,” you say, feeling the awkward tension settle in between the two of you. You quickly turn around and start heading up the hill behind the rest of the excitedly talking group, wondering if you should just ask Hyejoo or Jin for extra cash.

“Y/N,” Hoseok calls, his grip going to your wrist to stop you.

You subtly pull your wrist away from him, ignoring the weird tingly sensation as you turn around.

“Yes, Hoseok?” you ask with a tense look.

“Are you broke?” he jokes.

You squint at the man’s teasing smile and huff.

“No,” you say sharply with a frown. “I just. . . I don’t know where my money went. I think it fell out while I was changing or something.”

Hoseok shrugs, immediately taking out another eight dollars from his pouch.

Before you can even protest, he firmly squishes the bills into your palm and takes your board from your side. He nearly sprints up the snowy incline, none less humorously than Taehyung’s running figure, yelling Taehyung’s name to wait up for him and ignoring your call for him to get back here and take back his money and return your board.

“What the hell?” you breath out, obviously not having expected this kind gesture.

You force out the rush of thoughts that threaten to enter your mind and instead, remain your indifferent self.

You arrive at the ticket booth, exchanging the eighty dollars with ten ski lift passes and trudge over to your friends.

“Y/N’s here!” Seri announces. All of them crowd around you, grabbing the passes and attaching it onto one another.

You fiddle around with the zip-tie, successfully attaching it to your ski jacket’s zipper and look around for Hoseok who had taken your board.

“Y/N!”

You whip around to see Jimin waddling over to you with your board under his left arm. With a small grunt, he places it down in front of you.

“Hoseok said this was your board?” Jimin states as if in question.

You lightly smile at his slight confusion, fully understanding why Jimin was so taken aback by the fact that Hoseok even had your board in the first place and then nod in response.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the board. “He took it earlier since I had to go to the ticket booth.”

Jimin nods, satisfied with your answer and turns back around to easily join in on a conversation.

“Is anyone going to ride right now?” you hear Seokjin ask.

“Me!” you shout as your arm shoots up in the air. Seokjin nods, gesturing you to follow him to the lift. You hop after him in the snow and strike up a conversation, missing the way Hoseok fondly smiles as he trudges along after the two of you.

“Jin hyung!” a voice calls from behind, making you turn around after entering through the automatic gates that lead you into the lift.

Taehyung jogs up to the two of you, a boxy smile on his face as he makes his way right in front of you.

“Can I get on the lift with Jin hyung?” Taehyung asks with a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” you blurt out immediately, with no hesitation which automatically causes a pout to be etched onto Taehyung’s face.

“Why’re you guys just standing here?” Hoseok asks, finally catching up with you guys in the line.

“I would like to Tae,” Seokjin starts, unintentionally ignoring Hoseok. “But I’m worried that one of these two is going to end up dead.”

Hoseok cracks up at Jin’s comment as you wince at Hoseok’s loud laughter.

“Glad you’re aware, Mr. Kim,” you roll your eyes, walking past the rest of them as Taehyung continues to whine behind you.

You strap one foot on your board, preparing to get on the lift with Seokjin standing next to you as your turn comes closer. Quickly, it’s your turn to get on the carpeted loading station. As you shuffle over, you hear a yelp from Seokjin as his figure suddenly disappears from next to you.

“Seokjin?” you say, confused, but you’re already getting ushered into the lift with Taehyung haphazardly pushing Hoseok in next to you.

No. No. NO. NOOO.

“SEOKJIN!” you yell, arm helplessly reaching behind you as your seat gently jerks forward, going up the incline.

“Y/N!” you hear Jin dramatically shout back.

You heavily sigh as you watch Seokjin and Taehyung take their own seats, leaving one empty lift between you and them.

A snort leads you to frown, turning your upper body back around.

You shoot Hoseok a glare as he looks away from you with an obvious smile on his face.

“What’s so funny?” you say, venomously.

He turns around, facing you with amusement in his eye. “You and Jin hyung. If someone saw, they would think you were Jack and Rose on the Titanic.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest, deciding to look down at the plush snow instead of Hoseok’s annoying face.

“What’d you do for Christmas?” Hoseok suddenly asks, interrupting the soft buzzing noise of the lift’s machinery that filled up the silence.

You turn to look at him in confusion which he responds with raised brows.

“What?” he asks defensively.

You huff, choosing to look straight ahead of you. “Why’re you being so nice today?”

The corner of Hoseok’s lip tilts up. “What do you mean? I’m always nice.”

You resist a groan, already able to hear the amusement in his voice.

“Nevermind.”

You side-eye the man who’s slightly curled up against the end of the rail slightly shaking with laughter.

It takes your entire willpower to smother the smile all the way down to your toes that threatens to form on your face from Hoseok’s contagious, bubbly laughter.

“You never answered my question,” Hoseok says after a few moments of silence.

You sigh, fiddling with the half-open pocket on your ski pants. “My parents came over in the morning. We ate breakfast and I spent the rest of the day on Netflix.”

“How come you didn’t come to the Christmas party?”

You turn to him with slight surprise. Why did he even care if you were there or not?

“Because-”

Suddenly, a creak sounds from the large gears attached at the top of the pole a few meters away from and your seat jerks forward into a stop.

“Eep!” Hoseok squeaks, as he feels his body lurch forward with the lift that starts to swing.

Your instincts take over, one hand grabbing the side rail and the other reaching out for Hoseok. It appears that Hoseok’s hands have the same reflexes.

You both panickly look at each other and look down.

Your hands were intertwined.

You gasp, pulling away as Hoseok sputters out an apology, hand darting back into his lap.

A few beats of silence pass as the lift slows down into a stop and you realize that it wasn’t moving at all.

You audibly sigh, the previous hand-holding incident quickly being forgotten and instead annoyance filling you.

“We’re stuck?” Hoseok dumbly asks as if he didn’t want to accept the fact.

You roll your eyes, giving him a judgemental side-eye. “Well, does it seem like we’re moving?”

“I can’t believe I got stuck on a ski lift with you, of all people,” you mutter without much thought, looking off to the side and staring enviously at the freely snowboarding and skiing people.

You hear Hoseok scoff and for a second, you fear if you took it too far.

“Am I that bad?” he asks softly, eyes narrowed and looking straight forward.

Was he offended? Maybe you took it too far?

“Uh. . .” you let out a noise, confused on how to respond to this serious side of Hoseok.

He remains silent, tense.

You might’ve taken it too far.

“N-No,” you say quietly, barely reaching Hoseok’s ears. “Sorry. I was just kidding.”

Hoseok lets out a slight sigh, seeming to refuse to turn to you. You wonder if he was joking with you until he opens his mouth and glances at you.

“Didn’t sound like you were kidding,” he states bitterly. You straighten up at his tone that you’ve never heard from him before. He was never this directly upset with you.

“Hoseok,” you say firmly, disliking the guilt that seeps into you. “I was just kidding. Getting stuck on the lift sucks in general, not just because I’m stuck with you.”

“HEY! GET OFF OF ME! WE’RE BOTH GOING TO FALL DOWN AND DIE. DO YOU WANT TO DIE? I DON’T WANT TO DIE WITH YOU!” Seokjin yells, his blaring voice echoing across the whole ski resort.

You sigh, wincing at the ringing in your ears from Seokjin’s pitchy voice. “In fact, I would much rather be stuck here with you rather than listen to Jin scream right next to me.”

Hoseok cracks a smile. “Poor Tae.”

You stare at him a bit questionably at how he was slightly smiling again.

Was this guy bipolar?

Hoseok turns to you abruptly with a wide smile on his face now. “So you don’t completely hate me.”

You squint your eyes at him. “What?”

Hoseok slightly laughs. “I’m not actually mad. I just wanted to see how you would react.”

Your jaw drops, but surprisingly you don’t feel too angry.

“At least I know I’m better to be stuck on a lift than with Jin,” he laughs.

You offer a breathy laugh, turning away from Hoseok’s infectious laughter and staring down at the snow to try to suppress your smile.

You miss the way Hoseok beams at the sound of your soft laugh.

Before a complete awkward silence can settle down, the lift suddenly jerks forward, the gears groaning to start moving down the numerous skiiers and snowboarders.

With a soft yelp from Hoseok and an iron grip on the rails from you, your lift starts moving.

And for the first time, you let your lips crack into a smile at the sound of Hoseok’s nervous laughter.

#btsguild #bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #myfic #bts #bts scenarios #jhope scenarios #hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #decemberprompt #jhope fluff #jhope angst

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janetbrown711 · 5 years ago

Text

The ballet was painfully slow.

Oh yes, the dancers were beautiful and elegant and poignant as they ought, but as soon as Louie had pointed out the Dowager Empress, Webby couldn't help but stare. She looked at the Empress' face and couldn't help but feel like she knew her and that she belonged with her. She needed the Empress to believe her. She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't. The Dowager Empress was her past and her future. She needed her.

Meanwhile a whole other dilemma was nagging Louie's mind. He watched as Webby stared at the Empress and ripped her ticket nervously. He told her to relax and that she'd be fine but she was still so nervous. It was quite cute if he was honest. She clung to his arm and even leaned on him a bit. Her touch felt nice. It was strong, like she was. He didn't mind.

But he couldn't think like that. He had to keep his nerve, and see this whole thing through. It was what he had come to do. He had one goal, and that was to walk away with ten million dollars.

Ten million dollars.

The money had felt so exciting just four days ago.

Now it felt like nothing.

Soon enough though, the dance came to a pause and it was time for intermission.

"C'mon. It's time," Louie said as he went to help her up. Webby was nervous, but followed.

"Relax, you're gonna be great," Louie said. Webby spun around to go back to her seat but Louie turned her back around.

"Deep breaths, it's gonna be fine," he assured. Webby took in deep breaths and continued down the long hallway until they made their way to the Dowager Empress' box.

"Wait here. I'll give you a proper introduction," he instructed.

"Louie," she said, stopping him from going in.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Look, we've been through... a lot together," she cleared her throat as she felt her face flush.

"Yeah..?" He nodded, a small smile creeping on his face as he forgot his previous precautions.

"And I just wanted to..." she looked deeply into his deep and enchanting green eyes.

"Well..." she leaned in, but closed her eyes.

"Thank you. I wanted... to thank you," she stepped back. "Thank you for everything."

Louie was about to go in, but stopped himself.

"Webby I-" he said.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I-i um..."

"Yes..?"

"I... i wanted to wish you good luck..." he backed down too.

"Oh..." her hopeful face fell.

"Good luck," he stuck out his hand and she shook it. It wasn't exactly lady like but it was Webby.

"Well here it goes," he gave a quick nod before entering the room, accidentally leaving the door open so Webby could hear.

"Please inform her majesty, the Dowager Empress, that I have found her granddaughter, the Grand Duchess Webbigail," Louie announced to Daisy, who was smiling excitedly.

"She is waiting to see her right outside the door," he added.

"I am very sorry, young man, but the Empress she will see no one," she winked and let him through to her.

"You may tell that impertinent young man that I have seen enough Grand Duchess Webbigails to last me a life time," the old woman spoke, barely even glancing back at them. Daisy's smile faded.

"Oh, you better go," she was being genuine this time.

"Please, let me just-"

"Now if you'd excuse me, i wish to live out the rest of my lonely life in peace," she looked back at him with annoyance.

"I'll see you to the door," Daisy closed the thick velvet curtain to give the Empress some privacy and headed to the door but Louie didn't follow, opting instead to go through the curtain.

"Your majesty, you must know I intend you no harm," he sat in the seat next to her. "My name is Louie, I used to work at the palace."

"That's one I haven't heard before," she rolled her eyes and stood up, tossing her program in her seat.

"Wait- don't go please-" he stopped her from moving beyond the curtain. "If you'll just hear me o-"

"I know what you're after," she spat. "I've seen it before. Men who will train young women in the royal ways," she rang a bell for her servants.

"But your highness, if you'll just listen-"

"Haven't you been listening?" She accused. "I've had enough! I don't care how much you have fashioned this girl to look like her, sound like her, or act like her. In the end, it's never her."

"This time it is her!" He protested.

"Louie..." the Empress froze. "I've heard of you," she turned to face him, "you're that conman from Saint Duckburg who held auditions for a Webbigail lookalike!" She accused. Louie realized he was trapped, but he had to get her to listen.

"But your grace, we've come all the way from Russia-"

"And I've seen others from Timbuktu," she dismissed him, sitting down on a sofa. Louie knelt down as to plead further.

"It's not that! It's not what you think!" He made the mistake of touching her hand. The empress stood.

"How dare you! How much pain must you inflict on an old woman for money?!" she raised her voice. Finally, the servants entered.

"Remove him at once," she waved her hand and Louie was grabbed by two men and they began to drag him out of the room.

"But she is Webbigail!!! I'm telling you!" Louie fought with all his might. "She's the Grand Duchess!!! If you only speak to her-! If you'll just listen!!! You'll see!" And with that he was tossed out of the room, right in front of Webby.

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?" Her face was tearstained.

"No," he got up. She turned and began walking away.

"You used me? To steal some poor old woman's money?" She looked him in the eyes that time. They were so hurt it nearly killed him.

"No! Not at all! No-..." he made the mistake of pausing. Webby had enough and walked away again.

"Look, it may have started out that way, but things are different now! Because you really are Webbigail! You really are!" He followed her.

"Oh stop it!" She spun around. "I don't want to hear it! From the very beginning you lied to me!" She shoved him.

"And I not only believed you, i actually- augh!" She clenched her fists and walked away again. Louie still went after.

"Webby, please," he stepped in front of her. "When you spoke of the hidden door and the wall and the little boy, that was me!" He touched her hand and she swiped it away.

"No! I don't want to hear anything i remember or don't remember from the likes of you!" She shouted. Louie grabbed her arm as she tried to move away again. She snagged her arm out of the glove and slapped him across the face so hard he fell to the ground before storming off to the hotel to get her things.

"Webby please! You have to know the truth!" He tried to get up, but his legs were weak, and she was soon out of his sight.

.o0o.

His cheek had a red mark where she hit him, even after a long while. Figures, since this was Webby's doing. He figured the rest of the ballet would be a bust without her and figured she went to the hotel so called a car to take him to there. However, while he was waiting outside none other than the Dowager Empress was leaving too. With that he got an idea he knew he had to do.

As the Empress sat in her car, the driver went around the back to get into his seat, meanwhile Louie scrambled to the front and stole the car, and started driving.

Then and there he realized that he couldn't really drive. At all.

But it was too late. He put the pedal to the metal and drove down the streets of Paris. The Empress quickly protested.

"Slow down Phillip! You're driving like a madman," she scolded.

"Oh, I'm not Phillip. And i won'tslow down until you listen," he grinned through the rearview mirror. The old woman gasped.

"You!! How dare you! Stop this car right now!" She demanded. Louie pressed the brakes to a screeching halt as he horribly parked right outside the hotel. With a huff, he got up, went around the car and opened the door for the Empress because he was a gentleman dammit.

"You have to talk to her," he demanded. "Just... look at her! Please!" He grit his teeth. Bentina lifted her head regally.

"I won't be badgered by you a moment longer," she huffed. Louie kneeled and reached into his suit pocket.

"Do you recognize this?" He pulled out the music box. The Empress gasped.

"Where did you get this?" She couldn't take her eyes off it as she carefully picked it up from his hands.

"I know you've been hurt, but it's just possible she's been just as lost and alone as you," he said. Bentina looked back at him.

"You'll stop at nothing, will you?" She asked.

"I'm probably about as stubborn as you are," he smirked and stepped aside. She sighed.

"Fine. I'll talk. But only for five minutes."

.o0o.

Webby furiously wiped tears off her face as she shoved clothes into her suitcase. She had taken off the other glove and tossed it in a trash bin. There was a knock at her door.

"Go away Louie," she growled. The door opened to reveal that it wasn't Louie though. Instead, it was none other than the Dowager Empress Bentina Beakly herself.

"I said-" Webby gasped when she saw her and quickly dipped into a bow. "I'm sorry, i thought you were..."

"I know exactly who you thought I was. Who exactly are you?" She asked.

"I... was hoping you could tell me," Webby replied nervously.

"My dear, I'm old. And I'm tired of being conned and tricked," Beakly got a good look at her before walking to the other side of the room.

"I don't want to trick you," Webby sighed.

"And i suppose the money doesn't interest you either?" If Beakly was honest, she was a bit surprised by the woman in front of her.

"I just want to know who I am. Whether or not i belong to a family. Your family," Webby said earnestly. Beakly examined her again.

"You're a very good actress," she said. "Best yet, in fact, but I've had enough," she nodded and started to head out. Webby sighed, relaxing before smelling something familiar.

"Peppermint?" She asked. Beakly paused her steps.

"An oil for my hands." She continued.

"Yes... i spilled a bottle on the carpet once. The carpet was soaked, and it forever smelled of peppermint," she chuckled. The Empress stopped and sat back on the bench.

"Like you," Webby smiled, playing with her necklace before looking back at the Empress.

"I used to lie on that rug, and oh how I'd miss you when you were gone. When you came here. To Paris," she looked back through the window. She placed a hand on her forehead and Beakly patted the seat next to her. Webby accepted the invitation and sat down.

"What is that?" Beakly pointed to the necklace.

"This? Oh I've had it since before I can remember," Webby said.

"May I?" The Empress asked. Webby nodded and took it off. Beakly examined it closely. It was old and a bit faded, but it was still the necklace she had given to Webbigail all those years ago.

"It was our secret. My Webbigail's and mine," she explained. Webby listened intentfully as Beakly reached into her bag and pulled out the music box Louie had given her.

"The music box! The one you gave me to sing me to sleep when you were away!" Webby gasped. Beakly nodded as Webby took them and used the necklace to wind it up with ease.

"Hear this song and remember..." she sang with it.

"Soon you'll be, home with me," the Empress joined along.

"Once upon a December," they finished. Tears were welling up in Webby's eyes but already flowing in the Empress'.

"Oh Webbigail. My sweet, dear Webbigail," she hugged her tightly, thanking the stars in the heavens for her being here and alive. Webby cried happily into her shoulder.

She had finally found her family.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

#webbigail vanderquack #ducktales #mrs. beakly #louie duck #daisy duck #loubby #feeeelingssssss #i wrote this twice btw #first time tumblr threw a fit #i hate tumblr i swear #webbistasia #jskcjejdifk #this was fun tho

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seeaddywrite · 6 years ago

Note

i’m not sure if you’re up for writing mylex, but if you are, mylex+62? or 20 for malex 💕

someday, i will try my hand at mylex because HELLO OT3, but i went with malex this time. i hope you enjoy!

Keeping Michael at arm’s length is the hardest thing Alex has ever done. It’s the right thing, because while Alex made it back from Baghdad alive, he didn’t survive unscathed, and his head is a dangerous place. How can he commit to anyone, let alone Michael, when he’s not even sure that he’ll be able to sleep through the night? It’s easy to fool everyone else; he projects the perfect image of a calm, competent soldier whenever he’s in public, and no one ever questions it. No one but Michael, who’s always known him too damn well. So the mask becomes rigid, even cruel, when faced with Michael’s attempts to talk, or fix things, and Alex is left wondering if he’s ever going to be able to just feel like himself again. He’s pretty sure he won’t.

But at Cauffield, Alex is forced to give up all pretenses of being the rational soldier and makes the decision that if Michael’s going to stay and become another of his father’s victims, Alex is, too. For the past week, since realizing that Guerin’s been trying to rebuild a spacecraft and leave the planet, Alex has tried to imagine what a life without Michael in it, even at the fringes, would be like. And every time, no matter how creative Alex got, the image hurt. There is no scenario in which Alex is content with that reality — so he stays. He tears down every wall he’s put between the two of them since coming back to Roswell, and he lets Michael see exactly how deeply he’s loved, even if it’s by someone as messed up as Alex. “You are mine,” he tells Michael desperately, reminding him that he has someone, a family, even if it’s not his mother. “I never look away, Guerin!”

There are tears in his eyes as Michael throws the honesty back in his face, but Alex knows him well enough to see the lie in his desperate, grief-stricken eyes. He calls him on it, and thankfully, the woman in the cell intervenes, her hand glowing against the glass as she imparts another devastating truth to Michael.

Between Alex and whatever message the woman in the cell — Michael’s mother, god! — passed on, Michael leaves the prison and is physically safe, but Alex isn’t stupid enough to say that he’s fine. The entire ride back to Roswell is terrifyingly silent, and there are two instances in which the SUV beneath them shakes, and Alex knows it’s not because there’s something going wrong with the engine. Michael is in pain, and Michael is losing control. But he won’t let Alex help, won’t let him even try. Instead, as soon as they return to the garage where he lives, Michael slams the car door in Alex’s face without a word and tears off like a madman behind the wheel of his own truck. Alex is left staring after him, aching and bereft with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do for Michael, now.

So Alex decides to help in the only way left to him; he turns to technology. There are other bases like Cauffield — there have to be. Because if Alex knows anything, it’s how his father operates. He’s been studying Jesse Manes for years remotely, searching for weaknesses, a way to bring him down as he so richly deserves. During those years of recon, Alex has learned that his father never puts all of his eggs in one basket. If Cauffield was rigged to blow the moment anyone stirred in the quarantined section, he had to have other research centers. He wouldn’t be willing to give up the only source of information about his perceived ‘enemy’ so easily.

That means that there are other aliens out there, maybe more of Michael’s family, or Max or Isobel’s, being tortured by Alex’s family. That means there’s still a chance to save someone, and not just stand back to watch them burn. And even if he hadn’t wanted to put an end to everything his father cares about, Alex would have been driven to save those people just to be sure Michael never had to watch his only chance at family go up in flames in front of him. When push comes to shove, Alex knows he’d put his father in the ground before he could ever hurt Michael like that again.

Three days pass, somehow, in a blur of codebreaking and recon. The guys in Alex’s squad had always ridden him about his focus while working — apparently, there’d once been an air raid at their base and he’d missed it while trying to hack into the enemy computers and take out their bombs. Anderson, one of his best friends, had always been the one to bring him food and pry the computer out of his hands on those missions, while Cooper, their best gunman, had the joy of shoving Alex into bed when he was feeling his most stubborn. Alex had never liked leaving important jobs unfinished, and his own physical well-being was a small price to pay if it meant success. But his friends are half a world away, now, and Alex is on his own. He remembers to eat, shoving an energy bar from his bag in his mouth when he notices that he’s hungry, and sleeps when he gets tired enough to start making mistakes. There’s no room for error in hacking; one wrong keystroke, and he could tip off whoever’s on the other end — and he can’t have that. Not yet. They’re not ready.

“You working on setting a world record for longest amount of time without a shower? Because if so, you should really do us all a favor and set up shop somewhere with more ventilation.” Valenti’s voice makes Alex freeze; he’s close, only a foot or so away from Alex’s chair, which means he hadn’t even noticed when the man opened the door or climbed down the stairs. Christ. His situational awareness has been on overdrive since his teenage years; living with a man who seemed to want him dead did that to a kid. War only made it worse — so it was damned scary that Valenti could sneak up on him so easily.

Exhaling slowly to rid himself of the threat of panic, Alex flicks his gaze to Kyle’s face and raises one eyebrow in a distinctly flat expression of judgment. “Funny,” he says scathingly, and is startled by how hoarse his voice sounds. From disuse, apparently. Huh. “What do you want, Valenti? I’m working.”

“I can see that,” Kyle says dryly, glancing around at the scatter of files, hard drives, and backup systems that Alex hasn’t bothered to keep neat. His eyes linger on the screen currently running location algorithms, but only for an instant. Then, he’s back to looking at Alex, expression distinctly unimpressed. “You planning on rejoining the world anytime soon? Or, you know, sleeping?”

Sometimes, it’s still utterly bizarre that this is who Kyle Valenti grew into after high school. He’d always been smart, so the MD wasn’t exactly a surprise, but the genuine care he seems to exude for people under his purview is hard for Alex to swallow. And the fact that he’s here, trying to babysit Alex, is even more so. Alex has been taking care of himself since he was a teenager; he doesn’t need Valenti barging in and telling him how to run his life, even if his intentions are good.

Alex turns back to the largest screen in his set-up without a word, moving the algorithms to run on one of the smaller monitors so that he can multi-task. He takes half a second to point curtly at the sleeping bag in the corner of the bunker, where he’d rested in the recent past … in the somewhat recent past, at least. It had definitely been in the last twenty-four hours. He thinks. But that isn’t any of Valenti’s damn business.

“Manes.” Kyle’s voice is full of exasperation, and a moment later, he’s standing too close, his eyes narrowed and one hand half-extended, like he can’t decide whether he wants to rest a hand on Alex’s shoulder or shake him. “A sleeping bag on the floor doesn’t count as decent sleep, and you know it. Have you left this room at all since we got back from Cauffield?”

Alex lets his silence speak for himself. Obviously, Kyle already knows the answer to that question, and his brain power is better focused on the task at hand than verbal sparring with Valenti. He knows, logically, that he’s going to have to take a break sometime soon. The cyber protections around the rest of Project Shepherd are much more sophisticated than his father’s systems, and Alex is only one man. But he’s so close to a break through, and he doesn’t have any actionable intel — and if Alex has to sit on his ass doing nothing after everything he’s witnessed lately, he thinks he might lose his mind for good this time.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Valenti,” Alex snaps, when it becomes clear that Kyle isn’t leaving. “I’m a grown man, and I need to do this — you standing there, breathing down my neck, isn’t going to make me move any faster!” The anger coursing through his body doesn’t quite fit the situation; Alex recognizes that as if from a distance, but is powerless to stop himself. He’s too worn, too emotionally and physically exhausted.

“Fine,” Kyle snaps back, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly. “I’ll just go sit in the corner and wait for you to pass out from lack of sleep or lack of nutrition, then, huh? My bet is it won’t take long, and then I won’t have to deal with the attitude when I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Alex takes a long, slow deep breath, and forces himself to swallow the rejoinder that no one had asked Kyle to look out for him. It’s hard, and the words threaten to emerge anyway, but Alex manages to control himself. After a moment of tense silence, he looks back at Valenti, his eyes hard. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Kyle,” he says, and it’s only sort of a lie. “But I need to do this. There could be other facilities like Cauffield, and if we don’t get to them before my father realizes what we know —”

“You think I don’t get that?” Kyle’s back to looking exasperated, but there’s a rigidity to his spine that suggests that he does actually understand. He wants to know what his father was involved in as much as Alex wants to take it apart, and Kyle isn’t the sort of man to relish in the deaths of of innocent people. “I’m on your side, Alex, remember? We’re going to take these sons of bitches down, and rescue anyone left. But you’re not going to be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself— and I’m pretty sure Guerin would tell you the same thing, if he could see you right now.”

The mention of Michael hits Alex like a blow, and he clenches his jaw in automatic response. “Michael has bigger things to worry about right now,” he says, somehow managing to keep his voice even. “And he’d want me to find the other facilities, if they’re out there. It’s the only chance he has of finding more family, and I’m not going to take a nap instead of -”

“For god’s sake, Manes! You’re the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever met, you know?” Kyle shakes his head, and the muscle in Alex’s jaw jumps. He decides to take the high road and ignore the comment, because he’s pretty sure that Valenti is right at the top of that list with him. “You know what? Forget it. I should’ve just started with the back-up plan.”

Alex isn’t curious enough to wonder about what Kyle’s planning to turn around. He listens as footsteps recede out of the bunker and returns his full attention to the task in front of him. For a long while, all that he hears is the hum of the modems and the tap of his fingers on the keys — and the occasional yawn, because apparently, Valenti’s speech has reminded his body of exactly how little rest it had gotten in the last few days. Massaging the base of his leg where it met the join of the prosthetic absently, he reached for a Red Bull stashed in his knapsack — only for the can to float out of his hand and disappear over his shoulder.

Blinking, Alex stares at his empty hand, trying to decide if he’s more tired than he realized for a fleeting moment. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what must have happened, and spins his chair so quickly that he nearly goes for a second turn around.

There in the doorway, silhouetted by the light streaming in from outside, stands Michael Guerin, Alex’s energy drink in one hand and a narrow-eyed look on his face.

He looks like hell, Alex registers first. There are deep blue circles beneath his eyes, standing out in stark contrast against the pallor of his skin, and the usual warmth in his gaze when he looks at Alex is conspicuously absent. In its place is a terrible emptiness, one that makes something in Alex’s chest feel cold. He’s never seen Michael this closed off, this isolated, and he hates it, and the part he’s played in causing it.

“Hi,” Alex says quietly, making no move to get up. If Michael wants to be closer, he’ll close the distance himself — and Alex doesn’t want to push him, no matter how much he wishes he could wrap the other man in his arms and banish that devastating emptiness from his expression.

Michael shifts under his gaze, and glances around the room, much like Kyle had done when he came in earlier. Anger swamps him again when he realizes that Valenti must have gone and found Michael — that was his back-up plan, apparently. As if Guerin doesn’t have enough on his plate right now, as if Kyle has any right to drag him here when he clearly needed to be working through the shock, grief, and pain that obviously hadn’t been dulled by a few days.

“I’m sorry Kyle called you,” Alex tries again, when Michael says nothing. “He doesn’t know when to mind his own business.”

“He said you haven’t left this room since we got back,” Michael says finally, obviously avoiding any direct reference to where they’d been or what they’d witnessed. Alex wonders if that’s because he doesn’t want to think about it, or because he doesn’t want to talk about it with him. Either one is fair, he supposes, even if it sucks to think Michael might not want to share his burdens with Alex. “That’s almost a week, now, you know.”

No, actually, Alex didn’t. A week? He’s been guessing three days, though, admittedly, it’s hard to gauge the passage of time when there’s no natural light in the room. God, has he really gone a week without a shower? No wonder Kyle had commented on the smell.

“Wanna tell me what’s so important that you can’t take a few hours away from the computer?” Michael prods, and takes a cautious step closer, like he’s afraid he’ll be turned away — which makes no goddamn sense, since if Alex had his way, he would never have left him in the first place.

“Valenti didn’t tell you?”

Michael snorts, and it’s the first real animation Alex has seen from him since he arrived. “All Valenti said was that I needed to get my ass over here and make you go home before he has one more patient at the hospital. I didn’t ask a lot of questions after that.” He gestures back at the screens, still running algorithms and password-bypass software, even while Alex isn’t watching. “Looks like you’re trying to find something, but that’s about as far as I get. Math, I can follow. Computer code, not so much.”

As always, it’s incredible to watch Michael’s mind at work. Alex is fairly certain that he’d have the algorithms figured out on his own if he gave him a few minutes, but he doesn’t really want a computer to be the one to tell him what Alex is looking for. Then again, Alex doesn’t particularly want to tell him, either. Not when Michael’s obviously avoiding the subject.

“I — I’m looking for other facilities like Cauffield,” he admits, his voice uncharacteristically timid. Alex hates feeling or sounding small or uncertain; he built his military career on being frosty under fire and quick to take charge of any given situation, and there is no room for uncertainty in that persona. But he’s never quite managed to keep that mask around Michael, not for long — and he can’t bear the idea of adding more hurt to the man he loves by rebuilding the walls that he’d torn down so completely when he was sure they were going to die together. “My dad, he wouldn’t have sacrificed one facility if there weren’t others. It would cut off his research, and he just wouldn’t do it.”

Michael sucks in a breath, and a wave of power emanates from him, slamming Alex’s chair back against the wall before he realizes what’s happening. The unexpected impact jolts his entire body painfully, and he winces before he can modulate the expression. He’s been sitting for days, and hasn’t removed the prosthetic for as long as he’s been in the bunker, so he’s more sore than he should be.

“Fuck,” Michael breathes, and he’s at Alex’s side, looking him over as if he expects to find blood or something. “I’m sorry. I didn’t -”

“Don’t, Guerin,” Alex admonishes immediately, unwilling to allow what amounted to a bruise to make Michael look so guilty. “I don’t need you to apologize. I get it.” Fury is an old friend for him, one he’d met as a teenager desperate to escape his father, and Alex had only gotten to know the emotion better during the war. He doesn’t need Michael to explain why he’d lost control in that moment — the idea of other people being held and tortured for decades by Jesse Manes makes him homicidal, too. The only difference is that Alex doesn’t have telekinetic powers to lose control of.

Michael opens his mouth as if to say something else, but closes it again. There’s a thoughtful quality to his silence, so Alex doesn’t interrupt. Instead, he grabs the armrests of his desk chair and levers himself out of it, cursing the wheels when it wobbles and sends him back into a seated position. He’s been sitting for too long; the muscles in his bad leg are tight and stiff, and he’s going to be in a hell of a lot of pain when his body catches up with him. For now, though, Alex can stand and drag the chair back to the computer monitors.

“You’re not going back to work on that,” Michael says incredulously, and the surprise in his voice is enough to have Alex turning back around to look at him. “No, Alex. It can wait. You need to go home and sleep, and give your leg a break — don’t think I didn’t notice the look on your face when you had to stand up.” Alex feels strangely warmed by the words. He doesn’t like to be coddled, and never has, but the fact that Michael can be suffering so intensely and still be here to lecture Alex about his own well-being … it gives him hope, as inappropriate as it may be, considering their circumstances.

“It can’t wait, Michael. If my father figures out what we know, he could —”

“Do you seriously think that I don’t know what your father is capable of?” Michael interrupts, his voice low and cold in a way that’s never been directed at Alex before. “Fuck you, Manes. I was there. At least twenty people like me, including my —” He stops, swallowing hard, and the unshed tears glimmering in his eyes are nearly Alex’s undoing. “All murdered in cold blood right in front of me. I fucking know what he could do.”

Alex swallows, and looks down at the floor, thoroughly chastised. What he’d said had been stupid, and he never would have warned Michael against Jesse Mane’s motives if he’d been running on all cylinders.

“But you’re going to go home, anyway. Because people who’ve been working for days make mistakes, and we can’t afford any,” Michael continues, his voice firm. “And Jesus, Alex, if you’re doing this for me, I can’t — you’ve gotta stop, okay? I can’t be the reason that you’re isolating yourself down here and not sleeping. Whether you meant what you said or not, I —”

Alex can’t keep his mouth shut at that. It hurts too much to listen to Michael doubt him, and to know that he’s taking way too much responsibility for Alex’s own actions and decisions. It’s not a surprise, not really, but Alex is exhausted, and his emotions are running away with him. “What do you mean, whether I meant what I said or not?” he demands. “When? When I told you that you’re my family? Or when I told you that you’re not the only one who never looks away? Because damn it, Guerin, both of those things are true!”

Michael stares at him for a long moment, his gaze inscrutable as he presumably tries to decide whether Alex is lying or not. Slowly, he nods, just once, and Alex is incredibly disappointed in the non-reaction.

“That algorithm you’re running looks pretty self-sufficient. Any chance you can set an alarm or something to let you know when it’s done while you’re at home?”

It’s a good solution. Alex can, in fact, set up a notification system pretty easily, but he’s still resentful of the subject change. He wants to know what Michael’s thinking. For once, he wishes he could borrow Isobel’s powers and take a peek, just to figure out where he stands. Does Michael hate him for being a part of the government that killed his mother? Is he pushing him away because seeing Alex’s face just brings back bad memories? Is it too much, to be involved with the son of the man who’s been torturing his people for decades? There are a million reasons for Michael to not want him anymore, even before one considers the fact that Alex has walked away from him over and over again.

Maybe it’s all true. Maybe they’re done. But this time, Michael will have to be the one to end it, because Alex is done pretending he can.

“That’s what I thought.” The satisfied words bring Alex out of his spiraling thoughts, and he raises an eyebrow at Guerin as he finishes, “Do it, get your stuff, and go home, Manes. I mean it.”

Normally, Alex would have bristled at the preemptive tone. He doesn’t take orders well, not even from superior officers — it’s gotten him in hot water more than once. And letting Michael boss him around this way sets a terrible precedent, one that suggests that he can walk in while Alex is working and make him stop at any time. But Michael doesn’t look nearly as desolate while he’s ordering Alex around, and it’s hard to be annoyed at that.

Before he can fully consider the ramifications of his words, Alex says, “On one condition.”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he crosses his arms stubbornly. “Oh, yeah?” Alex has the impression that the other man will try to drag him out of here, if he thinks he has to, but Alex intends on stopping things before they can get to that level. He just can’t help but give this a try, first.

“Yeah. You come home with me. We’ll both get something to eat, get cleaned up, and sleep. Because it’s pretty obvious you haven’t done any of that recently, either, and if it’s so wrong for me, it is for you, too.” Alex is fairly proud of the argument he makes, and the way that he doesn’t reveal how nervous he is to make the demand while he speaks. The thought of Michael in Alex’s private space is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying, since it’s new level of intimacy for both of them, but Alex can’t stand the thought of going home to rest and recuperate while Michael continues to torture himself. He wants to be there for him, wants to wash his ridiculous curls and twine protectively around him in bed and know that he’s safe. And that desire outweighs any anxiety.

For a too-long moment, Alex is sure that Michael’s silence means he’s going to be denied. He wasn’t allowed to be there for Michael before — why would he think that would change now? Just because Michael showed up here, worried about him?

“How else am I gonna make sure you’re not just working from the cabin?” Michael asks finally, a wary sort of acceptance in the question.

Alex’s breath rushes from him all at once, and he worries his knees will buckle from the onslaught of relief. He smiles, big and earnest, at Michael, and tries to wordlessly convey how pleased he is by this turn of events without coming off as insane. With the speed and ease born of a decade of practice, Alex sets up the notification system on the computers and shuts everything down. The only thing he wants to take with him is his laptop, so he shoves that in a bag - only for it to float out of his hands, much like the Red Bull can had earlier.

He glares over at Michael, who’s got the strap of his laptop case clenched in his good hand. “You just said you’re coming home with me. How will I be able to use it for work if you’re right there?”

For the first time since he arrives, a flicker of the usual warmth shows in his eyes when he looks at Alex. “This way there’s not even a temptation,” Michael says easily. “Better safe than sorry. It’ll be fine here — just leave it with everything else, and we can come get it tomorrow.”

Again, Alex finds himself wondering why he’s not pissed at the orders. He’s not a child, after all, and Michael is hardly the right person to be lecturing him on taking care of himself! But instead of irritation, all Alex feels is pleasure that Michael seems more like himself, and that he’s letting Alex in, at least a little.

So instead of fighting like he probably should, Alex sighs and acquiesces. The laptop case is left on the desk with the other information he’d been trying to sort through, and Alex takes a few moments to shut the rest of the equipment down. He avoids the chair as he works, a little afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get back up again if he sat down. Guerin doesn’t take his eyes off of him the entire time— he just leans against the wall, arms crossed casually over his chest. The stance would look comfortable, if he didn’t know Michael as well as he did, but Alex could see the tension in his muscles, the thin veneer of calm painted over the emotional turmoil of the past week. Or …however long Alex has been down here.

Michael waits for him to lead the way outside, like he suspects that Alex will turn around and try to get back to work if he looks away for a moment. He’s patient with Alex’s slow, halting steps as his body adjusts to the new position after so long seated and his muscles cramp painfully. Eventually, they make it topside, and Alex blinks in the fading sunlight of early evening. Wordlessly, Michael opens the door to his truck and stares at Alex expectantly.

A quiet Michael isn’t one that Alex has much experience in dealing with, so he just follows his lead, keeping his mouth shut and clambering none-too-gracefully into the vehicle. He pulls up the GPS on his phone to give Michael directions to the cabin; he’s never been there, so as far as Alex knows, he needs directions.

The drive passes in silence, and by the time they pull up to Alex’s cabin, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The thought of inviting Michael inside wakes him up, though, and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. The reality of his life is inside that cabin in black and white, impossible to ignore. The spartan decor, the grab bars in his shower and near his bed, the wide aisles purposely created so that he can navigate the space on days when the prosthetic is not an option and he has to use his crutches. There’s the other things, too, like the anxiety medication on his bedside table with the muscle relaxant he’s probably going to need tonight, and the freezer full of frozen dinners that he’s been subsisting on for the last few months, since he’s a godawful cook. Michael doesn’t know most of that about him; Alex has taken great pains to keep it that way. If he opens the door and invites him in, there won’t be any going back —

But going back hasn’t been an option since Alex was seventeen, when he fell in love with Guerin the first time. That kiss at the museum had ascertained that Alex would never be able to let go of his feelings for Michael for any reason, no matter how noble it was — and the truth of the matter is that Alex wants to let Michael into the less romantic parts of his life. Because he knows that opening himself up and offering Michael the most vulnerable parts of himself is the only way to keep him, to prove that Michael trust him in return, after far too many mistakes and heartbreaks. Laying himself bare is the only way they’re ever going to move past this awkward phase somewhere between cosmic love and tentative friendship, and though Alex has never been so frightened in his life, he takes the first step by unlocking the door.

Michael waits for him to go inside first, but follows closely on his heels. Alex gives him a minute to look around the sparsely furnished space and moves to the coffee table to drop his cellphone on the surface. Now that he’s home, he feels disgusting — he definitely needs to take a shower before he goes anywhere near the bed that’s practically calling to him. But Michael is in his living room, running his good hand over the surface of everything he can touch, and how is Alex supposed to act normally?

“Well, I can definitely tell you’re a bachelor,” Michael says, breaking the silence with quirked lips.

Alex huffs a laugh and shrugs self-deprecatingly. “Hey, we don’t all have sisters that come in and decorate for us,” he teases, thinking of the crowded space of Michael’s airstream. “And I finally sprung for the coffee table, so I’m moving up in the world.” The small talk rankles; he and Michael have never done a lot of talking in their relationship, but it had never been small talk, either. They’d always shared important things with each other – like Michael’s entropy, or whatever he wants to call it, or Alex’s dreams to escape from his father. This feels like a conversation he’d have with a stranger, and Alex loathes it.

Michael seems to notice, because he comes closer — still tentative, but more sure of himself than he’d been in the bunker. “I need you to tell me that you meant it again,” he says, in a voice that Alex can barely hear over the suddenly frantic beating of his own heart. Alex knows exactly what ‘it’ Michael is referring to, even without any context, because when Michael’s guard is down, his heart is on his sleeve, and Alex can see the fear and the cautious hope mingling with grief and fury in his eyes. Michael’s always felt too much all at once, Alex knows — it’s part of the noise in his head that bothers him so much.

Maybe Alex can help with that again, like he used to. Some day.

“You are my family, Michael,” Alex tells him, reaching out to tangle their fingers together so he can’t draw away. “You’re the only person in the world who has ever made me feel safe, and I don’t think you understand how much that means to me.” For a boy who had been abandoned by his mother and hurt and hated by his father and brothers, then pushed out into a war he wanted no part of, safety isn’t something to take for granted. And to be given that feeling by another person is — well, Alex doesn’t have the words to explain how it feels.

The cautious hope he could see in Michael’s eyes was growing, now, becoming more and more certain as Alex spoke, so he kept going, determined to get it all out into the open so he could spend the rest of the night looking after Michael the way he’s wanted to all along. “No matter how hard I’ve tried to deny it, I’ve never been able to look away from you.” He leans forward to brush a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth — anything more would lead them places they shouldn’t go tonight. Alex doesn’t want to be used as a sexual distraction from Michael’s pain, and doesn’t want either of them to regret anything in the morning.

“I believe you,” Michael says in a hoarse voice, clutching at the lapels of Alex’s filthy flannel and resting their foreheads together. The position is so reminiscent of the one in Cauffield prison as the bomb was about to go off that Alex’s first instinct is to jerk away, but he stifles the impulse at the last second, moving his arms to wrap around Michael’s waist, instead, so that they’re chest-to-chest in the middle of the living room. At some point, Michael moves his face to the space between Alex’s shoulder and neck, and there’s a dampness against his skin that suggests he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s crying. Alex says nothing; he allows Michael his pride and simply strokes a hand up and down his spine, hoping that his proximity is as comforting to the other man as vice versa is to Alex.

“We both really need a shower,” Michael says finally, pulling away reluctantly. His eyes are lined with red, and there’s some residual dampness on cheek — otherwise, Alex wouldn’t have known he’d been crying mere moments ago. “And food. I forgot on the way back. Does anyone even deliver all the way out here?”

Alex chuckles, and nods. “I’ll take care of food if you want to shower first,” he offers generously. “There’s a decent pizza place on the edge of town that delivers up here.” He doesn’t mention that the only reason they deliver to Alex is because of the owner’s friendship with his father - it’s not relevant, and since it’s the only way they’ll have anything to eat other than frozen meals, Alex doesn’t want to go there.

Michael shakes his head. “Why don’t you just shower with me?” he asks, stretching his arms above his head until Alex hears his back crack. He seems so sure it’s a good idea, but part of Alex balks. He and Michael have never been naked around one another without sex, and that’s not on the table tonight — plus, showering isn’t exactly as easy for him as it sounds.

“Showering is kind of an ordeal for me,” Alex tells him frankly, biting at his lower lip. “I’m not supposed to shower with the prosthetic on.” There’s a chair in the shower for that purpose, along with grab bars on either side of it to he can get in and out without fooling around with crutches. He’s sure Michael can put those pieces together on his own — and Alex isn’t sure he’ll ever be comfortable spelling it all out for him. Not because he doesn’t trust Michael with the information, but because it’s a weakness, and Alex can’t help but be embarrassed.

“I won’t let you fall,” Michael promises, smiling faintly. “I’m an engineer. I’m pretty sure we can figure out the mechanics.”

Alex considers, trying to put aside the nerves from that obstacle and focus on the next. “I want to,” he says, and reaches out to grab Michael’s hand again, just in case he only hears the ‘but.’ “But I don’t think either of us are up for sex tonight. And we’re not exactly known for being able to keep our hands to ourselves.”

A complicated expression flickers on Michael’s face, but is gone before Alex can properly parse it. “I didn’t know sex with me was such so bad for you, Alex,” he says, bitterness obvious in the words. “Here I was, thinking you liked it.”

“Stop it,” Alex admonishes, rubbing tiny circles in the backs of Michael’s hands with his thumbs instead of letting go when Michael tries to pull away. “You know I do. But I don’t want to be a distraction, Guerin. And I don’t want to use you as one, either. I just want to — I want to be there for you. Especially since I know I haven’t always been, before.”

Now, Michael yanks his hands back, putting more space between them. Alex’s heart drops when he sees how close the other man is to the door — he’s ready to run again, to hide and lick his wounds in private. Alex has said too much, and he can’t take the words back.

“Don’t try to fix me, Alex,” Michael says harshly. “I’m not broken.” But his body language suggests that he doesn’t even believe his own words — and Alex is an expert at reading him, after all this time. Desperate to keep him there, to make him understand, Alex ignores the way his thigh muscles twinge and moves quickly toward Michael.

“We’re both a little broken,” he says, eyes pleading. Alex has no idea what he’ll do if Michael takes that last step out the door — probably follow him, like some sort of stalker. He doesn’t think he’s capable of watching him leave while he’s obviously hurting in ways Alex can’t begin to understand, and wonders, briefly, if this is how it felt when Alex shut him out of his own recovery after his amputation. If so, he’ll never be able to apologize enough for that pain. “But I’m not trying to fix you, Michael. I’m just trying to help. If you’ll let me.”

No one moves or speaks for the longest minute of Alex’s life, and then Michael is back in his space, one palm against the back of his head while the other seizes his lapel and pulls him in. The kiss is fierce, full of desperation and reassurance, and by the time Michael pulls away, Alex is already reconsidering his stance on sex for the night — not seriously, but his body is definitely on board.

“So, if I promise not to jump you —”

Alex smiles, and leads Michael to the bathroom.

It’s a big room, one Alex had installed after he moved in. The closet-sized bathroom that Valenti had used hadn’t cut it for someone who used crutches both early in the morning and late at night, and nor had the weird shag carpet. So Alex had hired people to knock a wall out and enlarge the space, install tile, and a giant shower with a head at either end. It was a luxury he couldn’t really afford, but Alex justified it with the fact that nothing else in his home was remotely luxurious— and he needed the handicapped access.

Once they’re in the bathroom with the door closed behind them, Alex begins undressing Michael, starting with the stubborn buttons on his shirt. The other man raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, and simply stands still, letting Alex do what he wants. Slowly, his chest and torso is revealed, and Alex tosses the dirty shirt to the floor. Michael returns the favor, but when he’s done, Alex’s shirt is tossed telekinetically in the trash. “Trust me,” Michael murmurs at Alex’s note of complaint. “There was no saving that thing.”

Since he’s probably right, Alex just shrugs, and steps out of his pants. When he’s in just his boxers, he sits down on the closed lid of the toilet to begin unfastening the harness holding his prosthetic in place — but Michael stops him with a gentle hand on his good knee. “Let me,” he offers, already kneeling in front of Alex with no sign of hesitation on his face.

Alex swallows, but nods once. He’s usually independent to a fault, and has never let anyone else deal with his prosthetic before, not even his doctors, if he could help it. But if this is what Michael wants, Alex can let him — this one time, at least.

Deft mechanic’s hands unfasten the mechanisms that hold the leg in place, and Michael pulls it away and props it against the wall before removing the compression sock around Alex’s residual limb with equal care. Not once does he spend too much time staring, or look even remotely pitying, and for that alone, Alex could kiss him — so he does, gently, at the crown of his head.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, afraid that using a full voice would shatter the quiet tranquility of the moment. Michael’s answering smile is small, but honest, as he stands to get rid of the rest of his own clothes.

It’s awkward, at first. Alex hasn’t showered with anyone but his squad mates, and that was never even remotely intimate — just a bunch of men, trying to get the desert sand out of uncomfortable places before they ran out of hot water. And on top of that, he’s still getting used to showering while seated — adding another person makes it even more confusing. But Michael doesn’t seem bothered, and shoves his head under one of the spigots to wet his hair.

Eventually, the awkwardness eases. It helps when they stop trying to look everywhere but at each other, so Alex allows his gaze to amble along the strong lines of Michael’s body, appreciating his physique in a way he’s never really had the chance to before. Eventually, Alex reaches out with a soapy rag to scrub at his lower back because he can’t quite help himself — they’re so close, but they haven’t touched since Alex hauled his body into the shower, and he misses the contact. Michael sighs, pressing back into the touch, which Alex takes as permission to continue. He ends up washing every part of Michael that he can reach, from his shoulders down to his knees, and lingers over his work. Touching Michael like this, with care and no intention of turning it into something sexual, is a new experience — and one he wants to repeat as often as he’s allowed.

“Any chance you wanna do my hair?” Michael asks, when Alex has cleaned both of them more thoroughly than necessary. He’s been itching to get his fingers tangled in those curls, but he has no idea how to maneuver to make it happen. His concern must show on his face, because Michael touches his cheek and drops to sit in front of him, legs folded. Alex stares down at the top of his head and the line of his back, amazed that for Michael, it’s just that easy.

“Can you hand me the shampoo?” The bottle flies into his hand before Alex can finish asking, and he can’t help the startled noise he makes. Michael glances up, more challenge than apology, so Alex nudges him back around with his good knee so that he can get started.

Michael has always melted immediately as soon as Alex got his fingers into his hair — he’s not sure who enjoys it more, in all honesty. But this is the first time Alex has had an excuse to do it for any real length of time, and he takes full advantage. He massages Michael’s scalp as he works the shampoo into a lather, moving the whole way down to the base of his neck and back up with sudsy hands and gentle pressure. In moments, Michael is boneless against Alex’s leg, his head lolling backward, and Alex feels a strong sense of satisfaction. He’d done that. He’d relaxed Michael this way, made him feel secure and comfortable in his home and allowed him to lay down his burdens, at least for a little while. And that, Alex knows, is more intimate than any quickie in the truck bed could have ever been.

Eventually, they have to get out of the shower. Alex lets Michael help him, rather than heaving himself out by the grab bars, and they dry off in comfortable silence. He sends Michael to get them both sweats to sleep in, and pauses when he realizes he should have asked for his crutches, too. His pride isn’t going to let Michael half-carry him to the bedroom, and that’s not a habit he wants either of them to get into. He’s about to lift his voice to ask when Michael reenters the room, dressed, and carrying an added pair of sweats and Alex’s crutches under one arm.

“Thought you might need these,” he says, propping them up by the door, and Alex finds himself robbed of speech. Does Michael realize how unbelievably thoughtful that is? Alex is pretty sure that there’s not another person in the world who would have realized that Alex hates having to ask for help, or that he’d never let anyone carry him to bed like an oversized toddler. With that one simple gesture, Michael had given him his independence, his pride — and he didn’t even seem to realize how important that was.

“Alex? You good?”

Alex nods, his smile a little more emotional than he’d like. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m really good.” Michael returns the smile, and leans down to kiss Alex’s cheek before disappearing into the bedroom — somehow knowing that he’d want a minute to himself to get dressed. It’s an awkward, difficult thing to put pants on while sitting down, and Alex would just as soon not have a witness — and somehow, again, Michael just gets it. They fit together so easily in the bedroom for all those years; Alex doesn’t think either of them realized how easy it would be to fit their lives together, too. Even the messy parts.

He meets Michael in the bedroom, and even though he knows that the next thing on their to-do list was food, the warm water and activity has made him lethargic and reminded him of exactly how long it had been since he’d slept in a real bed.

“We can make breakfast in the morning,” Michael yawns, when Alex voices his thoughts aloud. The other man seems as tired as Alex, and when the sun rises, he knows they’re going to have to talk about why. They’ve done an excellent job of avoiding reality since they got back to Alex’s cabin, but he’s not naive enough to think they can escape it for long — not with a serial killer tied up in Michael’s cellar, and Jesse Manes still out there, unsupervised, with access to innocent aliens.

But there’s nothing they can do about either of those things tonight, and honestly, Alex thinks they need this even more than they need a plan to keep everyone safe. Michael had been minutes from falling apart — and Alex supposes he wasn’t much better, as irritating as it is to admit it. So when he curls around Michael beneath the covers and cuddles in close, Alex doesn’t feel guilty for taking a break. They’ll wake tomorrow refreshed and ready for war - tonight is about rest, and reconnection.

Later, when Michael is sleeping peacefully on Alex’s chest, Alex takes a minute away from carding his fingers through unruly curls to text Kyle Valenti: I’m still going to punch you for not minding your own damn business, but … thanks.

#my fic #malex fic #michael guerin/alex manes #this is so damn long & i have no reason for the gratutious shower scene at the end #except soberqueerinthewild didn't tell me not to #also #i just wrote kyle valenti for the first time ever??#who even am i??

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elliemarchetti · 5 years ago

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Holiday Inconveniences (part 4)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Other Marecal fics:

Red Queen Soulmate AU part 1 and part 5 ( but I suggest to also read the other three because Fade is one of the most beautiful ships in the Red Queen saga)

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

The Scam (part 2)

The Epilogue

Words: 2228

Cal loaded her last bag on the car’s back seat and snorted as he tried to fix it better. Mare, although she tried to maintain a composed façade, hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of seeing her history professor’s nephew, her one night stand, on a shiny and expensive car that, if it wasn’t for the thin veil of snow on the roof, could’ve been straight out of the car wash, enter her campus’ parking lot at the exact same time as the meeting between her and the one who was supposed to give her a ride has been set. At first she thought it was a coincidence, that he had gone there to get something for his uncle, but instead he had approached right in front of her, and after a moment of initial perplexity, and the verification that it was she who had to go to North Utica, he had begun to talk about his hometown, which wasn’t far away, stopping just to catch his breath. Mare wondered how he could be so awake so early, since it wasn’t yet dawn, and so cheerful given the cold, but she didn’t pose her questions aloud, merely nodding when he asked her if she was sure she had everything.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed.

“You really are a pussy.” she teased him, sitting in the passenger seat. If in the beginning the fact that her driver was Cal had led her to believe that she would’ve felt embarrassed, at that moment she realized that their chemistry hadn’t fade out even when the previous evening he had taken her home, so there was no chance for it to happen now. Moreover, they had already been trapped together in a narrow space for a long period of time, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“You told me you were from Chicago, not North Utica.” he remarked, when they were both sitting in the warm cabin.

“Nobody knows where North Utica is, so Chicago seemed like the best place to give you an idea.” she replied, taking off her gloves. She put her hands in front of the air vent, but the truth was she couldn’t wait to do so in front of the fireplace, squeezed between her siblings, trying to take the best place to stay warm in the old house. Cal curbed sharply, tearing her out of her dream of marshmallows dipped in hot chocolate and classic rock.

“Sorry” he muttered.

“If you didn’t drive like a madman there would be no need to brake so abruptly.” she replied, getting comfortable again.

"I want to go as far as possible before this afternoon.” he explained. “There’s a snow alert at two o’clock and

The only thing worse than driving in the snow is getting stranded in the snow.”

Mare rolled her eyes. She had always loved snow when she didn’t have to move, although she had never practiced any sport, unlike her brothers, and it was only her fault that she could no longer do it because she had decided to go to study so far from home, yet she wanted to curse the world and for once not blame herself for her misfortunes. They talked about their families for most of the first part of the journey, when the city, white for the snow, could still be seen behind them, and about Shade, that would soon become a father.

"It seems unbelievable that he’s about to become a father. He’s my youngest brother, even though he’s still a little older than me. I imagined that Bree would be the first, being the oldest, but isn’t it always like this? You think things could go one way and then they go differently but family faces everything together and things go for the best.”

Cal didn’t seem very convinced, especially of the last statement, but Mare decided not to investigate: he lived with his uncle and had never mentioned his parents, only his friends and, remaining very vague, a younger half-brother he loved but from which he was very different, although he hadn’t specified how. She imagined that his parents were no longer together, that they had divorced due to some rich diatribes and his father had married another woman, maybe a younger lover, and in the long silence that followed, Mare wondered what her life would’ve been if in her family they hadn’t been so attached to each other, if they hadn’t always been so supportive. Perhaps she would find herself alone as Diana, Shade’s girlfriend. Mama had told her when she called to give her the news that her father hadn’t taken her decision to keep the baby very well and threatened to stop paying her tuition if she didn’t abort. Mare had no longer asked how the matter had been resolved, too absorbed in her own problems and certain that, now that the girl had joined the family, her parents would take care of her, as if she were their daughter. She hoped Shade wouldn’t drop out of school just to be able to take care of his family alone because, although he had a gusty start, he was doing really well and he had chosen a specialization in quantum mechanics, a subject that would allow him not only to enter the best development and research centers but also to earn a good salary, even if Mare still had difficulty imagining him sitting behind a desk all day. From what she could see, Cal also studied mechanics, but she couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good idea to keep talking about her family, even though he and Shade seemed to have a common interest, so she gave up, choosing a radio station with only rock classics. She was browsing through a magazine, her mind elsewhere, when the first snowflakes began to fall. It wasn’t even close to lunchtime, and Cal seemed deeply disturbed by it, so Mare didn’t tell him that she was starting to get hungry or asked him if they could stop to pee when she began to feel the need, until it was her body that betrayed her and her stomach rumbled so hard that it exceeded the volume of the song.

"There is a steakhouse a few miles further on.” he said, without taking his eyes off the road. When they arrived and Cal turned off the engine after so many hours, Mare couldn’t wait to get out, all stiff. He stretched, leaned forward and stood up.

“Sitting for so long isn’t good. I don’t know how anyone who works in office does.” he commented.

“Given what you’re studying, you’ll also spend a lot of time sitting.” she replied as they walked toward the entrance. The snowflakes stopped on Cal’s black coat and on his hair, giving him an almost fairy-like appearance.

“I don’t want to deal only with the technical part.” he explained, opening the door like a true gentleman. The warm air came to her like a breath of wind that tasted like home, even though in the Barrow kitchen her mother would never have prepared chicken wings and onion rings. Not that the rest of the family would’ve scorned, perhaps with Tramy’s exception, since he was a personal trainer. The rest of the place was nice, although the low ceiling was a bit stuffy: colored Christmas lights had been placed in every available point, even inside small glass vases placed in the center of each table, whose wooden benches were battered by overuse. Even the carpet was worn but clean, and Mare could imagine the place full of children who ate, laughed and chased each other, friends only for the time of that break. It was clear that this was no longer the case, but the staff was still welcoming and quickly seated them. They ordered a bottle of water and a cherry Coke and both looked absorbed at the snow that accumulated on the roof of the car and on the mirrors as they drank. If she hadn’t been in such a hurry, she would’ve suggested to wait for the weather to get better, but the road conditions weren’t yet critical and they could’ve stopped later if it was necessary. Though she couldn’t figure out why he was coming back to his hometown - did his family live there or he returned for his friends? - Cal also seemed to be in a hurry too and his mood was generally more bleak as they approached the destination.

“Are you ready to order?” asked a dainty girl with blue hair. According to the plaque on her chest, her name was Ella. Cal took the soup of the day, while Mare chose baked garlic bread with cheese and fried chicken strips with Greek salad as the side.

“Why you eat so light?” asked Mare, inquisitorial.

“First of all, there is nothing light in this soup and second, a series of rich lunches and dinners is waiting for me, so I don’t want to bloat myself.” he replied, always vague. She didn’t like that he kept all those secrets about his family, but after all she had to remember that he was taking her home not because of what had happened between them but for a favor he was doing to her mother, something that intrigued her incredibly and about which she had to bite her tongue to refrain from asking further questions. Fortunately, Cal decided to fill the silence with some high school memories and Mare was grateful to be able to contribute to the conversation by talking about a time when things between her and Kilorn weren’t yet so embarrassing. Thinking of it, she too had a pending issue at home that she had tried to postpose for as long as possible. Surely what happened with Cal and what she felt in his presence didn’t help to untangle the mess her feelings were. Of course, in its own way, that indecision was already an adequate answer: she didn’t feel like Kilorn, who would’ve put her before anything, although she profoundly loved him. However, to want to analyze it from that point of view, she also loved her family but this didn’t meant she would be engaged to one of her brothers! So it was probably this that she felt for Kilorn, only a brotherly love, the same love that one feels for someone to whom you wish well. And yet, somehow, making that decision while sitting there with Cal, tasting his soup and discussing which desserts on display was the most good looking one, didn’t seem right: Kilorn’s memory hadn’t disappeared, she could never forget him, but it was tarnished, clouded by a film of sadness and embarrassment, by distance and silence, things she had never felt with Cal.

“I have brownies without ice cream.” Cal ordered when the waitress arrived.

“And for me a cheesecake.” added Mare.

“You’re so incredibly American.” he teased her.

“And you so English!” she replied. “Are you sure you really were born and raised here?”

“Very sure!” he exclaimed, his attention drawn by the pecan pie the waitress was taking to a couple a couple of table away. Probably the two boys must have asked to be able to divide it because on the tray there were two long silver spoons. For no particular reason, the idea that she and Cal could’ve been mistaken for a couple made her blush, and she waited in silence for her order to arrive, wondering if he had felt the same. They ate a little hastily and when it came time to pay, Cal insisted on taking care of the bill. After a brief stop in the bathroom, they set off again, with the snow that formed a white curtain through which it was difficult to see. It was obvious that Cal was struggling to keep the road despite the snow tires and chains, but he tried to stay calm for a few dozen more miles, when they found themselves forced to pull over. All around everything was white and the road, whose width could only be guessed thanks to the guard rails, was deserted. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but going on was almost impossible and the situation showed no signs of improving, so Mare searched silently for the nearest motel. Excluding the first suggestion, which seemed a shady place, the second was a small family-run B&B less than five miles after the next exit. The photos on the site showed a large fireplace in the dining room, a table set for breakfast with food that made her mouth water despite having just eaten and rooms with wooden furniture, with large beds with blankets that were extremely reminiscent of the ones in her room at home. All in all it looked welcoming and the hosts, a couple in their fifties, looked nice, so Mare showed it to Cal, with the premise that they would leave the next morning, if the situation had improved even a little.

“I miss my family too but I want to get there alive and not crash because I behaved like an impatient and temperamental child.” she said, the phone still between them, eyes harder than she wanted.

"All right.” he agreed. “But if they have a room, I have to make a phone call and it won’t be pleasant.”

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shels-kpop-main · 6 years ago

Text

Moments, pt. 8

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, light angst.

A/N: I’m so fucking excited, you guys. Pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think of this chapter!

You slept next to Roger, for the second night in a row. But this time, he was there when you woke up. Both of you were still in your clothes from the previous day. You knew this because when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was the mustard yellow of Roger’s t-shirt. At some point in the night, you had rolled over into his side, and he responded by wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You lifted your head a little, eyes still heavy with sleep. The pizza box was at the foot of the bed, next to the empty liquor bottle. Sunlight fell through the window, lighting up Roger’s silhouette under you. You smiled at him, then slowly sat up. His arm fell from your shoulders and came to rest on the small of your back.

“Roger,” you mumbled, nudging his side gently. Roger opened his eyes a little, but didn’t move. His hair was wild around his face, having fallen out of its braids overnight.

“What?” His voice was hoarse from sleep.

“It’s morning,” you told him, rubbing your eyes and stretching. Roger’s eyes opened all the way when you did so, because the movement lifted your shirt a bit, leaving his hand pressed directly to your skin. You turned to him for a response, and he dropped his hand to the sheets.

“I can see that. But my head is pounding, so I’m staying here,” Roger announced, rolling over onto his side. You rolled your eyes, and laid back down next to him. You could feel the slow throb of a headache coming on, and suddenly staying in bed didn’t sound too bad.

Roger turned his head to look at you, view partly blocked by his hair. You smiled without meaning to, and reached over to brush it out of his face. Roger gazed at you with a look on his face you’d never seen before—not on him, anyway.

You held the stare, no longer afraid of him knowing that you liked him. You were firm in your feelings, and felt like you had nothing left to lose by him knowing. The spark in his eye indicated that the vibe wasn’t lost on him.

Slowly, so slowly you thought he might be hesitating to even do it, Roger reached up. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he touched two fingers to your lips. There was a funny look on that fair face. Then, it occurred to you.

He was remembering.

That night, in front of the fire. Putting a cigarette between your lips. Resting his fingers against your mouth as you inhaled. The feeling of your skin under his.

Roger’s lips parted as you just looked at him. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and in the best way. You could only hold his gaze as his fingertips brushed your lips with feather-light pressure.

But he spoke abruptly, shaking you from the moment.

“You’re right, we should probably get up,” he said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. The spot on your lips where his fingers had just been felt cold.

“I—okay, sure,” you mumbled, frowning. You watched as Roger got up and walked to the door.

“I’m gonna go change,” Roger said, looking uncomfortable. You were concerned, but tried your best to keep your expression pleasant.

“Okay.”

Roger fiddled with a piece of chipped paint on the doorframe.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, though, yeah?” Roger looked hopeful, but you still didn’t understand his sudden change in mood.

“Sure thing, Rog,” you replied, smiling.

...

You got dressed and brushed out your hair. Roger’s feeble attempt at braiding it had left it horribly tangled. When you tamed your hair enough to be presentable, you headed down to the living room. Roger was flipping through a magazine on the couch, holding it quite close to his face so he could see it.

You looked around, but there was no sign of anyone else. The house was completely empty and silent.

“Where is everyone?” You asked, leaning against the armrest next to Roger. He tossed the magazine onto the seat next to him and turned to you.

“At the market. Bri left a note in the kitchen saying we used the last of the groceries yesterday,” Roger chuckled.

“Oh. Hmm,” you hummed, thinking for a moment. The market was only about twenty minutes from the farm, and you had yet to see it.

“We could meet them there?” You suggested. Roger raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

“Sure! I’ll drive!”

“Wait,” you stopped him, eyeing the magazine. “Can…can you see well enough to drive?”

Roger scoffed and got up, looking indignant.

“Yes, I can,” he answered, pulling a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and placing them atop his head. You took this as a confirmation that your suspicion about his prescription sunglasses was correct.

The two of you climbed into Roger’s Corvette, and he turned the radio all the way up before putting it in drive. The two of you zipped down the road, towards town. It quickly became clear that, while Roger could indeed see the road, he didn’t abide by its rules much.

You were experiencing mild nausea by the time Roger pulled the car into the parking lot next to the market.

“You okay, there, love?” Roger frowned as you slowly emerged from the car. You nodded in response, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

“Roger,” you began, joining him in the walk to the stalls, “you drive like a madman.”

Roger grinned proudly, patting you on the back affectionately.

...

It had been an hour and you were unable to find Brian and the guys. The two of you gave up and just wandered freely around the market. The entire place was abuzz on that Saturday morning, and it was absolutely packed. At one point, Roger had to grab your hand to keep from losing you in the crowd. The gesture confused you, after Roger’s hesitation earlier that day.

“Oh, look!” You were distracted by a stall that was selling fresh flowers. You made a beeline to a plastic bucket holding a large bundle of pink flowers.

“These are beautiful!” You said to Roger, before leaning in to smell the blooms.

“What are they?” You asked the man behind the stall excitedly.

“Dahlias,” he answered proudly. “Just cut them this morning.”

“They’re lovely,” you complimented him, smiling at the flowers. You thought it might be a good idea to bring some home with you to spruce up your room. But you had approximately zero money in your bank account.

You turned to Roger, whose lips were turned up slightly at the corners.

“You ready?”

“You’re not buying any?”

“That would require money,” you chuckled. Roger frowned at you, then looked over your shoulder to the flowers. You could tell he was thinking, but he shrugged and walked off. You followed him, frowning. His mood swings were getting old.

He touches my lips, then pulls away. He grabs my hand, then pulls away. He’s gonna give me whiplash, you thought to yourself, shaking your head.

You were so busy staring at the back of Roger’s head in frustration that you didn’t realize you were stepping right into someone’s path. The man’s elbow hit your shoulder, hard, and you lost your balance. You yelped, stumbling to the side.

“Hey, fucking watch it!” The man yelled, even though you had clearly suffered more from the collision. You scowled, rubbing your shoulder, ready to bite his head off.

But Roger beat you to it.

“Oi, mate, why don’t you watch it? You nearly knocked her over!”

Roger got in the guy’s face as he said it, despite being a good three inches shorter and forty pounds lighter than him. But the man wasn’t going to apologize.

“Maybe she should watch where she’s fucking going. Mate.”

Roger put himself between you and the man, his face turning red. You bristled behind him, lightly tugging the back of his shirt. Telling him to back off.

You knew Roger understood the gesture, but he ignored it.

“Apologize to her,” he growled. You frowned at Roger in surprise, but he couldn’t see. The man laughed without humor and looked at you directly. His glare terrified you.

“I’m not apologizing to your clumsy little bi—”

Roger’s fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could finish the sentence. You jumped back in surprise, gasping loudly. The man stumbled back a couple steps, rubbing his face. The look on his face made it clear that he had no problem beating Roger to a pulp right there. It scared you to no end, and you reached out for Roger desperately. Luckily, a loud voice rang out, distracting all three of you.

“What’s going on here?” The policeman called from several yards away. Roger’s nostrils flared as he turned to the approaching officer.

“This bloke here—” he began, jabbing a finger at the other man. You cut him off by grabbing his sleeve and pulling.

You dragged Roger into the crowd quickly. You didn’t exactly have a legal reason to be in England this long, and being questioned by police was the last thing you needed. And at this rate, Roger’s mouth was going to land you both in hot water.

The angry man and the police officer disappeared behind throngs of people as you ducked between market stalls. Roger fussed behind you, but you didn’t stop until the two of you were at the car.

Roger got in, slamming the door behind him. You sat in the passenger seat, staring at him in confusion and annoyance. The ride home was tense and silent. Roger refused to look at you. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, and his free hand fidgeted against the gearshift.

When you finally pulled into the gravel driveway of Rockfield Farm, you threw off your seatbelt and go out immediately. The tension inside the car was palpable, and it was killing you.

The worst part was that you didn’t know why. Why was Roger being so weird all of a sudden? Had you said something last night while drunk? God, had you done something?

Roger followed you as you walked along the fence line toward the open fields. You stopped after a few minutes, when the outline of the farm buildings was faint in the late morning fog. You leaned forward against the fence, frowning out at the hills in front of you. Roger stepped up next to you, staring at the side of your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “for making a scene.”

“I don’t care,” you replied bitterly, still avoiding his gaze. Roger was surprised, and more than a little hurt. So you explained yourself, turning to face him.

“I don’t care that you made a scene. That guy deserved to be punched.”

Roger chuckled, but you continued, forcing yourself to look him square in the eye.

“I care that you’re acting strange today. I mean, you’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Roger began to protest, but you stood your ground.

“Roger.”

He didn’t answer, just dug his heel into the ground.

“You touched me this morning. Like you did with the cigarette. And then you pulled away. But then you held my hand at the market, and followed that up by barely talking to me. And then you punched a man for bumping into me?”

“He was calling you a bitch,” Roger muttered, glaring at you.

“So? You could have walked away.”

Roger just stared at the ground. You said his name softly, imploring him to look at you. When he finally did, he looked more upset than you had ever seen him.

“Roger, why didn’t you walk away?”

More silence.

“Just say it. Whatever it is, say it.” Your voice was gentle. Roger’s big blue eyes were shining, but he was biting his lip. Biting back whatever emotions you were trying to coax out. But finally, he couldn’t hold them back any more.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. I, um… I think I have feelings for you, Y/N. Like, real feelings.”

He immediately looked like he regretted saying it, but you laughed.

“Well, no shit.”

Roger was so surprised his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. His mouth opened, then closed, searching for words he couldn’t find.

“I don’t mean to be crass, it’s just… I think it’s been clear for a little while that we’re at least a little into each other.”

Roger let out a tiny, relieved laugh. But the frown moved back onto his face again quickly. Those thin lips curved downward, making your stomach flip.

“But you’ve got a lot going on right now,” Roger reasoned, running a hand through his hair. “With your dad and all.”

“I’ve actually got nothing going on right now,” you replied matter-of-factly.

“You know what I mean,” Roger breathed, smiling again. You sighed, and stepped closer to him.

“Roger, you make me happy. That’s the only thing I know for certain. So the only person hesitating here is you.”

Roger put his hands on his hips and glanced at the ground. Then, up at you. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and he chewed his lip while he thought. Finally, he broke the silence, giving you the only response you wanted.

“Fuck it. Come here,” he said, and pulled you to him by the back of the neck.

-----

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emoboijk · 6 years ago

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MYG | Lo-Fi Beats (06)

Lo-Fi: an aesthetic of recorded music in which the sound quality is lower than the usual contemporary standards so that imperfections of the recording and production are audible.—fluff, angst, idol!au

prologue :: 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: epilogue

1,835 words

p.cred

You’re staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Minji, her expression serious now that she’s fully explained that Daniel Ito is, in fact, completely full of shit . She smirks slightly and you can tell that she’s impressed with herself, “You have to come back.”

There’s a flicker of hope in your chest, your heart racing at the prospect. It almost makes you want to cry, how much you’ve missed your old job and friends. How much you’ve missed Yoongi; like missing a piece of yourself.

You say what you’re thinking, “Would he take me back?”

There’s an assumption in the question; an assumption about what Yoongi means to you and what you mean to him. For the first time, you don’t care. The carefully crafted boundaries you’d constructed around your relationship with him have evaporated, because if you go back now...you won’t risk being anything other than the person he was meant to be with.

You look up when Minji doesn’t respond, and you can see she doesn’t know what to say. Before your speech all those weeks ago, the answer would’ve been a definite: yes . But now it’s uncertain. He still cares for you, of course; you can’t erase that kind of connection and dependency so quickly. But could he forgive you? Would things ever be the same? There was no way to know the answer to those questions except to go back.

“I don’t know,” she sighs eventually, “but isn’t it worth the risk?”

And that question you definitely know the answer to.

“Grandma,” you say, ten minutes later, bursting through the front door with Minji at your heels, kicking off your shoes wildly in the entrance. Your grandmother peeks her head out of the kitchen curiously and you say, “I’m leaving!”

You speed past her into your room and hear Minji introduce herself, your grandmother cooing, “I’ve heard so much about you!” And, even though she doesn’t mean for you to, you hear her whisper, “She’s finally leaving!” You know she means it in the best way.

You throw what little belongings you have into your suitcase and reemerge, Minji and your grandmother still chatting by the front door. Your grandmother looks at you knowingly and you smile, pulling her in for an awkward one armed hug. You press a kiss to her cheek and whisper, “I love you.”

She squeezes your shoulder and says, “I’ll see you. Have a good trip.”

You buy two last minute tickets for a train going to Seoul, rushing across the station to make it on time, and squeezing into your seats side by side, your shoulder pressed against the window.

“You know what you’re going to say?” Minji wonders.

“No,” you sigh, leaning your forehead against the glass, unable to picture anything but Yoongi’s expression the day you told him to leave you alone.

“It has to be tonight,” she whispers meekly.

“ What ?” you nearly screech, startling the elderly woman across from you both, who had been napping. She grumbles, glares at you and your bow of apology, and then falls back to sleep.

“They have their dome concert in Seoul tonight,” she glances at her watch, “right now, actually. Then they leave for Japan for two weeks…”

You put your head in your hands, “I can’t wait two weeks.”

“So, it has to be tonight,” she concludes, drumming her fingers on her thighs nervously.

“Why didn’t you come get me earlier?” you grumble.

“Uh, I have my own life?” she smirks, nudging you with her shoulder playfully.

“ Fine ,” you smile, “I guess I better get to thinking.”

By the time you get to Seoul nearly two hours later, you’re no closer to a speech. You don’t even have an opening line. Nothing seems good enough. Even you wouldn’t take yourself back at this point. But as the train pulls into the station, you can’t obsess about it anymore. Minji checks her watch and curses under her breath, the ahjumma from earlier glaring as she takes her bags off the overhead rack. You watch Minji, feeling panicky suddenly, “What is it?”

“The concert’s almost over,” she pulls you up from your seat and you barely have time to get your bags as she starts dragging you off the train. When you land on the platform, Minji goes on her tippy-toes in search of something, gasping when she sees a hand waving in the air. “Jihoon!” she yells, waving erratically as she begins pulling you again. You’re surprised your arm is still in its socket.

“Jihoon,” you grin when you see him, looking frantic as he shakes his car keys around. He doesn’t look at you and instead turns to face Minji.

“You’re late!” he exclaims.

“It was a long talk,” Minji rolls her eyes.

When Jihoon finally turns to look at you he’s glaring. You frown, guilt flooding your chest again. You bow to him and whisper, “Sorry, sunbaenim.”

“Damn right,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a tight hug before gripping your wrist and taking you with Minji to the parking lot, “We’re late! We have to catch them before they leave the venue!”

Jihoon drives like a madman. For all his OCD in the office, he’s chaos on the streets; swerving and speeding and braking suddenly. Minji holds tight to her chair, arms stiff from fear as she grumbles, “What is this, Fast and Furious ?”

“Do you want to get there or not?” he says, pressing his foot down on the gas.

By the time you get there your heart is hammering so fast it might burst, and while Minji and Jihoon are running full speed past security guards (waving their badges frantically) and down the back of the concert venue, everything feels hazy. Your doubts are the only things in your head, huddling together and blacking out all common sense.

When they stop abruptly outside the dressing rooms you nearly crash into them both, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively.

“Minji…” you whisper, gripping her arm like she’s a life raft, “I don’t know about this…”

“ Come on ,” she urges, taking your hand and pulling you through the crowd of employees and toward the dressing rooms, “The concert is over,” she stands on her tiptoes to try and catch sight of them, “They should be here by now.”

“Couldn’t this have waited?” you ask, but you don’t look at her. Like second nature your eyes scan the surrounding area for him, “Tomorrow morning—” you pause as your heart restarts.

“I told you, they leave for—” she stops, too, when she sees him (all seven of them, plus an entourage, including Daniel Ito). You can’t take your eyes off him. Min Yoongi.

Exhaustion is painted on his face like a tattoo and sits on his shoulders like a heavy winter coat, like protection. You can’t help feeling that you shouldn’t be here. He’s the first to notice you and Minji, huddled together in their path, as if he has a sixth sense for it. He stops dead in his tracks, the boys noticing his pause and stopping too, before suddenly the whole hallway is frozen. But you can’t take your eyes off him.

“Yoongi, I—” you start and are grateful when someone cuts you off. Do you have an excuse? A good one?

Daniel’s voice is like steel against your name. “What are you doing here?” he says, the words tight in his throat.

“ You ,” Jihoon’s voice is serious and unwavering, “You sir, are full of crap!” He steps forward from behind you, pointing a finger accusatorially at Daniel.

Minji, standing at your elbow, adds, “Yeah! Mr. Empty-Threats!”

“Good one,” you mutter, but it’s half-hearted. You haven’t looked away from Yoongi. It’s been three months and he’s so beautiful. And you have so many questions. All the things you miss about him sting so much more now that he’s in front of you.

He doesn’t make eye contact. At first, he watched the floor. But now that Jihoon and Minji have started lobbing insults and hurling accusations he’s looked up at Daniel and the others. But his eyes still avoid you.

You’re consumed with your thoughts, with your mental catalogue of Yoongi (his hair is sticky with sweat and darker now, the purple blotches beneath his eyes tell you he hasn’t slept in at least 36 hours, you can see the sharp definition of his cheekbones so you figure he hasn’t been eating, his hands are shaky so you know he’s been having trouble writing…), but in the background everyone’s fighting. Jihoon and Minji are shouting explanations to the staff and the members, while Daniel demands that you and they be removed.

You’re crying without realizing because, along with all the signs of his unhappiness, he looks so confused . And you’re terrified that you won’t be able to come back from this. You burned a bridge when you left. You broke his heart and your own. And even when he learns that you were manipulated and blackmailed...will he ever be able to dissociate that lie from who you really are?

You think back to the night on his front porch so many years ago...That boy and all of the beautiful things he said, the lo-fi beats in his headphones, the kimchi on his breath. You have to believe that that boy would never give up on you.

Your voice is soft and tear-soaked, but it cuts through the noise, “I’m so sorry.” And then, finally , he’s looking at you.

You step toward him, almost close enough to touch but you aren’t that brave yet. “I’m so sorry,” you say again, “I didn’t mean any of it. Of course, we’re more ,” you pause, looking him in the eye, tasting fear on your tongue, “I hope we’re more.”

He’s a foot away from you and you feel the distance so sharply that it might as well have been an object separating you both. His eyes are sharp and serious, calculating; it’s his editing face, cold and critical. He says your name, half a warning and half a plea.

“Yoongi,” you whisper desperately.

And you’re not sure what shifts, or what part of him inside snaps, but he closes the distance between you, takes your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours like there’s no other place they should be. You’re caught up in it all, your arms wrapping around him, his emotions and yours flowing through you both like an electric spark.

One thought pierces through it all: he’s a better kisser now. He knows what to do with his tongue. He tastes like cherry chapstick and sweat, and his tongue licks your bottom lip until you concede. It lights a fire in the pit of your stomach and sets your nerves alight.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is the emotion behind it. You can feel it clear as day, just like the last time, he loves you.

author’s note—feels rushed?

epilogue ↝

for more of my works check out my m.list

#bts #rosynamjoon #bangtanbuds #hyunglinenetwork #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #suga x reader #yoongi x reader

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fairyshuuu · 7 years ago

Text

Comfort

Length: 4.2 k Genre: Fluff Warnings: mentions of abusive relationships

Seven years. It’s been seven years since you started dating. It seems like yesterday, really. You don’t know what happened to the two of you through the years. Sometimes, you wonder if it’s just your mind convincing you that you feel the way you do, that it doesn’t go both ways. But then you see his eyes, dimmed and blank, exhausted with you, and you know it most definitely goes both ways. Ordinary lives in an ordinary cycle, coming around and around. It’s not really someone’s fault, so you’ve been trying to walk around the unavoidable. The thing is, with two people that don’t love each other anymore, the routine though. The comfort that comes with the years, safe and familiar, and stuck into your day like glue. You could live your life out this way, you know you could. You probably would have, if not for him.

It’s late. Too late to be out, and you know Junmyeon won’t be happy to have you out so late. You’re not in a hurry though, since the weather is up to it’s last good days before the snow starts steadily falling. The wind is stinging your skin, even when you wrap your jacket closer around your body, in hopes of keeping some warmth in. The sun has already sunk deep under the horizon, and the streets are quiet, homes sleeping in comfort. You’re tired after this day, and in search of comfort as well. When you look up, you catch eye of a person crouched in front of a stone wall, hidden in the shadows. He’s wearing all black, for a good reason, it seems. There’s a very distinct sound that cuts through the silence, and you gasp, holding your breath in surprise. The person looks up at your sound, eyes wide and scared under the black hood. You can barely make out any features before he jumps up and rushes away, some of the paint bottles falling out of his back, as he swears.

Before you can think about it, you run after him, shouting out. “Wait, please. I want to see it!” You call, following behind him. He seems to process your words, legs holding suddenly. You hold your breath again as the young man stops in the middle of the road, lingering there with heaving chest.

“What?” He calls out, not turning to you yet. His voice is soft and lithe, like a small stream cutting through the mountains, carrying fresh air into you.

You breathe out slowly, taking a step in his direction with blinking eyes. “I want to see the finished product, please.” You bite your lip, rubbing your palms on your thighs. “It’s angel wings, right? What does it mean?” Standing in the chilly air, you tilt your head slightly and wonder why you don’t want this person to leave. You wonder why you feel more alive in this minute-long moment, than you have been for a long while.

The young man pauses, before swallowing and turning around, looking around the street again. The street is still silent apart from you, as you keep your eyes on him. His breathing makes small clouds in the night, while he walks back over to you. Even with him now in front of you, it’s hard to make out his face. You can see his big black eyes though, wide and bright, filled with a million stars in the obsidian. He licks his bottom lip, before lifting his arm and tugging the hood off. “Why?” He rasps, eyeing you curiously, as he looks down on you. He’s just a bit taller, but you still have to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. “Why do you care?”

You swallow, suddenly only realizing how close you are stood with this stranger. You don’t back away though, just holding the strap of your bag for support. “I- I’m just-“ You huff then. “I want to see you paint. It’s so beautiful, and- And I don’t really want to go home yet, either, so-”

The young man breathes in, looking you up and down for a second, before finally giving in. He points at the artwork behind you, not minding the way he comes into your space, though you freeze slightly. “It’s no ordinary angel wings.” He moves then, walking around you to sit on his heels again, and putting his bag back down on the sidewalk. You follow his moves in silence, keeping an eye on him curiously. Some of his bottles are still laying on the cold stone, so you pick them up and hand them over, earning a small nod from him. “I believe that everything happens for a reason. And that there’s-” He pauses, before laughing a bit. “Do you ever feel like someone is watching over you? Like, despite everything, there’s someone looking out for you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking at your feet. There were times you felt like that, definitely. But now, you just feel tired, most of the time. Other things fade away after a while. The only thing that doesn’t really fade away is Junmyeon. And now, somehow, this person. “Like a- a guardian?” He nods, his hair falling into his eyes a bit. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around your knees, looking back up at him. “I feel like that someone left me a long time ago.”

The man blinks, looking down at his feet too. It stays quiet for a whole while, before he reaches in his jacket pocket, picking out a lighter. He hands it to you with a gentle smile, before reaching back into his bag. “Hold this for me, will you?” He mumbles, looking back into your eyes.

The small metal square feels heavy in your palm, and you nod. You quickly flick it open, and strike a flame. The small space between you and this stranger is now doused in light, flickering softly between the two of you. You take a deep breath, eyes flicking over his now illuminated face. He has soft brown hair that falls loosely across his brows, just leaving his big shimmering eyes free. Porcelain skin and a small nose, followed by smiley lips, as his breath fans across your face. As you breath out, you suddenly flinch away, surprised at how natural being in close proximity with this person feels. You don’t even know his name yet-

“I’m Baekhyun.” He whispers, blinking slowly. You pause, slightly surprised, before quickly telling him your name, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, while looking away. Baekhyun smiles softly, before holding the spray bottle up. “Let’s get this done quick, yeah? I would like to get out of here as soon as possible.” He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning to the wall again. He flips the bottle in the air easily, before pulling the cap off with his teeth, and starting to spray. You tilt your face away a bit, but still watch with interest as he fills in the linework. The piece goes surprisingly quick, as he straightens up to do the top part. You’ve never seen someone actually do graffiti, but the way Baekhyun flicks his wrists makes it look incredibly easy. You doubt it’s anywhere near as easy as he makes it look.

The wings are filled in quickly, as Baekhyun sends you a wink, before bending down to take another color. He pulls the cap off quickly again, before getting back on his heels and writing something below the drawing in a gold. When he finishes, he stands up again and takes a step back. You do the same, reading the golden writing that shimmers in the light of the flame in your hand. Below the beautiful angel wings, there’s an elegant “I’ll be there” written.

When you look at the young man again, he runs a hand through his hair. “They have never left, Y/N, I’m sure of that. Whatever happened that made you feel this way, I’m sure everything will fall into place.” He puts out his hand then, so you close the lighter, and give it to him, not missing the way your skin tingles as it brushes over his. His eyes linger on yours for a second, before he clears his throat. “Uhm, I need to get going, and I would suggest you to do the same.” He zips up his bag, before swallowing. “Can I- maybe get-“

You don’t get to hear the rest of his speech when a familiar sound rings out from a few streets away. Only now, the sound is most likely coming for you. Police. You just freeze a bit, eyes widening while you watch Baekhyun. He luckily doesn’t hesitate, just grabbing your hand and pulling you with into a sprint. “Shit.” He grunts, looking behind the two of you, as your heart races. Oh, you’ve definitely never felt this alive. Your legs move quicker and quicker, doing your best to keep up with Baekhyun’s pace as you see the red and blue lights on his back.

You can’t help the giggle that escaped when he pulls you into an alley suddenly, both of you almost tripping over a heap of trash. You are the first to get back up, and grab his hand to pull him up and on again, looking back at him with a laugh. “Baekhyun, hurry the fuck up.” You’re halfway in the alley when Baekhyun pulls you back to a stop, and pull you into him. He presses you gently against the wall between two dumpsters, body pressed to yours as he breathes deeply.

“Shh,” he whispers when you want to speak up, “they’ll drive past.” He holds his breath in anticipation as he looks at the entrance of the alley, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him for some reason. His chest is pressed entirely against you, moving up and down in an attempt to get enough air into his lungs again, as he bites his bottom lip. You mirror him, before slowly following his gaze. The police car indeed drives past, sirens blazing, as you hold your breath without second thought. Only when the sounds fade out does Baekhyun move himself from you. When he does, he carefully brushes you off, taking a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

You nod, twisting your ankles in circles. They sting a bit, but apart from that, you are fine, so that’s exactly what you tell him. Baekhyun hesitates, but nods anyway, grabbing onto your hand again. Now you’re not running like a madman, you can focus on the warmth that his hand gives, like soft kisses on your skin. You just shake that feeling, and follow Baekhyun slowly. He looks back at you every couple of seconds. “Come on, we have to get out of here. I don’t want to pull you into my mess. We should-” He pauses, shaking his head. “I’ll get you home. Where do you live?”

You sigh. Baekhyun is trying to be nice. But you don’t really want him to leave yet. “Next to the library. It’s a couple of streets away.”

Baekhyun turns to you, the glint returning to his eyes. “Those apartments? Really?”

You frown, regarding him skeptically, while folding your arms across your chest. “What’s wrong with them?”

Baekhyun giggles at your defensive posture, shrugging. “Nothing wrong. They’re just really- plain.” He looks you up and down, pulling his bag up his shoulder a bit. “I would have expected something more exciting from a person like you.”

You just hold your breath, as Baekhyun turns to leave the alley. Somehow, that feels like a punch in your stomach, hitting your exact fears. You raise your eyes from your feet, moving from your spot to follow behind Baekhyun. “Yeah, well- that’s me. Plain, boring, invisible.”

At that, the man turns his head, eyes softening. “Who told you a lie like that? You’re not plain at all. You’re really fucking blinding actually. Can you- how can you not see that?”

You look up at him, heart dropping to your feet. Who told you a lie like that? Only the man you’ve spent the last seven years of your life with. You don’t look away when Baekhyun catches your eyes. How can being around a stranger feel this right? You lick your lips, blinking up at him as his hand reaches up to hold yours warmly, leaning softly into you.

“Step towards the vehicle with your hands in the air!” The speaker cracks through the air, as Baekhyun flinches away from you out of surprise. He comes to stand in front of you automatically, raising his hands slowly towards the bright light shining into your eyes. He sighs, looking back at you with a frown, clearly angry at himself. You’re just a little shaken, as you walk from behind him, raising your hands above your head. Your heart is beating about a thousand miles to fast, but standing in the stinging air, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You feel great, and so when the police officers put you in cuffs and put you in the backseat next to Baekhyun, you smile.

“I’m so sorry for getting you involved in-”

“Don’t.” You stop him, leaning slightly into his shoulder. You purse your lips, turning to him fully. “I’ve actually had more fun tonight than I’ve had in this entire year. So thank you.”

Baekhyun can’t help the grin that slips on his face, raising his eyebrows. “You know this is going on your record, right?”

“Can’t you just take a thank you?” You muse, pushing against his shoulder.

Baekhyun laughs, before going back to serious, smile slipping off slowly. “I’m glad I could be of help to someone for once. You’re very welcome.” He takes a deep breath then, leaning his head back against the seats. “I feel like I should thank you too.”

You just look out of the front window, enjoying the soft talk between the two of you for a bit longer. When you get to the station in a bit you’ll most likely have to call Junmyeon, which will be a whole lot different. “Why?”

“You know how I said someone is looking out for us? That everything happens for a reason?”

You smile softly, biting your lip. “Yes, I remember.”

Baekhyun laughs, pushing back against your shoulder a bit. “Good. Don’t forget it.”

“Junmyeon, I’m sorry for calling so late, but I need you to come pick me up.”

“Late? It’s past late, Y/N. It’s 3 in the morning. Wh- Pick you up? What do you mean?” He sounds really tired. You probably called him out of bed.

“I- I’m in the-“ You look around, tucking your hair behind your ear, as you watch Baekhyun make his call through the glass. He’s smiling brightly, like nothing is even wrong, with streaks of paint on his cheeks and nose. If only you could be like him. “The police station. I need you to bail me out, please.”

There’s silence, and then a deep sigh. “The police station? Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I’m not drunk. I just got arrested. Can you please come get me?”

Your boyfriend breathes deeply. “I can’t believe you, Y/N. Could you be any more disappointing? I- I don’t- Whatever. This is the last pull. We’re over. You can wait till morning. Goodnight.”

“Junmyeon!?” You call, pulling desperately on the telephone cord. “Junmyeon?” You smash the telephone back in the hook, walking over to the door. You want to scream or punch someone, but instead just open the door, looking at the man stationed outside your door. The officer nods, and leads you back to the small holding cell, while you look behind you to see Baekhyun. He’s still animatedly talking, eyes bright and full of fire, before suddenly turning to you. His smile slips off when he sees your expression, before he says something to the person on the phone you can’t make out, and ends the call not long after.

To your surprise, they put Baekhyun in the same holding cell as you’re in, locking you both in the small space. Said man looks even more handsome in the full lighting, slim face and plump lips as he smiles at you. “Hey there, little vandalizer. I feel like we’ve met.”

Though a smile comes on your face, you feel terrible. Junmyeon is right. You’re a disappointment. When Baekhyun sits down next to you, you suddenly start shaking, not being able to stop the tears. Baekhyun looks shocked for a second, before reaching over to grab a hold of you. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I was kidding.” He holds you close to his chest, and you’re too upset to care that you’re desperately clinging to him while you cry your eyes out.

“God, this is so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m-“ You shut yourself with another hiccup, before burying your face into his shoulder.

Baekhyun just softly strokes your hair, shushing you with gentle movements. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Don’t worry, okay? And when you’re feeling better, you can tell me what the problem is.” He pauses, resting his cheek on your head carefully. “Or not, if you don’t feel like it.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around him, as you sit there for a while. When your tears dry out, you finally dare to pull away from him again, lowering your eyes to the wooden bench you are sat on. Baekhyun groans as he stretches out a bit, before smiling at you softly, as you hold back your own smile. You just keep your eyes on yourself, picking on the edge of your sweater absentmindedly. “My- uhm- my boyfriend of seven years just broke up with me, because I got arrested, and is going to let me stay here until morning.” You can see Baekhyun freeze a little from the corner of your eyes, so you quickly continue. “We’ve been over for a while, I feel like, but now we’re officially over.”

Baekhyun purses his lips, wrapping his arm around your shoulder protectively. “Well, everyone cries after a break-up.”

“That’s not why I was crying though. He’ll most likely come crawling back anyway, he dislikes change. I was crying because he said I was a disappointment, and he’s right. I’m a failure, even the one time I try to do something spontaneous. Even then, I still fuck up.” You wipe your sleeve under your eyes, and sigh deeply.

“Is he the asshole that made you feel invisible?” Baekhyun questions, softly now, as if scared to break you. You just nod, making him move over to you immediately. His hands find your face, turning it to face him with care, while bending to look into your eyes. “He’s wrong. You’re not a disappointment, and definitely not a fuck up. You know how many times I’ve been here?” You can’t even answer before he continues. “I lost count. I know the officers here by first name. Hell, my best friend is on his way here now because he’s so used to this. If anyone is a fuck up, it’s me. Don’t listen to that dude, yeah? Honestly, what does he know? He lives in a plain house, has a plain job and does plain things. You’re so beautiful, and you shimmer more than all of those stars outside.”

You look up at him then, scared to break the moment. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows when turning to you, seemingly surprised, before going back to his calm faze. “Because you deserve it. More than most.” He giggles then, tilting his head. “That, and- Everything happens for a reason.” When you shake your head, Baekhyun grins, looking around the small holding cell. The paint is still on his face, so you reach up, brushing it away with your thumbs, as Baekhyun stills under your touch. When you finish, you slowly let your hands fall from his face, as he turns back to you. “What was that?” He asks, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

He looks even more adorable now, and you need to bite your lip to keep a huge smile from spreading. Instead, you just show your thumb. “Paint. Oh, hold-” You push yourself just a little closer to reach up comfortably, as you put your hand on his thigh for support. You quickly brush away the streak on his nose, holding your breath, before sitting back down. “There you go.”

Baekhyun smiles, his lips forming a rectangle, as his eyes turn into lines. When you turn away, a little awkward, he just pushes against your shoulder, giggling. “You put your tongue out when you’re concentrating. It’s cute.” You want to deny but a yawn fights through, before you can help it. The young man next to you just looks over at you, before pulling your head softly to his chest. “Sleep for a bit, I’ll wake you up when Sehun gets here.” Your eyes close after that, being lulled to sleep with Baekhyun’s soft humming and warmth.

“Wake up, Y/N. The knight in shining armor is here.” You’re softly shaken awake from Baekhyun’s warm hold, eyes fluttering to lift the heavy feeling. You’re curled into Baekhyun’s lap, holding onto him gently, as he smiles down at you. Suddenly, you’re self-conscious, so you move out of his lap right away, pulling at your sleeves a bit. Baekhyun just laughs softly, before reaching over and pulling you up on your feet. “Come on, let’s get you a real bed.”

Outside of the metal bars is another man dressed in casual clothes. The clothes look casual, but he somehow still looks dressed up. He’s taller than Baekhyun is, with a slim face, and stern brows. He’s very pretty, he could be a model if he wanted to, you think while looking him up and down. This must be Baekhyun’s friend, Sehun. The tall man moves out of the way so you two can open the door, before punching the other’s shoulder. “You are so terrible. What is this now, like the sixteenth time?”

Baekhyun laughs, rubbing his neck with the hand that’s not leading you. “No clue, man. Thanks for bailing us out, anyway.”

Sehun just winks, shrugging it off, before waving at the both of you. “Don’t mention it, Byun. Stay trouble. Now, I would love to talk, but I have a very angry girlfriend and dog at home, who would like to go to sleep again.” He walks out of the door before you can even thank him.

Baekhyun turns to you then, smiling a little embarrassed. “So, uhm- My car is out front still. Want me to drive you home?”

“I wouldn’t know where to go. I don’t really want to go to Junmyeon’s. I might be able to drop in at my sister’s, or maybe-“ You pause, before looking up at the man in front of you, who has taken your hand into his.

“Or maybe you can just stay over?” Baekhyun suggests, his big eyes on yours. “We’ve spent an entire night together, I wouldn’t mind. If you’re comfortable of course.”

You just nod, smiling softly. “I’d like that.” You softly intertwine your fingers with his, before pulling him to the door, as the officers shake their heads in slight disapproval. When you get outside, you gasp, looking up. It’s pouring out. The both of you quickly start sprinting across the parking, Baekhyun pulling you with him.

“Over there.” He giggles, pulling you through the puddles, as you yelp. Suddenly, you pull him back though, causing him to bump back into you with a gasp.

“Wait,” you beam, putting your hands out as you tilt your head back, “feel how warm the rain is.”

Baekhyun grins. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want me to stop and feel the rain?”

You just nod, leaning back even more so you’re just being supported by Baekhyun. The rain feels amazing, and you don’t find it in yourself to care that you’re getting wet entirely. You feel free. And strangely, you still feel comfort. Maybe you can even find comfort in doing new things, as long as you’re with the right person.

When you straighten up and open your eyes, you’re chest to chest with Baekhyun, who is smiling down at you, hair stuck to his face. Even though he’s soaked, he’s smiling, and you smile back at him. “I think I should thank my guardian angel.” You whisper, as Baekhyun’s hands find your neck, gliding over your wet skin carefully.

“Why?” He beams, stroking your cheeks.

“Because I just fell in love in a single night.”

Baekhyun’s lips find yours then, so soft it takes you a bit to kiss him back, while your hands tangle in his hair. He’s burning, like a flame of fire, as he pulls you into him completely, melting against each other. His wet hands glide over your cheeks and find hold in your hair, while he nips gently on your bottom lip. You just giggle into his mouth, unable to help show how happy you feel, and you can feel his smile against your lips as well. You push your lips against his again, as his move against yours with a care you’ve never really felt, and in that moment, you really feel bright.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it!!

#exowritersnet #kloversnet #exo #baekhyun #fluff #exo fluff #bbh #exowriting

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fearandloathinguniverse · 7 years ago

Text

When Raoul met Oliver

We arrived at Tumblr sometime in late April, I was driving the car as my attorney was giving directions while under the effects of cocaine, we were looking for our blog space and had already passed several other blogs that showed the variety of individuals that inhabited this odd yet stimulating land. I was barely able to make out our location when he suddenly shouted: “There it is!” I sharply turned the car to the right to not miss the location my attorney had pointed out. As we stopped I saw It was a house, it was colorless with a generic house shape and no windows, just a door on the front. “Our blog lets go check it out.” My attorney said getting out of the car. I looked around the somewhat deserted area around our blog, I thought to myself how we were going to get any support if we were on the outer rims of Tumblr. I carried my luggage into the blog house, it had a giant tv on the wall with a couch and a table that had a smartwatch on it.

“You should take that” my attorney yelled from the other room where he put his luggage “It will give the locations to other blogs and more information.” He was reading this out loud off a tablet from the table the watch was on “The big monitor can help us search for other blogs we want to visit as well and check our own ‘asks’ or receive a message from the ‘mod’ whoever the hell that is “ he continued on as I strapped the watch onto my wrist and turned it on. “Grey people are anonymous Tumblr inhabits with no identity, called anons for short.”

“What do we do know?” I asked as I looked around on the watch looking for some clue of what to write about.

“Ask blogs are pretty popular on Tumblr, you should go interview someone from those blogs since asking questions is the whole point of the blog. Just interview someone fast because inactivity for too long with no content may lead people to think we’re just some guys who wanted to get past the safe mode or troll people.” My attorney said still reading from the tablet now with a joint in his left hand.

“Who should I interview?”

“Fuck, I don’t know just go look on the screen and get to it!” He yelled as he walked over to the tv typed in ask blogs and pressed a button that looked like a compass which caused the TV to start searching for ask blogs. Several based on fictional characters turned up but one that appeared to be the most popular were asked blogs based on a line of characters called ‘Vocaloids’

“There, go find a Vocaloid ask blog and interview the person. It’s that easy” he said as he sat down on the couch “Try this Fukase guy or Miku or Oliver he looks friendly.”

“You whore, I don’t even know what a Vocaloid is, just let me sit down and relax”

“Then learn about them when you travel out to one of them just get something to write about, the sooner the better.” I had no way of arguing with him right now, he was high off his mind from that joint. With little recourse, I cussed him out as I left the house and got into the car and looked for the nearest Vocaloid ask blog based on the only reasonable name my attorney listed inside. Oliver had plenty of blogs on him so it wasn’t too hard to find one but it was hard to pick which one I wanted to interview, Christ, some were flat out scary. There was a vampire, a creepy crawler, a mermaid, one whose eye was replaced with a mouth and another who was a dummy or something. I found one who was obsessed with knives named ask-okniver.tumblr.com or Knife for short and decided he would be interesting, I have an interest in knives and maybe he could lend me a good hunting knife. I punched in his location and hit the road to his blog.

The journey wasn’t too long and I pulled up to his house in a few minutes. Okay, be calm don’t alienate him, tell him your name and what your business at his blog is, those words kept going through my head as I walked up to his door and entered his blog. I stopped in my tracks as I saw several grey people standing around in almost a circle around the body of Knife who was motionless on the ground. Jesus Christ what were these grey monsters I thought before I remembered what attorney had said about them just being fellow Tumblr inhabitants. I walked up to them to look at the body of Knife, he didn’t have any visible woods but seemed to be sleeping but he wasn’t breathing. I checked my watch for information and saw that the ‘mod’ had written something that said “Fun fact: Knife does have an on and off switch. You just gotta find where it is.” So this kid is a robot? That makes this even more interesting but I knew it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t find the switch to turn him on. One of the anons said “I'm going to make a guess. Is the on/off switch along his spine like Data from Star Trek?” My watch buzzed as the ‘mod’ answered with “Good guess! But it’s incorrect!” Another anon said, “well if Knife's turned off then I guess I could pull off his bandages to see if the switch is there.” As he began to pull of Knifes bandage around his eye. The sight was phantasmagorical, the left side of his face was grey and rusty orange with a black hole where his eye should be, the entire section looked like the skin had been ripped off. I guessed it wasn’t there either, I was thinking of calling it a day but then the watch rang with a message, “Perhaps there is someone you can ask for hints. Someone who was made by the same person as Knife.” I thought this over and remembered that there were other Olivers living around here and that maybe they would have information. I was really hoping to get at least one interview so I could go back home and hey if I turned the Knife back on him might be grateful and even more willing to be interviewed, well shit I better get going then.

I dashed out of the house and looked on my watch for the Oliver who seemed like they would know the most about the mechanic of their body. ask-a-dollie.tumblr.com Perfect a doll robot thing, of course, it would know the most about machines. I drove off as fast as I could to Dollie's house and made it in a few minutes, I jumped out of my car and kicked the door open like a madman and located Dollie who was sitting on the floor and yelled "You! little doll.. robot thing. I am a journalist and I need to know if you have any information on the whereabouts of an on/off switch on your friend Knife's body. I need to ask him questions!” I was met with a quizzical look from the mangled face of Dollie who said, “Whats a Knife? I don’t know what a switch is either.” He continued to stare at me confused with that yellow eye and I noticed a red-eye beneath it was also staring at me but it looked far more sinister. I realized I just made an ass of myself as this doll clearly knew less than I did and I didn’t research this beforehand, I slowly backed out of the room as Dollie continued to look puzzled. I got back in the car, calmed myself down and looked for another Oliver to ask preferably a normal version. ask-ollie-and-co.tumblr.com seemed like a normal one and he was close by so I decided to go to his blog. I arrived and went inside with a little more composure so wouldn’t appear like a maniac again. He didn’t seem to be home but I noticed on the desk blueprints of his body, I looked through them quickly and found where his on/off switch was located, it was on his left shoulder blade.

“Behind his heart,” I said to myself thinking it sounded poetic in someway maybe I was just overjoyed as I quickly ran back to the car and drove back to Knife’s house to deliver the good news. I arrived back at his house and ran inside and pushed past the anons.

"anons, step back. I am a doctor of journalism and I have figure out where the switch is” I said as I walked up to Knifes body and reached for his hoodie before stopping as I grabbed it. I didn’t want to pull off this kids clothes in front of all these people, I would like some creep for god sakes and I don’t want that reputation on this site. So I casually reached for a knife that was on the table and ripped a small hole in his hoodie where the switch would be. I stood back up and said, “Behold, The answer was behind his heart.” I still thought that sounded poetic as I announced it to the crowd. Our watches suddenly buzzed with a message that said “You found it. Your actions will have consequences.” That last sentence caught my eye, consequences? What could it mean, it’s not like it will hurt him to be woken up and he seems to have been asleep for a while so he should be fine, I noticed the others in the room seem concerned as well but I had to get an interview or story of some sort for my site so I said, “I don't think we have a choice. I know I don't, I have to talk to him.” I leaned down and opened the panel and flipped the switch to on. Knifes eye opened up letting us know he was awake. I took a few steps back as he stood up and stretched a bit, he reached to close the panel on his back. He suddenly had a look of worry on his as he pulled off the hoodie, I stepped back a little more as I noticed the scars and bandages. He looked at his hoodie in horror with tears forming and he looked up and said, “ What did you do?” I didn’t know whether to be scared or to laugh, I thought he would be happy to be awake but it seems that he feels worse and I didn’t know why, he fell down and sat with his face pressed into his knees with his hoodie in-between. My thoughts on this situation being comical left and I just felt bad.

“Sorry about turning you back on kid, but it seemed like a good option at the time. Clearly wasn't, so I feel bad and I want to know if we can do anything to help you.” He didn’t look at me as he said, “Just go away.”

I felt a knot in my stomach surprisingly, I saw my chances to talk to this kid fly away. I finally looked at the hoodie and realized he was upset that I tore a hole into it, I felt really bad and I decided to try and do something helpful. The first thing I had to do was lock up those knives, I didn’t like the idea of that kid having them while he was like this and I got an idea from those scars on his bodies that I might be right.

“I should probably leave but I’m locking up these knives so you don’t do anything stupid with them,” I said as I started picking up knives from around the house but as I grabbed one off the table I noticed some pictures on it. The pictures had Knife and some other Oliver in different places, an anon walked up behind me and said “Those are pictures of him and his boyfriend. He loved so much, but he’s gone now.”

I looked at the pictures and pieced together how upset the kid must have been, so upset that he might’ve shut himself off. I contemplated whether or not to give these to him or lock them ups with the knife collection, I didn’t know if they could trigger some kind of bad reactions or if they would comfort him. Fuck it. I walked back out to Knife and handed the pictures to him.

“Do you still want these here?” He looked up and grabbed them from

“Please.” He said sadly. “ Don’t touch anything” he followed up with as I left back to the kitchen. I ignored his request and continued to collect the knives, there is nothing more depressive and self-loathing then someone who just lost someone they loved, I knew it was safe to keep these locked up. I gently carried his knives and put al eighty fucking two of them into a cabinet. Damn this kid had quite a few knives, most were butter knives but I still considered myself lucky for not getting cut, I had thoughts about taking one but I didn’t need to give a reason for the kid to hate me more. I grabbed the nearest lock and closed to cupboard with all the knives and locked it, in hindsight the lock wasn’t a very strong one and I’m pretty sure any halfwit fool could see that it could be broken with a hammer but it was all I had to use at the time. I walked back to the main room and was about to head out but I still felt bad so I turned back to Knife.

“Can I at least fix your hoodie before I got? I feel bad for tearing it like some animal, I just didn’t want to be seen as some creep who took off little boys clothes.” I didn’t know shit about sewing but I intended to just make some gesture of goodwill even if I probably couldn’t fix it.

“Don’t touch it. Leave. Go away… just go away” was his response, this kid seems to hate me now, I had no chance at that point to interview him. I could only walk out with my head down in defeat. I didn’t understand why he was so upset about a sweater that could be fixed, I walked outside and turned back to see more people talking to him. I heard someone ask why the hoodie was important and I stopped within earshot to hear Knife tell a story about how another one of his friends had left it for him as a goodbye gift. It was a farewell present from a person close to him and I damaged it. Shit, the only word going through my head as I drove home depressed and tired. I got back to the house to find my attorney had already made a mess of the place, he was stretched out on the couch with a drink in his hand.

“About damn time, how hard is it to get an interview?” I didn’t respond as I took my hat off and poured myself a drink. He sat up and looked at me “Did something happen?”

“I didn’t get an interview but I at least have a story to write about,” I said tiredly.

“Okay, see it wasn’t that hard.” If I wasn’t so tired o would’ve poured my drink on that bastard but I was beaten down by the day I just had and I still had to write this story, so I just walked to my room and got to typing this story. The strange and decadent adventure has made me reconsider whether or not this change will be for the best, I already feel like life is trying to beat me down again, can I really survive in this place or should I suck it up with thoughts that will be fine later on, I guess I just have to take the ride and see where I go.

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Knife belongs to ask-okniver.tumblr.com

Dollie belongs to ask-a-dollie.tumblr.com

#long story #longs to #hunter s thompson #okniver #dollie #vocaloid #oliver #vocaloid oliver #raoul duke #gonzo style #this took way too long #sorry

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