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taehyungsgrowl · 3 years

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Duncan x Sugar Babies Angst Pt 2

Can we just appreciate this gif for a moment? I forgot how much I love Duncan Shepherd.

Thank you all for hanging in there for a year for part 2 lmfao! I hope you enjoy it!

Italics to signify time jump! I hope it makes sense lol

love you!

also...... the fact that this..... is finally out a YEAR after part 1.... what am i?? a hollywood script writer? ugh i hate myself.

also.. this is really just one version of how the met! i know we’ve talked about different scenarios of how they came together but i liked this one for the storyline :’)

tw: duncan kink shames piss kink (as he should) jjnkdvjskv, a smutty mention, but genrerally pg-13, a lot of fluff.

word count: somewhere over 4,000 words i think

Duncan huffed as he walked down the narrow aisle of the plane. How the airline mixed his first-class seat for an economy one was beyond him. But after a stressful conference and being away from his home for so long, he didn’t have the energy to fight them. All he wanted was for this flight to be over.

He glanced at his boarding pass and back up to the numbers above the seats. 18 B. A middle seat. As if this could get any worse, he thought to himself.

Duncan’s sharp blue eyes found where he would be seating; he held in a sigh as he noticed his seat mates were already in their designated seats.

Y/N peeked up at the man who stuffed his carry on in the overhead compartment. She tried not to stare as his shirt rode up his tummy exposing a bit of skin. She looked over at her best friend, Jim who was watching out the window with his headphones in.

“Excuse me,” the older man offered her an almost shy smile as he asked her to stand so he could take his damned middle seat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Y/N stood from her seat allowing Duncan to squeeze in between her and Jim.

After Duncan was seated, Y/N reached over his lap to tap Jim on the shoulder, “Sorry, sir,” she told Duncan - he lifted his hands and nodded, “You’re good.” he flashed her a quick smile.

“What time do we land again?” she asked when Jim removed his headphones. Duncan glanced between the two; curiosity took over him as he wondered whether they were a couple. They were both very attractive, roughly around the same age, and had arrived together.

“10:00 p.m” Jim shook his head at his best friend. He loved her to death - truly. No one else could convince him to fly across the country with so much uncertainty.

“I’m sorry,” Duncan interrupted, “If you two are.. Together, I can switch seats with one of you.”

“Oh no! We don’t mind, sir! Thank you.” she glanced at him once again.

Duncan tried to get comfortable before the plane took off - he had a long day and an even longer flight ahead of him.

The flight attendant started to make her way down the aisle

“What would you like to drink,” she set down napkins on each of their trays.

“I’ll take a Sprite,” Jim answered, giving her a sweet smile. “Me too,” Y/N echoed.

While she worked on getting their sodas, she turned her attention to Duncan, who was taking out his AirPods, “Anything for you, sir?”

“Scotch; neat.” he nodded, putting his earpiece back in.

Thinking back to that flight, it’s hard for Duncan to recall how one thing lead to the next.

Y/N, always the extrovert in Jim and Her’s duo, asked Duncan what brought him to Washington D.C.

He told her he worked for a company there, being careful not to divulge too much personal information (like the fact that he was the heir of the company in question).

“And you two?” Duncan glanced at Jim. Duncan wasn’t used to small talk on planes - but he had a few drinks on an empty stomach making him looser than he’d normally be.

“Uh..” Jim hesitated, giving Y/N a panicked look.

“Work!” she answered,

Duncan gave her a puzzling look, but decided to not press it.

What Duncan had expected to be a long flight, literally, flew by, with conversation with Jim and Y/N.

They were careful not to give each other any information that felt too personal, but it was easy to just listen to his interests.

Before they knew it, the flight was over and they parted ways.

Duncan lingered with them as they gathered their bags. It’d been so long since he had real conversations with people who weren’t just interested in his power or company.

Duncan watched out the window of the car that his chauffeur picked him up in as Jim and Y/N stood by the curb, fumbling with their phones for an Uber.

‘I should have offered them a ride’, he thinks as the shrink off into the distance.

Not a week had gone by since Duncan arrived back home when he already had another event lined up for the weekend. Perks of being the face of the Shepherd Foundation often times felt more like chores.

At least the Gala was just out of a D.C and he didn’t need to worry about an airline messing up his seat again.

He smiled and waved at the flashing cameras.

As the night started Duncan made his way through familiar faces and strangers. A glass of champagne secured in his hand as he made rounds.

As elegant as these events were, they were often a bore - especially when he came alone. He found himself seated alone at the bar waiting for his eyes to land on someone he found vaguely interesting enough to chat up.

His eyes scanned the room until they fell on a pair that seemed to be new comers. The woman wore a silk red gown with a low back, tracing over her figure. When Duncan turned his attention over to the man that stood by her, he realized he recognized them.

Jim fumbled with the cuffs of his shirt, trying to keep himself together before his “date” got back to him.

Duncan recognized them from his flight back a few days ago. Truly, D.C was smaller than he realized. He picked up his drink from the bar and strolled over to them, easy grin on his face.

“Hey, 18 A and 18 C, right?” he glanced them up and down a bit. He almost could have gone the whole night without realizing who they were - they cleaned up so well from the old t-shirts and sweats they were wearing on the flight to the designer clothes they wore now.

Jim felt his face go hot. Both he and Y/N had gushed over the handsome man they sat next to after that flight.

“Hope our first clients are as hot as that guy...”

“HA!” Y/N let out a humorless laugh, “If only...”

Y/N kept her cool demeanor, offering Duncan a sly smirk. “Hi stranger,”

“Duncan.” his lips. tugged up into a smile, “Duncan Shepherd.”

Y/N and Jim had assumed right to think Duncan was just the kind of guy they sought after as a client. The way he carried himself screamed wealth and power.

“And you two are...” he raised a brow, waiting for their names. He hadn’t seen them at any other gala or even so he knew they were new comers. Maybe heirs to some fortune 500 company. His eyes wandered around the room wondering who their parents were. Duncan had the reputation of getting “inside information” on some of his competitors by pulling his charms on their trust fund babies.

“Working,”

Duncan chuckled, raising his champagne flute, “Work hard, play hard, right?” his gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips.

“Duncan,” his attention was called by a big name politician that had appeared at Y/N’s side. “It’s been too long,” he extended his hand out for a shake. “Tell me, how is the development of your app coming? We really could use someone like you before reelection,” he laughed.

Duncan didn’t fail to notice his hand on Y/N’s waist (or the tight lipped smile she had as soon as the man appeared).

“You’ll be the first to know when it’s ready,” Duncan answered, tearing his eyes away from his hand.

“James,” another man approached them. Duncan had seen him before at other events. The man looped his arm in Jim’s before handing him a drink. He leaned in and whispered something in Jim’s ear, making him blush.

Duncan lingered between them, easily making conversation until both men made their rounds for more drinks, leaving him with Y/N and Jim again.

If he knew anything, he knew the game the powerful in D.C played. And he knew well enough to know what kind of work Jim and Y/N were doing.

“Working,” he gave them a knowing smile. He raised his flute to them before taking a long sip, drowning back his champagne.

He watched the color flood to Jim’s cheeks again and it only made him chuckle. It wasn’t past Duncan to hire an escort. Dating as an up and coming business mogul doesn’t always allow him the time for dating or anything other than business. Sometimes, he just needed to secure his own private deals. Much less of a hassle than having to deal with the entanglements of relationships.

Duncan wasn’t a callous man. He planned on settling down at some point. He was an older bachelor. Well seasoned - he didn’t mean to sound cocky but it wasn’t that he didn't have the opportunity. He didn’t want that - not yet at least.

“Walk with me,” he nodded his head towards the hallway.

Y/N looked over at Jim, both exchanging in a silent conversation before following alongside Duncan. They turned the corner into a quiet hallway away from the gala.

“You both clean up nice,” he smirked, “Although, I personally loved your airport wardrobe,” he winked.

Y/N mirrored his smirk, reaching forward to adjust his pristine tie, “Are you wanting to talk business Mr. Shepherd? If not... our clients are waiting.”

Duncan chuckled. “I’d like to propose something more... exclusive.” He searched their eyes, smile tugging on his lips. He remembered enough about his flight with them to know he liked them. And now, seeing them look so... sexy. “Let me take care of you.”

Jim shifted back and forth on his feet. He was sure the offered only stood for Y/N. He looked down at the floor, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Both of you,” Duncan met Jim’s eyes.

“You two made for great... companions on the plane. If you’re willing to,” he coughed awkwardly into his fist for a pause, “extend your uh... companionship -- I can be very generous.”

“Like a sugar daddy!?” Jim finally spoke up, his voice dripping in a mixture of surprise and interest.

Duncan shrugged easily, his thumb running over his bottom lip. “That’s one way to put it,” he bit his lip. He reached into his card holder and handed them a beautifully embossed business card.

“Give me a call if you need to think about it. Unless you’d rather go up to my room to... discuss it further,” he chuckled.

Y/N and Jim remember ditching their dates to follow Duncan to his suite. Hushed whispers between them as they got the courage to take up Duncan’s offer.

None of them knew the love that was about to blossom for them that night. They sat out on the balcony of his suite, letting the cool breeze hit their skin. Always the gentleman, Duncan didn’t initiate any advances that night. He bought them room services and gave them a safe space away from the former clients.

They curled up in the California king bed just talking like they had on their flight.

“Uh so... what exactly do you like,” Y/N asked. She fidgeted with the gems on her dress. It was beautiful - beyond what she could ever afford, but it was starting to become uncomfortable.

“Cashmere and fine wine,” Duncan laughed, making Y/N roll her eyes. He caught her struggle with getting comfortable. He got off the bed and found his small suitcase they’d brought up for him, digging for his pajamas. He placed a few comfy items on the bed, “If you two.. wanna get more comfortable,” he smiled sheepishly.

Y/N sat up on her knees sorting through the clothes and tossing a tshirt at Jim. “Seriously like... we have to know what you... enjoy, daddy..” she pouted, playfully testing the waters.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, but there was no hiding the fact that he did like the sound of that. “I don’t have a piss kink or anything like that,” he scrunched his nose, “But,” he got closer, tilting her chin up, “I’d like to hear you that again for me some time.”

Y/N and Jim floated back down from cloud 9 a few days later when they were back in their not to luxurious apartment.

After that first night, they spent the next two days at Duncan’s penthouse slowly going over what the arrangement would entail (although, if they were being honest most of the time was spent between Duncan’s bed and sharing sharing pastries with Duncan on his balcony).

Duncan pulled up up to their run down complex. He’d been having so much fun during the past few days, he didn’t want it to come to an end yet.

Duncan didn’t say what he wanted to say, but he felt a strong distaste for where they were living.

They’d just moved to the city and started working when they met Duncan - they were still hoping to make enough money to find a nice place. This was just a temporary stay.

It wasn’t long before Duncan gave them an extra key to his place...

“I figured if where you’re staying is just temporary... you’d rather stay here..”

Duncan knew he could easily get them their own loft or apartment, but he was enjoying them being there more than he realized he would.

He knew starting this arrangement would be fun. He knew he liked them. He just hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been before.

He looked up at the ceiling as Y/N and Jim slept on either side of him... reminding himself that for them... it was just a job. A way to get their things paid for. But then again... it was he wanted, right?

Another realization that came far later for Duncan Shepherd was that to Jim and Y/N... it had also become much more than a job.

For Jim, he remembers the moment he knew he was falling for not only Duncan, but his friend of many years, was on one of the first trips Duncan ever took them too. Jim had always wanted to be near the ocean. He had such bittersweet memories connected to it. But for him now, the sweetest one comes from laughing in the sand after convincing Duncan to try and surf. Y/N was rubbing sunscreen on their backs soon turning into a pile of kisses on to one another with the sunsetting softly over the horizon.

From the beginning, it never felt “mechanical” or “strictly business” with Duncan. Not like their first few clients. It’d always been easy with Duncan. Maybe it was the initial crush Jim had developed on the plane that made the difference. Either way he knew he loved Duncan.

Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t have feelings for Jim before the whole affair started. She often brushed it off as just a friend crush -- but after being with him and Duncan things began to develop quickly. She loved them both so much in their own way. They each filled different parts of her heart to make her feel whole.

The moment she knew -- the moment she took them to uncharted territory by being the first to say “I love you,” was after she’d spent the day in bed crying. Feeling so vulnerable after a hard day. She felt herself isolating herself from Jim... from Duncan.

She remembers them silently coming into the room to hold her. Duncan let her cry on his chest while Jim played with her hair. In that moment of safety, she whispered, “I love you,” and there was no question as to who it was directed to -- because they knew she loved them both.

“You want to what?” Duncan spoke, his composure faltering. “I don’t - I’m sorry.” he felt loss for words. He hadn’t noticed that his hands started to shake until Jim reached forward to take his hand in his own.

“Shh,” Jim cooed. Duncan wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being the one who needed to be babied. He wasn’t the one who needed his hand held, for Christ’s sake.

“Hear us out.” Jim led Duncan down on the chair.

“Duncan.” Y/N’s voice was clear and steady. “We don’t want to be your sugar babies anymore. We don’t want this to be…” she searched for her words, “an exchange.”

Jim rubbed her back reassuringly. “You mean so much more to us than the nice things you buy us. We want you, Duncan. We want to end the arrangement because we want to be with you. Like, as a real relationship.” she peeked up at him from her lashes, “If you’ll have us,” she nodded her up towards Jim, who was all but vibrating next to her.

Duncan blinked back tears. The knot in his throat made it hard for him to say anything. All he could do was nod - nod and let the tears fall freely from his eyes.

Y/N reached up to his face, wiping it clean. “Is that a yes?” her lips tugged into a smile.

Duncan cleared his throat and took both of their hands in his, “Of course. Yes. A million times yes.”

The way they made him feel so loved - after years of feeling like he wasn’t capable of it, and here he was -- madly in love with two beautiful souls. They wanted - they loved him for him!! He knew it in his heart before that morning but hearing it sent his heart into overdrive.

He called into the office that morning to be able to spend the day with the people he loved the most. The idiots back at the Shepherd Foundation could figure it out on their own.

After that restless night, they all needed all the R & R they could get.

After a few mimosas and waffles, Y/N and Jim dragged Duncan out to their hot tub on their back patio. Duncan had that hot tub long before he met Jim and Y/N, but didn’t start to truly enjoy it until they moved in with him.

Duncan sighed as he slipped into the hot water, the jet pressure working against his calves. “Well,” he smiled up at them, “Are you not going to join me?”

Y/N smirked at him right before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. She exposed herself completely stripping down to nothing before she slowly made it down the steps into the water, “Mhmm,” she sighed as she took a seat next to Duncan.

Duncan chuckled softly, shaking his head, “Baby?” he called over to Jim, his hand, already wandering up Y/N’s thigh.

Jim followed Y/N example and stripped off his clothing before climbing into the tub, on the other side of Duncan. “You’re overdressed,” Jim mumbled into Duncan’s neck, snaking his hand into the waistband of the little black trunks...

Duncan told himself he wouldn’t cry. After everything they’ve been through - it had led to this...

His toes dug into the white sand as he looked out into the sea. He couldn’t have chosen a better place - his their beach house was their haven. Their little slice of paradise. It was only natural for them do it there.

Every thing was picture perfect. The sky was a beautiful array of purples and pinks, reflecting on the clear water. To his left, a gorgeous set up of candles, blankets, twinkle lights, and a picnic of his babies’ favorite treats.

Jim and Y/N knew that Duncan had been planning something for weeks now. When he booked a getaway to their beach house, he didn’t allow them to lift a finger packing. Told them he’d take care of it all. And he did.

He had their outfits laid out on their bed for them. For Jim, he had a thin pair of linen pants in a light sandy colored with a baby blue shirt of the same material. Y/N’s wasn’t too different. He had a white dress of the same fabric. It was soft and flowy - perfect for the beach.

They made their way down to the beach where Duncan waited for them. He turned to face them, his hands behind his back, biting down on his lip to try and keep it together,

He knew they were his life and he was spending forever with them.

“Duncan,” Y/N breathed out, her eyes going over the set up. She reached for his hand, “This is beautiful,”

Duncan squeezed her hand, and took Jim’s in the other one.

“I have something for you,” he dropped their hands and dug a little velvet bag out of his pocket. “I know there isn’t anything... traditional,” he laughed, “about our relationship, but” he pulled the string of the baggie and dumped the contents of it into his palm. He played with the cool metal, shifting them around his hand.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way and,” he paused to look into their eyes, “I’d want to spend the rest of my days with you,”

He took his time, placing a finger on Jim’s finger and then YN’s. “Since we can’t really do a courthouse wedding,” he laughed, taking both of their hand again - this time adorned with the precious jewels he gifted them, “I figured, we could do something more our style,” he gestured towards the romantic scenery he’d set.

“Will you take me to be yours forever?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Jim and Y/N replied their “I do”’s over each other. When Jim noticed the tears pooling in Y/N’s eyes, he reached over to wipe her cheek.

Duncan couldn’t smile any more if he tried. Jim loved the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled that big. Duncan’s hair blew softly in the gentle breeze. His peppered hair matched his graying beard, but like the fine wines he adored, he aged well.

He pulled them closer, caressing their cheeks before kissing them.

He loved them. Duncan Shepherd had found love.

Y/N and Jim embraced him with everything they had. They never wanted to let each other go - but when they finally did, Duncan popped the champagne, loving the way Y/N giggled when the bubbles poured out of the bottle.

By the time they downed the champagne and cake on the beach, the buttons of Duncan’s shirt where messily unbuttoned. He had sand in his hair and lipstick marks on his neck.

The sun was close to being gone, but the candles and fairy lights were enough for them. The were covered in the soft glow of the moon.

Duncan’s heart felt so warm as he watched Y/N feed Jim another bite of cake. Jim’s laughter like music to his ears. Jim caught his eye and crawled over to Duncan. He swung his legs over Duncan’s thighs and sat on him. Jim took his face in his hands and kissed him tenderly.

Jim found his place.

He found a home with Duncan and Y/N - a home with nothing but love to offer and he was ready for it.

They each had their space in each others hearts and it melted perfectly into who they were.

Who would think that a day would come when Duncan Shepherd would be thanking his lucky stars for an economy flight seat?

Tags: @desertsunflower00 @xavierplympton @quillanpie @spoo-per @langdons-pinkyring @little-grunge-flowerz @sexwon131 @leatherduncan @royalblueviper @shenevertricks1831 @sadhoecentral @chloelucia13 @shyvirgoanon @langdonswhoreprobably @littledemondani @bitchchatter @rpwithjayn @chloelucia13 @agonydearest @midnightontheearth @7-wonders @prophecy-is-inevitable @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @wickedlangdon @fckinsupreme @michael-langdon-appreciation @jimmason @brattylovee @dark-mei-rose @lovelylangdonx @blakewaterxx @dyns33

sorry if i missed someone!

and please LMK what you think 🥺

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd x sugar babies #jim mason #jim mason x reader #cody fern

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marauderssequels · 3 years

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meet the project managers!

we have a fantastic team assembled for this series, and it’s finally time to hear a little about a few of them! each and every one of us is dedicated to creating the books this community deserves, and I hope you’ll stick with us through this seven-book journey :)

Hi! I'm Richa, your designated Gryffindor stereotype. I'm 18 and I'm in charge of managing Book One of the series, as well as the character arcs for James (my favourite character!!) and McGonagall. I'm Indian and my pronouns are they/them. What I love most about the marauders is their friendship and how they'd do anything for each other, how they lived their lives raising hell wherever they went, how they're so different from each other and yet so similar, how they're the epitome of loyalty and chaos. I love their story, and so I'm really excited to be working on this project with so many creative people and I can't wait to see how it turns out! I'll be active on the Discord server and I’m TRYING to be more active on Tumblr (@imadiamond) too but lets be real I’m failing so don't hesitate to connect, I'd love that! :)

Hello, I’m Chloe (she/her and @nerds-escape), I’m 18, a Ravenclaw, I’m going to be double majoring in Anthropology and Criminology, and I’m the manager for Book Three! I’m great at projecting onto Dorcas (and Peter) whomst I am in charge of! While the original stories are interesting, there is something to be said about the Marauders and their friendships; we know virtually nothing about them, and it’s fun that the Marauders got to have a little more of a ��teenage typical” view of the world growing up than Harry did. I’m always looking to get into projects, especially ones with lasting impressions. I had just finished working on the Marauder’s Pride Fanzine and figured I had room for another project, so I offered my help. We have come up with some amazing ideas so far and I’m super excited to see how the project ends up!

Hi, I’m Raina (she/her)! I’m the head of Book Four, and I’m managing Snape and Marlene’s character arcs. I’m a 19 year old English major and an aspiring novelist. I love to read, write, and draw, and I always find something to fangirl over. Harry Potter’s been a major obsession of mine for basically my entire life and I’m so excited to work on this project together. I’m active on the Discord server (raina//raincoat) and my tumblr is @yellowraincoat. Feel free to reach out and interact!

hey there, im aj (but you can also call me alex). my pronouns are they/them and i'm the co-manager of books 3 and 5. i've adored the marauders era and always have read fanfics (since jkr ever-so-nicely didn't write an official series for them), so the fact that im now part of a project which basically will talk bout the marauders during their school years is kinda cool, if im being honest and i cant wait to see how this goes!

I'm Toni (they/them), I’m in charge of Book 6 and the character arcs for Lily and Petunia. I also run the discord server (I’m Toni on there as well). My tumblr is @toni-d-b and it’s very chaotic (I’m sorry). I’m German, so I have a different time zone than most (I’m in UTC+1) and english is my second language, but it’ll be ok, I’m bilingual at this point and sleep is a lie. I will however remind all americans of the absurdity of everything about america at any chance I get. What I think I love the most about this fandom is that it is one at all. In the sense that we took little bits and pieces and built an era around them. There were mentions of people and now they are fully fleshed out characters and I just think that’s very neat of us to do that. That is also the reason I want to be part of this project and maybe to give back to this community I found.

hello, I’m ryn! I launched this project in august, and I run this blog and organize the tiers. I started this series because I wanted to find a place for myself and others in the harry potter stories again. the marauders are characters with so much potential, and the way fandom has shaped them is so loving and meaningful. I’ve always wanted more canon content for them, but I know now that our versions of them are better than anything that could come from the original author. bringing our community closer together through a project like this feels like the best possible way to connect again in one of the most isolating times many of us have experienced. I’m so happy to be working with all these incredible people, their introduction was long overdue and they can’t get enough credit for the fantastic work they’ve been putting in over the past few months. we’re going to bring you an amazing series, and I can’t wait to bring more passionate creators in as we launch production next month <3

#harry potter #hp #marauderssequels #marauders #marauders era #hp headcanons #marauders headcanons #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #severus snape #jily #wolfstar

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thatonestarryhuman · 3 years

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It’s time to give Sleepy (My Version Of Natemare) some love because Nates egos don’t seem as popular as the other ones! Have a one shot I wrote a week ago!

ᴛʏᴘᴇ : ғʟᴜғғ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ : ʏᴏᴜ sɴᴇᴀᴋ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴘɪᴢᴢᴇʀɪᴀ ᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛʏ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇsᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ's ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴇɴsᴇ. ᴜᴘᴏɴ sɴᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘɪᴢᴢᴇʀɪᴀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛʀᴏɴɪᴄs ᴀɴᴅ... ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ?

ʏ/ɴ's ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs : ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ 'ᴛʜᴇʏ/ᴛʜᴇᴍ'

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1,954

You slowly close the laptop before rubbing your eyes as you let out a yawn. “Is it time yet?” You wonder out loud to yourself as you check the time, it’s 1:02 A.M. “it’s time to go.” You nod to yourself as you pick up a bag you had prepared, you had quite a few things you’d need for your little... journal. You open the bag and check to make sure you’ve packed everything “Flashlight? Check. Pepper Spray? Check. Some snacks? Check. Camera? Check. Power bank just incase? Check. [Energy drink/Tea/Coffee]?.... Not check.” You let out a soft sigh before heading to the kitchen and grabbing the drink of choice. “I need some sort of liquid if I’m gonna be there for quite the few hours, I don’t want dehydration.” You talk out loud to yourself as you go back to pack the said drink.

After packing the drink, you put on shoes that you’d be able to run in, but as well as a jacket because who knows how cold that place could be at night time, or early morning. You wrap the jacket around your waist as it was quite warm currently and you didn’t want to over heat yourself. You pick up the bag after closing the zipper “Let’s hope there’s something at least interesting there.” You hope quietly to yourself as you leave the house, you cross your fingers that no one would be at your destination, after all, why would someone guard an old abandon pizzeria? You wonder to yourself as you shake your head. You grab your house keys and exit the house, locking all the doors as you leave as you wouldn’t want burglars at your house when you come back.

You feel the cold wind hit your face as you breathe in the nice and cool night air, you haven’t done anything like this in a long time. You smile to yourself as you begin jogging to your destination, it wasn’t far from your house so you didn’t need to use a vehicle, it’s not like you have one anyways. It took you around 20 minutes to get there by jogging, you let out soft gasps as you get to the location, you felt really out of shape as you did this. “It’s been ages since I was out.” You smile to yourself “fresh air feels great.” You talk to yourself as you stretch, but take a minute to calm your breathing from the long jog. You look around the outside, it looked like it wasn’t visited or cleaned in many years.

You let out a soft sigh as you walk up to the main doors, you tug on them to try and open them but they were locked “Of course.” You mumble to yourself before walking around the building trying to find any other way of entry, spotting the backdoor you try opening it but it wouldn’t budge. “Well there’s only one thing left to do.” You whisper to yourself as you barge at the door with mainly your shoulder and back as to not hurt yourself badly. With a loud thunk, you managed to open it as the door flung open. You rub your shoulder as you walk inside, you take in a deep breath before wishing you didn’t, you were in the kitchen and it smelled like... rotten pizza you could say, it was clear that this place was abandoned very suddenly as they hadn’t even taken out the products before they left.

You pulled out the flashlight you brought with you from your bag and turn it on, looking around as you flashed the light upon the kitchen. It wasn’t a mess surprisingly, it was quite neat as if someone recently tried to clean up, key word, tried. It was mostly messy but there was an attempt at cleaning and it showed clearly. Upon realizing there was nothing in the kitchen that was worth of interest, you decide to head into the main room that lead from the kitchen. You noticed animatronics but.. they were very small, they were around 8 inches tall and they looked like puppets. You were confused at that “huh, I don’t remember these.” You wonder to yourself as you walk around the dining area, your shoes clicking on the marble checkerboard floor.

You walk past the stage where the animatronics were but you didn’t quite seem to notice the violet bunny animatronic tilt it’s head at you as you walked by. You headed towards the carousels as you had quite a few memories of those, you used to visit the pizzeria when it used to be open, which was around 6 years ago from now. You smiled as you placed a hand on the carousel, some memories coming back to you, but while you were being in your own little memory world, you haven’t noticed the sound of another pair of clicking shoes heading your way. The man’s shadow was still visible even if it was dark, his heavy shoes clicking as he walked slowly, he seemed to be in a defensive state as he slowly inched closer to you.

He stopped at the end of the hallway that lead to the main area, a deep yet smooth voice that had some... possible hesitance in it was heard. “Who are you?” The man asked, snapping you out of your daze. You immediately panicked as you hadn’t expected anyone to be here, let alone it be a human.. or so you thought he was human. You assumed he was a guard and quickly apologized, “Ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t think this place had any guards here anymore, I came to remember some of my old memories.” What you said wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. You couldn’t see the mans face, you didn’t dare shine your flash light on him “Leave no-“ He was cut off by the bunny animatronic jumping at your feet “New friend!” You two hadn’t noticed the animatronics walk over to you two.

“Bonnie! You blew it!” Chica, a yellow chicken animatronic had pouted as she complained, it seemed like them sneaking over was supposed to be a secret. You were freaked out by the animatronics as you hadn’t expected them to... still work or even talk! “Gah!” You yelp and take a few feet back making you stumble and tripping causing you to fall on your butt, dropping your flashlight to the ground while doing so. “Good job, Chica!” A brown bear animatronic, Freddy said a bit sarcastically “You scared our new friend!” The bear animatronic continued as the Chicken animatronic rubbed the back of her neck “Whoops... Sorry..” She apologized to both you and the bear, but seemingly more to you.

You could hear the sound of small feet hitting the ground very fast, almost as if a child was running. “Raaaa!” Soon enough a fox animatronic was by your side, looking the most excited out of all the animatronics. You could see the man let out a soft sigh “You guys weren’t supposed to do this, I told you to stay on the stage if anyone came.” The ending bit was more stern, the animatronics looked down “Sorry” “I’m sorry” “Sorries!” “raaa raaw....” All of them apologized and you can tell by his shadow, that his once tense form had became a bit more relaxed. “Now, Who are you?” He turned to you and you gulped. “I uhm... I’m [Y/N]” You said quietly at the towering shadowy figure, you had now realized he wasn’t a guard and became more and more nervous as to who this man was.

“Well you got your memories, you can go now.” He crossed his arms, it seemed he wasn’t a big fan of visitors. He grimaced as a bright light was shined in his face and he covered his eyes “Can they stay a while? Pleaaaseeeee!” The chicken animatronic said while holding the flash like she used to get his attention “Chica put that down, and I’m not so sure about a stranger staying.” You could see his face a bit better, honestly you could even see his silhouette. He seemed already quite tall, he looked quite.. muscular. Your eyes slowly met his face, you noticed it was.. quite different than normal, you noticed he had puppet like tear make up, or at least you thought it was make up. Other than the make up, he looked like an attractive young man, you wondered what brought him here. It seemed like he was here for quite some time as he could talk and get the animatronics to listen to him.

“Well they won’t be a stranger after we get to know them!” Bonnies voice snapped you out of staring at the man “Raaa!” Foxy almost cheered as he agreed with Bonnie, at least that’s what it seemed like. They seemed to all give him puppy dog eyes and he let out a soft sigh “Fine but only for a few hours and that’s it.” He said a but hesitantly and the animatronics cheered and ran up to you, you were still confused about everything going on. “Thank you!” “Thanks!” “Yay! Thanks, Sleepy!” “RAA!” They cheered, but you caught onto something, you noticed one of the animatronics call him ‘Sleepy’. You smiled upon noticing that, you found it a cute nickname.

The animatronics crawled up and cuddled to you, Chica was examining your hair, Freddy looked at your eyes, Bonnie fiddled with the flash light while sitting on your shoulder and foxy curled up in your lap. The man, who you now will call Sleepy, sighed “It’s way past your bed time guys.” He said to what seemed to be the animatronics “Hey! You allowed us to be up by letting them stay the few hours.” Chica pouted and Sleepy seemed to give up, knowing he would be trying to fight a losing battle. You looked down at the fox in your lap and pet the fox, smiling at him.

Eventually all animatronics curled up in your lap and fell asleep as it got later and later, the man had seemed to go back down the hallway where you remembered the security room was, you decided to stay the whole night, how could you leave these cuties which rested in your lap alone? You smiled, maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was gonna be, you could make a bunch of friends, a few furry ones and one seemingly human. You soon enough fall asleep yourself as your body couldn’t handle staying up any longer. In the morning you realized, you and the animatronics were covered by a nice and warm blanket and the man was no where in sight.

You smiled quietly and would wait till the animatronics wake up to move, you wanted to get to know all of them for some reason, you just had a feeling in your heart that they just need someone, a friend, they seemed like family to each other and so maybe they just want a friend. Even if they didn’t want a friend, you were going to become one no matter what. You wanted to know more about the mysterious man, and the cute animatronics. The animatronics seemed to like you already.

#Natemare #Nates egos #natemare nwtb #nwtb egos #battlers #oneshot #egos #fnaf #fnaf musical #natewantstobattle #Story #short story

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Do You Tree What I Tree?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word Count: 8730

For @justmattycakes! Happy holidays!!! Massive thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for organizing this Spideychelle Secret Santa!

Summary: Home from their various colleges for winter break, MJ and her friends make a day out of going to cut down their own Christmas trees. Being alone in the woods—just her, Peter, and an axe—seems like the perfect opportunity to admit that her feelings for her friend have changed.

“Wine and cider!” Peter announces, jabbing a finger at the car window as they pass a rustic-looking roadside sign.

MJ smirks to herself. His touch will probably leave a smudge on the glass, which Flash will painstakingly wipe clean later. She likes Flash much more now than she did in high school—they all do—but she likes to build up a little vindictiveness towards him in advance, for when he inevitably says or does something douchey.

“Whine inside her, is that what you’d do if you could actually get a girlfriend?” Flash asks immediately. Sweet justification for MJ, though she rolls her eyes.

Flash is driving, but Betty trusts his skill enough to smack his arm from the passenger seat, then turn to smile back at Peter.

“That sounds nice. We should definitely stop on the way back.”

“Yeah,” Ned pipes up. “Maybe they’ll have a fireplace too, where we can thaw our fingers.”

“Babe, I won’t let your fingers get cold.”

“Aw, babe,” he croons, reaching over his girlfriend’s shoulder where she sits in front of him to tangle their fingers together.

“Back to your intense lack of dateability,” Flash persists. MJ swears his original asshole persona comes out so much more whenever he slides behind the wheel of his dad’s Cadillac Escalade. “Are you having a lonely winter, Parker? With only your cold lab bench to keep you warm?”

Next to MJ, Peter sighs and mutters, “Same old Flash.” She thinks he says it only to himself, but he darts a look at her and they share a smile.

“Well, I don’t have your L.A. weather,” he allows, artfully changing topic.

Flash will talk for an hour straight about the numerous perks of attending UCLA, including the constant sunshine, the short-shorts, and the absence of his current listeners. The last they all recognize to be a blatant lie, but they like him enough to let him get away with it. MJ has a special sympathy for Flash in those moments; she’s still growing from the girl she was when they were all at Midtown together, when she found it so much easier to edge away from other people or, when she did interact, to speak defensively, insultingly, and with liberal use of the middle finger. Her communication skills have flourished with not being able to see these people in person every day. She’s actually amazed with how she’s clung to them, certain she’d failed to develop the kind of solid relationships people were supposed to form in high school and that she’d just stagger forward through her fine art degree (PoliSci minor) with a wild hope of connecting to other humans through the doodles that she’s developed into graceful sketches, from sketches to oil paintings with sweep and verve.

The five of them are in their second year at their respective centres of learning now and it feels really nice to gather after living by too-brief text exchanges, missed calls, and videocalls that somebody’s roommate inevitably arrives home in the middle of, loud and invasive. When MJ’s speaking to Ned or Flash, they can push through. They have the boisterousness and, in Ned’s case, natural good nature, to conduct two separate conversations at the same time. Betty prefers to hang up and try at a better time, when they can speak uninterrupted. Peter’s different from all of the above. MJ always sees how he blushes, as though he’s being caught talking to her. It makes her flush in return. There’s no reason for them not to be as close as either of them are with any of the others, but conversations with him make her feel different. Without meaning to, their voices lower and they wander away from whatever topic they start with; on some nights, into the most intimate tracks of their inner lives. She gets why he feels caught to be interrupted because it’s disorienting for her too, being dragged back to the larger world, hearing a voice other than his in her ear. She likes traditional phone calls with him the best because she can lie in bed with her phone pressed to her ear and he doesn’t have to know.

“Are we almost there?” Ned says when Flash pauses in his rhapsodizing of Venice Beach.

MJ, sitting in the middle of the backseat, watches her friend unlock her phone and check the map.

“Yes. Under two miles to go.”

“And we’re super sure about this place?” Ned checks.

“Mhmm. A friend of a friend in my French workshop went last year and got the most spectacular Fraser fir,” Betty assures him. “I saw it at her Christmas party. That’s the one you couldn’t go to because you got the flu, remember?”

“Ugh,” he agrees.

“We passed a tree farm awhile ago,” Peter ventures. “That wasn’t it?”

“Betty told me the owners of that farm own this lot too. It’s cheaper to get your tree here because they don’t tend the lot in the same way,” MJ informs him. She likes the look on his face when he listens. She likes the feel of his leg bumping against hers as they traverse the uneven gravel sideroad.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be making up the cost difference paying for a paint job. I can hear the stone chips!” Flash complains. As if he’s ever paid for so much as a tank of gas.

“It’s an adventure, moron,” she says.

“I wasn’t prepared for stone chips.”

“I told you everything in an email last week, when we were planning this,” Betty calmly reminds him. “We should all be prepared.”

It isn’t visible to her right now, but MJ knows her friend has a shiny, compact saw at her feet, tucked into a neat black case, looking bizarrely like a tennis racket. Her own axe is trapped beneath Peter’s shoe so it doesn’t slide forward under Flash’s seat and slice the soles off his shoes. It’s quite sharp. She made sure.

“Listen,” Flash demands, “I’m the transport. Someone else can take care of the less significant details.”

“That is so fucking dumb,” Peter mumbles.

“What?”

“I said, I hope your feet don’t go numb,” he says more loudly. MJ turns her head, like she’s trying to follow the gentle backwards sweep of falling snow with her eyes when she’s really trying to hide her smile from Flash’s suspicious gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Did you wear waterproof boots and warm socks?”

“Of course. About to make winter my bitch.”

Betty twists to catch MJ’s eye.

“You wanna take this one?”

“Go for it.”

While Betty educates Flash on why that is not an acceptable thing for him to say—not with two of his female friends in the car, or ever—MJ drums her fingers on her knees. Her mittens are piled in her lap for now; despite her natural inclination to insult Flash’s ride, it heats up nicely. Plus, she’s tucked between Peter and Ned. She glances to her right to check on the latter and finds him huffing a warm breath on the window. He traces his finger through the resulting condensation, drawing a heart and writing ‘B+N’ in the middle. MJ glances at Peter and he’s already looking at her.

“So, tree?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve been told to keep it under six feet. A measuring tape and a ladder might’ve been helpful, but there wouldn’t have been anyplace to put the ladder once we got the trees on the roof of this thing.” She smacks the SUV’s ceiling and Flash goes, “HEY!”

“You can just choose a taller one,” Peter suggests, “and then cut it shorter.”

“I feel bad about the waste though. It’s a living thing.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ’s genuinely curious. She knows May prioritizes Hanukkah customs to keep Peter’s connection to both his ethnoreligious traditions and his lost love ones strong, so she doesn’t know how a Christmas tree fits into that.

“Right before you guys picked me up, May had an idea. She thought it might be nice just to get some pine branches for, like, generic winter decorating and to make the apartment smell good.”

“That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah. I was gonna grab scraps from where other trees had been cut down, but I can get them off whatever tree you pick instead. Or you can. You have the axe.”

“I’ll give you a turn with it if you help me drag my tree back to the car,” MJ bargains with a smile.

“I can definitely help.”

Of course he can. He could probably carry a dozen trees if he felt like it. Over his head. With all the roots and clumps of frozen earth still attached. But the thought of him hauling the tree back with her rather than for her is something she appreciates. As she nods, she gets the fluttery feeling she’s been experiencing more and more whenever he’s called her this term. Their calls have gotten longer. A younger version of herself would be amazed at the way she can now talk for hours without noticing the time slipping past. And it never feels wasted. Actually, when they aren’t talking, MJ misses Peter. She can’t completely put it into words and so she hasn’t. What she’s done, besides continue to answer every time he calls, is offer him a chance to swing the axe she brought. Romantically, there’s room for improvement.

Their overlapping winter breaks are going to end in another week and she’s scared the calls, as treasured as they’ve become to her, won’t be enough.

“There!” Betty cries. She flings her arm across the dash to point.

“That’s the woods,” Flash says, brushing her off.

“No, that’s the driveway! You’re going to pass it!”

The jarring, inelegant jerk of the wheel as he takes Betty’s directions at the last moment tips Ned into MJ and MJ into Peter. They all groan in discomfort, but Flash seems supremely pleased with himself as he straightens the tires. Off the gravel, their passage between the trees is muffled by the packed snow on the laneway other cars have driven over. There’s a dusting on top as today’s thin flurry continues to fall. As she sits up straight following Flash’s terrible Baby Driver impression, MJ feels Peter’s hand on her back, through her coat, and her face gets hot. Unable to meet his eyes in thanks, she leans towards Ned instead and the two of them stare out at the picturesque scene where low drifts spill over the ground and every pine, spruce, and fir—all dusted in white—looks like the perfect Christmas tree.

“Hats on,” Betty instructs as Flash pulls to a stop next to a pickup truck with a tarp already laid out in its bed, awaiting a tree. “Shoelace check. Gloves and mitts secure.”

“You sound like you’re prepping us to jump out of an airplane,” Flash laughs.

He swings his door open while Betty’s trying to get back into her winterwear checklist with the rest of them, letting in a gust of cold air that disturbs the warmth MJ’s hoarded as well as Betty’s good temper. She reaches across the center console and shoves Flash with both hands, pushing him straight out of the vehicle with a “WHOA!”

Betty’s nonchalant as she flips her mirror down and adjusts the positioning of her pompom hat before stepping out of the SUV herself. Peter and Ned pile out, laughing, and MJ climbs out Peter’s side. Flash is next to the car, brushing himself off.

“I’m going to get sick,” he pouts.

“Say cheese!” Ned encourages, snapping a picture as Betty runs into shot to pose next to her victim, cupping his face between her gloved hands.

“Maybe this’ll make him change his mind about the cider place,” MJ notes to Peter hopefully.

“I feel like we’d be stopping there no matter what,” he muses. “It was either making Flash fear hypothermia or Betty sneaking back to the car first and tampering with his brake line or something.”

“So, which way looks good, babe?” Ned asks his girlfriend.

As she told them, this lot isn’t the manicured family attraction the last place was. There aren’t any employees standing around—easily spotted even as they drove past the tree farm down the road in their orange crossing-guard-style vests—or a map marking which areas are which type of tree. There’s just sort of a main track that’s been tramped down by passing feet leading between trees. It’s easy to see for a ways, but beyond that, the forest grows denser. MJ knows Betty did her homework and can identify tree varieties, and she doesn’t actually care which type she gets. She’s here for the experience, and for the idiot next to her who gives her a thrill every time the nylon sleeves of their winter coats rush against each other.

“Hmm,” Betty says, and strides forward through the narrow entrance. From there, things fan out. She taps her bow saw, now loose, against the side of her leg. “Well, what would everyone like to do?”

“I’m going wherever you are,” Ned vows. She shoots him a soft smile.

“Me too,” Flash decides. “You’ll get us in and out of here fast so we can get warm. Not like Parker, who’ll probably get lost in the first five minutes.”

“What?” Peter asks, insulted. “Will not.”

“Oh yeah? How’s your sense of direction without that robot lady in your head?”

“Karen is not a robot lady, she’s an AI.”

“Same diff.”

“It is not. A robot lady is like what they have on The Jetsons.”

“Whatever. Point is, without your GPS, I don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Peter counters, “we can just look at our phones.”

“Already tried that,” Flash informs him. “I don’t get a signal out here.”

Regardless, the rest of them check.

“That’s alright,” Betty persists, trying to be chipper to maintain group morale, MJ’s sure. “It’s daylight, the snow’s not coming down hard, and nobody’s going off alone. Now, Flash, Ned, and I are going that way.” She points, then glances from MJ to Peter. “Do you guys want to stick with us, or…?”

MJ opens her mouth and looks to Peter, shuffling beside her and doing some sort of best-friend telepathy with Ned, based on the stupid, scrunched up looks on their faces. Is he going to say something? He’ll probably want to stay with Ned. It’ll be weird if she speaks up for both of them. But if she doesn’t, when are they going to talk, just the two of them? Since they’ve all been back in the city, everything’s been done in a group—buying presents for friends and relatives, going skating, getting hot chocolate, attending Flash’s ugly holiday t-shirt party (L.A.-themed, so no sweaters allowed). The woods though. The woods are quiet and friendly and private. Snow muffles sound, fresh air and cold wake her up and fill her lungs until they burn with everything she’d say to Peter if she just had this opportunity. No Ned and Betty hanging back to offer encouraging looks, no Flash to ruin everything with a terribly timed innuendo. MJ just needs Peter. Just her and Peter. Please, dork, she thinks, don’t say Ned.

The words come from her.

“I think Peter and I’ll go that way,” she declares, nodding sharply in a direction that isn’t Betty’s.

“Yeah,” Peter adds.

Oh, thank god, MJ thinks.

“He’s gonna get you lost,” Flash warns. He’s already stamping his feet like he’s freezing to death on the spot, though the cold isn’t that bad with the tree cover. “Then he’ll go nuts in the woods.”

“I have an axe,” MJ reminds him flatly. She glances at Peter. “Bring it.”

Peter snorts a laugh.

“No one will be re-enacting anything that remotely resembles The Shining,” Betty instructs. “Meet back here in, how long, do you think?”

“Depends,” Flash says. “How long should we wait before declaring those two missing and sending out a search party, of which I will not be a member, but will be happy to direct from the comfort of the Escalade with a hot drink in my hand and my feet against the heating vent.”

“Dude, don’t do that,” Ned pleads. “You’ll make the whole car smell like your feet.”

“My ride, my rules.”

“Should we just…?” Peter asks MJ. She nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Ok, um, an hour!” Betty decides.

Peter gives her a thumbs up and the two of them follow the path as it diverges, then cut away again, wading through ankle-deep snow where no other tree-hunter has walked today. The sound of Flash goading the other two fades. MJ stops for a minute and turns to watch them march into the trees. She takes a deep breath in and out.

“You good?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” She hefts the axe onto her shoulder to look more lumberjack-esque (and so she doesn’t slice it into her calf as she walks). “Come on.”

Despite promises to share, she refuses to surrender the tool any sooner than she must. Soon enough, she’s huffing, face passing through damp clouds of her own breath and chilling her flushed cheeks and frozen nose. Balancing her temperature out here is a tricky thing; as long as they keep moving, as they are, she stays warm, but with Peter crunching along in the snow beside her, she’s too warm. MJ bites her mitt between her teeth and unzips her coat a little to let the brisk air circulate around the back of her sweaty neck.

“You’re not gonna catch cold?” Peter asks solicitously.

She shakes her head.

“Ok,” he says, “but it’d be just like you to get sick and say nothing about it while Flash complains all the way home that he is sick when nothing’s wrong with him.”

“The only thing he’s suffering through is his body’s natural rejection of us. He spent too many years thinking he was better than we are just to end up right here, hacking down Christmas trees together.”

“Probably caroling,” Peter guesses.

“Probably. He claims his favourite holiday song is the instrumental version of ‘Carol of the Bells,’ but that has to be a lie.”

“My money’s on something super cheesy.”

“Mine too,” MJ agrees with a grin.

Gradually, she slows, taking in the pine trees around them. Her guesstimation is that some of these go up to ten or twelve feet, but there are shorter options tucked in between. Younger, or those that maybe didn’t get as much light as they grew. She wipes the back of her mittened hand across her forehead, pushing her slipping fleece headband back where it’s been sliding forward.

“So,” she asks, “any of this look good to you?”

She lowers her gaze to find Peter hastily averting his from her face.

“That one?” he says, pointing to a tree at random.

“Peter, that one’s longer than Flash’s SUV.”

“Oh. Right. Um, ok…”

Focusing now, she watches his upturned face and the serious expression that sinks into it, the way snow’s been sinking into her hair. Maybe Betty was right about wearing a hat, though Betty’s hair is also significantly flatter than hers and thus more conducive to hat-wearing. Well, it’ll be fine. They aren’t stranded or anything and the snow’s not getting to them as much as it was when they had to walk across the clearing to reach this stand of trees. They’re sheltered here. As MJ hoped, it’s quiet.

Instead of asking Peter how much of his remaining holiday he’d like to spend with her, or how he feels when she forces him to hang up the phone first (he must notice), or why, exactly, he was so quick to agree to go off into the woods with her when he could just as easily have insisted they all stay together, she criticizes the first tree he takes genuine interest in.

“Crooked.”

“Too dense.”

“Too sparse.”

“Weird empty area.”

“I swear to god, something moved in there, Peter. I do not want a fucking National Lampoon Christmas, ok? My mom will freak out if I bring a live squirrel into our home.”

He’s laughing at her when they finally spot one that looks pretty good: shorter but not squat, full but with soft, long needles rather than nasty ones bent on treating them both to non-consensual acupuncture if they stand too close. It doesn’t look sickly or as though it’s currently inhabited by birds or rodents.

“So young,” MJ does note, assessing its size in comparison to a taller tree a yard away. “Oh well.” She raises the axe and adjusts her grip.

Peter goes scrambling backwards, almost slipping, then tries to pretend he was only calmly moving out of the way, that he is not afraid of the radius of her swing. When he starts babbling about how quickly his body could probably heal from an axe wound (though, with all the crazy shit he gets up to, that’s actually not something he’s experienced yet), she finally laughs at him.

“Relax,” she says. “You can just hold the branches up at the bottom while I chop through the trunk.”

Fearless—and even more determined to prove it now that she’s given Peter a scare—MJ drops to the snow and wriggles under the tree, as close as she thinks she should be while still being able to swing the axe. Peter’s hand makes her jump. She whips her head around, nearly getting a clump of needles in the eye, but he’s only skimming her coat by accident as he gathers the lowest branches away from her. As she asked. Right, he’s not touching her on purpose and he’s not even doing the not-touching activity on purpose but because she told him to. He’s trying to help. Frustrating.

She props herself up on her elbow and takes an awkward whack at the tree. The blade sinks into the bark like it’s supposed to, but it’s still somehow surprising to feel the give. MJ takes a few more tentative swings and the axe sinks deeper, requiring some force to yank it out again. She grunts and hears Peter crouch down behind her.

“Is it going ok? Can I do anything?”

“Umm, maybe be prepared to pull the top of the tree in the other direction so it doesn’t fall on my head. I think I’m almost halfway.”

“Yes, please don’t make it fall on your head,” he requests.

“It won’t as long as you do your job,” she promises gruffly, hewing in once more.

“Do you think this would be easier with a saw?” Peter’s voice is higher now, coming from the other side of the tree. Though the branches fell when he changed position, she can feel them only resting lightly on her as he holds the top of the tree away. Probably standing on his toes.

“Don’t say anything against my axe.”

“I’m not! I was just thinking out loud!”

“A saw,” MJ informs him with another swing, “is not as badass.”

“Good point.”

But is he just agreeing because the tree’s starting to topple and the final swings to break through it take her blade closer to his shins as he dances out of the way? Maybe.

She clambers out and, with the tree now on an angle, is able to chop from an upright position, down on a diagonal until she buries her axe in the snow, then yanks it free.

“Oh, you can lay it down,” MJ tells Peter when she realizes he’s standing there with his arms full of tree, face hidden as he keeps his head pulled back from the branches.

He does so gently and then they stand there in triumph. MJ hurls her axe into the ground.

“Would you quit that?” Peter requests, jumpy.

She grins.

“Sorry. Just really feeling this.”

“I can tell.”

They took their time making their selection and can do one of two things next: either trim the branches for Peter to take home to May right here or drag the tree back to Flash’s SUV and perform the necessary amputations there. They do neither. MJ shrugs her shoulders and flexes her fingers inside her mittens, exorcising the tension of gripping the axe’s handle. She turns, glancing casually around, but really looking for something invisible—a reason to stay. A rational delay before rejoining the others.

“Hold still,” Peter says, as she’s looking back the way they came. The way she thinks they came. They stomped around this area, circling every tree, for a while, so the footprints are a little confused.

“What? If you try to tell me there’s a squirrel in my hair, I’m not going to believe you.”

He smiles softly.

“No squirrel, just snow.”

She stares at her friend warily as he approaches, then sweeps snow from her headband. That’s when she realizes one side of her coat is soaked from lying on the ground. It can’t get through though, it’s just the outer layer. Still, Peter walks a complete circle around her, wiping snow away.

“There,” he says.

MJ sighs.

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

His face is so open as he looks at her, flakes flying around and between them. Her heart squeezes almost painfully because there have been so many days of not seeing his face without the assistance of a screen. Now that he’s here, it’s too much.

“Umm… how many branches do you think May wants?”

MJ crouches and puts her back to him, feigning being deep in concentration over the fresh Christmas corpse splayed out in the snow. She feels like a detective at a crime scene. Peter exhales heavily behind her, then drops to her level.

“More is probably better, right? She’ll probably take some in to work or try to give them to the neighbours anyway.”

“True.” They both reach for the axe. “Go ahead,” MJ says, quickly withdrawing her hand.

Peter shaves off what he thinks May might like—plus at least an armload more—in quick slices and snips.

“Jeeze, this thing is sharp.”

“I know,” she says proudly.

“I want one. For the suit, I mean. You think that could work?”

“Well, you already have a bunch of less probable-sounding features, so why not a spider with an axe made of webs?”

“Ned’s gonna be so excited when I tell him.”

“I’m excited,” she says, maybe a little too forcefully. It’s not a competition. She doesn’t think he’s already forgotten about her. There’s just some kind of glitch in her brain-to-mouth connection that no Spidey tech could possibly fix.

“I think we’re ahead of schedule,” Peter tells her.

He pulls out his phone to check the time while MJ cleaves into the fallen tree’s trunk, cutting it down to a size more suited to transport and her family’s apartment.

“We could do this in two trips,” he presses. “Take the tree and come back for the branches? Or vice versa?”

“I think we can manage it in one.”

She glances at him and he looks mildly frantic.

“Or two,” MJ amends. “Two would be better.”

Are they finally going to talk? That has to be the reason for Peter stretching this out, doesn’t it? But he moves quickly to grip the lowest branches of the tree, down where MJ severed it, and she grabs those on the opposite side of the trunk. After a jerk to get it going, they slide the tree smoothly over the snow, leaving a fine trail of needles. It occurs to her, as they walk, that she was worried about this part on the way in here, that the tree might pick up dirt from where others have walked, but the ground looks fresh and sparkling in the sun. That’s not familiar.

“Peter? Are we going the right way?”

“What? Yeah. Aren’t we? We have to be. Because the sun was…”

He gestures very unconvincingly overhead and her heart plummets in her chest. For once, not because she’s scared of saying something about her feelings for him and hearing they aren’t reciprocated, but because what Peter’s not saying directly is that they might be lost. And the worst part of that scenario is Flash being right. No, no, no, Peter will not make Flash right, not today.

“It’s been snowing,” she reviews. Stupid and obvious, but facts are soothing to her. “How much do you think it’s snowed? Not that much, right? It can’t have. We must’ve just started walking the wrong way.”

“Definitely. Ok, let’s turn around.”

So, they swing the tree with them and strike out in the opposite direction, not going very quickly as they navigate the trees. They pass the stump they lately created and MJ plucks her axe from the snow on the way past. It just makes her feel better, having it.

Unfortunately, this way isn’t correct either.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “What the fuck.”

“Let’s leave the tree for a minute.”

They set it down. She realizes she’s sweating.

“How could we be lost? How could you be lost?”

“There aren’t exactly landmarks,” Peter says. “It’s just… trees.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone to a place with signposts and neat little rows.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

He wanders over to her, watching her with careful eyes.

“I wasn’t this cold when I called today an adventure.”

“Maybe you should zip your coat back up.”

But she’s too warm and uncomfortable to do that just to challenge how he’s calling her bluff.

“Are you scared?” he asks. “You don’t need to be scared. I think we did a lot of circling. We didn’t walk too far in any one direction. I could climb a tree and look around?”

“Climb a tree? One of these trees? The ones covered in snow with the thin branches and the spiky needles?”

“Hey,” Peter jokes, hitting her arm with his elbow, “you’re supposed to be cheering me on.”

“I…” She closes her mouth. He frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re lost and Flash is going to gloat.”

“Besides that.”

“You’re trying really hard to get us out of here.” That should be a compliment, a commendation, but it sounds accusing as it leaves her mouth. MJ feels on-edge, heart beating all wrong.

“…Should I not be?”

God, she’s being strange. She can feel herself being strange. Everything’s aligning to buy her more time and she’s panicking trying to work out what to do with it. The snow is falling softly all around and she’s auditioning to play the most awkward protagonist in the history of Hallmark holiday movies.

“Are you looking forward to going back?” MJ asks abruptly.

“To the car?”

“To school. In January.”

“Umm, kinda? I mean, it’s going well. But you know that, we talked about this stuff the other day when you and Ned were over at May’s.”

“Yeah.” She’s thinking, staring down at her cut tree, debating how to mention that there’s one thing they didn’t talk about, that she couldn’t bring up, because she felt strange about doing it with Ned there. She goes to continue, unsure of her phrasing, but ready to push onward, when Peter answers, looking thoughtfully up at the pale-grey snow clouds.

“It’s really nice to be home, but I also don’t like living in the past.”

He glances at her to see what she thinks. She’s noticed that he does that a lot, when they’re on a video call. Sometimes, she teases him about it—the way he makes certain assertions sound like questions because he wants her input, values her opinion, thinks of her as wiser than him (she is) though he’s the genius playing around at the upper end of the grading curve in all of his classes.

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?” he asks, spotting the unfinished thought in her expression, how she holds her eyebrows a little too tightly together.

MJ shakes her head.

“It’s nice to have you home.” As Peter’s beginning to smile, swaying slightly towards her, she rambles on, “It’s nice to have everyone home. I mean, I could go longer between having to see Flash in person, but what can you do, right? It’s worth it to have Ned home. And Betty. And you.”

She swallows.

“There!” he shouts, pointing past her. She squints.

“What is it?”

“Our tracks.”

Trusting his superior eyesight, MJ troops after him. Sure enough, their deep treads from earlier are still faintly present—now gentle indents as the snowfall works to even everything out again.

“But we don’t have to hurry back,” Peter says. She avoids his eyes.

“Except we probably do, now that we’ve wasted time being lost.”

“We were never actually lost.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, Spider-Man. Help me with the tree.”

He does, then hightails it back to collect May’s branches once MJ’s in the clearing with only the little trail left between her and the makeshift parking lot. She pulls her bounty along and through the gap, suddenly back with the rest of her friends.

“Did you manage to lose Parker out there?” Flash asks immediately. “Nice. Up top.”

She rolls her eyes instead of meeting his hand in a high five.

“He just had to go back for something,” MJ explains, expressly for the benefit of Ned and Betty.

“What’d he do, drop some of you guys’ sexual tension in the woods?”

Flushing with the sting in the air and self-consciousness, she walks past Flash. Just close enough to drag the tree over his feet and make him start whining about getting dirt on his blindingly-white designer snow boots. When his complaints cut off, she knows she’s in trouble. It’s like the sudden silence in a horror movie that you just know means nothing good.

“Never mind,” Flash says loudly. “Sexual tension present and accounted for.”

MJ whirls around to see Peter’s arrived and is staring at her with a pleading look on his face. Or he was, until Flash’s words sunk in. Surely, Peter’s fast enough to snatch his keys, toss them to Betty, and have them all climb into the SUV and wheel outta here, leaving Flash behind? But during the holidays? She’d feel bad. He’s lucky.

“Can we just get the trees loaded?” Peter asks, moving to help MJ pull hers closer to demonstrate that it’s not so much a question for Flash as a demand for him to shut the hell up. Flash probably doesn’t understand. He’d need tact for that.

“Fine. And not a scratch on the Escalade,” Flash commands.

He opens the trunk to reveal a set of carefully folded tarps; they’re too ratty to actually belong to him, so MJ’s betting that they’re Betty’s or Ned’s. Those two went on a big, romantic camping trip together right after high school graduation, so these could be remnants. The first tarp crinkles in Peter’s hands as he pulls it out and unfolds it. Beneath the second—removed by Ned—there’s a Burberry blanket protecting the SUV from the tarps. Honestly. Momentarily forgetting about their awkward moment in the forest, MJ catches Peter’s eye and nods at the blanket. The two of them start laughing and soon, Betty and Ned have spotted them and are laughing too. Flash is perplexed, which, as always, is when he gets grouchy and defensive.

“Can we pick up the pace, people?” he requests. “I need a hot drink and an even hotter fire. I can barely feel my fingers.”

“Wait.” MJ frowns and pauses in assisting Peter with dragging the longest tarp onto the roof of the SUV. “I have a tree, Ned and Betty each have trees… Flash, where’s your tree?”

She turns her head and notices Ned just cutting off a gesture of slicing a hand across his throat to insist on her not finishing that question. Betty sighs and explains.

“Flash’s service came back while we were out there.”

“Dude,” Peter huffs, stretching to reach and finish tugging the tarp into place, “you had service? You could’ve texted us to see if we were, I don’t know, lost.”

“This should come as no surprise to you, Parker,” Flash says snootily, “but I had other priorities.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ questions suspiciously.

“He went online and bought an artificial tree,” Betty says with a roll of her eyes.

“Sacrilege.”

“More like brilliance,” Flash corrects. “It has snow-encrusted branches, pre-strung lights, and the thing isn’t gonna die in a week, so it’s better for the environment.”

“Isn’t it plastic?” MJ checks in a slow voice, waiting for him to catch on.

“Yeah.”

“Then the process used to produce it created harmful emissions and when you find it next year and decide to throw it out because you’re no longer ‘feelin’ it’ or whatever excuse you have, it’ll go straight in the trash and from there to one of the many, many local and international landfills that house our city’s waste.”

“You’re pretty judgy for a girl who just fucking murdered a tree.”

“I did my research,” MJ counters easily. “This is a sustainably managed forest. They maintain the trees, protect new growth and transplant saplings every spring to ensure the health of not only the cash crop, but the forest as a whole. Pre-light that, dickhead.”

Feeling flustered, she goes to give Betty and Ned a hand with positioning their tree on the roof. MJ stands on the ledge offered by the open trunk and stabilizes the tree while the others guide it into position.

“Tension,” she hears Flash diagnose under his breath. He’s smart enough to not meet her eye when she glares down at him.

They encounter a small problem while loading the second tree: both Betty and Ned have selected especially full specimens. Side by side, they take up the entire roof, and MJ’s tree is still on the ground with Peter’s mountain of branches, waiting to be slung onboard.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” Ned says after jumping into the air twice to take a look at the available space (none).

“Neither do I,” she agrees. “Guess it’s going in the trunk.”

“In the trunk?” Flash is there in a, well, flash. He slipped into the driver’s seat, ostensibly to doublecheck their route home, but really to start his seat-warmer and turn the Christmas radio station back on. His distress is juxtaposed against a jazzy rendition of ‘Winter Wonderland.’

“Yeah. There’s nowhere else.”

“Guys, please. Are you trying to get back at me for the sexual tension comment? It’s forgotten. I lied. No tension here. Cut the act and tell me that thing’s going on the roof with the others.”

“While ‘that thing’ is a capitalist nexus, it’s also a precious symbol of everything I love about Christmas,” MJ says firmly, “and it’s going in the trunk of this SUV.”

“Guys?” Flash glances at the other three, but nobody sides with him.

“Don’t worry, Flash,” Betty says kindly. “We won’t use the second tarp to go on top of the roof trees, we’ll line the trunk with it instead. There won’t be any needles, I promise.”

That is definitely not a promise she can make, and MJ’s sure her friend is aware, but she’s taking a shortcut to winning this standoff and MJ admires that. The placating seems to wash over Flash like the spirit of Christmas over Scrooge McDuck. Suddenly, he’s smiling.

“Yeah. We can do that. Of course. But.” Oh no. The smile’s warping. Flash is about to be an asshole again, MJ can see it coming fast on the horizon. “The tree’s going to take up more space than just the trunk.”

MJ peers into the SUV. Shit. He’s probably right.

“Oh,” says Betty, not getting the issue, “well, we can fold the seats down, right? The tree isn’t that tall. Come on, guys, we’ve had real problems. This is nothing!”

She beams at them and Ned wraps an arm around her, hugging her to his side.

“We’ll lose a seat in the back,” MJ says.

She’s profoundly annoyed by the satisfaction on Flash’s face as she’s the one to say the words, point out the obvious. Isn’t she always? It feels like her role in this friend group and she never minds that, never has until this very situation and its inevitable conclusion.

“Somebody’s gotta sit on somebody else’s lap,” Flash singsongs. “And it’s not me because I’m the driver!”

The other four look at each other.

“Betty,” Ned begins, “you and I could…”

“But she needs to be in the front to navigate,” Flash irritatingly points out, “and before you say it, you shouldn’t double up in the front. It’s not safe.”

Maybe they can back over him when they steal his ride and drive out of here, MJ theorizes. She sighs. Loudly. Vexedly.

“I’ll sit on Peter.”

She proceeds to make eye contact with none of them, just fishes a sloppy coil of rope out of the back and works with Betty to feed it over the trees and through the windows. Some cold air will blow into the SUV, but that won’t matter so much to her, she guesses, since she’ll have the benefit of Peter’s body heat. Who needs a seat-warmer when you can have an actual human lap? Ugh, no, not funny, but she tried to consider it in a way that doesn’t make her want to volunteer to sit in the trunk with her tree.

Finally, they lift her tree and Peter’s branches inside, position them, and shut the trunk. Flash is whistling ‘Carol of the Bells’ as he practically skips to the driver’s seat. Betty, far more compassionate, gives MJ a reassuring look before she gets in. Then Peter climbs into the back, taking the middle seat, and glances at her, lingering in the snow. She groans to herself and folds into the car as Ned gives her an encouraging pat on the back.

Maneuvering is awkward. Peter cranes his neck back like his whole body is leaning to make room for her, but it’s not possible—he’s already pressed back against the seat. She sits. He rustles beneath and behind her. Before she can panic and insist on walking home, Ned gets in and slams the door closed (Flash complains).

“Uh,” Peter starts, “do you wanna shift forward so I can buckle my—”

“Absolutely not. If we’re sharing a seat, we’re sharing a seatbelt. I don’t want to end this excursion by flying through the windshield when Flash swerves the car off the road because he sees a snowdrift that looks like a butt or something.”

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver,” he complains, starting the car.

“I could just, like, hold onto you?” Peter offers.

MJ’s heartbeat rockets. She presses the top of her head to the ceiling to ground herself.

“No. We’re using the seatbelt.”

Peter stretches it away from the seat and holds it for her to grab; she passes it back for him to fasten. The second it clicks into place, Flash throws the SUV into reverse and hits the gas. Peter must move his head away from behind hers because MJ’s genuinely surprised not to feel his nose break against the back of her skull.

“Excellent driver, huh?” she questions flatly.

“There was ice.”

“Sure there was.”

Flash winks at her in the rear-view mirror and instead of siding with her, MJ catches Ned chuckling.

“I’m sorry, but it’s funny. You guys look ridiculous seatbelted together,” he says.

But she doesn’t feel so much ridiculous as confused and on alert, swaying with Flash’s accelerations and decelerations (thankfully minor compared to how he started off). Every time, Peter’s hands jump to grab her: shoulders, waist, legs. Once, he grabs her hands and even though she still has her mittens on, dripping melting snow onto the seat on one side and the tree branch she’s clutching on the other, it’s startling.

“Sit still,” Peter tells her when she jerks out of his hold.

“You sit still.”

He laughs.

“I can’t go anywhere—you’re sitting on me.”

“Then try having less bony legs,” she suggests, though they both know the nerd has more muscle mass in one of his legs than the rest of the SUV’s occupants have in their entire bodies combined.

“Right up here!” Betty directs. “We have to pay.”

MJ sags gratefully into Peter, relaxed for the first moment of the short drive from the lot to the tree farm. She tenses up again when they pull in and Betty offers to be the one to hop out and pay for their trees. There is no reprieve from Peter’s lap. She hands over her cash to her friend with a sigh and listens while the trees are removed from the roof, shaken by a machine to rid them of loose needles, and replaced for transport home. When the trunk opens and the tree farm guy slides MJ’s little tree free, she shivers at the cold air blowing in.

“Take off your mitts and put your hands by the vent,” Peter suggests.

MJ looks around and sees that the only vent she can reach is the one their feet are bracketing, down by the floor. She fights the grip of the seatbelt to bend forward. Ah. Hot air on her freezing fingers, plus, she’s out of the draft coming through the open trunk.

“This is better. Thanks, dork.”

She glances back and spots the stricken look on her friend’s face as he watches her, still seated on his lap, but now bent over. MJ sits swiftly upright.

“I’m actually not that cold,” she says, spine rigid beneath her coat and her sweaters.

Peter sighs and, while Ned’s looking out the window to watch her tree get vibrated and wrapped, tentatively offers MJ his hands. If Ned notices that they’re holding hands when the SUV is completely repacked and they’re on their way to the place with the wine and cider, he doesn’t say a word about it. It’s shared body heat. It’s a survival tactic. That’s what MJ tells herself as she finds her and Peter’s fingers moving gently from a perfunctory clasp to intertwining.

They stay that way until Flash pulls off the road at the cider spot, which turns out to be an apple orchard. Well, more than just the orchard; there’s a whole barn here, but fancy, with a designated lot and possibly a restaurant inside.

“This is so cute!” Betty says.

MJ concentrates on shaking her hands out of Peter’s before Flash puts the SUV in park and turns around to see them.

The two of them are the last out of the car and she’s stiff with the silence, listening to their friends laugh and gripe about the cold (Flash) as they wait with Ned’s door open. Before MJ can push through her thoughts and fears to say anything, Peter’s arm comes around her. Her eyes widen. …And he unbuckles the seatbelt. Probably just because she was taking too long. She slips over into Ned’s vacant seat and is about to scramble out when Peter catches her hand. MJ turns.

“Will you tell them we’ll meet them inside?” he requests.

Heart hammering, she relays the message, then looks on as Ned and Betty hustle Flash through the doors before can make another of his unwelcome comments or otherwise interfere.

“I think we really need to talk,” Peter says, after MJ pulls the door closed to preserve what little heat is left in the vehicle.

“We talk all the time,” she argues. She thinks, Yes, please talk to me.

“About a lot of stuff. You know, most stuff.” He wedges his fingers under the edge of his hat to run them nervously through his hair.

“That’s a generalization, but a fair one.”

“But, you know, lately, I’ve been, uh, wishing that we could talk about…”

“…even more stuff?” MJ guesses, hopes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“You know, our schools aren’t that far apart,” he says, like it’s the first time he’s realizing this.

She smiles wryly.

“I’m aware. That’s why I came out for Thanksgiving first year when you couldn’t make it back to Queens. Even if we did eat take-out shrimp Pad Thai instead of homecooked turkey.”

“And,” Peter adds, “it’s why I showed up at your dorm to help you study for that midterm you were stressing about in October.”

“And why I picked up when you called me every night,” MJ says, quieter. He smiles softly.

“I was talking about the distance.”

Summoning her courage, she looks him right in the eye and lets her still-uncovered hand sneak back over his.

“What distance?”

“You’re my best friend,” Peter starts. “You and Ned.” MJ frowns. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, she’s misjudged this, seriously misjudged this.

“Oh. Well. Great. Cool.”

“No, MJ!” he says quickly, noticing the look on her face. He flips his hand under hers so their palms meet. “I’m definitely in love with you, I just mean… Well, oops, I guess I said it.”

She’s pretty impressed with her own control over her facial features—maintaining a slightly-happier-than-neutral expression—when half of her brain is setting off fireworks that seem to be landing and fizzing around on the other half. He’s in love with her. Definitely.

“For as fast as your mind works, your mouth always manages to get ahead of it,” she observes.

Peter’s expression goes from tortured and fumbling to sharp and decisive.

“That’s good advice.”

“What? That wasn’t advi—”

He darts forward and kisses her, hand emphatically clutching hers. There’s a humorous smack when their mouths separate.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, “I forgot to ask if it was ok to do that.”

MJ smirks.

“My only complaint is that you beat me to it when I’ve been trying to figure out how to do that all day.”

“I did wonder,” he admits with a small smile.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out?” she asks, exasperated.

“A big part of being friends with you is knowing you rarely need help. You’re good, like, ninety percent of the time.”

“What do you do the other ten percent?”

Peter shrugs.

“Kiss you and ask if you have plans for New Year’s? By the way, do you have plans for New Year’s?”

He tries to adopt a casual expression but now that MJ thinks about it, she can’t recall the last time her friend looked at her with anything like mild interest. He can’t pull it off anymore, if he ever could. Apparently, she wasn’t always watching that well, because she clearly didn’t know everything.

Peter loves her. He loves her.

“I have a feeling I’ll probably be available,” she tells him. “I have a bad habit of trying to be where you are.”

“I love that about you.”

MJ kisses him quickly, then shoves him away, nearly into the pine tree resting on his other side. Whoops. It’s just that she can feel how easy it would be to get caught up in this moment, and they’re still in the back of Flash’s SUV. People are waiting for them. She takes a deep breath and gives Peter a searching look.

“If we walk in there like this—” She shakes their clasped hands. “—what do I say?”

“Tell them your hands were cold.”

“I… I don’t want to hide it, I just…”

“I know. It’s ok. It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods sympathetically. He’s her friend first; he’s not going to push her to speak before she’s ready. (He probably knows he couldn’t if he wanted to.)

She hauls the door open and they stride through the snowy parking lot together. The sun’s already struggling to come out and flakes whip high into the air, catching in the light. They step inside the building to see brightness streaming through the windows, their trio of friends crowded around a table. Flash seems to be making Ned sprinkle cinnamon into his hot apple cider while he films it—presumably to post for the enjoyment of the Flash Mob. (That’s still going. He has a shocking number of followers.) Betty turns and her gaze slips down to their joined hands. She smiles.

MJ has the excuse ready. When Flash and Ned glance over, she’s prepared to tell them her hands were cold.

She opens her mouth.

“Peter’s my boyfriend now.”

#my writing #spideychelle secret santa #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #ned leeds #betty brant #Flash Thompson #nettypot

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nicklightbearer · 3 years

Text

Not A Warning, Babe, It’s An Order

yet another whf tickling fic! i just cant get enough of these two. this one is a lot longer and a good bit more.... sweet? cute?

in this; virgil didnt die and also nick and jack are Frens <3

“Ugh!” Nick huffed, balling up yet another failed composition and throwing it towards the trash can- at this point, while most of it at the bottom was empty bottles, it was overflowing with similar papers. Ripped, crushed, and ruined.. None of them were right. He couldn’t get down the mood he wanted, not in the slightest- and though he eyed the pills set in a neat bowl on his desk, he ended up shoving those away too and just pressing his head to his hands.

This wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel it, that groove that would inspire him to write a million words all in one night- that focus, that drive.. It eluded him.

From the open window, a cold chill. He’d left it open on purpose, of course- tonight, of all nights, he’d actually hoped that Jack would show up- but so far, nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t listening.

Perhaps he was off indulging in his own hobby. A thought that would’ve once made Nick shudder just made him snort now, and he stood up to grab his guitar.

Maybe this time, he could interrupt the magician’s work instead.

Making his way over to the window, he gave the guitar a few plucks- out of tune, dammit- but with his keen ear for such things, he twisted the pegs just so until the guitar sang as beautifully as ever. He pushed open the door to the balcony, giving a few strums, before settling on a chair outside and kicking his feet up on the railing.

Yes, this would do nicely.

Jack.. Wasn’t actually hunting, not tonight. He hadn’t been, as of late- sneaking off to Nick’s room to get a bit of company now and again, coupled with ‘terrorizing’ the poor man, well.. It’d been doing just fine.

At the moment, he was actually perched on the windowsill of some random citizen- he hadn’t bothered checking who, it didn’t matter- and peering into the window to a bedroom across the way. This house was his target- a doctor lived there with his wife, and it seemed that this particular fellow had taken a vested interest in the bobby’s investigation of the ‘escape’ of Foggy Jack.

Irritating, to say the least. Those doctors gave him the heebie-jeebies.

He’d been there for.. Oh, three hours? It was about three hours when he finally noticed something to break the monotony- hell, the doctor hadn’t even come home yet, all he’d seen was the wife folding laundry and watching the late-night run of Uncle Jack’s show- and it was.. Well, at first he thought he was hallucinating. It wasn’t the first time.

But as the song trailed off, he noted that it was different from recordings. It was as if Nick was playing his guitar right out into the open night air, something like a ballad version of When You’re Gone.

Surely Nick wasn’t playing outside at this hour. Though he tried to ignore it- probably just some other musician practicing- it kept going.. And his curiosity got the better of him.

Sighing, he slid down from the window, dissolving into his usual mist before even touching the ground.

If it was Nick, he’d be rather cross. At the same time, it was definitely a first for him to be doing something like this, and he wondered to what end it was.

When Nick noticed the fog rolling up the streets, converging into a larger cloud as it got closer to his house, he smiled grimly. It had worked- and he wasn’t actually sure how Jack would react to such a summons, as odd as it was. But he needed help- and of all the times Jack had offered, well, he surely wouldn’t be that put off.

He closed his eyes, now crooning the words to his song softly as he felt the fog push up towards his balcony.

“When you’re gone… Baby, it’s a long way home.” He could feel a presence behind him now, but he didn’t bother stopping his playing. It was near the end, anyway.

“Baby, it’s a long way home.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he finished the tune, and lolled his head back to open his eyes and grin up at Jack. The magician was quiet- looked rather neutral, but curiosity glinted in his eyes.

“A wonderful performance as always.” “Why, thank you.” “But I must ask.. It’s nearly midnight, most of the good folk have gone to bed or out to their activities of the night. Why haven’t you?” “I’m glad you asked!” Nick beamed, swinging his legs down and standing up as he grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him inside- not that there was much resistance.

“I have to write a new song. And I’m having a lot of trouble!” “You sound delighted about that.” Nick huffed, setting his guitar down and turning to cross his arms with an irritated frown. Jack merely tilted his head, still not entirely sure where he came into play.

“Well! You’ve helped me before.” “Ah, so it’s like that?”

The way the word was murmured shot a shiver up his spine, and Nick held his hands out placatingly as a cruel smile spread across the magician’s face.

“No! No, it’s not, you big bully. Godsakes.” “Well, do explain.” Nick sighed, stepping over to his bed and flopping to sit on the edge- and, when Jack didn’t move, he patted the spot next to him. There was a brief hesitation before he settled down, hands resting on his lap as he watched Nick almost warily.

“I need a favor.” “A favor.” “Yes. I know you get all excited about- about making me laugh, but I hardly ever get to see you laugh. And I think it would make for a great inspiration if you’d let me have my own fun, for once.” Jack’s face reddened considerably, even if Nick could only peek at the spaces around the edges. He shifted, bringing a knee up onto the bed so that he was facing the magician and leaned forward while clasping his hands together earnestly.

“Please! It’d be a big help, really.” “I..” “And you can- you can have your fun later, once I’m done. Okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “No strings attached?” “Well- I mean- oh, don’t be mean. You know what I meant.” “Mmh. I suppose if it’s such a big help..” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before nodding in agreement. Nick clapped once, already excited. “Perfect! Okay, perfect. Here, you lay down, let me get my pad.” Jack may well have just up and died, with how heavily his blush was- but he complied, laying back on the bed awkwardly before covering his face and exhaling. Nick had scampered over to his desk and ripped the last page off again, completely trashing his original ideas and bringing over the blank paper and pencil to set on his nightstand.

“.. It’s not going to be very comfortable there. Here, up you go.” As he was pulled into a more comfortable position- laying so that he was propped up on pillows instead of flat on the mattress- he was silent. Nick paused for a moment before scrambling to sit on his legs, suddenly rather aware of how awkward the situation could become if he didn’t pull this off perfectly.

“.. And the mask?” “Oh no. Not taking it off.” “Jacky…” The magician peeked through his fingers, watching how Nick’s face fell and his eyes shined. Ooh, he was getting good at those puppy eyes.

He deflated, hooking his fingers around the edges and wiggling it off carefully. The night air felt cold on his exposed skin- especially with how fiery it was from the flustered state he was in.

“There. Happy?” “Absolutely!” Nick’s smile was back, and he laced his fingers together, stretching them a bit before wiggling them a few times- Jack had to bite back a giggle of anticipation- to get warmed up.

“Alright. Don’t cover your face again, okay? I need to see you smile!” “God.” As his palms pressed to the magician’s sides, he yelped at the immediate slam of arms that nearly locked him in place.

“Woah there, Jackaboy- hey, you’ve only gone and trapped me!” “Well- I can’t- aha!”

His fingers curled slightly, and even with his jacket to protect him, the magician had to lock his jaw to keep the tingles that spread across his torso from affecting him too much.

“Come on, you silly boy.. Lift your arms up.” “I can’t if you- if you keep- doing that!” “Doing whaaaat?” The teasing! The tone! He hated it- but as skilled fingers began kneading at his sides, he couldn’t voice any of that. He pressed his arms down a bit harder, jerking as Nick’s hands slid down to squeeze his hips experimentally.

“Gosh, you’re such a baby about it. With all your big talk about how sensitive I am, I thought you wouldn’t be half so bad..” Nick tsked, pulling back for a moment before pushing his hands underneath the jacket and clawing at his stomach. Jack nearly had a heart attack right there, hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the sudden squeak as he squirmed.

“But that’s not right at all! You’re just as ticklish as me, aren’t you? God, what a hoot.” This was it. This was his funeral.

“Imagine if the constables caught wind. Foggy Jack, menace to society- and all you have to do to reduce him to a pile of fluff and giggles is a little tickling.” “Fuck ohohoff!” “Ooh, swears. So scary.” Nick was careful as he pulled one hand out to start undoing buttons- the jacket was soon pushed aside, and he grinned as he ducked his head down. One hand locked on each side, squeezing over and over as his face pressed against the magician’s stomach- and though he didn’t yet do much other than that, the hot breath he could feel through his shirt made Jack buck up in an attempt to throw him off.

“Hold still! Squirmy wormy, squirmy Jacky, my gosh!” “Faha- Fuhuck you-” “Oh, quit the swearing. I’m not going to stop.” His hands drifted up, nails easily drilling against ribs and finally coaxing out a howl of laughter as Jack threw his head back against the pillows. Accompanying this was an even more infuriating sound- a soft ‘oooomnomnomnom’ as he nibbled at Jack’s shirt- and the slight biting feeling only earned more laughter that had now reached a much higher pitch than he’d ever admit.

“Jeez, no wonder Virge likes this snack..” Though he heard the words, he had no time to process them- not now that Nick had deftly undone his dress shirt and buried his face against him, blowing a raspberry square in the middle of his stomach. “NooOOHOHO- AHAHA- NIHIHIHIIIIHIHICK!! NOT THE- THEEHEE-” “Oooooh, yes! That’s perfect, Jacky.” Though he had started pushing at Nick’s shoulders, the musician merely chuckled and pushed his hands up- and from how he started kneading his fingers into Jack’s underarms, the shocks it sent up his arms drained his strength almost completely.

“Tickle-tickle-tickle… Oh, this is rich. No wonder you like doing this.” “Nihihick- plehease-” “Pleeease what? You volunteered.” “Noho! I didn’t- ahAHAHA!” Another raspberry. If he’d been able to form a coherent thought, he’d be thinking about how awful that mustache of Nick’s was for such an endeavor- the way it brushed against his stomach sent shivers across his body and left him breathless from the laughter.

Nick hummed a little as he looked up, reveling in the fruits of his labor for a moment and relishing in the squeals of laughter that now poured from Jack’s smiling mouth. It really was inspiring- the way he thrashed about and laughed as though he were witness to the funniest joke on the planet.. One that Nick had…

That was it!

Nick rolled off of him abruptly, seizing the pad and pencil from where he’d landed on the floor. Jack was still giggling softly, gasping for breath as he opened his eyes and blinked- a disappearing act from Lightbearer was.. Definitely unexpected.

But he heard humming beside the bed, and after fixing his shirt, he peered over the edge to see the musician scribbling on his pad of paper, occasionally pausing to tap the eraser to get a beat before resuming.

He was only the slightest bit disappointed. As he made to sit up, though, Nick looked up- then huffed, standing once again and pushing him back down.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, mister. This is a full song, not just one verse!” Shit. “Now, Nick- really, it can’t be that hard to-” “It is! Now hold still. Wait- I’ve an idea.”

He got on his knees, gesturing for a moment before finding his words.

“Roll onto your stomach. Hug a pillow if that helps.” He complied, and though many spots were now protected by the bed, he had a funny feeling he was going to hate whatever was happening- of course, this was only strengthened when Nick turned his back and settled to sit on his knees. He maneuvered in such a way that he could sit criss-cross, pulling Jack’s feet through his legs and yanking his shoes off with ease.

Oh no.

“Nick- come on, this is getting ridiculous..” “Not a peep! I don’t want any protest, I’ve got to focus!”

Nick hummed the part he was thinking of as Jack buried his face in a pillow- before, of course, using the eraser end of his pencil to poke rapidly at the magician’s feet. The steady stream of giggles he earned was muffled into a pillow- but it seemed like enough, and he started writing again for a moment before repeating his actions. Jack balled up a fist and slammed it against the bed a few times, his legs screaming that he kick but wholly unable to due to their position.

“Nihihick- come on, aren’t you done yet?” “Don’t be impatient! Hey, you ought to be flattered-” He paused, now poking between each foot with every word and relishing in the flurry of flustered snickers he earned-

“You’re~my~muse~for~this~song! Isn’t that exciting?” “Ihi- eheheh- I suppose…” “Hey, if this works, maybe we can try more often! God knows with that album I’m supposed to have coming up…”

A thrill shot up through his stomach, and Jack grasped at the pillow he was strangling to the point where he was certain it would rip. “I didn’t agreehee to ahahany such thing!!” “But you would! Or..” Nick swung around, now facing him properly and giving him a brief break-

“I can convince you~.” Jack’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest- only to have a sudden wave of giggles come out instead, as Nick slipped his hands under his jacket and shirt to flutter his nails up and down the magician’s back and sides.

“Nohoho- you’re awful! Ahahawful!” “Oh, you love me.” “I hahahate ihihihihit!” Nick laughed along with him for a moment before landing a final pinch on one side and grabbing his notes again. Jack grumbled into his pillow, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Of all the things Nick could’ve asked him to do…

But soon, they’d both gone quiet, and the scratching of pencil to paper began to slow- more pauses, more tapping, slight grumbling. Jack risked a peek over his shoulder, noting the irritated expression that Nick had.

“.. Something wrong?” “Well.. This next part. It’s less.. I need that giddy feeling. And it’s not coming.” Jack squirmed his way back onto his back and sat up, pulling his legs out from under Nick- with the lack of protest he must be pretty focused.

“That giddy feeling?” “Yeah. Like- when you take Joy for the first time in… No, that’s not quite it.” He hummed again, tapping the pencil on paper before groaning and shaking his head.

“Smilin’ like a little child, in a candy store.. Like that. Sort of.” Jack was content to watch, the look of focus combined with aggravation endlessly fascinating- and when the expression popped to a surprised look, his eyes widened. Surely not again…

“I’ve got it! I know.” And he tossed the pad onto the nightstand again before turning to Jack- this time, he was determined. Jack winced, a smile already tugging at his lips- but he was taken aback when Nick instead raised his arms above his head. “Tickle me!” “.. What?” “Well, it would work! It has before. That giddy feeling- you’re pretty good at getting it when you want.”

A more menacing smile now found its way onto his face, though a fairly endeared one. Of course, this was much more his speed…

Though Nick had seemed determined at first, that quickly melted into nervous giggles as Jack’s hands pushed under his shirt, nails already scratching steadily at his sides. His arms swayed, wanting to come down from where he held them but staying up.. For now.

“Well, I must say, I greatly prefer this to your horrible torture. We should’ve started here, instead.” “Ghhheheh- thahat’s not- how it works!” “Well, it should be.” He chuckled quietly, slowly making his way up Nick’s torso and almost admiring his dedication- even when his ribs were the target of light squeezes, he kept up, though he’d folded at his elbows to clasp his hands behind his head as he trembled.

“You- ha!- fucking, you’re a buhuhuhullyheehee…” “Isn’t that what you asked for? Please, Mr. Lightbearer, do clarify. You wanted me to tickle you, so I am- what’s the problem?” “Ghhhhheheheh…” Jack paused for a moment, hands resting on his ribs, before abruptly pushing up and drilling into his underarms. Nick yelped before squealing out more laughter, arms falling back down and locking as he covered his face. Judging by how he swayed, he’d probably fall if he wasn’t careful- so Jack carefully guided him to lay down, keeping at his torment the entire time.

“Go on, uncover your face- I’ve barely even picked up the pace…”

Nick jolted, then gasped through his laughter and finally pushed at Jack’s hands.

“Thahat’s- stooohohop, I neeheed to write!” “Aww.. Do I have to?” Jack pouted, but finally let go when Nick squeezed his arms down again.

“Yehehehehes!! Jack!” “Oh, fine.” He paused. “You actually have trapped my hands, though. Ease up.” Nick took a few deep breaths, slowly releasing his arms- squeaking at a final squeeze from Jack before he was released properly. Grabbing his notepad, he shook his hands out to try and get rid of the shakiness before bringing his knees up so he could write again.

“Cover your face… Hm- hmhmmmm.. Mmh, mmhmmmmm…” Jack tilted his head, trying to peek at the writing and huffing when he was swatted away. “I’m not done! No looking.” “Are you using my words?” “No- well, sort of. You’ll see.” He kept humming a few times before shifting so that his back was to Jack.

“.. Hey, do it again. But not so fast. I’m trying to nail the chorus.” “Do what?” “What do you think, you bully?” Jack snorted, settling on tracing his nails up and down Nick’s back- enough to earn a few snickers, and keep him content as he wrote. “What an effort, for a single song.” “You have no idea.” “Mmh, I think I have some. I’ve watched you write the whole thing.” “Yeah, well.. Shhh.” More humming- and quite a few giggles later- he finally set the pad down and pushed Jack’s hands away.

“Okay. That’s the first draft.” “Draft, are you serious?” “Well, I have to make sure it’s perfect!” Nick stretched, though he kept an eye on Jack- of course, the bastard’s hands twitched towards him, but he held himself back well enough. “It’s late. The best thing for me is to sleep on it. That’s why I write so late, so that I wake up with a little inspiration left over.” “Mmh, I see.” He faceplanted on the bed, reaching up to work off his wig; it was a mess, anyways, so it didn’t matter if he just threw it on the floor for later. Jack simply sat where he was, unsure if he was now overstaying his welcome.

“.. Lay down. Dork. You’re probably just as exhausted as me. It’s fine.” Though he hesitated for a long moment, he eventually settled next to Nick- the blush was back in full, but Nick didn’t seem to care. He slung an arm over the magician’s waist, already drifting off himself. Jack sighed softly, now not holding back the urge to gently comb his fingers through Nick’s hair.

“.. Good night, Nick.” “Mmnh, nighty night. Don’t run off.” It was the last request he had- and though he had other places to be, things to do.. Jack smiled fondly at the musician that now snored next to him. He was perfectly happy to wait.

#HEHEHE #we ticklish few #lightbearer #foggy poggy #ticklefic #my stuff

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babbling-idiot · 4 years

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Jerry Dandridge x reader

Warning: Non really

(This was something I've had in my draft for a hot second and to be honest, I'm not sure about it. I wanted to get something else out for jerry, again this is the 1985 version, love you Colin Ferrell but not today. I hope you like it and tell me what you think!)

When your friends had suggested going to the club, you had thought they were crazy. They knew you were only twenty and that meant that drinking was out of the question. They said that since you had gotten out of your crappy relationship maybe it would nice to meet someone. Maybe make new friends. Make new friends? That almost made you laugh.

You'll have fun they said, you'll meet someone they said. If only they saw you now. Leaned up against the stairs going to the bar, just taking small glances at the couple's grinding up against each other. Suddenly, a man pulls your attention away. He was across the dance floor pacing, weaving through the crowd of people. Occasionally a woman would gawk at him, grabbing at his arms trying to get his attention. He'd spare a tiny bit before walking away. Then like he felt your gaze he looked straight at you. It felt as if his stare held some kind if power over you. You felt your legs behind to give out. You braced yourself against the wall, hoping your legs would listen to you for once and just keep stable. It felt like hours had passed, surely not. He held the seemingly intense gaze, until like a wave of relief he finally made it to you. The first thing you noticed about this mysterious man was his eyes. His eyes seemed to look directly into your soul. Knowing exactly what you wanted and gave you a look that said "I can give you everything". His wavy brown hair seemed to make his just alike eyes even more intriguing. But then, he smiled. Oh god! The feeling you got from that was enough to make your stomach flip in the most delicious way. He smiled and slowly brought his hand up to your cheek, gently grazing the back of his hand across it. He then took it back but kept his hand extended towards you "Would you like to dance with me?"

You didnt think dancing with a total stranger could ever be, at the least pleasing. The experience of dancing with him was unlike any dancing you had done with anyone else. It was sensual, the way he rocked his hips into yours, the way he would let his hands roam around your body. Mapping into memory all your curves. The way this man, this stranger held you, caressed your body as if he had done it many times before made you all the more curious as to who he was. All you needed was a name. A name to put to his face so that if you ever told your friends about this it would be embedded into your memory.

At the end of the night, you both somehow ended up back at his place. It seemed as though it was all a blur, you didnt remember ever drinking so why couldnt you remember. It angered you to no end but the next morning you woke up in what you supposed was the mans bed, he wasnt there. This didnt suprise you all to much. As you sat up, pulling the covers over your half naked body the first thing you noticed was that on the small cushion at the end of the bed, there lay all your clothes. Folded neatly and looked to be, fresh out of the laundry? Did he wash your clothes? Just as you were thinking this a man walks in. Not the man from last night but a different man. "Oh hello! I'm glad to see that you are awake. Jerry told me that when you awaken, to get you some breakfast before returning you home. I will take you per his request, he's out doing errands at the moment. Just come down when you are ready!" He says as he sits a small note on top of your clothes. Jerry. It suited him very well. To not have that man wait for you all day long, you got up and dressed. Pocketing the note for later, you made your way to the stairs. When you reached the bottom you saw the same man from earlier. "Ahh, follow me please." He says heading toward what you guess was the kitchen. Right as you entered, the small of food made it's way into your nostrils. Making you sigh in content.

After you ate and was driven home. The first thing you did was look at the note:

'Goodmorning. I hope you slept well, I had some errands to run this morning. I am very sorry I was not there to greet you. I trust that billy took you home safely. Again I apologize for my absence, if it means anything, last night was amazing. I wish I could tell you in person. If you wish to contact me, here is my number. "Xxx-xxx-xxxx" Please take note that I dont get home most days until 6 or 7. I have very odd hours and work that is demanding of me. Have a wonderful morning and hopefully I'll see you again soon. -Love Jerry'

The handwriting alone made you smile. It was so neat and looked like what you see in old movies with the ink and quill. You grab a pen and paper and write down his number. You place it on your dresser and go to shower. You hoped that youd see this guy again. He just had something about him, an underlying mystery about him that made you want to know more and boy.....werent you in for a treat.

(Hey again. Please do tell me what you think about this, I just wanna know if its good or not and if I'm doing ok. Requests are always open and please remember to stay safe out there in the world. Have a wonderful day, peace!)

#jerry dandridge x reader 1985 #jerry dandridge x reader #jerry dandridge 1985 #jerry dandridge #fright night #chris sarandon

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the-writings-of-kaos · 4 years

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Humans, the pets: pt 3

Abduction log: I am a space pet

“Ok you think I’m your dog, huh? That’s wonderful...”

The sarcasm was wasted on the wooly bison, who were now petting and rubbing him like a cat.

“Fine then, I’m done here anyways.”

He stood up, to his full size. Stepping away from the corner, and walking up the steps towards the command room. As the wooly bison followed him. Making these odd, curious chirping sounds, that sounded a lot like the parrots squawking back on earth.

———

The little creature, had warmed up to them now! It seemed comfortable with them petting it, before it stood up on its lower appendages and walked up the steps.

Hequ’lutik: “Uhh, where is it going, I thought it liked the terrarium?”

Kafr’litik: “I guess not, seems it was just tolorating it. Wait, that means we haven’t bonded with it at all!”

Kafr’litik groaned, it had already been three galactic lunar rotations. How much longer was it until the little being, actually trusted them?

Hequ’lutik: “Wait, where did it go? I thought it was just going to move to another part of the terrarium, didn’t you close the entrance when we got here?”

Kafr’litik: “No, I thought you had it set to close after I entered.”

The two wooly bison glanced around the terrarium, before a loud clanging could be heard from the hallway past the stair well. Hequ’lutik rushed past Kafr’litik, stampedeing up the steps as they followed the sound of the banging down the hall.

———

“Dammit, vacuum sealed. How am I supposed to get into the control room, if I can’t open to door?”

His muttering was interrupted by the sound of hooves coming from down the hall, as the first wooly bison he had met rounded the corner. What was undeniable shock, had covered their expression.

“Oh hello, could you open the door. I want to show you I’m actually intelligent.”

His words fell on deaf ears, as the wooly bison made a sort of angry chirping as they tried to grab him, and drag him away from the door.

“Hey what the hell, stop!”

He raised a hand, the wooly bison looked at it confused before the waved their head oddly. Must have been their version of a dismissive gesture, because they just reached to grab him again.

“F### off, I’m not going back to that poor excuse of an enclosure. If you think I’ll go back, then you better have a barrel of coffee and actual food for me when I get there!”

———

“No no no, your not allowed in there. That room has a lot of delicate dash boards, and machines. No way I’m letting you in there.”

Hequ’lutik’s words didn’t seem to meet the little being, as they resisted the pulling and attempts to carry them back to their home.

Kafr’litik rounded the corner and saw his mate, trying to drag the little being away from the door to the control room.

Kafr’litik: “does it think it can find food in there, or something?”

Hequ’lutik: “I don’t know, they really seem to want to get in there. And I made sure to clean all the desks of anything that might attract the little being. I have no idea what they might want.”

Kafr’litik paused for a moment, thinking over the words he was gonna speak. And the decision that would come with them.

Kafr’litik: “oh just let them in, if it yips anymore I might have a cuteness overload.”

Hequ’lutik: “But the machines.”

Kafr’litik: “we will just keep it from doing anything distructive, shouldn’t be exstreamly dicficult.”

———

The wooly bison that was grabbing me, suddenly stopped. I noticed the second wooly bison I had met just earlier, before the first one opened the door and encouraged me to go inside.

I walked around, examining all the desks and dashboards for anything that might indicate a planetary map. I didn’t find anything, except for a drawing tablet, like the ones back home. But an odd looking electronic pencil was attached to it.

“Ooh, this might work!”

———

It was cute to watch the little being stare it What couldn’t be anything but astonishment, then they stopped infront of my art stialis. I was about to run over and stop them from destroying it, before the little being raised their paw again. This must mean something amongst its species, but I couldn’t figure out what before it began yipping again as it drew squiggles and odd patterns on the sketching screen.

And they were in odd, left to right collums. It was confusing to try and figure out what the little laberinths the adorable being was creating were.

Kafr’litik: “Wait it knows how to use a stialis, and sketching tool?”

Hequ’lutik: “seems so, it’s making wonderful little drawings in small and neat little rows. Doesn’t look to be writing, one of their previous owners must have trained it how to do that.“

Kafr’litik: “Maybe one of the Wequecklinak, they love abstract patterns like that.”

The two paused, as the little being finished the art piece. It indeed looked like a piece of art. Rows of an abstract pattern of different squiggles, and maze like shapes. It looked magnificent, it conveyed an expression none had every seen before.

Hequ’lutik: “My goodness, this is remarkable. To think such an adorable creature, could be trained to make such art!”

Kafr’litik gestured in agreement, looking over the piece. As he was caught in the emotion that it conveyed, he spoke.

Kafr’litik: “We could sell this for a fortune on the market!”

Hequ’lutik: “I agree, this amazing art should be shared to the rest of the galaxy!”

As they pulled their eyes away from the stialis, they were surprised to see the little being stareing at them waiting. Hequ’lutik was the first to speak.

Hequ’lutik: “You did very good, how about I get you your own stialis and sketching tool? Does that sound nice?”

She spoke to it as if it was a child, it didn’t seem to understand. So it sat down on the floor. Stareing at Kafr’litik, waiting for some sort of response.

Hequ’lutik: “go on, say something nice Kafr’litik. They did make us this wonderful art piece.”

Kafr’litik: “Yes, yes, very good little being. But, Uhh, are we sure that this wasn’t something it did by accident? What if the galaxy demands more of this art, and the creature does not understand.”

Hequ’lutik: “is that really an issue? I’m sure if we just leave it with a stialis and sketching tool, and be sure to treat it whenever it makes a new piece. I’m sure it will be very happy to keep making more for us, but your right. We need to upgrade its terrarium if we are to keep it happy.”

———

I had just finished writing the note, when one of the wooly bison snatched it away from me. They looked at the writing with sheer boredom on their faces, and disappointment.

I wrote that I was sentient, and that they were holding me hostage. But their translators must not have human writing in their data bases, because after I had written the message they simply took me to a different holding space and left me with a protein bar.

If writing wasn’t a clear sign I was sentient enough, than this was gonna be a long exsperiance.

He tried to stand up, struggling free from the hold of the wooly bison as he was corralled into a storage room. And left in the dark to go to sleep.

Authors note

Hello everyone, sorry if this one was a little late. The next one should be coming out soon, hope you all enjoyed and as always. Credits to my fellow authors and prompters for their inspiration to make this series. Thank you to all, and to all a good night.

#humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are terrifying #humans are adorable

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bronanlynch · 3 years

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bi-ish weekly update

time sure passes huh. meant to do one last week but I wrote like 5000 words on Wednesday instead, and I’m not really sure what happened yesterday but maybe Thursday is my new day for these

listening: two for the price of one this week since I’m excited about both of them. first of all, obviously, is the Sangfielle theme by Jack de Quidt because it’s time for a new season of Friends at the Table. I love their description of this season’s music

the other thing I’ve been listening to is the new album from one of my fave bands, You’re Welcome from A Day to Remember. this is by far not the most musically interesting or complex song on the album but it is about, as far as I can tell, a bad breakup with a vampire and I love it for that just on principle, but also it’s fun! a fun pop punk-esque bop about breaking up with a vampire!

youtube

reading: since last time when I talked about many romance novels I was reading, I mostly just read more romance novels because sometimes that is all the brain can handle. shout out to KJ Charles for writing a historical romance with a nonbinary main characters, you really do love to see it. I appreciate that she puts trans characters in her books, and I hope that someday she writes one with a trans man as a main character, because that truly would be a book targeted directly at me.

I’ve also been reading the Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator series by Alexis Hall (author of Affair of the Mysterious Letter, a weird fantasy queer Sherlock Holmes retelling that absolutely fucking slaps, highly recommend).

this is his author bio from the Kate Kane books, which really just sets the tone and also. what a fucking life goal

anyway. series starts with Iron & Velvet which is currently on sale, which is why I bought it, and it also fucking slaps. I’m like halfway through the last book right now but they have all been good and fun. Kate is like. archetypal disaster p.i. but done in an interesting way (i.e. the narrative actually addresses the depression and the alcoholism in a way that I personally really appreciated), and also pretty much every woman in the ~supernatural community she encounters is an ex or someone she will flirt/hook up with at some point, which is an accurate representation of every irl queer space I’ve ever been part of. she dates a vampire for a while. hot morally questionable vampire lady. the vampire power structure names positions after tarot cards it’s very fun and sexy and tailored specifically toward my interests. also she lives in the same part of London as my ex-girlfriend so it’s. fun to recognize place names and be like. oh I went there on a date once huh

watching: started watching Turn A Gundam because a twitter friend recommended it as being fun and also very different then any other Gundam series and they were right on both counts. the premise of it is ‘what if a bunch of people went to live on the moon and some people stayed on earth, the moon people got real into super advanced technology and the earth people are larping the 19th century, and now the moon people want to come back’ so there’s a fun mix of visual styles. would love to see serious analytical writing on this show by someone more versed in discussing indigeneity/colonialism than me though because there are things that I’m a little bit hmmm at but I don’t know enough to be able to explain why or know if that’s the right response to have

don’t know what’s up with the dude on the left’s sunglasses but my friend has promised me the fashion choices only get weirder

I know about the ‘wow cool robots’ meme but some of the mech designs are very cool and visually distinct both from each other and from the standard blocky humanoid shape that lots of mechs are, so that’s fun to see. and they’re all different sizes too, which for me at least makes it easier to get a sense of the scale of the conflict/threat. when they’re all the same size it’s easy for me to forget they’re like 40 feet tall but when some of them are 40 feet and some of them are like 10 feet it’s a lot easier to be like. oh. oh shit. these are big and destructive and scary as hell

there are mini versions of this big mech that are like. the size of one of its feet

also there’s some fun stuff about how the way society relates to a mech and what a mech is used for can change over time, which is part of what is maybe inspiring me to get back into trying to write games, because between Turn A and the fic I was writing about Integrity Friendsatthetable I was like. hey what if a hack of The Ground Itself by Everest Pipkin, a game about a place changing over time, except instead of a place it’s a mech

playing: finished Knife of Dunwall finally! please clap! I was kinda half-expecting not to keep to low chaos in the last mission because there are so many overseers but I did it! I did do a bunch of accidentally getting into fights, killing a bunch of people, and then reloading an earlier save so I could go back and not kill those people but it’s fine. anyway. fun game, fun level once I got the hang of it, and I do feel like I accomplished something a lil bit difficult so that’s a nice feeling. definitely harder than the main game. also, very sad about Billie and gay for Delilah. she shows up just to threaten you and then disappears again, and I think that’s pretty hot of her. also love the narrative parallels of having the choice to spare Billie and then the game ending with Corvo about to decide whether to spare Daud or not. I just think that’s neat

making: made some Thai green curry last week from this recipe, which was tasty and not too hard to make, but has just enough specialty ingredients to make it a lil bit too expensive to make too often. our grocery store only ever has lemongrass when we’re looking for things that look kinda like lemongrass but aren’t, and didn’t have any when we need it so we just used extra lemongrass paste and lime juice for the lemongrass, and for the kaffir lime leaves, which we were also supposed to substitute with lemongrass but. it’s fine it was still tasty

writing: a lot somehow, although it’s been over two weeks since last time I did one of these so I guess that makes sense. I wrote a couple of things for 15 Days of Friends at the Table, including Broun, Milli, and Thisbe cottagecore roommates, Clem and Gucci bickering/flirting, and an extended dream sequence that makes me very sad about Integrity (I’m very proud of the last one, I know it has a very small target audience because Sokrates/Integrity is very much a rarepair in an already small fandom, there are 6 works in the tag, 4 of them are by me, 2 of them are by the same other person, and one of those is a gift for me so. it’s mostly just me, but I think I wrote something pretty good)

also meant to write more for Persona 5 Girls Week, although so far I’ve only written one thing, a quick fluff fic which for once requires very little knowledge of the source material. meant to write something for today’s prompt but instead I had two job interviews and then cooked dinner for my household so that probably will not happen and I will probably watch more Gundam instead

#dreaming.txt #tuesday no problem extended universe #contains pictures of food below the readmore

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kikoqueenofrats · 3 years

Text

TW mention of injury and bruises

Hey so remember when I said I’d post the fic if people gave the post enough attention?

Yeah I decided I didn’t need that and went ahead anyways-

So yeah, enjoy stick oc shenanigan's-

Also @toastraccoon Because she let me rant about my two idiots and now they’re getting a story because of her-

Also yes this is gonna be in multiple parts-

It was just an average day for Mari.

They were currently exploring a new desktop they had stumbled into. Like they always did, keeping an eye out for any user activity as humans usually didn't like seeing stick figures randomly appearing on their computer.

Mari had to stay alert at all times incase they were discovered, so they could leave the computer immediately after.

They checked the screen to see if the user of this computer was still asleep...yup, the poor guy had probably been working on some sort of writing project before Mari had stumbled in but now they were completely out of it, so Mari currently had free reign of the computer.

Well as free as they could be without completely wrecking it, Mari didn't feel the need to do that to a random person...even if they did end up being a stick hating jerk.

Mari whistled out a tune whilst they walked across the word document currently holding the users project. They began to think about the adventures they had been on and all the sticks they had met. None of them seemed to want to leave their desktop to explore the internet with Them, too content to leave the lives they were currently leading.

Oh well their loss.

A loud thud followed by a coughing fit brought Mari out of their thoughts. They looked towards the noise and noticed a small blue stick figure curled up on the floor.

Well that wasn't there before.

"HEY!!" Mari called out to them as they jumped down from the tab. The blue stick flinched, beginning to frantically look around before their eyes landed on Mari.

They jumped, backing away from Mari as much as they could, their eyes not leaving Mari's face.

Mari slowly made their way over, taking notice of how dirty and disheveled the blue stick was...and also the fact that they were shaking like a leaf.

"You okay?" Mari asked, kneeling in front of the blue stick so they wouldn't look as threatening.

The blue stick looked at them hesitantly, debating on whether or not they should answer that question, if they could answer that question.

They opened their mouth and what came out was a gravely version of their own voice.

"I...I'm not sure..I..."

That was all the blue stick could say before their throat closed up on them in favor of the tears that were now streaming down their face.

Mari took that in, they weren't the best at dealing with this kind of problem, however Mari was determined to help this unfortunate stick.

Blue was a mess, both physically and mentally, their body was covered in what looked like burn marks and dirt, there was a slight red tinge to some of the places on their body as well...most likely open wounds from whatever the poor stick went through.

"Hey...you look like you've been through a lot..do..uh..you wanna get clean? I can help" Mari wasn't sure how comforting they sounded...but it seemed to work.

The blue stick figure nodded slowly and tried to get to their feet.

Great! Mari knew just what to do, they quickly opened the internet browser and looked up a game they knew would help.

Mari didn't notice just how much the blue stick was struggling to stand on their own until they had located the game they were looking for.

It was one of those, wash and dress this cute pet kind of game. The pet wasn't all that cute in Maris opinion...it was actually kind of creepy.

Mari quickly shook the thought away as they went to grab the blue stick. Mari should really try to put a name to them...

"Hey what's your name?" Mari asked as they gently took the blue sticks hand and pulled them to their feet "my name's Maroon...Mari for short, I gave it to myself pretty neat huh?"

The blue stick slowly nodded, trying to keep themselves from falling over again as the sudden movement had caused their head to spin.

After a while they replied, "I..don't really...have one" they smiled sheepishly, their voice still horse.

"That's okay" Mari replied "I'll give you one after we get you cleaned up and healed alright" They smiled as they pulled the blue stick onto the web page.

The blue stick nodded in response, still shaking slightly as they were forced to stand on their damaged legs.

Mari quickly pulled out the shower head from the games task bar and pointed it at the blue stick. "I'm gonna turn the water on now, brace yourself" Mari grinned turning on the shower head before the blue stick could reply.

Despite the warning the Blue stick still yelled in surprise as the cold water hit their skin, they pulled their arms up in defense.

"It's okay, it's okay you'll be clean" Mari reassured continuing to move the shower head in an attempt to clean all of the dirt on the blue sticks body.

After a while of this the blue stick was finally clean.

Whilst the blue stick was drying themselves off Mari quickly grabbed the Minecraft cube from off the main desktops task bar and began pulling out different ingredients for a potion and a brewing stand.

The blue stick may be clean, but the wounds were still there.

Mari just hoped this would work.

After finishing their task Mari pulled out the many ingredients for a potion of healing, they hadn’t done this in a while, but they had done this before so they were confident that they would get this right. After the mental reassurance they quickly began the brewing process.

Mari then decided to figure out what they were going to call the blue stick figure whilst the potion was brewing.

Running over to the still open web page they began typing "different shades of blue" into the task bar.

The blue stick was still sitting on the edge of the web page, now bundled up inside the towel that was drying them. They were watching Mari curiously, wondering what they were doing.

After finishing their sentence and hitting search Mari waited for a few moments for the page to load before hitting the images part of the search results.

They jumped down and began randomly clicking the coloured squares and comparing them to the stick sitting a few feet away from them.

After doing this about two times Mari seemed to find a colour that matched, looking at the images name they turned to the blue stick figure smiling proudly.

"How do you like the name Cerulean... Cel for short?" They asked.

The blue stick thought about it for a few moments before nodding "yeah...that sounds nice" they smiled "thanks"

"No problem Cel!" Mari grinned before running off to go check on their potion.

It had just finished brewing by the time Mari got to it. They quickly grabbed the bottle from the stand and ran back.

"Here" Mari grinned excitedly holding the bottle out to Cel. Cel hesitated for a few moments before taking the bottle, "it'll help you feel better, trust me" Mari reassured them, noticing the hesitant look Cel had given them.

Cel nodded slowly before downing the entire thing at once. A few moments passed and nothing really changed...then slowly but surly Cel’s wounds began to heal. A few minuets later and all of Cel’s open wounds were gone. A few of the bruises remained however, but since the potion of healing mostly covered open wounds Mari was expecting this.

That didn’t mean they weren’t still incredibly relived.

"Yes! It worked!!" They grinned fist pumping in victory, frightening Cel slightly as a result. Mari didn’t notice this and continued "Now" Maris once excited face was now serious "what happened to you?".

Maris face softened as they noticed Cel nervously biting their lip. However they were anxious to find this information out and was about to push them more before Cel spoke.

"My game...was attacked and...I was thrown into the icon...over there" Cel gestured in the direction of the smaller task bar on the desktop with a shaking hand. The one that contained the volume and WiFi icons.

Mari nodded along as Cel continued "It broke and...I guess I was sent here..." They shrugged.

After a few minuets of silence Mari assumed Cel was finished.

"Wow...that sounds rough..." Mari mused "Well now I'm here...maybe I can help you" Cel seemed to perk up at that "you can?" They gasped, Mari nodded in reply.

"Yeah I can, I know the internet like the back of my hand!" Mari stated confidently, truth be told they were lying slightly...all they had been doing for the past few months was randomly jumping from one desktop to another...they didn't really have a way to plan out their routes.

But if this was the way to keep their new friend then they were all for it.

A groan echoed across the desktop and Mari tensed, Oh no the user's waking up!. They quickly grabbed Cel and yanked them away, in response Cel let out a startled yelp.

"We gotta go!" Mari gasped after arriving at their destination. They let go of Cels hand and grabbed onto the WiFi icon.

"Mari wa-" Cel gasped as Mari pulled, a large glowing hole akin to a rip in paper suddenly burst into existence as the icon broke and Mari turned to Cel again.

"Come one!" They ordered holding out their hand. Cel hesitated again, but decided that whatever Mari was freaking out over wasn't something Cel wanted to deal with so they took it.

With that, the duo jumped into the hole as the user watched in confusion...wondering if they were still asleep.

#tw bruises #tw injury mention #animation vs animator #Alan Becker #stickocs #long post #fanfic #Cel and Mari

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goodnightyoongi · 4 years

Text

Yoongi x fem!reader pt1

genre: hurt/comfort

rating: gen

word count: 2,8k

summary: you’ve been feeling down, and you’re choosing to isolate yourself because of it. You’ve almost forgotten all about Yoongi, but he hasn’t forgotten about you

warnings: implied depression

Part II: Flicker

Part III: Rise

Part IV: Release

You stared at the ceiling, vacantly counting the cracks in it. It was a good distraction, it kept you busy. One, two, three, four. You knew you probably should attempt to crawl out of bed for a few hours at least, but you were uncertain if you would even manage that much today.

It was one of those days. Those when you could detect a grey, looming cloud hovering over your head the moment your eyes fluttered open.

The sheets in your bed were unwashed, uncomfortably crumpled and sticky against your clammy back. Your t-shirt was bunched up around your midsection, straining against your ribs, but you didn’t even have enough energy to switch positions to smooth it out. Brushing teeth, showering, having breakfast, all things you should do right now, but the mere thought of even swinging one leg out to attempt standing caused a lump to form in your throat. Hard, it was much too hard.

When had it gotten to this?

It had crept up on you, a shadow lurking just behind you at first, but now it had devoured you whole. At the moment it acted like a crushing weight on top of you, effectively pushing you down into the mattress.

Your elbow was nicely cool when you lifted it to rest against your face, shielding you from everything, even though there was nothing to hide from here. But the unshed tears biding their time behind your eyelids, they were released, one by one, as you reflected over your situation and the impossibility of it. If only you had the strength to pick yourself up.

Maybe tomorrow?

A blissful sleep had almost grabbed you again when you zapped awake to a noise coming from the other end of your apartment. You attempted to rouse yourself and untangle your mind enough to figure out what the hell the sound even was. You pushed yourself into sitting, thoughts hazy but once you heard it again you realized what it was.

Doorbell. You weren’t expecting anyone.

"Y/N? Open up please."

The low-pitched, raspy timbre was easily recognizable. It usually filled your chest with warm cotton candy, but right now it was atypically sharp when calling you.

Your legs barely carried as you shot out of bed, stumbling in the direction of the front door. You stopped just in front of it, holding your breath.

Maybe you should pretend not to be home.

No. It's Yoongi. You and Yoongi knew each other since you were kids.

A distant memory featuring mini versions of the two of you playing hopscotch together suddenly appeared inside your brain – and it was enough to lure a faint smile onto your lips.

You had cried like a baby when you fell, grazing your knee. The other boys laughed at you, but Yoongi didn't. Yoongi offered you a band-aid, a colorful one with Spider-Man on it.

It had been ages since you two had last seen each other.

A determined voice reminded you of that, but just as your hand made for the door you happened to catch a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror, and you froze.

Surely that couldn't be you?

You hadn't looked yourself in a mirror for so long, and surely they didn’t belong to you, those greasy strands, those cracked lips. Surely not.

But they did.

“Y/N! Please, open the door. I can hear you moving around.”

You couldn’t let Yoongi see you like this. It was such an insane contrast to last time you met.

You squinted, trying to recall it. It felt like a totally different you. One that wore a nice outfit matched with a neat, pink smile. One that served Yoongi cappuccino in your best italian cups while the aforementioned chatted about how much he wasn’t looking forward to touring.

And you had reassured him, promising to keep in touch, promising to work hard on your exams while Yoongi was away.

But you’d kept neither promise.

That was months ago, and now you were a far cry from that radiant and flowery-cheeked hostess. You quickly grabbed a tinted chapstick from the hallway table to force some color onto your lips, softening them up, but your face remained ghastly pale. This was the best you could do, though, there was no time.

“Y/N! For the love of god, open the door. I’m calling the cops soon, I'm serious. Or I can knock it off the hinges, that works too," came Yoongi's crabby voice. His patience was clearly running thin, and you knew him well enough to realize it wasn't just an empty threat.

"Jesus," you muttered to yourself. You hurried to unlock it, slapping on your most artificially sweet smile and an equally fake-sounding, chirpy voice as you pushed it open.

“Hey Yoongi! I’m so sorry it took me so long, I was…busy. Was cleaning and didn’t hear you.”

You expected him to crack into a smile and greet you, but his face remained blank for a couple seconds, as if he saw a ghost. You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, hand trailing vacantly along the door frame.

“Yoongi…?”

“Why haven’t you answered my calls or texts?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Your phone lay buried somewhere under piles of clothes and other clutter, and you hadn’t spared it a single thought for days. You figured it was best that way, because your answers were becoming gradually shorter, less enthusiastic, until typing a single letter felt like too much effort. It had been the right thing to do, you shouldn’t bother him with your foul mood while he was stressed on tour. You lowered your gaze to his sneakers, forcing yourself to think of justifications nonetheless.

“Um…firstly I thought you were still on tour, and…”

“Y/N…tour ended weeks ago,” he reminded you softly, tilting his head to study you with curious eyes. You couldn’t get a word out. Weeks? You really had lost track of time completely. Your arm fell limply to your side and Yoongi took the opportunity to slip past you, swiftly removing his coat and chucking it to the side before fixing dark eyes on you again.

“And that doesn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you answer when I called or texted? I thought something had happened to you…I was so damn worried.”

You were overwhelmed with the onslaught of questions, the hurt expression on his face, and to be honest you couldn’t think of a satisfactory answer. You managed to shake your head and provide a mumbled “I’ve been busy and just not remembered to check my phone, I’m sorry,” but Yoongi didn’t seem calmed at all.

“We said we’d meet up once I was back home again…but I’ve been unable to reach you. I thought I’d done something wrong or that you were tired of me.”

He forced a sad smile, a clear attempt to conceal the desolation bleeding into his voice. You witnessed it with a heavy heart, feeling remorse at being the culprit for it.

“No! No, not at all…that’s the farthest from the truth you can even…” you quitened, trying desperately to come up with some way of saving the situation, but your mind pushed you into dangerous territory, and the words just poured out of you before you could stop yourself. “…I’ve missed you, Yoongi, I have, but um…I’ve been so busy with my classes and schoolwork that I basically haven't had time for anything else and…yeah, but…it’s nothing you did at all. Now is just not a good time, so maybe we could just meet later in the week? Go for ice-cream or something? What do you say?”

You finished your rambling with the smallest of smiles, but it felt as artificial to you as it probably looked to Yoongi. You could only hope that he’d settle for this, to agree to meet up with you later, when you weren’t falling apart. You'd be better then, hopefully by then you would have cleaned up your act, managed to pick yourself up and be a friend...or whatever it is you were...to him again.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated, like a drone, wishing he’d just accept it and turn to leave, but the opposite happened. He gave you a look you couldn’t decode before stepping further into your apartment, scanning over the piles of clothes and half-drunken mugs of tea scattered everywhere.

“Busy with classes huh,” he parroted back at you, running a hand through the black locks and exposing his forehead. Right now it was settled in a deep frown, and you nodded hesitantly. “Okay. That’s interesting because I texted one of your friends when you didn’t answer, to ask if she knew anything about where you were.”

Your mouth was stuck ajar, and Yoongi surveyed you with skeptical, narrowed eyes. You wanted to just sink right through the ground and disappear, right now.

“Uh…did you…really…” you managed, voice small and close to breaking. Yoongi gave a downhearted sigh, eyes signaling clear disappointment.

“Yeah. She said she didn’t. She also said that you haven’t gone to class for weeks.”

There was a long silence. Your eyes were glued to the floor while you did your best to try to control your breathing, keep it nice and even, and figure out something to say, anything. Yoongi took a step closer to you, bringing with him the warmth, the solace you didn’t feel you deserved right now.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I don’t know,” you wheezed, honestly. Because it came naturally to you, to pretend everything was okay, so naturally you were prepared to tangle yourself into a web of lies because of it. Now the opposite had happened, and you had broken his trust him further.

“Can you go please,” you choked, hating that you had to ask. But the tears, they burnt behind your eyelids and you couldn’t let yourself appear so weak, not in front of Yoongi.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes…no…but… I’m sorry… please, just…I can’t deal with this right now.” You knew it didn’t sound logical at all, but you were panicking at the thought of him seeing you unravel, he couldn’t. “Please go,” you begged, louder and more urgently. It bounced off the walls of the living room, but Yoongi didn’t move a limb to accommodate your request.

“I have a feeling I shouldn’t,” he pondered, inching closer to you. Your hands were all over your face, kneading your cheeks in an attempt to hide from his gaze, because you were sure it was scrutinizing, you couldn’t see it was filled with nothing but concern.

“Stop it … you’re hurting yourself,” he murmured, restraining you carefully. His hands, delicate, but strong, closed around your wrists, pulling them down. You had nothing to cover yourself with, and you felt exposed.. Your eyes were stubbornly resting on his chest, on the letters supreme written across his black t-shirt, and there they remained as you uttered the next words with indifference.

“I’m fine and yes you should leave. I’m just not feeling my best today. We’ll meet up some other day.”

“Y/N…” your wrists were released, and a finger positioned underneath your chin gently pressured you to look up. “…this isn’t fine, okay. Look at you, look at this place. When was the last time you showered? Ate? What is going on with you? You look absolutely -”

“Absolutely horrible, yes I know, no need to point that out!” you finished the sentence for him, your sudden shriek jarring him and turning his features from worried to frowning.

“No, sweetheart, that’s not it. I was going to say absolutely spent, okay? You always look beautiful, but you also look…exhausted, to be frank, so won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You should go. I’m a mess, and you can’t help me. I don’t deserve it,” you informed him impassively, not caring about how irrational you sounded, because your senses were telling you to push him away. You had backed off without even realizing it but now you bumped into the bathroom door, exhaling heavily as he followed you, slowly as if approaching a startled animal.

“What are you even talking about, Y/N? Of course you deserve it… I don’t know what’s going on but… whatever it is, I can help you. I want to help. Okay?”

“No, Yoongi. Just leave.”

“I’m not going to leave-”

“Yes, because I’m fine!”

Your own voice pierced your ear as the sentence escaped you, much more shrill than you had planned. Hot, fat tears instantly pooled in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. They started streaming down your cheeks the second after, when you witnessed Yoongi’s expression in front of you, shocked and pained through the thin curtain of water.

“Oh god, I’m sorry…” your voice didn’t carry your words anymore, cracking as amplifying sobs racked your body. The weight of the entire world crushed you, but tender hands were there as well, preventing you when you attempted to scratch at your cheeks in frustration.

“Stop, calm down… it’s okay, honey. Don’t hide from me.”

“It’s not okay…nothing is okay…and I don’t want you to see me like this,” you pleaded, doing your best to wipe the snot off your nose with the palm of your hand, but it didn’t help much and only made you keen louder. “…I can’t even…take care of myself, let alone anything else…”

Yoongi shushed you, using his calming, dulcet tones, but you pressed yourself against the door, sobbing, wailing uncontrollably, and soon he took matters into his own hands. Your thighs were grabbed, gently, your lower body hoisted up like you were a koala on his hip.

“Put your arms around my neck…uhuh, that’s it.”

You stuttered some half-hearted protests as you clung to him, but he released you before you could wiggle free, lowering you down and flanking you on the couch. You immediately attempted to escape to the far corner of it, but nimble arms found you, snaking their way around your waist and shoulders and hauling you in again.

“Schhh. You have to calm down, hear me? Calm down. You've known me for years, Y/N, don't have to be scared of me. Don’t have to be scared. Just tell me what’s wrong, please. Can you do that?"

“That’s the thing…I don’t even know what’s wrong…I just feel like… everything is so difficult. Even getting out of bed...it's hard... and...it feels like...there's no point,” you sniffled, scared of your own words. You turned to him for comfort, finally allowing yourself to burrow into his chest, feeling it rise and fall underneath your heated cheek as you inhaled the familiar scent of his t-shirt.

“It’s okay. These things can creep up on you slowly, sweetie,” Yoongi’s voice cascaded down on you from above, his fingers vacantly stroking down the side of your arm. "But if you were struggling…you should have told me…I hate knowing you’ve been here all by yourself feeling like this. You don’t have to go through it alone, I’m always here for you.”

You soaked up his assuring words, reveling in his touch, his broad shoulders wrapped all around you. You still felt scared, ashamed, but a chunk of it was washed away with the help of the familiar caress, the soothing timbre of his voice, promising you that things might be okay.

“I’m sorry I ignored you,” you lamented, feeling the regret bubbling in your stomach again and escaping in yet another outpouring of tears.

“This won’t do,” Yoongi sighed melancholically, briefly leaving the couch, and you instantly felt empty, cold without him. He was back in the matter of seconds, bringing with him a stack of tissues he used to gently dab all over your face. Once he was done he cupped your cheek, stroking over your jawline with his thumb and smiling comfortingly at you. “That’s better. Not drowning in your own tears now.”

“This is all my fault…” you mumbled, leaning into his touch and averting your eyes, because you couldn’t look into his sympathetic ones, witness that adoring smile when you had wronged him so. “I didn’t even reply to you…I didn’t want to burden you with my issues and…I didn’t realize it only made it worse. I’m sorry-”

“No, schhh,” he interjected, grabbing your thighs and settling them across his lap. You let it happen, nuzzling into his neck when he sneaked his arms around your torso, pressing you against him as tightly as he could manage. “No need to be sorry, I understand it’s hard. But I’ve missed you so much, pretty baby, I was so worried about you.”

He breathed into your hair, gentle tones coated with sadness. “And if I knew this was going on with you…I would have come sooner.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on, though, Yoongi,” you confessed, feeling defeated, but his steady hands anchoring you and keeping you safe caused your chest to sprout with a tiny seed of hope. Maybe it all could be alright, just maybe.

“I know. I know baby. But things will get better, you’ll see, we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you, don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

#bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #min yoongi #bts suga #bts reader insert #yoongi scenarios #bts au

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shes-an-oddbird · 3 years

Text

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary - A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

Chapter 6 - Christmas Tree

Summary - Jemma and Daisy search for a Christmas tree last minute and Jemma tells Daisy about their new house guest.

Prompt - Christmas Tree Relationship - Jemma & Daisy POV - Jemma

Jemma knows the last few boxes are just a little messier than usual and the ribbons slightly askew but she’s in a rush to finish the last of the gifts and clock out. It’s quiet in the mall. The natural day light from the skylights had been replaced with softer moonlight and the harsh fluorescent fixtures cast shadows she doesn’t recall seeing during the day. Gates have been lowered on stores, the only patrons are mall staff and most of them are on their way out too. She cleans up her space quickly; brushing the scraps of her conversations with Fitz into the bin beneath her workspace and making sure all the gifts are secure before pushing her stool under the table and rushing to the stairs.

She’s supposed to meet Daisy so they can finally get their Christmas tree. It’s the first chance they’d had even well into December. Her labs kept her busy and Daisy seemed to work non-stop this time of year. She dedicated her days to volunteering at the mall and that left her freelance cyber security work to be done at all hours of the night.

But someone was covering her labs tonight and Daisy managed to squeeze out a little time in schedule, so this evening they were going to have a Christmas themed girls’ night and decorate their tree, bake cookies, down eggnog and maybe binge a couple of holiday movies.

Jemma was hoping it would put Daisy in a good mood because she had some news that her friend was going to be less than excited about.

She hurried down the steps to the North Pole where a few volunteers were finishing clean up. Daisy is leaning against a table while Daniel, the new volunteer Daisy claims to be the biggest dork, creates neat stacks with piles and piles of envelops.

“You’ve never seen Elf?” She asks him in disbelief.

“No.” He confirms.

“What about A Christmas Carol.”

“Of course.”

“The Muppet version?”

“Um, no.”

“The Grinch?”

“The original.” He says positively.

“Okay, have you watched any movies made after 1990?”

“Not many.”

“Jemma help, he’s never seen Home Alone.”

Jemma knows that while Daisy is chipper and teasing this may truly be causing her distress. “I’m surprised she’s even speaking to you, our first Christmas as roommates I think we had a 48-hour movie marathon of every holiday movie I hadn’t seen.”

“My family only ever watched classics when I was a kid, I may have seen some of these but if I did, I don’t remember them well.” He reasons.

“So watch them again, mix it up.”

He shrugs. “I guess, I just don’t like watching movies alone.”

Daisy huffs, “Well I’m making a list – “

“and checking it twice?” He interrupts her and she shoves his shoulder.

“I’m making a list of must-see Christmas movies and you’re watching them, I’ll watch them with you if I have too, no one should be deprived of watching a grown ass adult’s belief in Santa be restored ten or twelve times in a row.”

“I do hope you’re making this list later because if we don’t get going, they’ll be all closed up soon.” Jemma hates to pull Daisy away from her fun but she’s eager to get their tree.

“Where are you guys off to?”

“We’ve got to get our Christmas tree.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Thanks but we’re good, Bobbi forced Hunter to stay late and help us, might as well put him to work.”

“Fair enough, see you tomorrow?” Daisy nods and they wave goodbye. They walk in silence towards the front entrance of the mall, pulling on their coats and gloves. Jemma adjusts her wool hat so that it covers her ears and checks to see if Daisy is ready to go only to find her looking back in the direction they came from.

Jemma smirks and doesn’t bother to try to hide her amusement. Daisy turns back to her, preparing to pull on her own hat and jumps when she sees she has been caught. “What?” She asks, her cheeks rosy like they’ve already stepped out in the cold.

“Nothing, you’re right though, he’s kind of a dork, sweet though, it was nice of him to offer his help.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They hurry outside and across the dark parking lot towards the tree lot. There are a few snow-covered cars nearby and Jemma spots Hunter loading a fluffy tree into the bed of a large red truck. As they get closer Jemma can see that the tree farm has been picked over and what is left seems to consist of a few unnecessarily large trees, a few puny ones and the rest look as though they are already on their last limbs.

“Oh dear.” Jemma’s heart sinks and she glances worriedly at Daisy.

“Wow.” Her friend runs her hand over a branch of the nearest tree and several bristles fall to the ground. “Not much to choose from is there, guess it’s my own fault, I should have made time sooner.”

Jemma frowns. Daisy’s attempt to brush off her disappointment is obvious, at least to her. Her friend loved Christmas and putting up the tree was one of her favorite traditions. She had several beautiful ornaments; May and Coulson and even Bobbi had taken to giving her one every year. Just recently she had started to do the same. She always took such care when hanging them.

“I’m sure we will find the perfect one, let’s look around.” Jemma loops her arm through Daisy’s and pulls her along.

The healthy little ones were too small to support Daisy’s vast collection of decorations and the large ones would eat up the small living room of their apartment, but they look and look again for the right one.

“Hello loves,” Hunter steps up behind them, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “Bout time you showed up.”

“Hey, you didn’t save us a decent tree, did you?” Daisy asks.

Hunter takes a step back, “you know Bobbi might have mentioned something about that.”

Jemma feels a surge of hope, “so you’ve got one for us?”

“Afraid not.”

“Hunter!”

“Hey, you ever try to deny a tree to someone this time a year, one woman nearly took my head off when I told her the one for you was off limits, this,” he gestures to the scarce lot of trees, “is all you’ve got to choose from.”

Jemma shares an unsure look with Daisy. She wasn’t about to go without a Christmas tree. “Maybe we could get a big one, we can just push the couch aside, we hardly ever use it anyways.”

“Works for me, I get better commission on the big ones and better tips by the way.” They both shoot Hunter a look and he raises hands up in defeat. “Just let me know when you’re ready.” He says and makes a hasty disappearance.

Daisy sighs. “What do you think, we can make it work right?”

Oh damn. She was hoping not to have to bring this up yet. “Actually, we will be needing the couch, very soon actually.”

“Wait why?”

“Remember my cousin Deke?”

“The one with the creepy crush on me?”

Jemma cringes. “Yes well, his parents are flying out to spend Christmas with my parents and he was going to go too, until he heard I was planning to stay here and he thought I should have some family around for Christmas so – “

“Oh, don’t say it.”

“He’s kind of going to be staying with us.”

“Jemma!”

“I’m sorry, if I didn’t take him in, I would have never heard the end of it and he’s been better right, since you had that talk with him.”

“Yeah, but it’s still awkward.”

Jemma was actually quite fond of Deke. He shared her love of science and had a good heart. He was just a bit awkward, not unlike herself. That said it was uncomfortable to be in a room with someone you knew liked you and that was unfair to ask Daisy to do. “Let me call my mom, if I explain – “

“No, it’s okay, he’s really not bad company and I can’t throw him out at Christmas that would be cruel, even for me, besides, I know he’s your favorite cousin.” Daisy stops, maybe to re consider her words, Jemma thinks. “But if I see one lemon Jemma – “

“He’s on the street I swear, favorite or not.”

Daisy laughs and Jemma feels better knowing she’s not actually mad at her. Still she wants to make it up to her. An unexpected house guest was not in their Christmas plans. “Let’s get the big tree, I think I can squeeze an air mattress into my room.”

“We don’t have too.”

“We should, we never have enough room for all the ornaments anyways, this way we will.”

“Really?” Daisy asks hopefully and she nods insistently. Her eyes light up. “Alright, which one?”

“How about this one?” Jemma points to a vibrant green one that towers over the pair.

“I like this one.” Daisy points to a slight smaller one, the bristles are a bit browner but it would be a better size for the apartment.

“Are you sure, this one looks healthier.”

“Come on, I bet you could nurse it back to health and I’m afraid no one else will take it.”

Jemma doesn’t question Daisy’s attachment to the misfit tree. It wouldn’t be the first time she picked something that was a little different or a little odd. “It will be beautiful.”

#jemma simmons #Daisy Johnson #daisy x jemma #dousy #aos fic #aos #christmas at the mall #25 days of christmas

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callboxkat · 4 years

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Second Chances part 6: Run Away

Author’s note: I decided to fill some prompts and got carried away. Anon(s), I would just like to remind you that you asked for this. Sort of. Also, believe it or not, this is the less angsty version of what could have been.

Warnings: homelessness, stealing, food mention, violence, humiliation, hunger, cold, hypothermia/frostbite mention, censored swearing, homophobic slurs, death threats, non-descriptive vomiting, injuries, blood, knife. It’s possible I missed something because this is a doozy, but those are the major ones.

Word count: 7165

Second Chances Masterpost!

Prompts (that middle one made me laugh, thank you):

...

The outdoor market was bustling with life, crowds of people heading this way and that, different vendors selling clothing, jewelry, baked goods, handmade soaps and candles, paintings, and whatever else you could think of to buy spilling out of neat rows of colorful tents. The sounds of laughter, conversation, music, and the popping of kettle corn filled the air along with an array of pleasant aromas. It looked like a very nice place to spend a few hours, whether or not you planned to buy anything.

Roman wished he could be a part of it. Instead, he walked around the edges of the market, never venturing within, looking for a good place to sit. He wanted to find somewhere where he would be out of the way, but near one of the most travelled walkways. He felt very out of place among the marketgoers, clutching a ratty cardboard sign and dressed in dirty, mismatched clothes, shuffling along on limbs stiff with cold and sore from night after night of sleeping on barely-cushioned concrete.

Yes, it was true. He, Roman Prince, was looking for a place to sit and beg. The very idea felt unthinkably demeaning, but the young man had been homeless for three months now, and his situation didn’t seem to be about to improve any time soon. He had perhaps not been the most frugal with his money, so he had run out some time ago. Things were… not good. He hadn’t eaten anything in two days now, the weather was getting colder every day, and he was growing desperate. So, he’d gotten his hands on some cardboard; and he’d borrowed a marker to make his sign. And now here he was, getting ready to beg for pocket change.

Eventually he found what he deemed a fairly decent spot, and he sat down against the wall of the building, propping the sign up against his legs. He took a small, beat up plastic cup out of his pocket and set it down in front of himself, dropping a small rock inside to weigh it down. Here, he was in a slight alcove, more sheltered from the wind, but still visible, and not in anyone’s way.

Plenty of people passed by, on their way to and from the rows of tents across the street. Music drifted his way, along with the tantalizing, heavenly smell of food, a smorgasbord of temptations vying for his attention. It felt rather torturous, to be sitting so close and to be unable to buy any of it, but Roman hoped that perhaps people would feel generous. At the very least, maybe they’d be willing to part with the coins that they received as change from their purchases. No one liked to carry around a purse full of heavy coins, right? At least, that was his hope.

...

Roman had been sitting in his spot on the sidewalk for more than three hours, and the market would be closing down soon.

In Roman’s cup sat a handful of change, pennies and nickels and dimes, along with a crumpled $1 bill. Not a great haul, but he knew it could have been much worse.

Would this be enough to buy something? Roman peered down at the cup. Probably not at the market, unfortunately; but there was a McDonald’s a few blocks away. He could go there. Their dollar menu had been a blessing these past few months, and sitting in the restaurant meant he would get to be inside for a little while. He could even pick up some ketchup and salt and pepper packets while he was there. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing, but he could use them and some water to make a sort of tomato soup. It was a tip he’d been given by another homeless man he sometimes bumped into around the city, a man named Juan. And the workers never cared enough to say anything about it, as long as he bought something. Sometimes they even heated up his cup of water for him.

Decision made, Roman started getting ready to leave.

He had just started packing up his things, putting the change in his pocket, when he noticed it: a fairly full shopping bag, just sitting there about five feet away, perched on the edge between the sidewalk and a patch of weed-filled dirt that could be perhaps be called a flowerbed once spring arrived. It was clearly from the market based on the cheery design, and a few languorous curls of steam rose from within.

Roman’s mouth started watering at the sight. He looked around for the bag’s owner. There were a few people here and there, but no one was looking at the bag. Was it possible that it had been forgotten?

He waited a moment, watching, biting his lip uncertainly; but the temptation proved to be too much. He hurriedly folded up his cardboard sign, stuffed that in his coat with a plastic bag of his other belongings, and snatched the shopping bag.

“HEY!”

Oh, sh*t.

Roman took off. He didn’t think. He just ran, dodging people and cars and tents, focusing only on getting way. He sprinted through the crowd, barely avoiding smacking into a burly man holding a tiny girl with braids; and something fell out of the bag he’d just pilfered. He didn’t look back to see what it was, let alone try to retrieve it.

“Get back here, you—!” Whatever the man said next was interrupted by the sound of a car horn, but Roman could guess that whatever it was wasn’t exactly friendly.

Roman made it away from the market, nearly getting hit by a car in the process, and ducked down an alley. He slowed down only somewhat, hoping to be less conspicuous, and continued on foot for several blocks. His breath billowed out behind him, creating clouds of steam in the cool air. The shopping bag clutched tightly in his fist felt like it weighed an extra twenty pounds, thumping against his leg with every step.

Half convinced he was still being chased, Roman didn’t stop moving until he came to a small pocket park a good distance away from the scene of the crime. He found some overgrown bushes there and ducked down to hide.

Ten minutes went by. Roman’s feet started to go numb from how he was crouching, the pebbles and twigs digging into his knees. Finally, not hearing any sign of pursuers, he slowly sat up. He peeked through the foliage, then cautiously emerged when he saw no one. He sat on a bench, nearly invisible to the road thanks to the bushes and a pair of well placed trees, and opened up his prize, swallowing his guilt and telling himself that it would be worth his efforts.

Or at least, that was what he thought until he saw what was inside.

Whatever had been creating the small cloud of steam, the food he’d been after in the first place, was gone. It must have fallen out back in the market.

What was in the bag were some simple white boxes, carefully packed in with tissue paper, and a small box of gourmet chocolate truffles. Not a complete waste, then, at least.

Roman pulled out the truffles and set them in his lap, already salivating at the thought of them, and then opened the first of the white boxes to see if it was something he could use.

Inside the box sat a very, very expensive-looking watch.

Roman’s eyes widened, and he nearly dropped it. His mouth gaped like a fish.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered, staring at it. He slowly set the watch down. This was a lot more serious than stealing a few baked goods. This was bad. Probably the worst thing he had ever done, at least from a legal standpoint.

Roman simply sat there for a while, letting the reality of what he had just done sink in.

Of course, guilt wasn’t very filling, and after a few minutes, Roman’s stomach growled. Barely taking his eyes off of the watch, he slowly picked up the box of truffles. He figured he might as well have them—the mistake was already made, after all. He peeled off one glove, barely feeling the cold, and tore open the package. He barely tasted the sweets as he stuffed them into his mouth, one after the other. Roman’s mind was elsewhere.

If this watch was in one of the boxes, he thought, then the other boxes probably contained items just as expensive, if not more so.

Roman had just wanted some food, not this. He would be well and truly screwed if he was caught.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the actual price tag on the watch box, a small sticker in the corner with numbers printed in a neat black font. He momentarily forgot to breathe.

This watch had cost somebody nearly four hundred dollars. And it was on sale.

Suddenly Roman knew that he absolutely could not be caught with this. He had to get rid of it. He impulsively shoved the box back in the bag, rolled up the top of it, and shoved the whole thing into the bushes he’d been hiding in earlier. He got to his feet, stuffed the empty chocolate box in a trash can, and quickly walked away, sweating despite the cold.

…

A couple of hours later, sitting in the enclosed space under a bridge that currently served as his “home”, the truffles were not sitting well in Roman’s stomach. It felt like they were trying to claw their way back out. He shifted uncomfortably, the paper shopping bags layered underneath his blanket crinkling in complaint.

The bags were meant to help keep out the chill from the concrete slab beneath him, but it was debatable how much of a difference they actually made. Sometimes it felt as if they did nothing at all, given that the air was almost if not just as cold as the concrete. Still, Roman kept them, since they created a (perhaps pathetic) cushion between his body and the hard ground. Truthfully, they probably were helping to insulate him a little, even if he still wasn’t exactly staying in a five star hotel.

Sitting atop those paper bags, Roman glanced over towards where a couple of figures stood talking. It was dark, and Roman had a feeling that they were probably not supposed to be doing whatever they were doing, but it wasn’t any of Roman’s business. People like that showed up sometimes in this part of the city, but they seemed to know that Roman wasn’t going to bother them, so they usually ignored him, too. He was just another random homeless man, after all. Who cared about him?

Except now, after what had happened earlier that day, Roman found himself more paranoid than usual. He watched the two figures out of the corner of his eye until they were done with whatever they were doing and started walking away in different directions. Neither moved towards him, thankfully. Roman released his breath. He leaned his head back and looked up at the bridge overhead. A car passed by, rumbling over the bridge. Its headlights cast a faint glow in the air until it disappeared.

Roman adjusted one of the napkins he had shoved in his gloves, one of which had been poking him and making his wrist itch. Then he pulled the blankets tighter around himself and lay down on his crinkly bed. He hid his face under the blanket, putting his nose in the crook of one elbow to try to keep it warm. It took him a while to fall asleep, more due to nervousness than the cold or the uncomfortable position he lay in; but, eventually, he managed to drift off into a fitful sleep. His dreams, as always, were filled with visions of the life he could have, should have had.

And as always, he woke up to his own harsh reality.

Roman sighed as he opened his eyes. A bit of frost had formed in his hair overnight, which crackled as he uncurled his stiff limbs from the awkward position he’d slept in.

It was still fairly early, watery gray light leaking over the horizon; but the occasional car ambled down the street. There weren’t many people venturing outside on that crisp Sunday morning, and Roman wasn’t too worried about being bothered. Most people usually chose to ignore Roman, if not outright avoid him.

As if to confirm this, a man and a woman, some of the few daring to walk to work in these temperatures, chose that moment to pass by. As they did, they actually stepped into the street to avoid being too close, as if Roman were going to give them the plague. As if homelessness were contagious.

Rude, but understandable, he supposed.

Roman lay back down for a while and contemplated going back to sleep. But he really had to pee, and his stomach felt like it was trying to gnaw its way out of his abdomen; so, eventually, he reluctantly pushed his blanket to the side and sat up. He pulled a comb through his hair, arranging the greasy locks as neatly as he could. He double checked that he still had the money he’d gotten the day before (several times before, he’d woken up to find some of his things missing, especially in the beginning before he’d learned to keep them better protected). Then he pulled a blanket around his shoulders and got to his feet. He grabbed the plastic bag that held most of his possessions, anything that anyone might want to steal, and set off.

He lumbered down the sidewalk, one untied shoelace skittering across the pavement with each step, the blanket wrapped tightly around himself. The morning was quiet and still, almost pleasantly so, if only it weren’t so cold. Roman missed summer.

He sighed in relief when he made it to the McDonald’s. He ducked inside, nodded awkwardly to one of the cashiers, and made his way over to the restrooms. He did his business, even taking the time to wash his face and hair in the sink. By the time he reemerged, the breakfast menu had been changed to the lunch menu, which was fine by Roman.

Roman ordered a cheeseburger and somewhat sheepishly asked for a cup of hot water to go with it.

While he waited, Roman set down his things at a table and sat down, drumming his fingers absently on the tabletop.

His number was called, and he picked up the bag and the cup with a small, grateful smile. He grabbed far too many packets of ketchup, some salt and pepper, and a straw, and sat back down. He opened up the bag, and swallowed against a lump in his throat when he saw a small order of fries inside along with his cheeseburger.

He decided not to draw any attention to it, not wanting to get anyone in trouble, or worse, risk someone taking the extra food away. Instead, he just ate his cheeseburger and fries, and then made his makeshift tomato soup, stirring the ketchup, pepper, and salt together in the hot water with the straw. He put the rest of the condiments that he hadn’t used in the bag with his other belongings.

He took his time drinking that concoction, not eager to go back outside, but eventually he couldn’t stall any longer. It was approaching midday, the restaurant was growing more crowded, and he figured it was only a matter of time before someone started objecting to his presence. So Roman gathered up his things and took his leave.

…

Roman spent most of the day wandering the city. He didn’t have much else to do, and sitting under a bridge like some kind of troll grew old pretty fast. He avoided the part of the city where the market was set up, just in case the person whose belongings he had stolen returned to try to find him. Under different circumstances, he might have been able to convince himself that he was just being paranoid, but the price tag on the watch kept flashing in his mind’s eye. No, he was going to avoid that area for a while.

Finally, the sun was going down, and Roman made his way back to the bridge.

Other than about thirty cents left over from the day before, Roman only had a dime that he’d found in the street during his wandering. He certainly didn’t have enough money to buy anything for dinner. It seemed he’d have to make do with the ketchup he had left over from his earlier meal. Not exactly a meal fit for a prince, but it was better than nothing, if not by much. He probably should have gone and tried to beg again, but staying in one spot with the same sign as the day before only seemed like a more sure-fire way of being recognized. And if the owner of the watch had gone to the police, they were probably on the lookout for him.

Roman tugged on the collar of his shirt—a Saint Gabriel Academy of Fine Arts shirt, turned inside out—and winced. Just look at what his life had come to. He was supposed to be away at college, right now, pursuing his dreams of becoming an actor. Instead, he was homeless, jobless, penniless, and now, a thief. No better than his brother, after all.

Juan was sitting at the opposite end of the bridge when Roman returned, on the other side of the road. Roman nodded vaguely in his direction, too tired to give more of a greeting. The other homeless man didn’t acknowledge him, busy methodically stacking a pile of plastic bottle caps in different arrangements.

He sat down amongst his paper bags and dirty blankets, and he set down the plastic bag of his belongings. He was hunched over, digging through it for the ketchup packets, when he heard someone’s shoe scrape on the sidewalk. Roman paused, glancing up towards a small group of men, one of whom had just pulled to a sudden stop. He glanced away again just as quickly, not looking to draw unwanted attention.

Too late.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Roman’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice.

“Hey! Get back here!”

“What, you know this ugly f*cker?” one of the other men laughed, coming up to stand next to the first. His dark hair was wild, his eyes glittering.

“Oh, hell no, I don’t. This dirty piece of crap just owes me some money is all.” The man crouched, sneering at Roman, his ice blue eyes piercing right through him. “Ain’t that right?”

Roman scooted back, eyes widening, searching for a way out. Adrenaline hummed in his veins, and yet he felt frozen to the ground. They’d found him. Of course, they’d found him. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, words failing him in his sudden panic.

“This the guy who stole your stuff?” A third man asked, going to stand in front of his other friends, casually blocking Roman’s only escape route.

“This pathetic f*ggot? Really?” said the second. “Man, Mikey, you’re getting robbed by bums now?”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” he growled. Almost immediately, he looked back to Roman with a crocodile grin, crouching down to stare directly into his eyes. “Now, how about it? We don’t want any trouble. So why don’t you just give me back what you took, and we can all go on our merry way?”

Roman’s breath left him in a wheeze. He didn’t have what they wanted. Not anymore. But he knew they wouldn’t believe that. He practically pressed himself against the concrete wall at his back, as if with enough effort he’d be able to pass through the barrier that kept him trapped here with these men.

Mikey’s eyes hardened at Roman’s lack of a response. “Come on, I’m trying to be reasonable here.”

A fourth man, who hadn’t spoken until then, said, “Guys, maybe we should just call the cops, let them take care of this.”

“I bet you sold ’em already, right? What, traded ’em for some drugs or sh*t like that?” The second man, standing at Mikey’s side, sneered.

“You some kind of mute?” the third asked at the same time. They were all clearly growing impatient. Roman had to say something.

“I—I don’t….” Roman stammered, fishing for the right words, for anything that could help get him out of this situation. He looked desperately around them, towards the other side of the street, but Juan had conveniently disappeared, and no one else was around. He wasn’t getting any help. He was alone.

“Ah, he speaks!”

“I paid good money for that stuff,” Mikey said. He squared his shoulders and stepped closer. “So you’re going to tell me… what you did with it. NOW!”

Roman got to his feet and scrambled away so fast that he nearly fell over, tripping on the blankets in his haste. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking—Agh!”

He was cut off as a fist sank into his gut, forcing him to bend over at the waist. Tears stung his eyes and he gagged, bile dripping down his chin.

Mikey took him by the shoulders roughly. “Now, lets try that again,” he whispered in Roman’s ear, too loud.

“Mike, I don’t think—”

“Shut up,” Mikey said, still right next to Roman’s head. “Go home if you don’t want to be a part of this.”

A second passed. Roman’s harsh breathing grated on his eardrums. One set of footsteps retreated. Roman choked, still struggling to pull air back into his lungs and straighten back up.

“Third time’s the charm,” the second man suggested, sounding all too happy to join his friend. His breath smelled strongly of menthol. “Where’s my buddy’s sh*t? You see, he paid a lot for it, and it sure would be a shame if he didn’t get it back, wouldn’t it?”

“Might make him angry,” added the third voice, now much closer than before. He shoved Roman, and his back hit the concrete wall, making him cry out.

“I don’t have it,” Roman said desperately, knowing they wouldn’t believe him. He was still looking around, desperate for an escape. But the street was deserted.

Hands appeared on Roman’s back and shoved him forward, sending him sprawling to the ground. Roman’s head smacked the concrete, and he tasted the iron tang of blood as he bit his tongue. His hands felt scraped raw, even inside his gloves, and a painful pins and needles sensation ran through one of his knees. His rib cage felt like it had been hit by a bowling ball.

Roman groaned. A pair of shoes stepped into his field of vision.

“What’s this you’ve got here?”

“Noth—nothing,” Roman offered weakly, not even sure what they were talking about. He was definitely going to have some impressive bruises come morning. If he lived that long. “Just… trash.”

“Hm, then you won’t mind if I have a look, would you?” Roman heard the rustle of plastic as someone, probably Mikey, dug around in the bag he kept his things in. Apparently, the contents—specifically, their lack of any of the items Roman had stolen—didn’t please him. He kicked it to the side. Roman heard some of the items roll into the gutter.

Mikey’s friends dragged Roman to his feet and pinned him against the wall. Roman put up a struggle, but it was almost obligatory. There were three of them, and only one of him. He couldn’t fight them all off if he tried. And if he called for help, would anyone even hear? Would they come, if they did? Or would he just make things worse?

“Where is it?” Mikey snapped, impatient.

Roman was very aware that the odds of him keeping all of his teeth were getting slimmer by the second. “It’s—they’re… they’re in the park. This park, like five blocks from here, I swear. I left them in a bush, you can go right now—”

Smack!

Roman’s head jerked to the side, and he whined despite himself as blood began to drip from his nose, closing his eyes tight. He’d been trying to answer them! This wasn’t fair!

Menthol Breath put his hand on Roman’s neck, his fingers digging in painfully. The smell of menthol was dizzying. Or maybe that was the head wound.

He heard a loud crunching noise, and opened his eyes to see that Mikey was stomping on Roman’s bag of belongings as hard as he could, clearly trying to break them. He picked it up and smacked it repeatedly against the edge of the sidewalk to do even more damage. Bits and pieces of the contents flew out, rips appearing in the plastic.

The two men pinning Roman to the wall laughed at the sight.

“Aw, hell, Mike, you’re gonna make ’im cry,” Menthol Breath cackled. “Little f*ggot gonna cry?”

“’Nooo, please, not my garbage!’” the other mocked in a rude, falsetto voice.

“Now, I know you didn’t just throw my sh*t in a bush,” Mikey said, emphasizing his point by stomping on the bag again. “So you best tell the truth. Right now.”

One of the men, the one who didn’t smell like menthol, let go of Roman and started tearing through his setup, upending his blankets and the paper bags that made up his “bed”. Roman would have taken this opportunity to run, but Menthol Breath was still on him, grinning like the Cheshire cat, and Mikey blocked the way out.

Of course, the man came up empty. Because Roman didn’t have their stuff anymore.

Mikey stomped on the bag again, angry, then started cursing. “God f*cking d*mn it, what the hell? What is this?”

Roman’s eyes drifted down to Mikey’s legs, one of which was splattered with a messy arc of red. He must have stomped on one of the ketchup packets.

“You good, M?”

“Urgh, disgusting.”

Mikey ignored his friends, stalking forward to stand in front of Roman.

“Answer me, now!” Mikey snarled. He reared back and kicked Roman in the stomach, making it rather difficult for him to do as the other man asked. Dark spots swam in his vision as he gagged once again.

Roman was heaved back upright, a dribble of bloody bile dripping from his chin onto his shirt. “I panicked,” he offered weakly, gasping for breath. “I didn’t… I just… wanted food… I didn’t know… the other stuff was in there… swear.”

“Right, right,” said Mikey. He put his foot on top of Roman’s and slowly leaned all of his weight on it, crushing his toes, his face barely an inch away from Roman’s. Roman resisted the urge to spit in it, his eyes watering.

“You believe this guy?” asked the other man. A distant part of Roman, either left over from his theater days or hysterical from fear and pain, decided to dub him Henchman Number Three.

Mikey stared at Roman for a moment longer, eyes narrowed. “You know, he’s just pathetic enough that I actually kind of do,” he said. He stepped back, and Roman gasped slightly as the weight was lifted from his poor toes. “So… here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me where this park of yours is. My buddies and I are going to go there. And you, you are going to hope and pray to God that my stuff is still there. And if it isn’t, I think you know what’s gonna happen.”

Roman swallowed. Or tried to, at least. “It’s—it’s the pocket p-park, the one on Lincoln,” he quickly stammered. “It’s g-g-got those bushes, by the bench. It’s right there, I swear, you can j-just go there, and find them.”

Mikey looked at him appraisingly for a few seconds.

“Drop him.”

Roman was tossed to the ground for a second time, and he barely avoided receiving a second bump on his head to complement the first. He tried to push himself back up, but didn’t make it very far before collapsing back down.

“You sure about this?” Menthol Breath asked skeptically. Roman could feel his eyes on him. “He’s seen our faces.”

Mikey scoffed. “Come on, like he’s gonna go to the cops. He ain’t that dumb.”

Henchman Number Three snorted.

Menthol Breath hummed. “Still,” he said, kneeling next to Roman, “why take that chance?” Roman tried not to choke, barely able to breathe with that overwhelming smell so close to his face. “Who’s going to miss a dirty homeless thief? We’d be doing the world a favor.”

There was a thoughtful sound. “You know… you do make a good point.”

Roman tried to squirm away, eyes wide, but a foot pressed down on his back, pinning him down. He kept struggling, gasping, trying to get up, begging for them to just let him go, but the weight on his back only increased. And then something cold and sharp pressed against Roman’s face, and he immediately went still and silent. The blade slowly traced a line of ice across his cheekbone and down to his neck, settling just under the jawbone.

Roman’s heart felt like it just might explode.

Menthol Breath exhaled right in his face. The blade nicked his skin.

“Oh, f*ck, he’s pissed himself!” someone shouted. Chaos erupted, cackling and various sounds of disgust echoing around him as the men scrambled away from him. The knife disappeared from his neck.

Three sets of footsteps pounded down the street, leaving Roman a battered, shivering heap on the sidewalk.

…

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, sprawled on the concrete, trembling and bleeding. But eventually, he dragged himself over to what was left of his belongings.

Inside, along with the remains of pretty much everything else he owned, was Roman’s cell phone. It had been off ever since he realized that it could be used to track him; but he’d kept it because… well, he wasn’t quite sure why. As a reminder? A comfort item? Perhaps for situations like this, just in case?

Did Roman want to call the cops? An ambulance? Hell, his parents?

He reached into the bag and pulled out the device that had somehow gone unnoticed by his attackers. He wiped off the disgusting mixture of ketchup, toothpaste, and dirt with one of the paper bags, then simply stared at it.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the phone screen, chunks of glass falling out or missing at the edges. The case had broken under the onslaught, hanging off in two pieces. One corner of the phone had bent harshly, and the metal was scraped

For a long moment he just lay there, taking it in. Then, he reached up one hand and pressed the power button, holding it down. He didn’t know why he bothered. He wasn’t even sure if the thing was still charged after so long.

The screen flickered. Random colors spasmed across it, purple and green and blue, odd lines and shapes that followed the cracks like contours on a topographic map.

And then, without any fanfare, it died.

Roman bit back a sob, shoving the useless phone away from him. He didn’t know why he was so upset. Who would he have called, anyway? Who would have answered?

Roman rolled onto his side and struggled to sit up, grimacing as he took in the dark stain on his pants.

How brave he was.

…

After a few hours, Roman found the strength to get to his feet and limp over to the closest open building that he knew had a public restroom. The smell was, admittedly, a strong motivator, as were the sticky feeling of blood and bile on his face and chest and the stiff, cold feeling of his trousers.

He gathered up all of his things—what was worth taking, anyway—and set off. He didn’t plan on returning to the bridge.

Feeling more humiliated than he ever had in his life, Roman shuffled inside the gas station, not making eye contact with the cashier, and made a beeline for the restroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and he locked himself inside.

Roman leaned his head against the closed door and let out a shaky breath, then turned to the sink.

One small miracle was that some of Roman’s clothes hadn’t been in the plastic bag, so he had something to change into that wasn’t covered in ketchup, toothpaste, and bits of broken glass. He set these on the sink and then turned on the faucet, washing his hands and then his face. He rinsed out his mouth, cupping his hands together and spitting out bloody water. He didn’t dare look in the mirror until he was done, afraid of what he would see.

A friend of his in high school who had gotten his front teeth knocked out in a fight had once said that he hadn’t felt any pain. In fact, the guy hadn’t even known that they were gone until he looked in a mirror. At the time, Roman had found the idea surprising, almost laughable in how strange that was, to not even feel your own teeth being knocked out; but now he just felt afraid. Roman knew that he hadn’t lost his own front teeth—he’d actually checked, probing at them with his painful tongue on the walk over—but that didn’t mean another surprise wasn’t waiting for him.

Finally, when the water in the sink ran clear, Roman slowly lifted his head to see the damage.

His right eye and cheekbone were swollen and red, obviously bruised. He would have an impressive black eye in the coming days. A thin red line ran along the opposite cheekbone, down his cheek, and ended in a shallow, inch-long cut just under his jaw. That side of his face was also tinged pink and felt hot to the touch, swollen from the blow he’d received. His nose, meanwhile, had stopped bleeding a while ago, but one nostril still felt clogged. Roman didn’t dare try to clear it, afraid that it would start bleeding again. At least his nose didn’t seem to be broken, even if it was quite tender.

Next, he slowly opened his mouth, taking in his poor bitten tongue with a wince, and gently pulled back his split lip to inspect his teeth. All appeared intact and still in his mouth, where they belonged. He sighed in relief.

After that, Roman moved on to getting out of his disgusting clothes—the pants and underwear went straight in the trash, even though he knew he should try to clean them. At the time, he just wanted them gone. He did, however, do his best to clean the shirt in the sink. He didn’t want to lose that—he knew that his future at Saint Gabriel was as unsalvageable as his shattered phone, but he wasn’t ready to let go of this last relic of that alternate timeline quite yet. While that soaked, he got some damp paper towels and cleaned himself up, wincing whenever his hand passed over the scrapes and bruises.

Occasionally, there was a knock on the door, but Roman just called back “occupied!” in a hoarse voice, and he was left alone.

When he finally emerged, still feeling like garbage but at least relatively clean, there was a worker standing just outside the bathroom. They peered past him, clearly expecting the bathroom to be trashed or something. They turned back towards Roman, probably about to demand why he had been in there so long; but at the sight of Roman’s face, they came up short, their mouth simply hanging open.

Roman looked away and made his way outside without a word.

He left the gas station almost feeling a bit better—almost—and headed straight to the train station.

Obviously, Roman did not plan to stick around. Not with Mikey and company still out there. He didn’t think they would go to the police, not after what they’d done to him in retaliation for his theft, but that wasn’t what Roman was worried about. What if they didn’t find their stuff in the park? What if they did, and they still decided Roman couldn’t keep his mouth shut? What if Menthol Breath just wanted to have some fun?

No, it was better to leave while he still could.

Not that he had a ticket, or the money to get one. But he had to try.

Ideally, he would head somewhere south. Somewhere warmer, where he wouldn’t have to worry about frostbite and hypothermia as the weather got colder. But, truthfully, he would be willing to go anywhere. Even just the next town over, if it meant putting more distance between himself and his problems.

Sometimes it seemed Roman would never stop running from his past.

…

Roman set up shop on one of the benches at the station. His cardboard sign now had a reverse side, which read, “Need Ticket To Anywhere. Anything Helps. God Bless.”

By mid morning, with a grand total of about five dollars and a stick of gum, Roman was starting to nod off. The waiting area of the train station was heated, and the sounds of people walking to and fro, and even the trains when they arrived, settled into a rhythm that felt unexpectedly soothing. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, which only made the temptation harder to resist.

As he drifted in and out of a doze with only a minimal amount of his own input, Roman began to grow paranoid that someone would try to steal his earnings, so he reached forward and took the money out of the cup, sticking it in his pocket instead. He left only the stick of gum and a pebble behind. A little more at ease, Roman leaned against a nearby pillar, closing his eyes and going back to listening to the background noise around him.

Another train or two came and went, and Roman was eyeing the vending machines despite himself. He was starving, but he really needed this money for a ticket. He needed at least twenty dollars, or he wasn’t going anywhere.

A few coins clinked as they were dropped in his cup.

“Thank you,” Roman murmured, unsure at that point of who had even given them to him.

Only fourteen and a half dollars to go, and he was out of there.

…

”…this?” a voice asked.

Roman forced his eyes open, blinking, to see a small hand stuck out in front of him, holding a granola bar. He stared uncomprehendingly.

“Do you want this?” the voice repeated more insistently.

Roman looked up. A kid stood there, certainly no older than 10 and probably younger. Her parents stood behind her, looking a mixture of impatient, exasperated, and wary.

“Yes, please,” Roman croaked.

The girl set the granola bar in Roman’s cup with a small, satisfied nod. Then she looked back up at him. “What happened to your face?” she asked.

The girl’s mom shifted, glancing up from her phone. “Ella, you shouldn’t ask people things like that.”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, straightening slightly. He looked back to Ella. “I had a battle,” he told her after a few seconds, “with a mean old dragon witch.”

“A dragon witch?” the girl repeated, tilting her head.

Roman nodded sagely.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No, no, they’re real,” Roman assured her. “They’re not very nice, though. I had to fight one off.”

“Did it take your ticket?” she asked, frowning.

Roman hesitated. “No,” he decided. “I just need to go someplace else is all. I think the dragon witch might come back, you see.”

“Ella, we need to go,” her mom said. She kept eyeing Roman, probably wondering if he was crazy.

“Okaaay, mom,” she sighed. She turned back to Roman even as her parents pulled her away. “Bye. I hope you beat the dragon witch.”

“Bye, Ella. I hope so, too.”

…

Roman spent several days in that train station, begging during daylight hours and sleeping uneasily on the benches at night, never straying far while he healed from his ordeal and attempted to collect the money for his fare. The setup was, he found, much nicer there than it had been under that bridge. It seemed that the owners of the station didn’t bother turning off the heaters after hours, so Roman (and several stray cats) had a warm place to stay at night.

At one point, he briefly considered going out into the city to find Juan and tell him about it, knowing the other homeless man would probably appreciate a heated place to sleep. And then he remembered how Juan had abandoned him, had left him to be beaten into the ground by Mikey and his friends.

He couldn’t exactly blame the guy. They weren’t exactly close, and what could Juan have done, really? Even if he had helped, it would still have been two against three—four, counting the man Juan had had no way of knowing would back off—and Menthol Breath had had a knife. Juan had been right to run when he did.

Still, the thought of facing him again made Roman’s blood boil and his stomach twist in knots. So he didn’t. Maybe he should have felt bad about that, but he didn’t at the time.

Regardless of any of that, as nice as the train station was in comparison to his previous setup, it was not somewhere that Roman wanted to stay for much longer. He didn’t feel safe there, knowing that Mikey and company could show up at any time. That fact made it all the more stressful each time he had to use some of the money he had collected to buy some food from the vending machines, since it meant he had to stay even longer.

On the morning of the fifth day, when those final quarters were dropped into his cup, Roman almost cried.

Clutching the money, he hesitantly entered the main building, where the tickets were sold. He waited in line, practically shaking with apprehension. But before he knew it, he had his ticket, and he was standing in the crowd of people waiting to get on the train. Maybe most of them avoided standing too close to him, whether due to his obvious homelessness or his still battered appearance, but Roman found that he didn’t mind it that day.

He got onto the train, settling into a seat with all of his possessions piled into the one beside him. He stared out the window, feeling a sort of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time as the train began to move. The landscape slid by as the train picked up speed, taking him to a new city, and, he hoped, something better.

#this was supposed to be like 2k tops #anon(s) tricked me #sanders sides #roman sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides fan fiction #fanfiction #ts fanfic #ts roman #ts sides #ts creativity #second chances fic #SPOILERS AFTER THIS TAG!#the thing I like about the ending I gave this is that it can be interpreted multiple ways #is it positive because it's hopeful?#negative because with the rest of the story we know that roman has years more of homelessness ahead of him?#positive because this train is what eventually brings him to meeting logan and patton and everyone else and turning his life around?#is it bittersweet for all these reasons?#it's up to you how to view it

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blaster-aichi · 4 years

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Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 14 things

links lead to images posted on discord because this post is already far too absurdly long, have too many thoughts, what a rollercoaster ride this was

Shuka’s opening a gateway into the past beneath herself and Emi indicted Link Joker Gate flashbacks because of its appearance

If it wasn’t demonstrated prior to this episode, it’s apparent how Aichi is far more malicious than any incarnation of past (i.e. his soldiers ready to maim or straight up murder Emi and Shuka , having Kai-kun abducted; whether either was 100% intended to occur the way they did is anyone’s guess)

Miwa as a Sanctuary Knight: there’s two points to this — it’s an astonishing turn as he was part of the Mates during Legion Mate — the season which many people have acknowledged the parallels to — but working beneath Aichi turns that on its head as well as the implication that Aichi’s force was concentrated around the Miyaji Cardfight Club, as well as giving a fifth member to his faction in similar vein to Kourin of Legion Mate. — it splits up the Kai/Miwa/Ibuki trio down the same lines as Ultra Rare; Suiko and Ibuki being firmly aligned with Emi while Kourin and Miwa fall under Aichi’s command. Rekka and Kai-kun would serve as unaccounted for, though it’s more clear-cut in his case, as Rekka made her appearance and her allegiance known at the same time as Kourin entered the fray, as well as already fighting on the side of restoring the timeline to its proper state before Suiko was pulled into activity. — and it was foreshadowed right before our eyes when they announced IF 14 would be centred around Kai-kun.

"Whenever I hear the name "Toshiki Kai”, for some reason, I get chills”. It’s a strange statement with his behaviour later in the episode, seeming to recognize and feign friendliness with Ibuki and Kai-kun. The only possibility can think of for this line is Miwa, like Aichi and Emi (and the rest of the Sanctuary Knights), is his Outside World self pulled into IF World and his memories tampered with, he might be privy enough to his relationship with the other two for the sake of his act when meeting with them.

Kai-kun hugging Ibuki with no restraint. Rena down. Fuck that’s so soft.

9 years of being dead or arseholes who abandoned their child, we get Mama and Papa and the whole family is adorable! Mama Kai and Shizuka would get along so well, they’re two peas in a pod aaaaa — Toshi also pointed how out the Kai family love of curry persists to this day and god bless.

me last night on call with Courtney: “There has to be a reason why Aichi hates Vanguard specifically just because of not meeting Kai-kun. It wouldn’t be any more significant than literally anything else. Hey, Aichi, why not hate rock music instead or something?” Kai-kun’s room: this kid loves rock, how dare you

Said room also makes it feel like the show is saying Vanguard/Aichi ruined Kai-kun’s life as opposed to, you know, his parents abandoning him. Bushi no—

It took just his name. That was it.

The static within the audio around Aichi is a neat touch when there feels to be a theme of glitching in the ED and it isn’t as though either reality is “wrong”, just distorted.

Just how they go about instilling memories of Aichi in comparison to Legion Mate is fascinating. In Legion Mate, the Mates were able to cleanly remember as their fights progressed and able to accept that Aichi existed prior to the season; we don’t know the extent of the changes to their lives as a result of his disappearance, but here is a different story. Kai-kun’s entire life has been altered as a result of the distortion and he isn’t able to simply see Aichi in his memories and realize that someone is missing from his past, and it takes a toll on him for these conflicting memories from another life to present themselves to him.

One has to wonder what Shizuka is going through in regards to Aichi vanishing, but also what Kai-kun’s parents must think if they were to investigate the commotion coming from his room suddenly to see him and everyone else gone and the disarray left from just how they left.

IF being the seemingly most lighthearted season with the darkest cliffhanger (topping even Link Joker and Legion Mate, because nothing comes to mind that could honestly match this), even if we know they would never dare kill off Kai-kun but the insinuation for the characters that he could be dead is chilling, particularly when they consist of his childhood friends, young girls and the root being a boy seeking him out, whose intentions around it we don't know and whom we've seen destablize (albeit in another continuity) when it comes to Kai-kun, so imagine the ramification and what it could do to his state of mind (or Ibuki, Miwa, Emi and Shuka’s, for that matter) if they really did play with the idea of killing him off.

Horizontal Oath

God bless this ED, it’s so good

There’s a lot in here about the clashing realities around Kai-kun and it’s nice to know the season isn’t overlooking the incredibly weighted implications of putting him in this position.

The fire spurning to life, while a nice nod to his usual choice of Kagero an its absence in his current life, could also be representative that, while he has many hobbies in his IF life, Vanguard is where his passion truly lies above all, as he grips it and contemplates the people who should be around him.

Emi, Ibuki and Miwa occupying the same spots in the frames they exist in is a neat choice.

Kai rushing towards the light/Blaster Blade only for the card to vanish as his fingers nears it screams of midpoint Legion Mate where the Mates finally got a glimpse of Aichi, to hear his own request that they give up. As the preview shows them in the same location, it’s possible 15 will serve as the first, failed attempt to bring Aichi back to his senses and force the group to pick themselves up and try again in the same way the Leon episodes served in Legion Mate, signified by the repeated animation usage when Kai-kun runs towards Blaster Blade a second time.

The price Kai-kun is going to pay is not being overlooked. To restore the timeline, it’s apparent that he’ll have to sacrifice his IF life and parents, inflicting unto him the anguish of his original Manga/Reboot continuity life and the hardships that came with it The darkness that emanates from his younger self and the glimpses of that original life as he kneels demonstrates that, while he might accept that outcome, it’s not about to be an easy task, understandable. — Initially had suspected from the preview for 14 that this issue might be raised with him and he would reject erasing everything he knows and have to be brought around to the idea, but the ED actually refutes this, as he faces everything head-on. — In doing so, it speaks to his character and the strength to allow this incredibly high price, as by relinquishing everything he knows, he’s able to regain the friends he made through Vanguard even with the knowledge of the pain and strife that he’ll endure and allow Emi to have her family back, even at the cost of his own. — Additionally, as the shot closes in on him and he yells/roars, it appears he could be in pain from having to surrender this version of himself and his life; but ultimately does so as he fades while Dragonic Overlord becomes the more dominant face, signifying his reclaiming his Vanguard and his original life.

This resolve to allow the timeline to be returned to its rightful state also comes through beneath the starry sky that corrects itself, with Kai-kun standing at the back of Emi’s group, the only one of them fated to disappear by setting things right. Though the camera continues on past him, towards the light that grows brighter and consumes everything — perhaps a symbol of the corrected timeline taking hold — he doesn’t so much as glance back, but looks ahead to the sky, even with the reality that he and his world will be no more.

[2012 Fanguard voice] Bench-chan lives on.

Numerous people in YouTube comments remarked that Horizontal Oath amplifies the Legion Mate atmosphere and its emphasis on Kai-kun whilst doing so is notable. As that was his journey to bring Aichi back and the current is Emi’s, the shift in tone with this new ED and new arc incorporating him heavily is a nice reflection of that when the OP remains the same. — There is an implication, though, that Emi might start to fall back from the protagonist role, as she appears far more passive in the ED while Kai-kun stands front and centre. When the two of them and Shuka are standing in a field, Emi’s feet are surrounded by shade, and when looking to the sun, she stands on the edge of the formation, seeming far more distant. At the same time, Shuka is on the other side, both of the group as a whole and Kai-kun specifically, with her back to the others. Her guilt has been an enormous factor since the truth of her actions came to light and how they weigh on her, but this feels as though her attention shifting away from Emi and towards Kai-kun as a means of atoning for her mistake. — Going to be hopeful that they can balance what Aichi means to Emi and Kai-kun in similar vein to Kai-kun and Naoki of Legion Mate, so that they both share an equal part in the fight going forward.

IF 15

Thank goodness, we’re getting answers about Aichi, Takuto and the Sanctuary Knights, let’s go.

Aichi pointing a sword at Ibuki and (Kourin) opening up a fissure beneath the both of them — and right in front of Kai-kun — is a stark contrast to the Aichi(s) we’ve known until now, as how he was seen by Kai-kun was something of great importance to him, but depending on the context of the scene, it’s apparent that this version of him gives no fucks about anything of the sort.

Something that’s been on my mind within the last week is that, aside from the scene in the forest when he was acting seemingly normal, Aichi’s right eye is never detailed beneath his visor, or even when he overrode Majesty Lord (typically, his hair doesn’t completely conceal his eye while in a unit). The theories that came to mind were heterochromia, like Voidkuto, a permanent Psyqualia glow or it’s completely blank in typical possession/brainwashed fashion (or some sort of visual cue pertaining to the fact that a great deal is off about him) but by putting on the airs of normality, he was able to mask it as a normal eye when meeting with Shuka.

#Cardfight!! Vanguard #Cardfight!! Vanguard IF #cfv spoilers #long post #jokes about this being an essay then spends well over an hour writing good job me

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softjeon · 5 years

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Kiss me quietly | Final

• Pairing: BadBoy!Yoongi x Shy!Jungkook • Genre: Fluff | College!AU • Words: 9,2k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol, selective mutism, tooth rotting fluff

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Yoongi always said what was on his mind, while Jungkook was shy, fearful and just like a wallflower he was quickly overseen. Yoongi wore leather jackets, had tattoos while Jungkook wore soft, baby blue sweaters with sleeves that were way too long. Yoongi was everything he wasn’t. Not that he cared, but men like Yoongi didn’t care about boys like Jungkook. That’s just how it always been like until…

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“Yoongi, hey!” Hoseok furrowed his brows, nudging Yoongi’s side repeatedly, “Where’s your head?” He chuckled low, when Yoongi finally snapped out of his daydream (he wondered what it was about; Yoongi rarely daydreamed about anything. He was either sleepy or fully awake, nothing in between) and refocused on the program in front of him. “Can I have your attention now again? Good. I worked on this all week it’s for the music producing class exam. I need to know your opinion it feels like it’s still lacking something,” Hoseok explained, when he clicked on his file and opened it.

Turning a little, he reached for the headphones giving one pair over to Yoongi and taking the other. Yoongi complied easily. After he had fled their lunch last time because of Jungkook’s ability to light him on fire just by simply eating ice cream he felt like he owed it to both of them to be a little more approachable. That and the fact that he loved working with Hobi on his tracks made him reach out for the headphones immediately, putting them on without asking any further. He would best get a feel for the tape if he listened to it anyway.

“I rearranged a lot of things from last time, changed some lyrics and I added some vocals over mine. I don’t think my voice fits there, actually so, I’m only doing back vocals and fitted in a new main vocal.” He said and showed off the line of new audios he had recorded. There was almost no interruption in between the file, meaning whoever had recorded it had nailed the whole refrain in one-go and Hoseok didn’t need to arrange different versions of it into one. “But just listen and then tell me okay?”

Hoseok started the track and Yoongi listened in concentration, eyes closed, and brows furrowed. The track was good, pulling you in right away with music that was layered enough to be interesting and get your attention without overwhelming the listener. He waited for the lyrics to come and when a voice started singing his eyes snapped open. He hadn’t thought much about it when Hobi had mentioned that he let someone else sing the main vocals, thinking that he had chosen someone with a usual vibe. Instead it sounded like there was a literal angel singing on Hobi’s track, his voice clear and soft and full of unspoken promises. It had Yoongi shivering from the sudden and unexpected emotions that the sweet voice evoked. He took off one side of the headphones, holding it a little away from his ear (just one because he didn’t want to miss anything from the song) and asked immediately, “Who is this? It sounds amazing!”

Hoseok smiled, bopping his head to the rhythm but didn't answer his question, yet, not wanting to disturb the song. He grinned widely, letting Yoongi listen to the rest before asking, “And? What did you think about the arrangement? Lyrics? It's better than the first version, right?“ Hoseok was really bad at hiding his excitement, shifting nervously on his seat. “He's good right?“ Hoseok finally addressed the vocals, “Unfortunately you can't steal him from me. I promised him not to tell others, as he wants to keep himself hidden.”

“It’s way better! Whoever it is you caught there don’t let him go! He has an amazing range and his vocals are soft but not weak. His voice is sweet but powerful and I bet you could use him for a lot of songs. How did you find him?” When Hoseok showed him with a gesture that his lips were sealed and that he wouldn’t reveal anything about that mysterious singer Yoongi pouted a little but then accepted it. If Hoseok didn’t even give in when he acted cute (a very rare occasion) then he must really want to respect that person’s wish.

So, he didn’t push any further.

“He’ll be at Namjoon’s birthday this weekend, maybe you’ll find out who it is when you hear their voice.” Hoseok chuckled low and then got out a notebook to open it to a page, where it clearly showed the lyrics of the song Yoongi just had heard. It was written in two different handwritings. When Yoongi raised his eyebrow in surprise at the clean handwriting, next to Hoseok’s messy one, he quickly explained: “Oh, Jungkookie helped me with it a little. That boy is so talented, you won’t believe it. Anyways…, I need help with the rap part,” He pointed at a line, “I don’t feel this is fluid enough.”

Yoongi scooted closer, leaning forward to see the writing better. “I’ll help you - and I’d even let you take a sneak peek into my own lyrics notebook - if you push me a little into the right direction in case I’d miss that angel person. You don’t have to break your promise and tell me who it is, just.. give me a little nudge if I don’t find him, alright? I’d really love to work with him for one or two of my songs as well, I bet his voice sounds amazing in contrast with a heavy beat - or with a slow, emotional song. Damn, don’t even know who he is and I’m already excited about him. He better not be an asshole, that would be so disappointing. So... what do you say?” If he had to bribe and blackmail Hoseok to get what he wanted he would because he knew that Hobi would never do anything that he didn’t want he had principles and would defend them screaming if he had to.

“Says asshole no°1 here,” Hoseok laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise he will sing for you. It was hard enough already to get him for my song. And maybe, he doesn’t like you – who knows.” He shrugged his shoulders, getting more comfortable in his seat, “Now be a good boy for once and help me.”

“Yeah sure, you just insulted me and now you want me to help you. You can be glad you own such a nice studio and are a decent cook. Though if Jin’s joked weren’t that bad he would beat you as a friend - because his cooking is way better.” Yoongi took the notebook to take a closer look and made a noise of surprise when he saw how much of the lyrics was in Jungkook’s neat handwriting - and how good they were. “Damn, Jungkook really knows how to write. I didn’t even knew he was interested in music. Not that he’s talking to me at all but... I guess that’s normal with him.” He awkwardly eyed Hoseok from the side to see if the other would comment on that.

Hoseok pulled one leg up on his chair, humming in response, “Yeah, but he’s an amazing writer and he’s a dance major, of course he likes music. His body reacts to every beat, every vibration, forming it into the most beautiful art. It’s honestly amazing. He’s got a poetic side in him, just like you.” He grinned, patting Yoongi’s shoulder as he sighed softly. Hoseok had always admired Yoongi’s creative mind, so therefore he was glad he could call him his friend and learn from him at the same time.

“Well the only things I got so see of him were his wide eyes, a fearful expression and his cute smile. So yeah he might be a cutie but apart from that I have no idea if what you’re telling me is true. I’d say doubtable until proven.” Yoongi hoped that Hobi wouldn’t see through his attempt at getting him to show him a vid of Jungkook’s abilities. Hobi always recorded his dance practices or musical WIPs.

Shaking his head, Hoseok’s voice turned a little softer, “Cute? Yoongi…whatever you’re thinking now…don’t.” Hoseok knew Yoongi inside and out, he knew his expressions, the way he raised his eyebrows when he was interested, the smirk that lured boys in. But not his sweet Jungkookie. He looked at his friend with an insistent gaze, “I know you. Keep your hands to yourself. Anyone really, but not him.”

Yoongi had known that this would come up sooner or later and still his pride had him acting offended. “Why? Maybe it would be good for him to get a little out of his shell. He’s really shy, isn’t he? Also don’t act like you’ve never hooked up with someone for the fun of it. We’re young, having sex without any obligations shouldn’t be stigmatized like that especially not by you who practically cuddles with everyone when he’s drunk.” Just that Hoseok stopped at cuddling while Yoongi went all the way instead. “Also, he’s a grown-up he can decide for himself! I mean - he must be or else he wouldn’t study here. He can’t be underage - right?”

Hoseok immediately shook his head, waving his hands around, “That’s exactly why. For the fun of it. Jungkook,… he isn’t like that and you shouldn’t use it as a reason to make him more confident only to crush him and ignore his calls only days later like you do with literally everyone else.” He leaned in a little, making it clear that he wasn’t joking around right now, “He is a grown-up, but I can’t stand to see him hurt. If anyone hurt him, I’ll break their bones….twice.” With a satisfied smile, Hoseok leaned against his chair again, “Jungkook is different. You can fuck anyone you like, but not him. You won’t ruin him and break his heart just because you liked his smile.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to protest but then closed him again without saying a word. Hoseok did have a point. Kind of. Though it wasn’t like he did it on purpose. Other people had different partners as well and you had use the trial and error method how else were you supposed to find out who would stay in your heart forever and who was only in there for a night? Yes, he might have a pretty high “error rate” but it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t the most patient guy and wasn’t it better to end things quickly to be free for something new? He was only fair, being honest and telling his partners the truth instead of keeping them around and keeping them from possibly meeting the love of their lives. Instead he was told he was an asshole and told by his friend to stay away from the mute cutie that he’d loved to get to know better.

“You’ll be fine. You got enough other people interested in you,” Hoseok smiled faintly, before pointing at his song again, “Shall we?”

…

The sun was shining so bright that Jungkook had to squeeze his eyes so hard to be able to see. There were people running past him, as he sat by the side of the running track, a stopwatch in his hand. Biting his lip in concentration, his gaze was fixated on one runner only as he came closer and closer to the finish line. The moment he crossed the white paint, Jungkook pushed his finger down, holding the watch up with a bright grin. “And?” Wonho was panting, sweat dripping down his body, making his pale skin glisten under the sunlight. He took the stopwatch and groaned, “Hm, I can be better than this.” As a form of self-punishment Wonho dropped down a few feet away from Jungkook and began to do some pushups, counting loudly.

Jungkook only shook his head.

He knew Wonho for so long now. He’d been a neighbor of his when they were little and now they were studying at the same uni, only that Wonho chose sport and languages, while Jungkook studied art and dance. And since then, Jungkook was bad at saying ‘no’ and never liked to keep his friends hanging so he had been officially recruited to stop Wonho’s time while he was training for an exam. While Wonho was busy stretching now, Jungkook returned his attention to his papers. He needed to study, too.

…

Yoongi had sneaked out to the sports area behind campus because no one noticed him there and it was a nice place to smoke. People went training on their own and had their headphones on so no one tried talking or sometimes the running place was even empty so Yoongi could sit on the spectator stand and enjoy his cigarette in peace. Not today though. When he looked up there was already someone sitting there. Jungkook. Even though the weather was sunny he still wore a long sleeved shirt made out of thin material that didn’t had him overheating but was long enough for him to hide his hands the way he liked it. Yoongi wondered why he did it, if it was a safety thing or if he was actually hiding something. He swallowed harshly. Then his thoughts suddenly took an 180° turn when some sporty, bulky and sweaty guy who just finished some pushups went up the stairs to sit beside Jungkook. Instead of acting like a startled deer like Yoongi had expected Jungkook just made him some room and then went back to reading his papers. Yoongi stood and stared, not sure why that sight startled him so much.

Jungkook didn’t look up from his papers, when Wonho sat down next to him. They were just sitting in silence until…

“Gosh, it’s so fucking hot,” The bulky man grabbed the hem of his shirt swiftly pulling it over his head and making heads turn right away, except for Jungkooks. He never had been interested in Wonho and neither the other way around. “You need some help there?” Wonho nudged Jungkook’s side, taking one of his papers, where notes were scribbled all over, holding it up in the air. Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes as he tried to grab it but Wonho only held it back further. “Just give it back. I really need to study, and I did what you asked of me…” Jungkook whispered, reaching for it.

The guy stripped right next to Kook like it was nothing and Yoongi angrily smashed his cigarette. There he was, playing all nice and holding himself back like Hoseok had asked him to, just for some guy to take his place and flirt with the sweet boy half naked on the campus ground.

Before he could think about it Yoongi was up the stairs and standing right in front of the two. It looked as if the sports guy was stealing Jungkook’ stuff and Yoongi was not having it! “Give him back his stuff - now!” He growled at him, no warning, no hello, no nothing. He just wanted that guy away from Kook.

Jungkook jerked around, his eyes wide and the smile wiped off his face and was replaced by sheer surprise and then he froze completely. His mouth stood open, his heart racing while he tried to comprehend what just happened. Where did Yoongi come from? Why was he mad? It didn’t make any sense to Jungkook.

“You know this one?” Wonho turned to look at the younger, not even sparing Yoongi a glance. The shy boy nodded softly, but it still wasn’t enough and Wonho got up and crack his neck just to show that he wouldn’t hesitate. Jungkook’s eyes flickered over to Wonho, then to Yoongi, feeling as if he was about to faint. “How about you just piss off again…we don’t need your bad attitude around here.” He said and took a step closer, “Jungkook is fine as you can see. Don’t see why it would be your business, anyways.”

“You haven’t seen my bad attitude yet, but you will if you don’t give him his stuff back…And it is my business cause I don’t like it when jocks like you pick on younger students. If you want to cause trouble then take someone of your own caliber you coward.”

Jungkook was completely dumbfounded. He couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t listen to whatever these two were talking about because Jungkook wasn’t even sure what this was really about. Either way he didn’t like it. Yoongi had no right to come at them like this, to pretend as if he knew Jungkook. Not at Wonho who had just been teasing him a little. Jungkook was used to it.

“My caliber? Well, I don’t see anyone around, or do you want to try?” Wonho pushed against Yoongi’s chest, chuckling low but the moment he opened his mouth again to say something, he was interrupted by Jungkook who forcefully pushed all of his books back in his bag. Jungkook was biting his tongue, before he shouldered the bag and squeezed himself right through them both and tearing them apart in the process, before simply walking ahead. Wonho still had Jungkook’s papers in hand but his expression changed as he looked after the younger.

Jungkook didn’t look as if he was glad that Yoongi was helping him, quite the opposite, he looked more uncomfortable than before. And while Yoongi had thought in the beginning that it was just Jungkook hating that someone witnessed that he was being bullied or that his shyness made him crack under the pressure of this kind of attention now he felt that something was wrong. Jungkook had looked close to tears when he had ran off, not caring a bit for the papers that the other was still holding. Normally someone pushing him would have resulted in a broken jaw or at least a few punches but it was Jungkook he was worried about and not his hurt pride right now. He ripped the papers from the guys hand, glad that he let go of them immediately and didn’t rip them and then gave him a warning growl. “Don’t bother him again or you’ll wish that you left him in peace while it was still your decision to make.”

Jungkook was walking fast, trying to calm the storm of feelings inside of him. He wasn’t sure why he had run, instead of facing Yoongi and just telling him off (although he was sure he couldn’t have done that anyway, even if he was able to speak in front of him) or take Wonho and pull him somewhere else so Yoongi realized that it was fine. He was fine. He didn’t need protection or whatever Yoongi had tried to do. Why did he? It made no fucking sense to Jungkook. They weren’t friends. So why? His heart ached when he remembered how Hoseok had told him once that Yoongi liked to get into trouble, that he couldn’t control his emotions very well when they were all having dinner. He had listened carefully, glad that Jimin had been so worried to ask if Yoongi was alright. Apparently he had seen Yoongi with bruises and cuts on his hands and face in the library and wondered what happened. Yoongi hadn’t told him and only shrugged it off, so Jimin had turned to Hoseok. But why here? Why now? Jungkook still had no answer when he arrived at his bike, fishing out his keys to unlock it and pull it out of the stand a little too aggressive.

Luckily Jungkook wasn’t hard to find because although he had run off as if he wanted to get away from them as fast as possible he came to a halt in front of the bike stand. It gave Yoongi time to observe him and it made his heart feel heavy: There was a frown on Jungkook’s face, his head held low as if he wanted to hide from everything and if the way he ripped the bike from the stand was anything to go by then he was really angry. It must be hard not being able to voice his anger.

Yoongi waited for Jungkook to finish arranging his bike to address him but Jungkook saw him first and it went like a knife through Yoongi’s heart because the second Jungkook got aware of him his shoulders went up and he curled his body away from him as if he was trying to get away. Jungkook startled, eyes wide and when his gaze fell onto him, he let them fall, his expression turning softer. Why did you do this? He wanted to ask, but his heart was beating loudly, making the blood rush through his veins so fast that he felt dizzy - no word coming from him.

Yoongi swallowed hard and then held out the papers carefully, toning down his voice to not agitate the younger further. “Hey. I... I guess you need those.” Jungkook didn’t even look at him. “Are you alright?” He wished Jungkook could just tell him how he was, more detailed than with a head shake or a nod.

“You... didn’t really like that, hu?” Sheepishly he rubbed his neck, wishing he could go back just to approach things differently. “I’m sorry, I... I guess I went a bit overboard. It just made me so angry that this guy was bullying you. You are such a sweet person; I don’t understand how someone can be cruel enough to treat you badly. I... I know there would have been a way to solve this differently - and I guess I should have asked first if you even wanted my help but... I kind of got a little overprotective. And maybe also a little jealous that he can just walk over to you like that while I can’t - and then seeing him use that chance to hurt you... I just snapped. I’m really sorry. Do you want me to tell Hobi? I can understand if you don’t want me handling this any further but Kook, please tell us if someone is bullying you. You shouldn’t just take it. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” His smile was a little sad when he spoke again, even more quietly this time, words slipping from him without his permission, “It’s shitty being like this, isn’t it? I’m ‘too much’ all the time and people hate me for it while you have probably been called ‘too soft’ a few times and people think of you as easy prey. It shouldn’t be like this. But it is how it is, right and we just have to handle it. We’re like the perfect opposites, you and I.” He laughed humorlessly, “Hell, we probably could balance each other out - or go down in flames. I see why Hobi doesn’t want me to be with you. And yet... here I am, stupid enough to consider it nonetheless even though Hobi is one of my oldest friends and everything I managed to do to you so far is get you in more trouble. I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone now.” It was so easy to spill his heart to Kook, scaringly easy. He needed to be more careful.

Jungkook felt like he was daydreaming, for a moment, he was sure that he would wake up any second now and then Jimin would tell him he was late for his class. Did Yoongi just confessed to him? Tell him that he liked him, even though he was...practically mute because he was crushing on Yoongi so hard that it made him speechless. He blushed furiously, pretty sure that he would go up in flames any second now. Yoongi cared about him. Him, the wallflower.

He wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that it was alright, that he liked Yoongi too but just the thought of it made him shut again. His heart went into overdrive. The longer he stayed quiet, the more Yoongi was talking and it was so utterly cute that it brought a smile on his face, one that he tried to push down again, biting onto his lip. When Yoongi turned away from though, Jungkook reacted on instinct, reaching out for Yoongi so fast that he almost dropped his bike in the process. Shaking his head, Jungkook told Yoongi wordlessly that he was okay. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Nervously he pulled at Yoongis shirt, pointing at his pants where he could see his phone sticking out.

“What, you want my phone as payment for the mess I made?” Joking was his defense mode (or sarcasm) and right now his stomach was making summersaults. Jungkook was so close that he could count the younger’s eyelashes and as his hands had come up in reflex when Jungkook stumbled into him (almost taking his bike with him) now they stood in some kind of half embrace, Yoongi holding Kook’s arms while the younger looked at him with his pretty, wide eyes. “Take what you want, Kookie. I guess I kind of owe you. Twice now. For ruining your day not one but two times so far. I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear.”

Jungkook giggled softly, shaking his head again before slowly reaching out for Yoongi’s phone. It was easier to touch Yoongi than he remembered. Unlocking the screen, Jungkook opened the notes app and started typing. He knew there was no way he could get out any words. He’d probably stumble over his own sentences, making a mess and then Yoongi would think the worst of him. And he liked this. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t talking. Sticking out his tongue in concentration, Jungkook tried to be quick before handing Yoongi the phone with a smile. While the other looked down and started reading, the younger quickly sat on his bike and drove off. The blush still burning on his cheeks.

[He’s my friend, he didn’t bully me. I don’t like it when others talk for me, I’m sorry. I think you do owe me something now. Maybe a coffee? You’re cute.]

Curiously Yoongi read through the notes on his phone, his eyes widening when he realized his mistake. Jungkook and that guy were friends! He hadn’t stopped Jungkook from being bullied he had made a great big mess out of a little teasing between friends. No wonder Jungkook had looked so distraught. That meant he would have to apologize to that guy next time he saw him. Yoongi groaned internally. He hated apologizing. Really, really hated it. ”H...hey!” He was calling after Kook who was sneakily running away on wheels, “How am I supposed to ask you out for coffee if I don’t even have your number!” Also, he wasn’t cute!

Kittens were cute or puppies or Jungkook but definitely not him. He could feel his cheeks heating up against his will.

God, he was so gone for that boy!

…

Another weekend, another party, only this time it was Namjoon’s birthday and Jungkook had no valid reason to stay home. He liked him, he was (finally) Jimin’s boyfriend now and therefore the three of them (including Taehyung) were invited as well. They had grown into a group of friends quickly over the past couple of months and Jungkook really liked it. He always felt more comfortable with close friends around. It made it easier, than being alone.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Jungkook sighed. He had fled a little from the crowded rooms. Jungkook was pretty sure Jimin was gone with Namjoon to give him his “special present”. He had worked on a lap dance all week, making Jungkook stumble into some weird scenes whenever he came home, finding Jimin upside down over Taehyung’s lap while he tried to twerk with the other yelling at him that he wasn’t rubbing enough onto his dick. It was disturbing in a way and still he had laughed.

But no matter how loud the music was, his thoughts were still louder. Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi and what he had said. He had explained to Wonho over phone that Yoongi had some anger issues sometimes and that he didn’t know they were friends. Luckily for him, he bought it and wasn’t mad at him, nor Yoongi (if he wouldn’t come at him again). Jungkook didn’t know that for sure though. As much as he crushed on Yoongi in silence, Jungkook didn’t know much about him but the obvious: he was handsome, very much so and studied music and producing. He was friends with Hoseok, liked to drink, get into trouble and wear his leather jacket no matter the weather. He loved thriller movies and didn’t care about shutting people out in a matter of seconds. Jungkook had seen it at a party once, when he had been still nothing but a shadow to him. But now…Yoongi saw him. He wasn’t invisible anymore and he had told him that he liked him….in a way. Maybe just as friends? He’d be fine with that too and maybe eventually he could say something if this stupid crush ebbed down. But it didn’t, it only grew.

Jungkook wanted to ask Hoseok about what he had said to him. But he wasn’t brave enough. Hoseok would only need to look at him once to see that he was interested. So, he rather hid from everyone, pouring in a little more bowl and sipping on it quietly.

“Oh, there you are! I wondered if you had gone home already.” Yoongi had come to the party totally excited. Hoseok had told him that the boy with the angelic voice would be there and so he should go looking for him and he wanted too, he really did - but somehow his mind directed him back to Jungkook every time. And honestly who knew who this singer guy even was, maybe it would be awkward, or he was a stuck up idiot. There must be a reason why he didn’t want people to know that he was helping Hoseok, maybe he was totally strange. With Jungkook however he knew the evening would be nice. You couldn’t be with Jungkook and not feel good, that just wasn’t possible. So, he pretended as if he hadn’t been looking for him everywhere and casually leaned against the counter as well. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Jungkook almost choked on his drink, when Yoongi came in so suddenly. He hadn’t seen the other, yet and he wasn’t prepared.

He was never prepared!

Smiling awkwardly, Jungkook put his drink down and moved aside, leaving Yoongi to room to get himself either some of the beer or the bowl. He shrugged his shoulders as an answer, averting his gaze shyly. Here we go again, Jungkook thought to himself, feeling the heat crawl back into his cheeks and dusting it in a rose color when Yoongi moved closer.

Yoongi took some of the bowl and then took a sip, face turning into a grimace. “Ugh, that’s... disgusting actually. How can you drink that? I actually don’t want to kiss anyone from that party now in fear of them tasting like this!” He shuddered a little before he realized that Jungkook was drinking the same thing. “Oops.” He shrugged his shoulders and gestured to Jungkook's cup, “Guess I should take that back then.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. Did he mean that like Jungkook thought he mean it? Yoongi wanted to kiss him? Even though he was drinking this disgusting bowl. He was freaking out inwardly. All color faded from his face and he hastily gulped down the whole drink in one go to not look at Yoongi further, while simultaneously thinking of a way to get out and get some air into his lungs because he felt like he was suffocating right now. In a good way. But also: did Yoongi just say that he would kiss him?

Yoongi laughed as Jungkook down his bowl in one go. “Was this a ‘hell no -I need to drink more of this’ or a ‘the sooner I drink up the sooner I can drink something else’ gesture?” The boy might be shy but if he really felt something he acted on it. Yoongi respected him for that. Like the way Jungkook had enjoyed his ice cream without giving a damn if someone else could stare (him, for example) or how he had just went away from the situation with Yoongi and his friend when it had become too much - or how he just drank up now, not caring that Yoongi had no idea what it meant.

Jungkook didn’t know what to do. His heart was beating so hard against his chest that it was hurting, and his breath came in short, quiet pants. He was sure he would faint. There was no doubt about it. Placing his cup aside, Jungkook shook his head and then nodded again and then shook it again because no matter what he did, he couldn’t answer Yoongi’s question without making him understand.

He raised his hands slowly, opening his mouth. He would be fine, he thought to himself. He had gotten so used to Yoongi being around in a way, it would be fine. He could talk to him. He would understand if he would explain. Everyone else had been fine with him talking, too…so Yoongi should be, too, right? He wouldn’t make a mess right now. He could form proper sentences. He wouldn’t gay panic and drool all over but say a functional sentence with words that made sense. Yes. Right…now.

Taking another deep breath, Jungkook opened his mouth again, when Hoseok stumbled into the kitchen, slightly drunk. His eyes flickered from Yoongi to Jungkook and then back to Yoongi, raising his eyebrow. “So, you found the angel, huh. How did you know it was him?” Hoseok asked and pushed them both apart to get to the bowl and fill up his cup. Jungkook was glad for the distraction, turning his face away from Yoongi as he tried to collect himself. He could do this. It was easy…just a few little words. Just words. Nothing more than simple words. Jungkook’s knuckles turned white with how hard he was gripping the kitchen counter, trying to take a deep breath and form his lips as if he wanted to say something. He could do it. Jungkook was so occupied with trying to control his storm of thoughts that he didn’t listen to what Hoseok was saying.

“You really won’t let go of him, hm? I’ll keep my eyes on you.” He was pointing at his eyes and then at Yoongi again with a narrowed glance.

Hoseok was apparently way more drunk that he looked because his words absolutely didn’t make sense. “The...what? Hoseok, you mixed something up. Jungkook wrote the lyrics.” If he couldn’t talk he was pretty sure that he also couldn’t sing. At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression he explained, “Hobi showed me his new song and also the lyrics that you wrote for him. They are really good; I was impressed with your talent. Do you enjoy doing that?” And, because he felt bold he added with a wink, “What would I need to do to make you consider working with me too?”

Jungkook snapped around and looked like a deer in the headlight. How did Yoongi know about him helping Hoseok with the song? He was full on panicking now, biting on his lips nervously while Yoongi was talking to him.

“The only thing I’m mixing is my drink,” Hoseok added, chuckling at his own joke before he simply retreated, leaving Jungkook absolutely flustered. How could Hoseok do that to him? Yoongi out of all people. Jungkook had asked him to keep it hidden, to not tell anyone. He flushed red, hiding his face behind his hands and shook his head. He couldn’t believe it.

“Hey, are you okay? Did you drink that bowl too quickly? Want to catch some air?” Yoongi mistook Jungkook suddenly folding in on himself as not feeling well (which was not that wrong except that Jungkook felt emotionally ill, not physically).

Shaking his head some more, Jungkook stumbled back a little and then he stormed out. He really needed air right now. He had reacted completely on instinct and the moment the cold air hit him, Jungkook realized he looked like a complete fool now. Why couldn’t he get his shit together and just say something. Why did Yoongi make it so hard for him? Why couldn’t he just get over his fear? Anyone else could do it. But why not him? Jungkook whined helplessly.

Even though Jungkook had shown no sign that he wanted Yoongi to come with him the other went after him, nonetheless. He wanted to make sure that Jungkook was okay and if the younger really needed time to himself then he could go - but he didn't want to leave him alone without knowing for sure that this was what he wanted. He ran out of the house and then stopped short because Jungkook was standing in the front yard, hunched forward and looking painfully miserable. Yoongi carefully approached him before gently asking, “Do you need to throw up? Do you want me to get you to the bathroom?”

There was silence between them.

Yoongi cared about him. Again. Jungkook knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t keep himself away from this. From Yoongi. From whatever this was. With a blush on his cheeks, he opened his mouth once more…closed it and then opened it again.

His heart was beating so hard that Jungkook could feel it in his throat. It was constricting him. Hands shaking as he fumbled around with his shirt.

“I…” His voice was only a croak, “I…I’m okay.” Jungkook mumbled the words more than he said them, his arms wrapped around his own body as he shivered in the cold. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater a little further over his hands, pushing up his glasses, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He had done it. He said two words. He could do a little more. Jungkook closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I…I’m fine. I…Hoseok just…” He blushed, wiping over his face with his sweater to hide it a little more, “I’m s-sorry.”

Yoongi stared at him, gaping like a fish. Had he drunk too much? Was he hallucinating? He blinked, but nothing changed. They were still standing awkwardly in the front yard of Namjoon’s place and Jungkook was smiling softly at him as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “Did you.. did you just talk to me?”

Jungkook nodded slowly, fumbling around with the hem of his sweater. “Y-y-yeah,” He spoke again, giggling softly and quietly, thinking that he finally managed to do right, but when he saw that Yoongi now was the one with the color fading from his face, he immediately reached out for him.

Yoongi took a step back, his walls coming up. He furrowed his brows as he spoke again, now way more guarded and neutral than before. “I thought.. I thought you were mute. Is this like... funny to you? Pretending not to be able to talk and keeping others guessing? Is this some kind of attention seeking thing?”

How could he have been so wrong about the boy? And why on earth had Hobi participated in this charade? Why hadn’t he just told him that Jungkook was playing games with him? He felt hurt and lost and he regretted ever having spilled his secrets to Jungkook. It must have been so funny to Jungkook to see him opening up while he literally hadn’t spoken a single word to him in return.

It didn’t even take Jungkook one second to retreat into his shell again. He pulled his hand back, startling with how angry Yoongi sounded out of a sudden. Mute? Why would he think that he was mute? And suddenly it all made sense. The way Yoongi had talked to him, had tried to protect him because he thought he wasn’t able to. Averting his gaze onto his feet, Jungkook didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good at these kinds of things and now he had made him mad. This was a mess, just like he had predicted. Whenever he said something it turned into a whole fucking chaotic mess for him.

Jungkook felt like crying. He could feel his bottom lip start to tremble, trying to form the words ‘I am sorry’ but only a whimper came from him.

“Fuck, this is just a waste of my time!” Yoongi was growling, angry and bitter while in reality he was just hurt. It had been so long since he had gotten swept off his feet by someone and Jungkook had done just that, he had come into his focus and then took all of his attention, making him dizzy from it and his heartbeat into overdrive whenever he had thought of him. Ad now it turned out that he had just been a part of Jungkook’s game. There was a reason he normally didn’t let people in; it always ended like this. With the hurt squeezing his chest and filling his stomach with acid while he was wishing to never feel like this ever again.

When he turned away from Jungkook, he bumped right into Hoseok. Great. That was the second person he needed right now. Hoseok’s eyes flickered over to Jungkook who was literally on the verge of tears now, trying to hide in his oversized sweater and then back to Yoongi who looked like he was ready to fight someone. “What happened?” When the other tried to ignore him, Hoseok held him back by his jacket, “Did you hurt him?”

Yoongi swatted his hands away, not playfully but with enough force to make it clear that he would hurt Hobi if he tried to hold him back again. “Are you seriously asking if I hurt him? You, who let him play his little stunt on me? I thought we were friends! Why didn’t you tell me that this ‘being mute’ thing was just a facade to get me to care?”

“Are you fucking stupid or something?” Hoseok shook his head and hissed at him, whispering low so that Jungkook wouldn’t hear too much, “Don’t you get it? It took three weeks for him to talk to me. He still doesn’t talk to Namjoon either and it took him a few weeks to start talking to Jimin. When he moved in with him, Jungkook waited until Jimin was asleep and then sneaked into the shower. I don’t fuck around like this, Yoongi. Not with Jungkook…he’s too good for that, I told you. Mute? Really? Do you think he’s one to play games like that? Look at him, really look at him…” Hoseok shook his head, “It is Jungkook who sang the song and it is also the boy who is too shy to talk to you because he always had a thing for you. Fucking always. But you never saw him. Do you remember the day you came into the studio because you forgot your notebook? You asked why I had it ‘on recording’ when I wasn’t even singing in the booth. Jungkook was fucking hiding.” He chuckled low, peeking over his shoulder to see if Jungkook was okay. “It’s so easy for him to be overseen, do you think he’d fuck around with you for the fun of it? You’re really dumb, Yoongi and he didn’t even need to talk to you to make you give over your heart. He only needed you to see him. Not everyone is out to hurt you, Yoongs.”

Yoongi was ready to fight when Hoseok called him dumb, anger and hurt mixing into a dangerous combination that made him defiant and wary and cold. Only when Hoseok told him to look at Jungkook did his walls crack a little. Because when he turned Jungkook was still standing there but he had his sleeves pulled over his hands again, fiddling with them as if to distract himself from the stress he was in right now. He couldn’t look at Yoongi and it was obvious that he was trying his hardest not to cry. It was 180° away from the shy but happy boy who had found enough courage to talk to him a few minutes ago. Though in his fear of being used and lied to and made fun of Yoongi had lashed out at everyone around him, Kook and Hobi alike the second his insecurities got the better of him.

“Kook is... he really is that shy? And he’s your secret singer?” He asked, had to, really, just to be 100 percent sure or else his fear would keep nagging at him, undermining every certainty he might gain. Suddenly it made a lot more sense what Hobi had said in the kitchen - and also that the singer had wanted to stay anonymous.

Jungkook just couldn’t handle too much attention.

Hoseok smiled, “Yes, he is. And I still mean what I said…if you hurt Jungkook...” Nudging his friends side, he laughed, “You’re really stupid sometimes. I hope you know that…” When Hoseok turned around though, wanting to get Jungkook back inside with them, maybe get them a quiet place to talk, he saw that the younger had turned his back onto them, starting to walk away with his shoulders hunched over. Before Yoongi could run after him, or call out his name, Hoseok held him back one last time, “If you bail on him, block his number after a few days or don’t give him your jacket when he’s cold…I will come for you, just so you remember. He deserves someone that wants to listen to him in exchange.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’d never. He can have my jacket whenever he wants. My leather jacket.” Hoseok gasped in fake surprise. “So are we good?” He waited until his friend nodded before turning back to Jungkook and running after him.

“Hey, Jungkook! Kook! Kookie!” The younger didn’t stop so he ran a little faster until he caught up with him. “Stop ignoring me I know you’re not deaf! And not mute either. So please, please talk to me! I promise I won’t be mean again and start yelling for no reason. I was just... I was scared you had been playing me and…,“ He sighed before deciding that if Jungkook was supposed to overcome his fears and talk to him then he would have to overcome his fears as well and keep opening up, “...and I was really hurt because I liked you so much. Like... really liked you. The way that you can’t just erase if you find out that the other person isn’t who you thought they were. But surprise turns out you weren’t pretending at all and I’m just bothering you… again. So, what do you say? Two coffees now? And some cheesecake?”

Jungkook stopped, eyes searching Yoongi’s while the other was opening up to him, bearing his heart right in front of him. “I’m not good at this,” He whispered, his heart aching inside his chest and Jungkook wiped over his eyes, making his glasses almost fall and he quickly pushed them back up his nose. He felt dizzy from the emotional rollercoaster and he was scared Yoongi would hurt him again.

“H-how do you know you like me when…when I don’t t-talk.” Jungkook raked a hand through his hair nervously, “Wh-what if I do and I make it worse? I already did. I always make a mess. I’m not even as pretty as the…the exchange student! I’m...” Jungkook sighed, feeling like a mess already again. Why couldn’t he do it as easily as the others? He honest to god just wanted to go home, hide under his covers and cry.

“That’s easy. I like you cause you’re kindhearted and courageous and smart. And you are talented and creative, and you have an angel’s voice even though you don’t show it. We communicated all the time; I don’t need you to spell out every word for me to understand you. And who knows maybe you’ll feel comfortable enough around me that you might even forget your shyness. And you didn’t make it ‘worse’ with talking, I was just surprised that’s all. You won’t surprise me like that again. Unless you scream at me for no reason or hide behind something to jump out. I got to warn you though I’ve got a mean right hook and it’s kind of reflex. You see you’re not the only one who’s not the easiest to be with. So, if you can handle being with me then I’m pretty sure I can handle being with you. Deal?” He felt like confessing again and telling Kook that he was like the most beautiful person he had ever seen might not be such a good idea if he didn't want to overwhelm him so he hoped that Jungkook would just forget what he had said.

“B…being with you?“ Jungkook asked carefully, not sure if Yoongi meant the same way he had dreamed about so many times before. “But you’re Yoongi…you can be with anyone a-and you don’t care.” Jungkook was biting his lip, “And shouldn’t we go out then first? Like a date? With…movies and stuff and...I’m not sure.” He hesitated, averting his gaze as he shyly admitted, “I’ve never been with someone.”

Jungkook’s shy objections weren’t a ‘no’ so Yoongi felt hopeful. “Sorry, yeah, I got a little carried away there. Of course, there will be dates. First two coffees with Cheesecake like I owe you. Then whatever else you want to do. And then you can decide if you want to consider being in a relationship with me - so that Hobi can stop pretending like you’re some maiden and I’m trying to ruin your reputation. He can’t say anything if we make it official, right?” He was joking a little, half for Jungkook to lighten the mood and half for himself because honestly he had no idea what he was doing and was completely out of his depth here. Relationships, officially being boyfriends, classical dating - he couldn’t remember when he had last attempted those things let alone cared for them. Though for Jungkook he would try his best to make the younger feel as comfortable as possible.

“And if you don’t like it we can always .. go back to how it was before.” Though he hated that thought. Because he was pretty sure that now that he had seen Jungkook and had gotten to know him better he could never just ‘casually go back to nodding vaguely at each other in the hallways when they met because they were friends of a friend.

Jungkook nodded slowly, biting his lip in thought. “Oh-okay,” He finally said and smiled, butterflies starting to fly in his stomach making him feel light like a feather for a moment. Blushing sweetly, he pointed at Yoongi’s pants again, nodding towards his phone.

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he realized what he wanted. Taking out his phone, he gave it over to him adding in a low voice (that instantly send a shiver down Jungkook’s spine), “You won’t run away this time, right?” This time though he hoped that Jungkook would enter his number and not write a text cause even though it had been cute he would really like to be able to call him this time.

Jungkook shook his head and started typing in his phone number. “That’s how you do it. I’ll give you my phone number and then you call me and ask me out again. And then we meet. Somewhere. You choose. Just like they do it all the time, right?” His heartbeat was picking up, as he simply recalled everything he learned from movies, “First phone number, then kiss.” He smiled brightly, cheeks aflamed as he gave Yoongi his phone back.

“Alright, you call the shots.” A smile was tugging at his lips. “Just tell me when I’ve got permission to kiss you - or show me if words are not an option then.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but giggle, feeling absolutely embarrassed because he wanted to kiss Yoongi. He really wanted to. But they were out in the open. Not far from the dorms and Jungkook was nervous. Hella nervous. Bringing up his sweater paws he hid his face in them, “I-I want to…but I’m…”

“You mean like.. right now?” When Jungkook shyly nodded, hiding his face even further in his hands Yoongi gently reached out for him to pry his hands away from his face, slowly so that Jungkook could stop him if he really couldn’t handle this. “What’s stopping you then, baby?” He got closer until he stood right in front of him, sneaking his fingers into Jungkook’s sleeve so that he could hold onto his fingers instead of the sweater. Only when he felt Jungkook holding onto him too did he continue. He leaned his head against Jungkook’s forehead, giving the younger time to get used to their closeness, to decide if he really wanted this and then, when there was no objection he tilted his head, slowly brushing his lips against Jungkooks.

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, then two and then he wasn’t so sure if he was even still alive.

He fell against Yoongi, fully trusting him to catch him, because it felt too good to feel his warm lips against his own. It felt absolutely perfect, with their fingers laced together and lips melting against one another. Jungkook knew he was already addicted. When they broke the kiss Yoongi felt breathless even though it was the softest and most delicate kiss he ever gave to someone. He gently squeezed Jungkook’s hand to check if he was okay. “Are you good?” The smile was impossible to wipe off his face, “Do you think you could get used to this?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook bit his lip to keep from smiling too hard and then he just let his heart decide for once. It felt too good to be so close to Yoongi, but he was too shy to initiate another kiss, so he simply stepped closer and hugged him. Hands pushed into his jacket, embracing Yoongi softly as he leaned his head on his shoulder. “C-can we do the date and cheesecake now?”

Jungkooks open affection took him by surprised but he had to confess that he absolutely loved this; feeling Jungkook’s warms seeping through his shirt and knowing that this hug alone was a sign of trust so big that it was practically a love confession. “Yes.” Carefully he carded his fingers through the youngers curly hair, “Let’s skip the party and go look for slices of cheesecake. And if Namjoon is mad that we left his birthday party we promise him that he can throw flowers on our wedding if he wants.” He adored the beautiful blush on Jungkook’s cheeks, happy that he could still tease the younger a little and giving him a cheeky wink.

Though deep down in his heart a tiny, tender part was whispering that maybe this joke might come true in the end. Who knew maybe - despite being the odd ones and the outsiders - they would get their happily ever after as well.

A/N: Yay!!! Happy End!!! Talking about happy, Cat and I are so glad that you liked this short little fluff so much so far and we already talked about writing a few more “shorter” fluffs for you guys. Leave us a comment down below on what you think :) Will Yoonkook work out or will they eventually break off again? Will it get too much for Yoongi one day? *sighs* We will never find out ;) hihiihihi LOVE YOU GUYS

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bamon4bamily · 4 years

Text

TVD 9x07 (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - The Salvatore house. The doorbell rings, Caroline opens; it’s Elena and Sam.

CAROLINE: Hey, guys! (Hugs them) Come on in; we are almost ready to head out.

STEFAN: Hey! (Hugs Elena and shakes Sam’s hand; they come in and sit down in the living room to wait for the rest).

ELENA: So, did you guys manage to get any sleep last night?

CAROLINE: Barely, but we are used to it by now. How about you guys?

SAM: No, but we are used to it too (smirks).

ELENA: (Blushing, hits him with her elbow) Sam… Anyway, where’s Bonnie?

CAROLINE: She’s upstairs in Dam… (realizes she is about to screw up, Elena doesn’t know about Damon and Bonnie) … n’ damn late, is what she is! Let me go get her (vamps out).

ELENA: (To Stefan) What’s up with her?

STEFAN: (Nervously) Uhm… she’s just being Caroline. Let me go check on her (runs upstairs).

SAM: Your friends are so weird.

ELENA: They’re friends with me, what did you expect? But something fishy is going on and I’m going to figure it out; they’re not leaving me out again!

Cut to – Damon’s room, Caroline vamps in with her eyes closed.

CAROLINE: Please, be dressed…

DAMON: If you keep coming in like that, there is bound to be a time when we won’t…

BONNIE: He’s right, Care... but it’s okay, you can open your eyes.

CAROLINE: Good. So, Elena and Sam are here, but I think we forgot one small detail, Elena still doesn’t know you two are together…

DAMON: And? What’s the problem? She’s gonna find out eventually.

BONNIE: Yes, but not like this; I don’t want it to hit her out of nowhere.

DAMON: Bon, it’s not out of nowhere, I’m pretty sure she knew this was going to happen at some point.

BONNIE: Maybe, but I want to tell her myself. I’ll take her aside during the hike, talk to her then. In the meantime, please, just play along, okay?

DAMON: Fine, but make it fast, Bon, I don’t know how long I can control myself (kisses her).

STEFAN: (Walks in) Uhm, guys, I think we forgot about something…

CAROLINE: Already solved, my love (kisses him). We just need to pretend for a little while until Bonnie gets a chance to talk to Elena; no slip-ups!

BONNIE: That includes you, Care…

CAROLINE: One little indiscretion, or two, and I’m cast as the gang rat!

BONNIE: (Laughs) You’re not a rat, you are… well, let’s just say, not that good at keeping things to yourself.

CAROLINE: I like to share, is all…

STEFAN: They are waiting; we should go (they go downstairs).

ELENA: (Sees Bonnie, runs to hug her) Bonnie!!!

BONNIE: Elena!!

ELENA: (Teary-eyed) I, I don’t know what to say…

BONNIE: Hey, it’s okay, I’m fine.

ELENA: Really? I mean, Stefan only gave me the cliff-notes, and it’s insane, Bon.

BONNIE: By now, we got crazy down to a science, am I right?

ELENA: Kidding aside, are you really okay?

BONNIE: I am… and I’m glad you stayed.

ELENA: Of course I was staying; I wasn’t going to leave without seeing you.

BONNIE: (Turns to greet Sam) Hey, Sam.

SAM: Hola, Bonnie. Happy to see everything turned out alright.

ELENA: (Turns to greet Damon) Hey, good to see you.

DAMON: Good to see you too.

ELENA: (Introduces him to Sam) This is Sam…

DAMON: Hey, man, nice to meet you (shakes his hand).

SAM: You too.

ALARIC: Okay, is everyone ready to go?

TWINS: Let’s go, let’s go! (They leave).

Cut to – the Mayor’s office; Matt and Edward talking.

MATT: I can’t thank you enough for getting me out of that place.

EDWARD: No need to thank me, Sheriff, I’m just glad I was able to do it in time.

MATT: So, are you coming over for dinner?

EDWARD: I am; thank you for the invitation, it really wasn’t necessary.

MATT: It’s the least we could do.

EDWARD: What time shall I arrive?

MATT: Around seven, is fine.

EDWARD: Will do. Anyway, back to business. Now that Darius is gone, we need to go back to focusing on purging Mystic Falls of its filth, and making it the safest place to live.

MATT: What about his cult groupies?

EDWARD: I took care of them; they won’t be bothering anyone anymore.

MATT: What do you mean you took care of them?

EDWARD: Oh, Sheriff, I didn’t kill them, what kind of a person do you think I am? They are locked up where they belong, and they won’t be getting out any time soon.

MATT: (Shows him the chess piece and the key) And what should we do with these?

EDWARD: Keep them in a safe place and don’t tell anyone you have them, or where they are; not even me.

MATT: Why not destroy them?

EDWARD: It’s not our place to do so. Plus, the devices themselves are not what matters, but what they grant access to; and you have already activated unit 1, so…

MATT: I’m sorry; I had no control over what I was doing.

EDWARD: I know, Sheriff. Don’t worry, the situation has been contained.

MATT: What about the bunker?

EDWARD: Had it cleaned up; it’s under our control now.

Cut to – the mountains, the gang is hiking towards the top. At one moment, Bonnie asks Elena to stay behind so they can talk.

ELENA: What’s up, Bon? Don’t tell me you’re tired already! We still have a long way to go.

BONNIE: (Looking worried) I…

ELENA: Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?

BONNIE: I’m fine… I just really need to talk to you about something…

ELENA: Is this about you and Damon?

BONNIE: (Taken off guard) What?

ELENA: Come on, Bonnie, that kind of chemistry is impossible to hide, let along the tension.

BONNIE: Elena, I …

ELENA: It’s okay, Bon, I’ve known you practically my whole life, and I know Damon; it was bound to happen sooner or later, and I’m glad it did. Deep down inside, even when we were still together, I knew he felt something special for you, and I’m not going to lie, I was secretly jealous because I knew he would never love me like that.

BONNIE: Don’t say that, Damon loved you.

ELENA: Damon was dependent on me, just like I was on him; that’s not real love, Bonnie, that’s fear; I know that now. We were both so insecure and scared to let each other go because we didn’t know who we were outside of our relationship. It took a while to sink in, and he clearly realized it before I did, but we finally accepted how toxic it was and moved on.

BONNIE: Regardless, he was your epic love…

ELENA: No, he wasn’t; if anyone, it was Stefan. But I was a different person back then; I was younger and didn’t know the difference. Damon was the forbidden fruit I would have never taken if I hadn't become a vampire, and I was the better version of the woman he had been obsessed with for over 100 years… our relationship had disaster written all over it since the beginning; and although we tried to cling to it for as long as we could, much longer than we should have, once the infatuation began to fade with the day to day, we realized we really didn’t have much in common. Our relationship was based on desire, and a false sense of security; not love. And, while I appreciate you wanting to tell me this in private, you really didn’t have to, Bon.

BONNIE: This conversation is definitely not going the way I expected it…

ELENA: I might have my slips, but I like to think that I have grown. I truly am happy for you, both of you. What Damon and you have is something beautiful… once in a lifetime, or multiple lifetimes, type of thing; and, if there is anyone that deserves that kind of love and happiness, it’s you, Bonnie. As long as you are happy, I am happy.

BONNIE: Please, stop, or you’ll make me cry.

ELENA: Come here (gives her a hug). I love you, Bonnie; and the only thing I resent is not being able to be there for you through all of this.

BONNIE: You were, maybe not physically, but trust me, you were with me. And, I hope you understand why we didn’t want to involve you…

ELENA: I do; I still gave Caroline hell for it, but I get it. Just, for future reference, when it comes to you guys, no matter what I say, I want to know what’s going on; you are my family. So, no more secret plans, promise?

BONNIE: I promise... Are you really sure you’re okay with this?

ELENA: More than okay; I know it may seem like an odd thing to say but I truly believe you and Damon are soulmates, and I’m glad you finally found your way to each other.

BONNIE: This feels so weird…

ELENA: It doesn’t have to, Bonnie. After everything we have been through, you value the things that matter, and ego is definitely not one of them.

BONNIE: Thank you for being so understanding; I love you.

ELENA: And I love you. You are my best friend, more like my sister, and no matter what happens, nothing can ever come between that. Now, what I really need to know is how you are doing with everything that has happened… I know you are a tough cookie, but this has to be hard on you, and there is no way in hell I’m moving to Germany until I’m sure that you are fine.

BONNIE: Wait… you’re actually doing it?

ELENA: I am.

BONNIE: And you’re sure it’s what you want?

ELENA: I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

BONNIE: I’m so happy for you (hugs her)! And I think you are making the right decision. Seeing other parts of the world gives you a whole new perspective. ELENA: I really can’t wait. I mean, it’s scary stepping out of your comfort zone, but I’m sure it’s worth it.

BONNIE: Trust me, it is…and you don’t have to wait for anything; I am fine, so there is nothing to hold you back, understood?

ELENA: Understood... (Looks around, sees there is no one around anymore) Uhm, Bon, I think they are way ahead of us, we should catch up before the sun comes down…

BONNIE: Wanna see something really cool? (Opens a portal, the gang is on the other side, at the mountain top).

ELENA: Oh my god, Bonnie, that’s amazing!

BONNIE: Come, give me your hand… (they cross through the portal).

SAM: (Jumps in a scare) Ay, Dios mío!!! You really need to warn me about these things! (They laugh).

TWINS: (Looking absolutely amazed at the portal) Wow!!

JOSIE: Aunt Bonnie, how did you do that?

BONNIE: Neat trick, right, ladies?

LIZZY: Can we try, pretty please??

JOSIE: Pretty, pretty, please!!!

BONNIE: (Looks at Caroline and Alaric to see if they consent; they nod) Okay, ladies, grab my hand… (she opens another portal, the Salvatore house on the other end); We’ll see you guys at the house… (the portal closes).

ALARIC: Kind of wished she could take all of us; I’m already regretting the way down.

RADKA: Oh, come on… want a piggyback ride?

As they start to head down, Elena approaches Damon.

ELENA: Damon and Bonnie… Who would have thought?

DAMON: She told you…

ELENA: She did, and I’m really happy for you, Damon. She is, beyond a doubt, the best thing that could ever happen to you.

DAMON: I know… sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming … I’m really happy for you too, Sam seems like a great guy.

ELENA: He is, and just about the right amount of normal I need.

DAMON: I’m glad, you deserve it.

ELENA: We both do; after everything, it was about time we finally got what we needed.

DAMON: It really was…

ELENA: Well, look at us, actually having a healthy conversation, for once… (they smile in agreement).

STEFAN: Can I cut in?

ELENA: Of course, (teasing) wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to have the Salvatore brothers all to myself one last time…

STEFAN: So, here we are, the three that started it all.

ELENA: It’s crazy how much things have changed…

STEFAN: And how fast time passes.

DAMON: This coming from a man that has lived over 100 years.

STEFAN: Well, as a human, the concept of time really gets to you; I had forgotten about that.

DAMON: Yet another reason why I’m happy to be a vamp again.

STEFAN: Listen, I wanted to talk to you guys about something.

DAMON: Really, us two? I’m intrigued…

STEFAN: Weird, I know, but you are the only people I can talk to about this.

ELENA: Now, I’m intrigued… what’s going on, Stefan?

STEFAN: It’s about the cure…

Cut to – The Lockwood house kitchen. Khuyana, Matt and Tyler are preparing everything for the Mayor’s visit.

TYLER: Wow, K, you really went all out with the food.

KHUYANA: Feast yourselves for some Peruvian delicatessen!

MATT: (Tasting as she prepares) God, I missed ceviche! (To Tyler) I’m telling you, man, you have to go to Peru…

KHUYANA: Maybe we should all go, take some well-deserved vacation time?

MATT: Trust me, if I could take some time off, I’d jump on that opportunity.

KHUYANA: Well, we are having your boss over, wouldn’t hurt to ask…

TYLER: Worse thing he can say is no; maybe with a couple of drinks he’ll budge.

MATT: He doesn’t drink.

KHUYANA: Well, just ask… (suddenly, the front door is broken down, a heavily armed military squad and FBI SWAT team enter through different areas of the house and spread out; they are surrounded).

MATT: (Looking terrified; holding his hands up) What the…

MILITARY MAN: Don’t you fucking move or we will shoot!

TYLER: (Also terrified and with his hands up) What is going on?!

MATT: Wait, please, this is a mistake!!

MILITARY MAN: Shut the fuck up!!!

FEDERAL AGENT: (Apprehends him) Matthew George Donovan, you are under arrest under the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the United States Federal Law.

MATT: What for? I haven’t done anything... this is illegal!!

MILITARY MAN: (Hits him on the head, he passes out) I said, shut the fuck up!

KHUYANA: (Crying hysterically) Oh my god! Matt, Matt!! Please, stop!!! He hasn’t done anything!! Stop!!!! (They shoot her and Tyler; take Matt and leave).

TVD 9x07 (part 2) coming soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

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