#Survival of the Friendliest
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Friendliness, roughly defined as some kind of intentional or unintentional cooperation, or positive behavior toward others, is so common in nature because it is so powerful.
In people, it can be as simple as approaching someone and wanting to socially interact or as complicated as reading someone else's mind in order to cooperatively accomplish a mutual goal.
- Survival of the Friendliest, Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods
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Ida is Constantine's good ex.
They separated on good terms after a few months because Ida wanted to start a family and not Constantine (for obvious reasons). Then, despite Ida's efforts to keep in touch as a long-distance friend, she quickly no longer received any news from him.
So when she sees him barely older and seeming lost in his town… she takes him for a ghost who has retained a very human appearance. She rushes to him because she is surely not the only one to notice the presence of a “tourist” in town.
She takes a minute to pity him and apologize. He hadn't ignored him, he was dead!!! Then start explaining to him why as a ghost it's not safe for him here even though it's very nice of him to visit <3
Constantine had not informed Ida about magic, after all it was one of his exes from before his cancer (a little near the time when he stopped responding to her) and his first triple sale of soul for escape death. But he knows Ida well enough not to contradict her. In addition, she gives him all the information in flash notes that he is looking for.
…
Okay, he also missed Ida. It felt SO strange to see her old. But she apparently hadn't lost anything from a mental point of view
This is how Constantine was invited to have tea and catch up on lost time at Ida's in addition to having a more complete debrief of the Amity Park situation
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#ida manson#john constantine#amity park#I didn't write it but I'm not sure that Ida would be against going to bed with a ghost#after that I'm not sure on Constantine's side#Constantine doesn't have the heart to tell Ida that he was alive all the time#but that he had been so caught up in the magic tricks to dodge his cancer that he had completely skipped it#and even after n 'never thought about contacting her again#even though she's one of if not the friendliest ex of all.#if he had done it or at least talked to her about magic and his survival#maybe she would have contacted him before the situation got to this point#seriously there is a government agency that wants to start a dimensional war and a couple mad scientists far too intelligent for the good#ida becoming a JLD contact? more likely than you think#my#my prompts#prompt
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I’m reading this book and it says that one of the crucial steps in domesticating wolves to breed dogs is a process of self-domestication in which certain wolves would approach human communities to eat their poop. And those ‘friendly’ (less fearful of humans) wolves had a reproductive advantage breeding friendlier more poop loving wolves and that’s why dogs eat their own shit basically
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A lot of people are asking how Cabin Fever would go down, so like for the Promening I wrote down a lil summary. Its basically the same beats, so don't expect huge differences to the original.
Also, I never clarify which camper swaps with who, I'll probably give that some thought sometime later.
Since this is happening after the events of the Promening, N made a plan with Uzi and Thad to investigate the camp in order to find more clues about where his little sister Cyn disappeared off to, as well as what the meaning of the collars were.
And, like in the original, Uzi and Thad become the new camp counsellors! Thad's pretty intimidating, so Uzi's the one who tries to lead the class forward. V and J, beloved and popular among their peers, are the only ones who actually convince the class to trust them. N's... pretty much ignored. He's usually the type to be able to brush off this kinda thing with a nervous laugh, but something about the way they shower Uzi with so much flirty attention makes him feel uneasy...
The knowledge that his classmates and his only friends were having tons of fun because he wasn't there just overwhelms and overheats his senses, causing his solver to break a few windows while he investigates the abandoned cabins and looks for Cyn. It doesn't help that Thad later comes in to rub salt in the wound, hinting that Uzi would ditch him at the drop of a hat if given the chance. This ultimately ends up spiralling into N's solver slowly showing its horrific side when he later comes back to tell Uzi about what he's discovered in the cabins.
And suddenly, Thad isn't laughing anymore. He remembers Doll from the mansion, he knows exactly what that solver is, and he needs N dead as soon as possible. This causes Thad and Uzi to start fighting for the first time, with her defending N's actions to her core, even running off to find him. Poor Thad :(
We all know what happens in this episode. N's always been a sweetheart and the friendliest person imaginable, even in this AU. But from the grief that was losing his little sister, the dejection he felt every day from his own class, and the fear that Uzi would leave him at any point solidified his transformation. What's horrifying about this form is that, while he's not in total control of his actions, it's not like it doesn't stem from his feelings at least a little. He's friendly and forgiving, but he still feels resentment and hurt towards the classmates that constantly belittle and mock him every day. Especially J, who luckily survives just because Thad protects her. And Thad, the one who most mocked N for being scrawny and weak, suddenly can't win in a fight against the little dude, only being saved once Uzi swoops in and throws N up into the sky.
N's naturally a pacifist, but this is his first time actually harming and murdering other people, so he's even more visibly ashamed than Uzi is in the original episode. He struggles to even open up to Uzi while they have their sky therapy talk, instantly feeling the horror and guilt once he snapped out of it. They talk things out, each confessing that they felt scared without each other and that they needed each other to feel safe and complete. While he never ends up forgiving himself completely, Uzi stops him from spiralling at the revelation of his own actions.
Thad, of course, ends up covering for N in the final bus scene, pinning the blame on himself by "bragging" about the drones he killed at camp. In reality though, he's scared for AND of N, but he shows, in a way, that he cares.
#glitch productions#murder drones#uzi doorman#murder drones uzi#serial designation j#serial designation v#murder drones thad#murder drones swap au
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a new home for the holidays | ljh
(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)
pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader
genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut
rating: explicit
word count: 10.5k
warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie
smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex
author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.
The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.
Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.
A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)
It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.
“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”
“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off.
“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds.
“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred.
“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.
“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.
“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends.
“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.
“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say.
“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?”
“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth.
“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.
“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask.
“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.
Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow.
Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it.
You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.”
“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”
“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.
“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.
“Oh!” you say.
“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.
“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?”
“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”
With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face.
As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under.
It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.
“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.
“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”
It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”
“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes.
“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.
“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.
You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him.
There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.
“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.
“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.
“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.
“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak.
He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.”
You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.
The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.
With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.
Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.
Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home
Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone
There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.
You: oh, yeah! thanks!
You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help
The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not.
Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now.
An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore.
“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.
“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.
“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.
“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.
“I was joking,” he says.
You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?”
Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.”
“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.
“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.
“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.
“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.
“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments.
“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.
“Really?” you ask.
“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns.
You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.
It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this.
The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it.
When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees.
With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want.
You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” he points out, back still to you.
It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”
“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.
“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.
“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.
“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?”
Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.”
“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.
“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.
“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.
“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.
“What? Scare me?”
“Yeah.”
“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.
“That depends. Do you like it?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Of course it would.”
He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.”
“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well.
It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”
“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.
“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person.
“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.”
Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”
“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.
“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.
“Yeah,” you answer immediately.
“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?”
That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.”
“I get that,” he says.
“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.
His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.”
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.
“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits.
Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart.
It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned.
“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.
You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.”
“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.
“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.
“No, friend,” you decide.
“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.
“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug.
“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.
The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.
Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all.
When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized.
The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream.
With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace.
“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.
“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.
“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.
“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen.
By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it.
You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you.
It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.
“Can I admit something?” you ask.
“Course,” he says softly.
“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows.
“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.”
Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake.
He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?”
His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.”
Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.”
That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out.
“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.
“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.
“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer.
“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”
“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?”
“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you.
“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching.
You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be.
“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.
“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.
“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.
“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.”
The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.
As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.
“Fuck,” he hisses out.
“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication.
He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”
“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.
“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you.
“I think I want it all,” you whisper.
“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks.
You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady.
“I do.”
It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into.
“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly.
You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”
“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”
You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable.
This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down.
You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”
“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.
“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed.
It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?
“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time.
“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.
“A bit, he says,” you tease back.
“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.
“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.
“Fine by me,” he readily agrees.
There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need.
It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.
“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.
“So do it,” he answers.
“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!”
“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.
“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager.
“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says.
Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing.
“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.
“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit.
“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says.
“Like what?” you wonder.
“I guess we’ll see,” he answers
“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.
He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.”
“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over.
The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you.
“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again.
You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.
“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.”
“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you.
He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too.
“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.”
“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles.
You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.”
“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits.
You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft.
“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.”
“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start.
“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”
“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say.
He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.”
“It’s okay,” you say.
“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.
“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him.
“Are you sure?” he checks.
“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off.
In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry.
You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you.
His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”
“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out.
“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”
“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs.
“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out.
Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side.
“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah,” you agree.
It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair.
“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.
“Merry Christmas,” you answer.
He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response.
“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse.
“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.
“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.
You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed.
Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours.
“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away.
“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.
By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room.
You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box.
“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look.
It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.”
“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”
“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him.
Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things.
You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.
“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.
“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone.
“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”
“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.
“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle.
“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling.
“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.
“You sound like my parent,” you whine.
“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table.
“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.
“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”
“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.
“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over.
The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though.
After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…”
“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.
“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.
“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine.
“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words.
He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.”
“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.
He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree.
“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too.
“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”
“Snow,” he interrupts.
“Yeah,” you agree.
He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.”
You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows.
“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper.
i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕
#woozi smut#jihoon smut#woozi x reader#jihoon x reader#kvanity#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#woozi scenarios#woozi imagines#woozi fluff#jihoon scenarios#jihoon imagines#jihoon fluff#woozi fanfic#jihoon fic#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#woozi x you#jihoon x you#seventeen x you#svthub#ksmutsociety
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Hitman 141 would be TERRIFYING, an entity that ppl only whisper about-ESPECIALLY at the mention of Price, or someone being told to stfu if they do dare to utter his name, ppl keeping their heads down everytime 141 enters a room like they're THAT GOOD
Hitman 141 Headcanons
(Call of Duty Masterlist)
Rating: M
Wordcount: 800
Tags: Hitman AU / Mercenary AU, Dark 141
Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence and torture
A/N: Thank you for the brainworm anon
They don’t go by any name. There’s no title for their unit.
The living know better than to speak of them
They’re known in the underground only as ‘The Four’
Black paint smears across their gazes, like the hand of the grim reaper has dipped its skeletal fingers in charcoal and tried to blind them
Their eyes gaze forward even so, looking for their next target, their next kill
It’s rare to see any of them, and even rarer to see them all together. When they enter into the secretive enclaves and dens of the world’s finest assassins, a hush falls over the crowd, and you see them grin- knowing that their mere presence invokes fear
They know how to kill men a thousand different ways, they say
There’s no target that’s too large for them
They can disable a government overnight, can sweep in under the cover of darkness and eliminate an entire cabinet in one fell swoop
And yet the depths of their deeds remain entirely unknown, with a finger pressed to lips of their victims before they grow cold
Nobody knows their real names. Those that have tried have failed- and the dead hold their secrets
They do go by names that only the damned dare to whisper
Gaz, their intelligence specialist who leaves no loose ends, who draws secrets from the graves of those who gasp words with their dying breaths
He knows, they whisper, knowing that he has ears everywhere. That even the shadows come to murmur in his ear. His sniper scope finds his targets, and he reads their lips before he fires a killing shot
When he talks to others, his smile is easy, that of a friend. Yet there’s a flicker in his eyes that speaks of a second sight, an ability to bleed words from your mouth before you can stop yourself
“Thanks, mate.” He tells you with a clap to your shoulder, and you watch in dread as he depart, and wonder what have I done?
Soap, their supplier, their demolitions expert, the man who leaves behind only a trail of ash that can’t be traced
He’s the friendliest of them, with his easy going smile and blue eyes. Yet there lurks a darkness in his gaze, a challenge, and you know if you get too close you’ll be incinerated by the flames
He’s rumored to have killed the president of a foreign country- the man dying in a tragic house fire with no discernible cause. They say it was a catastrophe that couldn’t have been stopped
Of course not, not when he created it. He smiled as he watched it burn
Ghost, the assassin, the reaper they say
He fought death, and won, but in his victory his soul is forever held by the grave.
There’s a hundred different stories about his survival. He was lost in the wilderness and killed a bear to steal its pelt. His feet were poured into concrete and he broke his hands cracking himself free. He dug himself from the grave and took the scythe from the reaper to kill his enemies himself
His figure will be the last thing you ever see. There’s not even time to scream
Red drenches his bone white mask, and behind them stare the eyes of a dead man
Then there’s their leader- Price.
Price, they say, for a price must be given for the lives of those who’ve been killed. It’s a steep cost to deal with him and his men, and even steeper to refuse them
Smoke follows him in a mist, chokes the airways of his victims. There’s a brutality to him that’s untold, hardly restrained, witnessed by few who survive only to see him in their nightmares
The others yield to him, defer to his guidance. There’s rumors he’s immortal, has lived many lives but is cursed to roam the earth like Cain, having slain his own blood and now lives in eternal damnation
He tips his hat to the man he leaves hanging upside down from the rafters, leaving him to a slow and painful death even as he begs for mercy
What they don’t know is that his chosen targets are those that lurk in the dark, festering underbelly of the world- whose crimes damn them before they’re even revealed. The violent, the corrupt, the selfish, the takers of the innocent. None live beyond the sight of one of the four- a vision just before the end
They say they were soldiers once, defenders, warriors
Yet the world betrayed them, set their lives ablaze. In the ashes they were reborn, bent on the destruction of those who wronged them
By bathing in the blood of their enemies, they signed their souls for the devil to keep, bestowing upon them an inhumane darkness they wield at their fingertips
And some day, the devil will come to keep them
#tf141#cod mw2#soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#my writing#headcanons
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Foreign Girls Can't Survive In Russia
Summary: You happened to be embarrassed because of a language barrier between you and your history teacher.
You hadn't been paying to much to the class, since you weren't on the friendliest terms with the teacher, but maybe you could have been paying more attention to him when he was talking.
"Y/n!"
You instantly perked up when hearing your name.
"When did the Russian ____ begin?"
But you hadn't understood what he said in the middle of it. You were starting to feel stupid as you stared at him, confused, "I'm sorry. I don't understand?"
"What do you not understand, Y/n?"
"Are you saying War or Revolution?"
"What do you think I said?"
You could feel everyone's eyes on you. You had never messed up or been confused by the language, or at least you haven't since you became fluent in it. He had just been talking so fast that you hadn't been able to keep up.
Dee felt bad for you. He never liked the teacher all that much, but he hated him even more now. He didn't know why the guy was making your life difficult over a simple miscommunication. He pulled out some paper and wrote 'Revolution' on it, before putting it on the floor and sliding it towards you.
You felt something hit your heel. You looked down and in familiar hand writing that said 'Revolution.'
"You meant the Russian Revolution that began in 1917 during World War I?"
He groaned and moved on, seeing as he wasn't going to be able to embarrass you further. You looked back towards where the paper came from to make eye contact with Dee.
----
You took a longer time to get your stuff, watching Dee. When you saw him get up to leave, you quickly stop him.
"Dee right?"
He looks at you as if that was a dumb question and you suppose it was a dumb question.
"Thanks for helping me out there. I was dying," you chuckle, but he wasn't so you were starting to feel awkward. Maybe he only helped you so that the class would move on.
"Yeah you were," he smirked, making you feel a little more comfortable.
"Yeah, I don't know what his problem is. It's like he hates me."
"It sure seems like it."
"Sorry, I'll go. I feel like I'm in your way."
"No, it's fine. Do you want to walk with me?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm surprised I've never really talked to you. How long have we shared classes?" You asked, not really expecting an answer.
"For a few years, actually."
"Oh. Well, I can be pretty dense."
"I've noticed."
"Well, I'll make sure to notice you more."
"What a delight." He remarks, smiling to himself, while watching you walk ahead.
#Dee#Dee Metal Family#Dee Schvagenbagen#Yandere Dee#Yandere Dee Schvagenbagen#Yandere Dee x Reader#Yandere Dee Schvagenbagen x Reader#Dee x Reader#Dee Schvagenbagen x Reader#Yandere Metal Family#Metal Family#Metal Family x Reader#Yandere Metal Family x Reader#Metal Family Dee x Reader#Metal Family Dee#Dee Metal Family x Reader
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Here is my contribution to the HTTYD fandom, even if it might have been done before:
An AU where the dragons and humans switch.
Hiccup as a smol Night Fury that's curious about the Vikings and just sniffs their stuff instead of killing people. Astrid as a brutal Nadder that's trying to protect him. Ruff and Tuff as the idiotic Zippleback that has only lasted this long out of dumb luck. Snotlout as an arrogant Monstrous Nightmare that also survives on dumb luck. Fishlegs would be the cutest and friendliest Gronkle EVER. Oh my God, Heather would be the scariest Razorwhip.
#how to train your dragon#hiccup haddock#astrid hofferson#fishlegs ingerman#ruffnut thorston#tuffnut thorston#httyd heather#snotlout jorgenson
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Miles didn’t grow up around animals or small children so he just… isn’t comfortable around either. He doesn’t know how to handle them so he tries to keep his distance. Even the friendliest of dogs makes him kind of nervous and all cats love him but they literally have knives on their feet so he doesn’t touch them, thank you very much. One time a cat crawled onto his lap when he was taking a rest on patrol and he literally sat with his entire body clenched for the entire hour it took a nap on him for. (He had to admit the purring was really cute and he started leaving out some food for the local strays after that, but he never gets too close).
Hobie, on the other hand, grew up chasing down the neighborhood dogs and trying to befriend and take home all the stray cats. He also babysat a lot because he was nice and involved in his community and all the moms loved him. Even now, he helps out around with babysitting and taking care of the street animals whenever he can. Kids and animals are just easy to read and understand and they have no concept of what society wants for them, they’re just purely themselves and Hobie digs it.
When Hobie finds out about Miles’ aversion to kids and animals, he makes it his personal mission to change his mind. He offers to babysit Mayday any chance he gets and always ropes Miles into helping. He teaches him how to hold a child properly and the tips and tricks to help understand them and their needs. (“They’re just little people, Miles. Nothing too complicated about it, really.” “Hobie. They shit their pants and eat their boogers and cry for no reason and are so fragile they shouldn’t even be able to survive. Babies are complicated as hell.” “You saying you’re scared of a bit of boogers, love?” “Fuck you.”) He slowly gets better and more confident and Hobie melts every time he sees Miles relaxed and in his element, just holding Mayday and explaining what he’s doing when he’s cooking or cleaning or just walking around the house and holding her up to see all the places she can’t because he saw people doing it for their cats on the internet (“Hobie, she’s never seen above the fridge!” “Miles, love, she literally crawls on the ceiling, I think she’s seen it all.” “Yeah well, she’s never seen it right side up, so suck it.”)
Animals are a bit harder for Hobie to introduce Miles to but he says screw it and decides to adopt a stray cat that he names Miss Anarchy and carts her around with him wherever he goes. The first time Miles sees her perched on Hobie’s shoulder he practically flings himself across the room and refuses to get closer than 5 feet (“They can leap, Hobie! No way am I getting in the blood circle.” “Miles, Miss Anarchy is not going to leap at you claws out. She is a sweetheart and a pacifist.” “… You named your stray cat Anarchy? Why am I not surprised.” “Well, she’s not really a stray anymore, is she?” “You’re impossible.”) Hobie conveniently forgets to tell Miles that Anarchy was declawed until she finally catches the nervous boy off guard and lays directly on his chest and starts making biscuits (“Hobie. Hobie help. Your little monster is… wait. Where are her claws?” “She don’t have any.” Miles is outraged on her behalf. So maybe he’s been doing some research about cats in his spare time and came across an article about declawing. Sue him. “Hobie, we have to find her previous owners and avenge her.” “Now you’re speaking my language, love.”) Miles ends up befriending Miss Anarchy and slowly gets more comfortable with the idea of other animals.
Hobie is fucking proud.
#this turned out much longer than i originally planned#maybe i’ll turn it into a fic#im attached to miss anarchy now#char: miles morales#char: hobie brown#spiderverse#spiderverse imagine#spiderverse drabble#vee’s soapbox#vee’s drabbles#ship: punkflower
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ROLL CALL!! 🐌
I would like to introduce my snails to the world of tumblr so their legacy will not be lost in the dust of time.
Sock
Sock was the first snail that came into my life! They are the friendliest and most active, constantly climbing over all the other snails and zooming around the tank. I identify them by the darker colour of their shell and the thick section that has no stripes/growth lines! Top artist on Spotify is Poppy.
Henrietta
This is Henrietta! Saved first from the side of a bucket and then our trash can shortly after, Henrietta has had a hard tumultuous life indicated by the large amount of growth lines and tendency to retreat quickly into her shell. They are the largest of my snails and also the hungriest! They love carrots and celery the most Their top artist on Spotify is Grandson.
Duo
Duo, my fastest snail, got their name from the distinct double stripes on their shell. They love exploring their surroundings and are almost actively climbing around their terrarium. (The stripes make them go faster) When they are asleep, it’s typically on the lid of the terrarium or on the walls. Their top artist on Spotify is Yung Gravy!
Marigold
With their distinctive yellow marking, Marigold is the most chill of my snails, often hanging out outside of her shell without moving around much. They’re often found hanging out around the food bowl despite not typically eating much compared to the other snails. Their top artist is Girl in Red!
Catherine the Great
The shyest and least active of my snails. Likely the oldest as well. Typically hangs out inside their shell, only coming out every couple days for a snack before heading back into their shell. Holds rage in their heart and hides to avoid facing the realities of our quickly dying planet and exploitation of the working class. Their favourite artist is Sofia Isella.
Pandora
The chosen one. Hatched before I had the chance to perform snail-bortion, escaping death by a hair. Though the great embrace of death will eventually take us all without mercy, Pandora seeks to make the most of their time here and spends each day training to be the best snail they can possibly be. The child of Marigold, Duo, or Cathrine the Great. Pandora’s favourite artist is Naethan Apollo!
The Home 💖
This is the home of my snails! Typically it also has a humidifier but I’m currently house sitting so we’re doing it manually through my trusty spray bottle!
Snail info 💖🐌
These snails have all come into my possession from work! They hide away on the shipments of our florals and I take them home from there. They cannot be released into the wild as they are not native to my area and would not survive in my climate. Additionally, if they were to survive, they would be considered invasive and have an extremely detrimental impact to the local ecosystem. The best option for them at the moment is captivity.
I make sure they have the best life possible by feeding them fresh produce such as lettuce, carrots, celery, avocado, apples, peppers, etc. They also get calcium supplements through crushed eggshells and cuttlefish bone!
The information on ground snails as pets is fairly minimal so much of what I do is on instinct and based on information known about water snails.
I love my snails so much 💖 send me an ask if you have questions/comments about them and I’d be happy to answer!
#<3#long live love#snails#snail#snail thoughts#snailblr#pets#my pets#mwah#androgynous#snailbortion#I dropped one egg while cleaning their tank and now I can’t find it so they’ll have a new friend in a bit lol#grandson#sofia isella#yung gravy#idk man#ethical culling#ama#ask me anything#please interact#i’m begging#okay bye#lmao#i should be at the club
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coming soon to a blog near you. FULL FIC HERE!
-----
You are quite proud to say you have successfully survived any and all encounters with one James Buchanan Barnes after that.
He frequents the diner normally with Steve, or his sisters or – and the most disappointing of them all – his dates.
And, you learn against your will, that Bucky indeed goes on lots of dates. Which, you suppose you should’ve known.
You never serve him when he comes in with a girl because when he comes in you're either on a break or you haven't clocked in yet or you're just ending your shift, and you're thankful for it.
You know that you wouldn’t be able to be the friendliest you could be when he brings girl after girl through those double doors and orders milkshake after milkshake.
It doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that the tiny little crush you harbored for him turned into a not-so-tiny-and-little crush.
It was big, bigger than anything you've ever felt for a man, for sure.
So every time Bucky Barnes came in with a new girl under his arm, you could feel yourself deflate just a little more.
They’re never the same girl.
Every few weeks Bucky comes in with a new one tucked into him.
One thing you do notice is that it seems Bucky just likes women, they have no particular similarities; blondes, brunettes, girls with hair as black night. Wide brown doe eyes, siren-like blue eyes, and everything in between.
Bucky just really seems to appreciate women.
But the thing is…they’re always older than you.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#fanfiction#teaser fic#feedback would be greatly appreciated because 1) im insecure and 2) does anyone really want this fic or am i wasting time ya know#anyway bless you
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"The self-domestication hypothesis is not just another creation story. It is a powerful tool that can help us short-circuit our tendency to dehumanize others. It is a warning and a reminder that in order to survive and thrive, we need to expand our definition of who belongs."
- Survival of the Friendliest, by Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods
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Supply Run: Can I get #24 from prompt list 2 with Joel Miller?
☼ stepping stones (Joel Miller) ☼
warnings; swearing, undisclosed age gap, death mention, murder mention.
wc; 2.4k
prompt; 24. "Don't let your fears dictate your life."
notes; i'm picturing game joel in my head. and this is set in boston but before he smuggles ellie.
--
A couple months ago you made the mistake of telling Joel a little secret about yourself when it comes to him. It happened during a game of Texas Hold’em with Tess and a few of your other friends in the quarantine zone. It came so casually, mostly because you weren’t entirely sober, and you knew that Tess was talking over you, anyway.
You didn’t expect him to hear, much less remember what you had to say, but it must’ve been one of those facts about you that he knew he should save for later. Which you can’t hold against him, because you would’ve done the same thing if you were in his position.
When you told Joel that he can pressure you into succumbing to any request with just his gaze, you were halfway kidding. You were referring to the game you were playing, because while you’re normally good at keeping a poker face, he always manages to crack you without doing it on purpose.
You knew the moment it came out of your mouth that it sounded stupidly flirtatious, but you meant it earnestly. Joel is one of those people where you feel safe enough to open up to him, trusting him with practically everything. Even though it’s difficult for him to do the same.
You’d like to say that Joel liked you from the beginning, but the truth is that he kept a fair distance and a sharp eye on what you did. He could tell just by looking at you that you were trouble. Or, at the very least, you came from it. When you joined the Boston quarantine zone almost five years ago, it was done out of desperation.
And you weren’t exactly the friendliest face around, something that you couldn’t help. Tess later told you that you had this specific look on your face, as if you were always waiting for someone to jump out at you. Which probably wasn’t far from the reality you were living at the time.
Joel had a feeling that you came from a group of hunters, judging by the way you seemed to be prepared to defend your belongings at every turn. Since there was a period of time where he’d done the same, he couldn’t come down on you too hard, but everyone knows that the next generation of hunters are more brutal than the last. It’s because supplies are scarce to come by out there with every passing week.
Still, you preferred to be outside of the walls and not under the rule of FEDRA for the longest time. The only reason why you ended up changing your mind was because a group of travelers came through your hunting group and wiped absolutely everyone out.
You managed to escape by yourself. If there were any other survivors, you never got to find out, because you were trying to put space between you and your camp that they were taking out. And when they found out that you were still alive, they didn’t let you escape so easily. You think they were afraid that you’d come back for them.
So, they ambushed you repeatedly. The first time they did it, they had too much confidence in themselves. They came in daylight with just two people, thinking that it’d be more than enough to bring you down. Once they were dead, you moved a few miles further out, toward Albany.
Well, they tried it again, coming in the daylight with almost eight people to bring you down. Fortunately, you’d scavenged in the area frequently, mostly because no one else liked going toward the big cities. You only had to bring down one person in order to secure your way out, but they followed you.
You basically drove them straight through the heart of the city, the infected did a bulk of the work for you. It didn’t deter them, especially since a few of them had survived the attack. The final time they came was during the night, and you’re still not sure how they managed to find you in that office building. You covered your tracks.
Regardless, they were so set on revenge that they abandoned the camp they killed your group for, and settled into chasing you across Massachusetts. You went straight to the Boston quarantine zone, knowing that they’d have a hard time trying to get you, then.
The initial plan was to stay long enough to get your shit together, before going back out again. The longer you stayed, the more you decided that you liked the relative normalcy. You didn’t mind working, having a place to call home, food on your table almost every night. As soon as you started making friends, the nail on the coffin was sealed. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to leave since.
That’s why you can’t bring yourself to agree to what Tess and Joel are asking of you. It started out as a choice, but with Tess not feeling any better from the cold she caught earlier this week, they’re both telling you to help them. Which brings you right back to what you were saying ago with Joel making that face.
His steely eyes are piercing your soul right now, trying to get you to cave. You stare back at him, trying to replicate the intensity, but he’s so much better at it than you are. So, you resort to your words instead.
“I already told the both of you I’m not interested.” You raise your eyebrows, tearing your eyes from Joels, to Tess, who might as well be glued to her bed. “I don’t want to leave the quarantine zone.”
“You’ll hardly be going that far.” Tess holds her hand out in the direction of the window. “It’s just a few miles out. That’s where you’ll meet Wayne, he’ll give you the pills, and then you’ll come right back. Joel and I will do the work of bringing it to a different part of the zone.”
“The mileage doesn’t bother me, it’s being out there.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Tess scoffs. “You used to live out there.”
“Used to.” You emphasize. “It’s been five years, Tess. It’s not going to be a quick adjustment.” You turn your attention to Joel, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else, or do it alone.”
“We don’t have anyone else.” Joel says. “I can’t take the trip alone, I need a partner.”
You shrug, “I guess you’re going to miss the trade, then.”
“(Y/n).” Tess sighs from her bed. “Don’t make me get up to kick your ass.”
“Try.” You roll your eyes.
She ignores your comment, sitting up a little. “You have to miss it out there a little, don’t you want to experience it again?”
“I do.” You have no issue admitting this. “But I don’t want to get hurt.”
“You’ll be with me.” Joel stands up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “I’ll have your back.”
Your mouth opens, going to tell him no again, when you hesitate. You know that he’s not lying, Joel is the best person you can ask for while being outside of the walls. You can’t remember the last time he came back with a scratch on him after navigating the streets for days at a time.
He recognizes your hesitation, pushing it. “Don’t let your fears dictate your life.”
When you look at Tess, she has this knowing smile on her face. She’s won, and she knows it. You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, and then you let out a sigh.
“Fine.”
There’s a moment of silence as Joel looks at Tess. “I told you she’d come around.”
She tilts her head, face impressed. “I guess you were right when you said she had a soft spot for you.”
Your eyes narrow at Joel. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here.” You tell them, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the plan, then?”
“Joel will take you to the apartment we regularly sneak out of before midnight. You’ll meet Wayne a few miles out, Joel will trade him, and then you’ll come right back.”
“Easier said than done.” You look at Joel to see that he’s giving you a halfway smile. “I still need gear.”
“One step ahead of you.” Tess waves her hand. “You’ll just use my bag, everything you could ask for is in there.”
You press your lips together, but give her a nod, agreeing. You wish that you still had your old backpack—FEDRA confiscated it as soon as they could. The only things you were allowed to keep from it was an old family picture and your knife. Everything else got thrown away or cycled into their own weapon supply.
You had a really nice gun, too.
“Tonight it is.”
—
For someone that didn’t want to do this a few short hours ago, you find yourself glad that you caved and agreed. It was anxiety inducing for the first hour or so, as you jumped at every sound and searched every shadow. But it’s like riding a bike after a while—you get the hang of it.
Besides, there’s not many infected surrounding the quarantine zone due to the consistent FEDRA patrol. By the time you realized they were there, Joel had already taken them down and was moving onto the next house. This eased your mind considerably, allowing you to relax and mindlessly follow hi,.
A part of you is disappointed that this had to be done during the night, and not during the day. Not only would it be easier for you to see, you like inspecting the area around to see how it’s changed over time.
When you brought this up to Joel, he wasn’t very impressed, remarking that had you listened to them earlier in the week, he could’ve arranged that. Since it’s so late and they’re going to miss their window, there’s not much of a choice left in the matter.
You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at him. You weren’t looking to complain, you were actually going to skate directly into a conversation about what he likes best of the great outdoors. You decided that it would be best to leave it, despite knowing that he would likely realize as soon as you asked.
There are times where you can’t tell if Joel wants to have a quiet day or if he’s willing to let you chat his ear off. He seemed pretty fine earlier this afternoon when you were visiting Tess, but when you regrouped with him in the apartment complex, he was gruff and slightly irritated.
It makes you wonder if it was something that Tess said after you left. He did tell you that he was going to stay back with her for a little while longer to talk about the deal with Wayne. That way he’d be able to catch you up to speed on the way to the fire station, which is just outside of Brookline.
Why you’re traveling so far for a bag of pills is beyond you. And you would be mad about the distance, because Tess blatantly lied to you, but it’s not the first time she’s successfully deceived you. It’s your own fault for believing her.
The pills must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way like this. You know they make a pretty good income with smuggling. They’ll be so well-off sometimes that they’ll slide extra ration cards your way, as if they aren’t practically made out of gold.
Either way, Joel hasn’t let you in on what’s happening. You’d say he’s forgotten, but he’s got a pretty good memory. He’s choosing to keep the reasoning from you. Which could be for a number of reasons—like he’s afraid you’re going to freak out. You’d like to think you’re level-headed enough to hear him out first.
A sigh escapes you, pace slowing. Joel glances over his shoulder at you, seeing that you’re not walking as quickly as before. He matches your speed, even turning his body to look at you better.
So he is open to conversation.
“Curiosity’s going to kill me.” You start, Joel raises his eyebrows. “You said that you were going to fill me in, and I’m all empty.”
He looks away from you. “Tess told you all there is.”
“Did she? ‘Cause all she said was that we’re picking up pills from Wayne.”
“That about sums it up.” He says.
You squint at the back of Joel’s head, not liking the answer. Maybe you read the situation right earlier. “Okay, sure.” You murmur, looking away from him, to the houses off to your left.
It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes. This must be burn for Joel, because he ends up clearing his throat. “We’re supposed to work out an agreement with him.”
Your eyebrows twitch. “What?”
“Tess and Wayne got into a fight last month, he said he’d settle it the next time we met.”
You come to a stop in the middle of the road. “Are you telling me that we’re walking straight into an ambush right now?”
“No.”
“What was the fight over?”
Joel hesitates, “Tess cut his payout.”
You stare at him for a long second before looking away, around at the neighborhood you’re walking through. There could be dozens of people in these houses, and you won’t know until it’s too late. You’re not sure what was going through their heads with leaving a detail this large out, but Joel was right to try to keep this from you as long as he could.
Sometimes you wonder why you even consider yourself a friend of theirs.
“Do we have enough to make it up?” You ask, he shakes his head.
“Honey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You were going to let me walk into a fight blindly.” You raise your eyebrows. “How do you even know Wayne?”
“He’s a friend of Bill’s.”
Your face drops completely, as you reach up with one hand to grab your temples, turning away from him with another sigh. You met Bill once, and it was before you’d joined the quarantine zone, but it was while you were on your way there. You ran across him by accident, and got the full force of his insanity and violence.
“If he’s anything like Bill, then we need to go back to Boston.” You point down the road you’ve been walking. “I’m not prepared to deal with something like that.”
Joel reaches up, hand grabbing your shoulder to squeeze it. “I’ve got you.”
--
this was part of my 3k celebration!!
#ilguna#joel miller#joel miller imagine#joel miller oneshot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x yn#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel imagine#joel oneshot#joel fanfic#joel x reader#joel x y/n#joel x yn#joel x you#tlou#the last of us#requested#3k celebration#ask#anon#fluff
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To be sure, their themes of chauvinist triumphalism aren’t so different from what we’re hearing from Israeli government ministers or Christian Zionist leaders. But unlike Benjamin Netanyahu or John Hagee, Bronze Age Zionists swim alongside (and sometimes argue with) literal neo-Nazis in the fetid, irony-drenched swamps of ultra-reactionary internet subculture. So what are nice Jewish boys like these doing on 4chan? Answering this question might offer insight, not only into the nature of contemporary Zionism but into the broader far-right.
Mimicking Bronze Age Pervert, the fascist manosphere author from whom I’ve forged their namesake, Bronze Age Zionists valorize the aesthetics of Jewish muscle, strength, virility, and warrior ethos with deliberately extravagant flair. Memes from this ecosystem show ripped, White Hebrew warriors roaring alongside a lion; wooing Roman women in some ancient marketplace; hanging their enemies, whether Nazi, Palestinian or leftist; or bullying a slovenly, pink-haired ‘soy boy’—a meme caricaturing liberal men as emasculated by consumer culture. By transforming themselves into muscle-Jews, these and other memes signal, they’ve become the Alphas of Jewish history.
This, anyway, is the ethos of 21st-century muskeljudentum or ‘muscular Judaism,’ as early Zionist theorist Max Nordau put it. And, in the wake of the humiliation of October 7, it comes laced with stone-cold retribution and an urgent need to reclaim masculine honor, glory, and pride. They share quotes from Netanyahu like “the weak crumble, are slaughtered and erased from history while the strong, for good or ill, survive.” Or they celebrate Israel as “a true Nietszchean country,” as one Bronze Age Zionist put it during Israel’s assault on Gaza in December, before indulging in a bit of Proud Boys-esque chest-thumping. “Leftoids can’t comprehend the strong willed in a world of weak men. They hate winners because they are LOSERS.”
Much like Israel’s assault itself, the cruelty is the point. But amidst the unbridled Islamophobia, and celebration of “unfathomably based” Israeli soldiers mocking Gazans or issuing exterminationist orders in viral videos from the front lines, one detects the frenzied desperation of a cornered animal, lashing out at any target close at hand.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the seething contempt reserved for Jewish progressives, whom Bronze Age Zionists sometimes refer to as “Quislingsteins” or “shtetlibs.” The former term evokes an uber-nationalist siege mentality, with its obsessive contempt for perceived ‘traitors’ and fifth columnists. The latter castigates liberal Jews in the weak, defenseless and submissive mold of that imagined old-country shtetl of their East-European ancestors—the ‘ghetto Jew’ which, through guns, brawn and steel, these muscle-Jews boast of having willfully overcome.
[...]
To be sure, Bronze Age Zionists do not represent a mass Jewish movement in the Anglo world. The accounts surveyed here are perhaps a few dozen in total, many with only a few thousand followers or less. The majority of English-speaking Jews would recoil at their openly supremacist views, and find the prospect of a Magen David-Sonnenrad alliance despicable and revolting.
At the same time, these accounts reflect, in extreme form, broader trends in the political landscape. “Before Oct 7th, I was an average moderate conservative,” an account named “Kahane Disciple” explained. “Oct 7th changed everything. We saw what people really thought, and that’s when I pulled Kahane down from my book shelf.”
In their thirst for vengeance and dominance, they channel the id of Israel’s genocidal assault on Gaza as its terrible death toll continues to rise. Right-wing Israeli and American Jewish right-wing leaders eschew 4chan for a larger political stage—but they too seek alliances with White Christian nationalist leaders, denigrate liberal Jews, and celebrate an ethos of muscular Judaism. They have no need for a niche internet subculture, because they possess a state apparatus, and aligned institutions to propagate their ideology.
There are a lot more details on the article, including how these guys' attempts to ingratiate themselves with the neo-Nazis and Groypers are received (not well! It's pretty funny!). For a bit more of a look at the ~respectable, institutional side of this alluded to in this last quoted paragraph, and the common elements running through both scenes, Eli Valley wrote about the run-up to this a few years ago. His piece centered around how his art, which is deliberately grotesque and consciously in the tradition of what the Nazis called "degenerate art," was condoned as antisemitic and even Nazi by other Jews when he caricatured...Meghan McCain. He drew a connection there between Max Nordau's "Muscular Jew," an Israeli distaste for the diaspora, and aesthetics. This piece by Ben Lorber is the same phenomenon, just in the mode of 4chan rather than the mode of august blue checks (of yore) on Twitter: this time, the aesthetics in question lie in right-wing meme culture.
Every nationalism contains the potential for fascism, and this particular version is one that has both haunted and motivated the Israeli project from the beginning. In some ways it is obviously specific to the context of antisemitism and the Holocaust, and in other ways it's bog-standard: a similar reactionary need to prove masculinized dominance through violence has been perceived in the US Gulf War, for instance. But what is, I think, particular to this dynamic is the way it shapes relations between Israel and various parts of the diaspora - racially, institutionally, financially, geopolitically. The role of the muscular Jew psychology or construct in broader Israeli culture (including those who would never identify with it, much as white supremacy functions in the US) is not raised as often as it should be in discussions about Israel as a settler society, IMO.
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WIP Questions Tag
Rules : Answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can.
Tagged by @drawnecromancy! Read their answers for Le Prix du Sang here.
1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?
Apophenia was originally a short story called "Dysthanasia" I wrote for an event on Ao3. Now Dysthanasia is the name of the series overall, and the story's a novel-length rough draft in the process of being rewritten.
2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?
Something short, instrumental, and spooky but with a touch of whimsy. Gotta have that little spark of fun or it'd wind up taking itself too seriously.
3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?
I'm in love with all of them, but I have to stand by my protagonist, Isaac. He's a squishy human nerd, with no supernatural powers to speak of, but through being resourceful and more than a little lucky manages to survive awful situations. A lot of his characterization has to do with principles and compassion, but not quite in the soft or naive way readers might expect. His enemies repeatedly try to buy or break him, punishing him every time he does what he feels is right, but Isaac remains defiant, refusing to become jaded or take the easy way out. Is he destined to become a martyr? A monster? Stay tuned.
4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?
I'd hope The Vampire Chronicles fans would get into it. Maybe The Witcher fans, as far as characters relying on each other in an unjust world goes? Possibly readers of Octavia Butler, whose work I enjoy. I guess anyone who likes fictional organizations and the paranormal might see the appeal.
5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?
Juggling all the backstory and worldbuilding that influences the characters and plot. So much happens before the actual story even starts. The death of Isaac's family. Renato becoming a bloodborn and his eroding loyalty to his sire. A cataclysm that reshaped the map. I'm doing my best to make these come through the text without hitting the reader with a wall of exposition.
6. Are there any animals in your story?
Living and undead! There's Renato's beloved goldfish, Tesoro. The elk, coyote, and bear Motley transforms into. Likewise the species of sharks that some of the good people of Eureka, Nevada can turn into. Or the livestock they raise, mainly sheep, goats, and chickens.
7. How do your characters get around?
Electric cars, horses, trains, or by turning into a much quicker animal.
8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?
I think I'm almost halfway through the outline for the rewrite? Isaac is getting to know the supernatural locals of America's friendliest town on its loneliest road, and they him.
9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?
Renato being a hot vampire, and there being different factions to identify with will probably lure some in. Hopefully they decide to stay for the characters, emotional arcs, and end of the world too.
Dysthanasia Taglist (Sign up or ask to be +/-): @thecyrulik @thatndginger @sunset-a-story @space-writes @scoundrelwithboba (feel free to consider this a tag for the game itself too)
Additionally @izzyspussy @wintherlywords @authoralexharvey @chauceryfairytales @autumnalwalker @revenantlore @captain-kraken @angsty-prompt-hole
Blank questions beneath the cut
1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?
2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?
3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?
4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?
5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?
6. Are there any animals in your story?
7. How do your characters get around?
8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?
9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?
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Tagged by @incomingalbatross, thanks!
Are you named after anyone? Relatives.
When was the last time you cried? Sometime recently, idk. Hormones be like that.
Do you have kids? Yes, 6 so far. I've got my fingers crossed for 8.
What sports do you play/have you played? As a tiny thing, soccer and basketball. Survived one year of high school marching band, which ought to count. And a single season of high school tennis, which I loved but was extremely bad at.
Do you use sarcasm? Yes.
What is the first thing you notice about people? Good vibes or bad vibes. Depending on how intense the social anxiety is at that moment, I may not get any further.
What's your eye color? Bluish-grayish.
Scary movies or happy endings? Both, obviously.
Any talents? I can "do" some things but I'm not particularly talented at them, such as, creative writing and playing various string instruments.
Where were you born? USA.
What are your hobbies? I only do hobbies off and on (mostly off). I think about writing novels and poetry and blog posts (but do not ever follow through anymore. It's like a mental block.) Theoretically I do fiber arts (knit, spin, weave. Someday I will master crochet and make those little stuffies.) I used to hike and go camping. I am supposed to be taking up soapmaking and candlemaking this year but I keep putting it off because reasons. A few times a year I remember I used to be a musician and play something. Tumblr probably shouldn't count as a hobby but, here we are. Every once in a while I'll read a dozen or so books in a row (but mostly I read along with my children for homeschool and that's all the bandwidth there is.)
Do you have any pets? We have barn cats and chickens, but my favorite cats are no longer present (I'm not bitter, she said, bitterly) and I do not consider the chickens pets (my children disagree.) Well, okay, there is one exception: the friendliest rooster ever to exist, who thinks he belongs in the house, sitting on your lap or perched on your wrist like a falcon. Alas that he is not house trained.
How tall are you? Average to short.
Favorite subject in school? English, history, theology.
Dream job? World-renowned author. Olympic gymnast.
I won't be tagging people, but if you're interested, you've been tagged. I love these things and reading everyone's answers!
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