#combination of him being weird again today and finding the notes I wrote when it was happening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lustbile · 3 years

Text

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?�� he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct imagine #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fanfic

375 notes · View notes

fanfic-cave · 3 years

Note

Request incoming 😄 Since I love your OC Sera so much and Hunter / Omega as Dad / Daughter how about they teach Omega random daily stuff? Like swimming, dancing, singing, ice skating, baking or building an enormous sand castle. Something nice. And then the rest of the batch comes and they all have fun together. Like the big family that they are (at least in my head)

Okay that's not specific at all but I love the random nice familytime 💙

Breather

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: People in swimsuits/swimming, kissing/romance, star wars swears, alotta fluff.

Summary: Sera and the Bad Batch decide to take a day off. They enjoy some time relaxing and having fun, and Sera gets the opportunity to teach Omega how to swim.

Authors note: This is in response to a request, and I was really feeling some fluff. I like the idea of writing a chapter or two where its more relaxed and they get to spend some happy fun times together. Hope you enjoy!

@mangoberry99

The swimwear felt strange against Sera’s body. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something like this, she contemplated internally.

She frowned and looked at herself. She had picked this up at her last stop at a planet with a decent market, where they sold good clothes. The suit was a more modest 2 piece; swim shorts and a top with thin straps, and it exposed some of her back as well as a small strip of her midriff. The shorts were an emerald green, and the top was patterned with the same color green along with white and brown.

This is kriffing weird. She never wore anything so exposed, or tight. Not in public anyways. She then shoved away her thoughts, gathered her belongings, and ran off to meet up with the rest of the group.

They all really needed a break. Doing supply runs and odd jobs while avoiding being hunted by the empire was surprisingly draining. Sera had the idea that the group all go explore the lake just a few miles off of where she currently took up residence. She had crossed it several times while exploring on her own. The lake was a decent size, in a remote area, and it didn’t look like any creatures were living inside it, which seemed as good as it could get.

Sera wrapped herself up in a cloak she had and headed down to the lake, ready to meet them there. After walking a few minutes through a forested area, she could see the lake within distance, and noticed everyone was there.

Hunter was with Omega, they were both by the shallow part. Omega was kicking up water and laughing, clearly enjoying herself. Wrecker was already completely soaked, and was swimming more towards the deeper end, although he looked a bit awkward as he swam. Crosshair wasn’t near the water, and had opted to sit on one of the folding chairs they brought along. Tech was closer to the edge of the water, datapad in hand, and he looked to be researching, as well as taking dedicated notes. Echo had joined Crosshair at the safe distance away from the water, but he seemed to be relaxing. Sera had noted they all wore their swim clothes as she had requested.

“Hey!” She smiled and waved at the group, still holding onto her cloak. Everyone’s heads turned in her direction. “Sera!” Omega waved back enthusiastically. She wore a one piece swimsuit and had already gotten wet. She ran over to greet Sera, Hunter following close behind.

“This was such a good idea!” She jumped excitedly. “Of course it was kid.” Sera smiled at her and ruffled her hair, to which Omega responded by laughing. Sera’s eyes went up to Hunter now. He had green swim shorts on and wasn’t wearing a shirt, and it looked like he looked like he had been splashed a few times. Sera drew from her memory the last time she saw Hunter's shirtless body when he was injured back in Dantooine, and suddenly she felt her heart rate pick up.

“Hey Hunter.” Sera did her best to sound casual, and also made a point to stare at his face, not his chest. Hunter smirked at her, and then nodded in greeting. “I have to agree with Omega,” Tech began speaking. “This trip has given me the opportunity to analyze the flora on this planet, and a body of freshwater seems to affect the plant growth nearby…” Tech went on and Sera began to zone out. After a minute of pretending to listen, Sera turned her head over to Echo and Crosshair.

“Hey! Are you two going to be lazy banthas the whole time?” She shouted at the two clones who were several feet from the waters edge. Echo lifted his head up, and seemed irritated at Sera. “I have a feeling that going in water isn’t going to turn out well for me.” He then lifted his prosthetic hand and gestured to the rest of his body. “Oh.” Sera felt a little bad for just shouting at him. Of course the water would mess with his machine parts. She quickly wrote him off and turned her attention to Crosshair. “What’s your excuse, blaster brain?” Sera found herself growing a little more comfortable with Crosshair lately, and she expressed it by calling him whatever bad name or insult came to her head.

“Kark off.” Crosshair replied. Sera liked to think he was feeling the same way, as they both threw the insults back and forth at each other like it meant nothing. “Crosshair can’t swim!” Wrecker yelled to the group, still swimming in the water. He laughed and splashed water in Crosshairs direction, but only got Hunter, Omega, and Sera slightly wet. Crosshair growled in Wreckers direction, to which Sera raised an eyebrow at. “So if we threw you into the lake-”

“Try me, mir’sheb.” Crosshair glared at Sera warningly. She laughed at him and raised her hands up, palms facing him. “Fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes at her, and continued to sit in his chair. Sera felt Omega grab her hand and she looked down at her.

“Hunter was helping me learn to swim, could you come too, Sera?” Omega looked up at you eagerly. Sera looked at Hunter and he shrugged at you, trying to convey he didn’t mind one way or the other. Kriff it. “Sure Omega,” Sera tossed aside her cloak, along with her insecurities. “By the time we’re through, you’ll be swimming laps.” Omega cheered to herself. Sera smiled down at her and began walking into the water.

While walking past him, Sera looked to Hunter and made eye contact with him for a brief moment. He had a wide eye, nearly slack jawed look adopted on his face. When their eyes met each other, he quickly corrected the expression and looked away from her, heading into the water with the two of them. Is he blushing? Sera smiled to herself at the thought.

Hunter and Sera actually made a decent team with teaching Omega. He helped keep her afloat, and taught her the basic form in simple terms. Sera would step in to encourage Omega, or join Hunter in explaining or correcting her form, even swimming alongside her. Omega was a surprisingly fast learner, and was paddling after 15 minutes had passed.

“Are you sure this is your first time swimming?” Sera remarked questioningly, as Omega circled around her in the lake. “Yup! You guys are great teachers!” Sera doubted that they were that good, and chalked it up to the fact that she was raised on Kamino, which was a saltwater planet. It probably didn’t make sense, but she didn’t want to think about any alternative reasoning.

“That’s not us kid, you’re a good learner.” Hunter added his comment as she continued swimming. He was watching her closely, and Sera could tell he was being protective over her. The thought made her laugh to herself, since Omega had grown to be plenty capable on her own. Who was she kidding though? Sera was pretty sure everyone was protective of her. After all, she had been keeping a close eye on Omega too.

The afternoon passed by quickly. Sera and Wrecker pulled a prank and managed to splash Crosshair. With Wreckers strength and Sera’s use of the force, their combined efforts was just enough for the water to reach Crosshair. He was pissed of course, but they all had a good laugh. Omega and Wrecker played games in the water, with Sera occasionally joining. Echo had dozed off a few times. Eventually, Tech dipped his toes in the lake and surprised Sera with how adept he was at swimming. As the sun dipped down and it began to grow dimmer, everyone decided it was a good time to head back.

“We have to come back again!” Omega remarked, towel around her shoulders as she walked ahead with Wrecker and Echo. Crosshair was at the head of the group, and had been the first to start leaving. “I’m sure we’ll get to come again.” Sera spoke to Omega, and really did hope they could find time to do things like this, instead of missions and hiding. Sera stopped and everyone in front of her continued walking. She tried to dry herself off with her cloak, still feeling soaked. The cloak didn't do much, and it was now too wet to be of any use. She felt herself shiver a bit.

“Here.” Hunter approached her from behind, offering her a large towel. He was in close proximity to her, and she could hear him breathing. She had to concentrate to keep her own breathing steady. “Thanks.” She took the towel and wrapped it around herself, then continued walking. Hunter joined her and they walked together, now more distant from the rest of the group. Being alone with him reminded her of the last time they were alone together. Right. The kissing. She felt her heart skip a beat as she remembered it.

“Thank you, for today.” Hunter pulled Sera from her thoughts. She realized there had been at least a minute of silence. Sera continued to look forward and smiled. “It was no problem. Thanks for coming.” She smiled in his direction and he glanced at her. She felt herself shiver again, and couldn’t tell if it was because she was cold, or if it was a reaction from his stare.

“Still cold?” Hunter asked. “Just a bit.” Sera answered quickly, and looked away from him. “Thank you. For the towel, though-” Her stammering was interrupted when Hunter put his arm around her. He rubbed her toweled arm on the opposite side, trying to warm her up with some friction. Sera was caught off guard, and audibly gasped. “Sorry, this should help you warm up, if you’re okay with it.” Hunter looked down to her questioningly, and had stopped his movements.

Sera reached up and grabbed his hand as she began to speak. “Of course, you just surprised me. Not the first time that's happened though.” She smiled up at him, almost smirking at the memories that flickered through her mind. Hunter laughed quietly at her expression. “Yeah, you get your fair share of it too.” He pulled her in as he spoke, and Sera could feel his warmth from his body, with the more exposed part of her arm making contact with his skin. Electricity sparked through her body from feeling his touch.

They walked in silence for another minute, content with sharing each other's company, and body heat too. “We’re almost back.” Sera spoke up after some time had passed. The path was familiar to her, and she recognized they would turn a corner up ahead and her home would be within sight. Hunter stopped, and with his arm around Sera she stopped along with him. She looked up to him questioningly. “You okay?” She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

Suddenly, he turned and pulled her into him, planting a kiss on her lips. A small squeaking noise escaped her, and then she relaxed and returned the kiss. One of Hunter's hands was on Seras cheek, the other wrapped around her, palm flat on her back. Sera reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in and herself up to better reach him. Although the kiss was gentle, she could feel the passion behind it. He stroked her cheek first, and then ran his fingers through her hair. Sera felt a sigh escape her, and she returned his kisses more eagerly now. After a minute of kissing, Hunter was the first to break away, but returned to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, I didn’t expect that.” Sera looked up to him as he pulled back to see her face. “I had to do that again. I would say sorry, except I’m not.” Hunter held her gaze with no hesitation, and Sera could tell he was sincere. “Well, I’m glad you’re not.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, and they stood for a moment, embracing each other. She listened to his breathing, leaning her head on his shoulder. Hunter made small circles on her back with his hand, and rested his head on top of hers. She wished they could stay here like this.

“I have a feeling we won’t get to have another day like today for a while.” Sera nodded after Hunter spoke. They seemed to be on the same wavelength more often than not lately, almost like they knew what the other was thinking. She pulled away and sighed. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” She and Hunter looked at each other for another moment, and Sera could tell her lack of confidence in her statement showed. She then turned away and began to walk forward.

Let me have this, Sera thought as they walked together. Hunter intertwined his hand with hers. Just let me- let them breathe for a minute, before we get thrown back into the flames.

She didn’t know who she was pleading with internally, but she continued to silently hope they could keep their moment of peace.

#tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #crosshair #echo #wrecker #tech #omega #jedi #oc story #hunter x jedi #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #asks

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joneswuzhere · 3 years

Text

hello join me in thinking about some books and authors that are, or might be, part of s5′s intertextuality

5.10 in particular offered specific shout outs, and also u know i’m always wondering what might be ahead so i have some ideas on that:

- first, as mentioned in a previous ask post, i know i wasn’t alone in keeping an eye out for 5.10 parallels to the lost weekend (1945) the film that gave episode 1.10 its name and several themes - or to the 1944 book by charles r jackson which the film is based on

- s5 has not been shy about revisiting earlier seasons, especially s1. altho i feel that 1.10′s parallels to the lost weekend centered characters other than jughead (mostly betty), a 1.10-5.10 connection involving jughead and themes from jackson’s story (addiction, writers block, self reflection) seemed v possible if not inevitable

- but like,, , for a hot minute after the ep, i was really stumped on understanding how anything from the book or film could apply, even tho the pieces were almost all there

- jackson’s protagonist don birnam goes thru and comes out the other side of a harrowing days-long drinking binge that could be compared to jughead’s one-night hallucinogenic writing retreat

- but jughead is struggling primarily with traumatic memories, not addiction and self control like birnam. and tho drinking activates birnam’s creativity, it paralyzes his writing as he gets lost in fantasies; he’s never published anything. jughead’s drug trip recreates circumstances that already helped him write one successful book. even the rat that startles him mid-high doesn’t line up with birnam’s withdrawal vision of a dying mouse, symbolic of his horror at his own self-destruction thru alcohol

- and maybe the most visible discordance: in the film there’s a romantic motif around a typewriter. first it’s an object of shame; birnam’s failure to write, tied up with his drinking, makes him flee his relationship. he tries to pawn the typewriter for booze money and finally a gun when shooting himself feels easier than getting sober. but with the help of relentless encouragement from girlfriend helen, he quits drinking, commits to her, and focuses on typing out the story he’s dreamt of writing. rd goes so far to avoid setting any comparable scenario that jughead has brought a wholeass printer into the bunker so there can still be a physical manuscript to cover in blood by the end, even without his own typewriter. the subtle detail of his laptop bg image is a little less noticeable than his avoidance of betty’s gift

- tabitha might be closer to a parallel than jughead is, but she’s still no helen. both refuse to take advantage of the inebriated men in their care, but birnam takes advantage of helen, financially and emotionally. jughead refused a loan from the tate family and now has resolved to deal with his shit before he considers a relationship with tabitha. instead of helen’s relentless and unwelcomed attempts to get birnam sober, tabitha reluctantly agrees to help jughead trip safely bondage escape notwithstanding. she even helps him get the drugs.

- whatever potentials exist for parallels to jackson’s story, they were not explored for this episode. ok so why tf am i even talking about this? what was there instead?

- i have arrived at the point

- s5 has been revisiting s1, not directly but with a twist. and jughead’s agent samm pansky is back. u may recall, pansky is named for sam lansky

- jughead’s trip-thru-trauma is a story device tapped straight from lansky’s book ‘broken people’

- lansky is like if a millenial john rechy wrote extremely LA-flavored meta but just about himself no jk very like a modern successor to charles r jackson. both play with the boundary between memoir and fiction. lansky is gay; jackson wrote his lost weekend counterpart as closeted and remained closeted himself until only a few years before his death. both write with emotional clarity and self-scrutiny on the experiences of addiction, sobriety, and the surrounding issues of shame and self worth

- i feel like a fool bc after this ep i had been thinking about de quincey and his early writings on addiction (c.1800s), but i failed to carry the thought in the other direction, to contemporary writers in the genre, to make this connection sooner

- lansky’s second book, broken people, follows narrator ‘sam’, mid-20s, super depressed, hastled by his agent to write a decent follow-up to his first book, but too busy struggling with his self-worth and baggage from several past relationships. desperate, he takes up an offer to visit a new age shaman who promises to fix everything wrong with him in a matter of days. not to over simplify it but he literally spends a weekend doing psychedelics and hallucinating about his exes. jughead took note

- unless u want me to hurl myself into yet another dissertation about queer jughead, i think his parallel to sam - who, unlike jughead, has considerable financial privilege and whose anxieties center on body dysmorphia, hiv scares, and his own self-centeredness - pretty much ends there

- But,, the gist of the book could not be more harmonius with a major theme shared by the 2 films that inform the actual hallucination part of jughead’s bunker scene: mentally reframing past relationships to get closure + confronting trauma head-on in order to move forward

- so that’s neat. what other book and author stuff was in 5.10?

- stephen king and raymond carver get name dropped. i’m passingly familiar with them both but u bet i just skimmed their wiki bios in case anything relevant jumped out

- like jughead, carver was a student (later a lecturer) at the iowa writers workshop. also the son of an alcoholic and one himself

- i recall carver’s ‘what we talk about when we talk about love’ is what jughead was reading in 2.14 ‘the hills have eyes’ after he finds out about the first time betty kissed archie (at that time he does not respond as would any of carver’s characters)

- this collection of carver stories deals especially with infidelity, failings of communication, and the complexities and destructiveness of love. to unashamedly quote the resource that is course hero, ‘carver renders love as an experience that is inherently violent bc it produces psychic and emotional wounds.’ very fun to wonder about the significance of this collection within the s2 episode and in jughead’s thoughts. and maybe now in the context of the s5 state of relationships. or, at least, the state of jughead’s writing as seen by his agent

- anyway pansky doesn’t want carver, he wants stephen king

- i have too much to say about gerald’s game in 5.10, that’s getting its own post someday soon

- lol wait king’s wife is named tabitha uhhh king’s wiki reminded me of his childhood experience that possibly inspired his short story ‘the body’ (+1986 movie ‘stand by me’) when he ‘apparently witnessed one of his friends being struck and killed by a train tho he has no memory of the event’

- no mention of that in this rd episode but memories of a train could be interesting to consider with the imagery that intrudes on jughead’s hallucination. i still feel like it was a truck but the lights and sounds he experiences may be a train

- ok now we’re in the speculation part of today’s segment

- if jughead’s traumatic memory involves trains, then it’s possible this plot will take influence from la bête humaine <- this 1938 movie is based on the 1890 novel by french writer émile zola. this story deals with alcoholism and possessive jealousy in relationships, sometimes leading to murder. huh, kind of like carver. zola def comes down on the nature side of the nature-vs-nuture bad seed question (tho i should say he approaches this with great or maybe just v french compassion). also i can’t tell if this is me reaching but, something about la bête humaine reminds me of king’s ‘secret window’ which we’ve observed to be at least a style influence on jughead post time jump

- but wow a late-19th century french writer would be a random thing to drop into this season, right? then again zola also wrote about miners, which we’ve learned are an important part of this town’s history + whatever hiram is up to this time. and most notably, zola wrote ‘j’accuse...!’ an open letter in defense of a soldier falsely accused and unlawfully jailed for treason: alfred dreyfus. archie’s recent army trouble comes to mind.

- since the introduction of old man dreyfuss (plausibly Just a nod to close encounters actor richard dreyfuss, but also when is anything in this show Just one thing) i’ve been wondering if these little things could add up to a season-long reference to zola’s writings. but i had doubts and didn’t want to speak on it too soon bc, u know, it’s weird but is it weird enough for riverdale??

- however,,,

- (come on, u knew where i was going with this)

- a24′s film zola just came out. absolutely no relation to the french writer, it’s not based on a book but an insane and explicit twitter thread by aziah ‘zola’ wells about stripping and? human trafficking?? this feels ripe for rd even outside the potentials here for the lonely highway/missing girls plot.

- that would add up to a combination of homage that feels natural to this show

- anyway pls understand i’m just having fun speculating, most of this is based on nothing more concrete than the torturous mental tendril ras has hooked into my skull pls let go ras pls let go

#accompanying image has no meaningful organization it's just there to make me look insane. enjoy #riverdale speculation #filmref #but books #adhd has me like. this is Not the post i've been trying to write for weeks but my brain gave me no choice

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thatdoctorharvey · 3 years

Text

Sick Day

Idk what I was trying to accomplish while writing this to be honest. I just had an idea and wrote words. XD

May or may not be a part 2 in the making

It rained pretty bad. It had been since around 4 am. The air had been pretty chilly too. Not a good combination. That didn’t stop you though. No, it never really did. Rain or shine, hot or cold, you were out there tending to the farm.

That was yesterday.

Today, you were bedridden. You had caught a pretty bad cold, running a low fever and having quite a cough. Luckily, a certain doctor was there to take care of you.

“You feeling up to eating?” Harvey asked as he entered your room.

You sat up slightly, cheeks pink from your fever. As much as you wanted to pass the offer up, you knew he worried about you. Especially now. You two had been married for only a few short weeks but he had begun to truly see just how much strain you put on yourself during your daily tasks, and now that he’s had to take over, he’s become even more worrisome.

“I guess Harv.” You mumbled, hearing just how stuffy your nose was.

The doctor offered you a small smile and sat on the side of the bed beside you. He set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. He took a mental note to bring you some more medicine before gently moving you up to adjust the pillows behind you so you could sit up.

“You aren’t looking any better. Do you feel worse at all? Any pain?” He asked you, the worry in his voice made your heart swell a bit.

“I feel about the same.” You paused to look at him before letting your eyes close as you relaxed against the pillow behind your head. “I just want to get back to work.”

Harvey shook his head and grabbed the bowl from the nightstand, setting it in his lap and securing it with one hand, the other holding the spoon. He had insisted you do as little as possible to help you recover.

“That won’t happen until you’re better. Now, open up.” He got some soup on the spoon and held it over the bowl while he waited. He knew you hated being bedridden like this but he needed you to be okay.

You sighed softly and opened your mouth, letting the doctor feed you. You would never say this out loud, but you secretly enjoyed this. Not in a weird way. It just felt nice for someone to take care of you for once, especially when you needed it most.

Harvey, being a doctor, loved to help others. You were his favorite to help though. You always had been. You always listened to what he said and asked questions about how you could improve your health. You really touched his heart when you began asking about his model airplanes and if he’d talked to any more pilots. It was partially why he had grown to really like you.

“I’ll get you some more medicine. You get some rest.” He suddenly said, snapping you back to reality. You had somehow finished all the soup without realizing it. “I’ll be in shortly.”

You simply nodded and shifted yourself and your pillows around to get comfortable. Any other time, you would almost instantly find a good spot, but now that you’ve been in bed all day, nothing seemed comfortable.

It truly didn’t take long for Harvey to come back with a glass of water and a couple pills. He set them on the nightstand and looked down at you. “Go ahead and take that.” He told you before heading to his side of the room.

You half groaned and sat up again, watching as the doctor slipped his shirt off for a more comfortable one. You stared for a moment before taking your medicine. He might not have had a muscular body, but his soft boi body was precious and suited him well.

Once in more comfortable clothing, Harvey climbed in on his side of the bed. He made sure you had set your glass down before gently pulling you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You found it soothing to listen to his heartbeat, but since he was half sitting up half sitting down, you made your way down to his stomach.

He smiled and began to gently play with your hair, hoping to help you relax. Yes, it wasn’t very smart of him to cuddle with you, but he didn’t care. After all, you couldn’t rest if you weren’t comfortable.

“Hey hon?” You mumbled, making sure it was still audible though.

“Hm?” He moved his hand down to your back, gently rubbing it.

“Can you tell me more about planes? I like hearing you talk.” You paused to nuzzle against his belly. “Your voice is comforting.”

Harvey blushed at this, but didn’t wish to decline the offer to geek out about planes. So he began talking. Of course, his talking became rambling. He went on and on about planes and all the planes he wanted to fly someday. It took him a solid 45 minutes to realize you had fallen asleep on him, and even then, he wasn’t sure how long you’d been asleep.

“Rest well honey.” He whispered and leaned back to rest his head on his pillow, soon falling asleep himself.

#stardew valley #stardew valley harvey #harvey #harvey x reader #sdvharvey #sdv

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Light My Fire - CH03

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: There’s sweet fluff in this.

WC: 2738

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

They enjoy their glass of wine in silence before her stomach starts to growl. It growls the loudest she’s ever heard. Maybe it’s because she hasn't had anything to eat since this morning, and her stomach rebels against the wine as it’s the only thing in there. She should have known better.

Dean must have heard it because he starts to chuckle, “What toppings do you like? I thought we could share one.”

“Sure, but don’t judge, please?” She says as she stands up, sees Dean’s eyes on her and feels the urge to cover up. He gets up from his chair and takes the towel she brought out with her, holds it up for her to cover herself.

When he looks at her again, he has one eyebrow cocked, “Why should I judge?”

“Uh, because I quite like pineapples on pizza,”

“I don’t judge,” Dean scoffs, and adds, “But I really think that should be illegal,” He laughs, but he doesn’t say anything more, and goes in to order their pizza.

Y/N slips in while he’s on the phone and goes straight to her room, and changes into something comfortable. Now that she’s seen that he wears sweats, she’s happy to match him. It’s actually pretty weird seeing Dean like this because the only clothes she ever saw him in are suits, it makes her think that he even sleeps in them. She wonders if he has other clothes at all.

When the pizza arrives, Dean moves the glasses and bottle into the living room and asks her what movie she wants to watch, but she really doesn’t mind so she lets him choose. Dean zaps through Netflix and settles on Bird Box.

While the movie starts, he hands her some napkins, and she’s wondering if that’s enough, because she’d hate to ruin the nice couch. He must have sensed her hesitation because he’s smirking, “It’s okay, you don’t wanna know what I managed to spill on this couch already,”

“Ewww,” She mocks, cringes her nose and he snorts out a laugh.

It’s easy, she thinks. It’s easy to let herself go. It’s easy to be here with him and just talk about anything outside of work. She comes to the conclusion that Dean’s not such an asshole after all. In fact, he’s a real gentleman. And that’s not really good, is it? It makes her feel things she shouldn’t feel.

She shakes the thought out of her head and takes a slice of pizza out of the box. It’s then that she realizes that the whole pizza is riddled with pineapples. She frowns, “I thought you didn’t like pineapples on pizza?”

“I don’t,” Dean shrugs, takes a bite and pretends to wrinkle his nose before he grins with his mouth full and continues to eat.

Y/N doesn’t think she makes it far into the movie because her eyelids are getting heavy halfway through. It’s the most illogical, most boring thing she’s ever seen, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings so she tries to watch it.

Last thing she remembers, though, is that she’s half leaning against Dean before she fell asleep.

***

Y/N wakes up in a bed. It’s clearly not hers. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that she’s in Dean’s apartment and that she’s in her bedroom.

Oh no, she remembers eating pizza with Dean, remembers falling asleep to the stupid movie. He must have carried her to her bed.

Her own fucking boss had to carry her to bed! If that’s not embarrassing she doesn’t know what is.

She scans the room and her eyes settle on the clock on her nightstand. It’s already past 8am. She slept like a baby through her alarm but in her defense, the bed is so fucking comfortable, more comfortable than her own, and it’s only a fucking guest room. She wonders how comfortable Dean’s bed must be. How he can even wake up and get out of it every morning astounds her.

And then, the thought of being late for work crosses her mind before she realizes that she doesn’t have to go in. Realizes that she didn’t sleep through her alarm because she didn’t set one in the first place.

Grabbing her phone, she sees that there’s a text from Ruby.

R: How was your first night? Did you consummate your fake marriage? *wink wink*

Then a text ten minutes later.

R: Oh my god, it should have been a joke but you did, didn’t you? He’s in a remarkably good mood. Didn’t bitch about the coffee I brought him at all!

Ah, Dean’s already at work then. He’s usually there before she turns up, and now she knows why. It’s only about a ten minutes walk from his apartment.

Y/N: Relax, nothing happened.

R: Ah, there she is.

Y/N: I slept in. The bed is so comfortable!

R: His bed I’d hope!

She snorts out a laugh.

Y/N: No, I have my own room that’s bigger than my apartment.

R: Ugh, maybe I can come see you? Wanna see how the most not eligible bachelor lives. Or send me pics! Oh shit, he called out for me. I need to go. But I swear, whatever you’ve done to him. Do it again! I like to work for him when he’s not constantly yelling at people.

She chuckles at that. She doesn’t answer Ruby though, instead she sends a text to Jack, telling him that she’s got another job that would secure him his degree and that everything’s okay.

Climbing out of bed, she decides to get coffee. It’s weird not having to go to work and she kind of misses it a little.

Y/N walks out into the kitchen where there’s still a faint smell of his cologne and coffee in the air. A deadly combination for her brain apparently, because it makes her insides tingle in all the right places. She looks around and immediately spots a yellow sticky note left on the machine.

It’s Dean’s handwriting. She knows it from all the scribblings he leaves on her desk when he already shut off his laptop and thinks about something that she must do for him the next day.

The machine is easy to handle. On, off. That’s it. I’m sorry I made you watch that movie. If you want to know, it didn’t get better after you fell asleep. Two hours of our lives, wasted. I’ll see you tonight, maybe we can watch something else — D

She’s smirking. He really took his time this morning to write her a fucking novel. It really baffles her that he goes out of his way for her and it really seems like he genuinely cares to make her stay with him as comfortable as he can. Well, it does benefit him too, come to think of it.

After another round on the massage comforter, she walks into her room to find a message from Jack.

J: I hope you don’t sell yourself for my benefit. But I trust you. Miss you x

She has to smirk and immediately types an answer back.

Y/N: Just stay in college and make me proud, alright?

Just when she’s about to put her phone away, it lights up with a call.

Dean.

“Hello?” She says, wondering if she should add sir to it at first but decides to drop it.

“Hey, you slept alright?”

She smiles, “Yeah, thanks. It’s the most comfortable bed.” She bites on her tongue so as to not ask him about him carrying her back to said bed.

There’s a light chuckle on the other end, “Good. Listen, I went over my schedule today because Ruby didn’t do it for me, and saw that I can’t have a movie night this evening like I wrote on the note,” He pauses to think, “You found the note, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, you maybe did know this because you arranged the invitation and you put it into my calendar, but I didn’t until about twenty minutes ago,”

She thinks hard about his schedule, remembers that there was something. An event. Some kind of gala.

“But instead of watching a movie, what would you say to me taking you out?” He says, “I called them and managed to do a last minute adjustment to my invitation.”

“Oh,” She huffs out, knowing where Dean wants to go with that.

“Thought it’d be a good opportunity to show them my wife. Are you in?”

He still asks, even if he actually doesn’t have to? Because yeah, she obviously can’t be a fake wife in private. The world needs to see it. Amara needs to see it.

“I guess,” She mutters. She is actually not really sure if she can pull that off. Her heart beats faster just thinking about walking on a red carpet.

“Y/N, you don’t have to, you know,” It’s as if he senses her dread, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but we should at least try to look like a happily married couple and we can’t pretend if you don’t want to.”

“No— I mean, it’s okay, I’ll do it,” Her voice is more firm this time. She wants to. Wants to show him that she can do it.

It shouldn’t be hard, right? She’s been with a man before. She knows all that hand holding stuff. And Dean’s paying her double for god’s sake. What’s an evening of being flirty with him? It’s not like he is an old greasy man. Well, maybe that would be better? Maybe then she will not risk falling for him? Because that’s what is going to happen if she’s not careful, she just knows it. And then she’ll get her heart broken. Even though a broken heart is a little price to pay if it means that Jack can finally start his own future, come to think of it.

“Okay,” There’s a huff of breath, he’s smiling, she can hear it, “Good. I’ll get Gabe to drop off my card, you can go shopping for a dress. The card has no limit, just buy whatever you want, alright?”

She grins smugly, “I need shoes, too.”

“Buy all the things you want.”

“Alright, sir.”

“Y/N, stop calling me that. Unless,” He pauses and there’s a playfulness in his voice, “That’s what you like.”

She’s glad it’s not a video call, so he isn’t able to see that her face is burning up. She doesn’t say anything and Dean takes the hint.

“Right, I have another meeting, I’ll see you around 7pm. The gala starts at 8pm.”

“K, bye Dean.”

“Have fun.”

Y/N’s standing in her room as she waits for Dean to come back. He’ll probably need to shower and get dressed too.

Gabe came by to drop off Dean’s Centurion card and he walked straight into Dean’s bedroom to drop off Dean’s tux onto his bed. She never had such a card in her hands, it feels heavy, made of platinum, not like her cheap plastic one that she only uses once in a blue moon.

At first she didn’t know where to go because she hadn't been dress shopping for a gala before. She wondered if H&M would be a good choice but then thinks that it probably wouldn’t. While she was out shopping she looked into shop windows and came across a beautiful long sleeved sequin pattern dress in gold.

She never knew gold would look good on her but the shop assistant was so nice, even though she knows it’s that woman’s job, she felt really good in the dress and it wasn’t over the top with the price so Dean should be okay with it. She couldn’t resist buying matching shoes, too.

Later, she splashed out some money for lingerie that she could wear under it and hoped that Dean wouldn’t mind. He told her to buy whatever she likes, so.

And now, she’s nervously pacing around her room. Her pacing only stops when she hears footsteps approaching.

There’s a knock at her door, “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah,” She manages to say.

“Good, sorry I’m a little late, had to pick up something on the way. I’ll shower and get dressed. Meet you in the living room in thirty minutes?”

“Sure,”

She hears him opening the door to his room.

Thirty minutes. Ugh. She hasn’t even applied makeup yet. She’s so nervous.

After a last check in the mirror, she walks out into the living area, her heels clicking on the marble flooring. She’s not used to wearing such high heels, and prays that she won’t stumble and fall flat on her face.

As she rounds the corner into the living area, she sees Dean already waiting for her, dressed in a fitting tux and smelling so fucking delicious. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a glossy magazine spread and that’s not fair. She can already see the press giving them a caption for their picture together. It reads, DEAN WINCHESTER COULD DO SO MUCH BETTER.

Y/N can feel Dean’s eyes on her. They’re wide and his lips part slightly before they curve up into a smile. It’s bright and white. She’s smiling too, can’t not smile when he’s looking at her like that. Looking at her like she’s the only one that matters. She’s not used to it at all.

“Wow,” Dean breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

She was already blushing before but now her cheeks heat up a little more, “Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.”

Dean has to chuckle and then all of a sudden, he runs back to his room, “I’ll be right back,”

After about a minute Dean reappears clutching things in his hand. One of them is a pocket square. He went in and picked out a color that matches her dress. She has to grin at that.

He places it inside his jacket but he seems to struggle, “Can you help me, I—”

“Of course,” She grins, and steps closer to him, arranging the pocket square so that I’d look nice. Patting his pocket, she leaves her hand on his chest when she’s done, feels his heartbeat underneath her palm. She can swear it beats a little faster than usual, not that she knows his resting heart rate. “All set.” She says and Dean grins at her.

“Okay, now my turn,” Dean licks his lips and clears his throat, and she can’t help but wonder what he means by his turn.

She doesn’t have to wait long, because Dean opens up the little box he was still clutching and she can see the princess cut diamond engagement ring with a matching wedding band.

“Dean, no.”

“Why, Dean, yes.” He chuckles, takes them out, and takes her left hand in his. “Y/N, will you give me the honor of being my fake wife for real now?”

Y/N has to giggle at that, “Yeah, of course,”

He smiles, slips the ring onto her ring finger and to her surprise, they fit perfectly. She looks at Dean, raises her eyebrow, “Let me guess, Ruby?”

“Yeah,” Dean smirks, and then he shows her his left hand, “I have one, too. So, you ready?”

“Not really?”

“That’s the spirit,” Dean places his hand around her waist, pulls her close and kisses her cheek softly.

It does nothing to calm her down because she’s even more nervous now.

“You gotta try to keep me from falling, okay?,” She says as he moves his hand to the small of her back, and guides her to the door.

“I would never let you fall,” Dean shows her a small smile and they step into the elevator.

In there, she eyes him up again, can’t quite take her eyes off him. He looks so good with the slight scruff and the freckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepen the longer she stares at him.

“What?” He asks her, raises an eyebrow.

“You look good, Mr. Winchester,” She says with a smile.

“You too, Mrs. Winchester. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And I’m not lying.” He leans in, places another kiss on her heated cheeks before the elevator comes to a halt.

He helps her get out and Gabriel’s already waiting, holding the limousine door open for them.

CH04

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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faulty-writes · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for Izuku, Tamaki and Mirio developing an instant attraction and HUGE crush for the new student at U.A., Mt. Lady's younger sister. But she's incredibly bitter because she couldn't make it into the hero course - because y/n doesn't have the same quirk as her older sister. She has the opposite - she shrinks until she's just six and a half inches tall and is chibi-fied. She HATES her quirk so much, but she wanted to go to U.A. anyway, at least so it'd look good on her application.

Izuku was naturally curious, which is why when he heard a student in the school was related to the pro hero, Mt.Lady. He made it his new mission to track them down, “This will be a great chance to take notes on how Mt.Lady’s quirk works and from someone who actually knows her!” he said to himself, notebook and pencil in hand ready to write down all he could.

Once he found you, after confirming with others that you were indeed Mt.Lady’s sister, he walked up to you. “H-Hi!” he said nervously, “My name is Izuku M-Midoriya a-and-” he suddenly stopped speaking when you turned around to face him. You were about to ask if he was okay when you saw his cheeks turning red. But decided against it when you noticed he began to back away from you.

Though you still saw him around, his face always buried in that book of his. He was always writing something down, this was true for the most part. However, you were unaware that as of late. Izuku was admiring you from a distance. Carefully studying your movements and thinking of how he could possibly talk to you again. You had caught his interest in more than one way but he felt as though he blew his first chance away.

In the meantime, in the comfort of his own dorm. He would sit at his desk with his notebook open. Carefully adding the finishing details to the several drawings he had made of you, “I c-couldn’t possibly tell her how I feel, could I? I mean it’s logical to like her but how would I even t-tell her?” he questioned out loud, could he even get near the sibling of a pro hero? He didn’t exactly like the idea of Mt.Lady coming after him.

Still, Izuku couldn’t help but want to get close to you. As a hero, he knew he had to swallow down his fears. So, he once more found you and though his heart was racing, he politely bowed. “I-I’m Izuku Midoriya, from uh, w-well, I’m sorry about the f-first time I t-tried to talk to you. But um,” he glanced away a moment, “Would you mind if I a-ask you for an i-interview? I’d like to k-know more about your quirk and m-maybe Mt.Lady’s?” though you didn’t like being constantly reminded of your sister, you found yourself agreeing to the interview.

Of course, it came as a surprise to Izuku that you claimed you hated your quirk. Unlike your sister, you could only shrink. But, watching Izuku shake his head and begin to disagree with you. That was new, “T-That’s amazing! You h-have such a t-tactical quirk! The possibilities of w-what you can do a-are endless!” he claimed as he quickly wrote down some that came to mind. You couldn’t help but laugh, was he joking?

But, come to find out. He wasn’t, in fact, he made it a point to show you his notes. Pages upon pages were filled with ideas on how to adapt your quirk for heroism. However, you weren’t expecting to see sketches of yourself. Though they weren’t that good, it was oddly flattering. When you asked Izuku about them, he only blushed in response. Frantically moving his arms around and stuttering out an explanation. You couldn’t help but laugh, suddenly he didn’t seem so strange.

There were many amazing and strange sights in this super powered world. But, by far the strangest thing you witnessed was a member of The Big Three walk straight into a locker. You thought his name was Amajiki and you had locked eyes with him in the hallway. As a result, the boy didn’t see the open locker and well...you decided to scurry away rather than apologize or make sure he was okay.

But, what you didn’t know. Is that as shy as Tamaki is, he tended to share everything with his friends Mirio and Nejire. He talked about how he saw you in the hallway and how he couldn’t exactly look away. He left out the part about the locker. “Oh yeah! I know who she is, I think,” Mirio said as he looked to Nejire who smiled excitedly. “Her name is Y/n! Mt.Lady’s little sister, can you believe it!?” Tamaki’s eyes widened, oh God.

He was even more surprised when he found you were in General Studies, then again being a hero was too much pressure. All eyes on you, people cheering your name, it made him anxious just thinking about it. But, still. He wanted to at least try to talk to you, especially after you had locked eyes in the hallway. But every time he tried to say something to you. His stomach would twist into so many knots, it’d make him nauseous and he’d end up running away.

But, when he stared at you from a distance. He felt butterflies instead and his cheeks would turn red. Was it strange he found himself liking you? He had never really thought about someone as much as he did you, Mirio aside of course. Still, he wished he had the courage to talk to you. But he knew he would never and honestly, it made him feel like a bit of a failure. Why couldn’t he be brave like others?

Meanwhile, you felt bad you had made him walk into a locker. So you made it your goal to track him down and finally apologize, maybe get to know him. When you walked up to him, he had his back to you. Though you should have taken into account that when you reached up to touch his shoulder combined with a loud “Hey,” he would get scared. Though it was interesting to see his quirk slip and you couldn’t help but giggle as you saw his tentacles get stuck to the lockers.

From then on, he seemed to blush every single time he was near you. Though you had tried to strike up a casual conversation. The way Tamaki glanced down and stuttered out his words was almost too adorable for words. It was a privilege to slowly learn more about the timid Big Three member. Of course, you couldn’t resist reaching over to pat his head on occasion. He’d always look at you with those big indigo eyes and lean away.

Mirio always encouraged him to tell you how he felt, though Tamaki wasn’t sure if confessing was a good idea. Mostly because he couldn’t handle the thought of rejection. The fact that you were related to Mt.Lady was also a problem, he didn’t want you to think that he liked you because of your lineage. “I t-think I’m uh...f-fine liking t-them from a d-d-distance, I...I’m j-just, I-I’m happy if uh, w-we’re just friends,” he confessed, maybe one day he’d get you to see how he felt about you. But that day wasn’t today.

Mirio wasn’t sure how he didn’t know this, there had been talk of a transfer student. The rumor was that they had been placed in the Department of Support. When he asked around, he learned that they were transferred from another school because of their older sister who happened to be Mt.Lady. “Really? Wow, that must cool!” heck if Mirio had a sibling who was a pro hero he’d be psyched.

So of course, Mirio had to seek you out. After all, he couldn’t pass up meeting the new student. Of course, he had to ask around again and eventually found you in the Development Studio. “Hi, there! I heard you're the new transfer student! Name’s Mirio Togata! It’s nice to meet you!” of course he didn’t expect you to walk away as he extended his hand out. Hm, weird.

Still, your cold attitude wouldn’t make him stay away. In fact, Mirio made it his personal mission to get to know you. This means whenever he saw you, he’d walk over and plop down next to you. “Hi! I’m sorry if I offended you before, but I think you’re super cool and I’d totally like to get to know you!” he said with a big grin, of course, you were a little suspicious. But Mirio turned out to be a sweet guy and you ended up enjoying your conversation with him.

In fact, you accidentally slipped about your feelings relating to your sister. Honestly, you hated that people expected you to follow the same path or just wanted to be your friend because you were related to Mt.Lady “Hm, well that’s okay! I want to get to know you for you. Just know I’d never try to hurt you and hey if you want to be a hero! Cool, I’ll support you. If not, I’m here for you,” of course, he didn’t expect to make you laugh, but either way. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of it.

The more you hung out with him, the more you discovered how encouraging he could be. “Come on please! Just once! I’ve shown you my quirk, so, please. I promise I won’t make fun of it,” he said and you sighed, you honestly didn’t want to show him. But nonetheless, you shrunk down to your six and a half-inch stature and nearly gasped when Mirio picked you up in his hand, grinning like a mad man. “You’re so cute!” he commented and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, despite the fact you were blushing.

Still, you enjoyed Mirio’s company. Though you hadn’t expected him to ask you out, that was strange. “Aw, come on! Look!” Mirio grinned as he pulled out a bundle of flowers, you looked at them wide-eyed and confused. But nonetheless, reached out to take them. “Um thanks?” you replied before he grinned. “Of course! Anything for the gal I’ve been crazy about,” he said, nearly making you jump in surprise.

#izuku x reader #mirio x reader #tamaki x reader #Anonymous

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ilove-cedricdiggory · 3 years

Text

I love you, Sev!

Severus Snape x Reader (Platonic siblings)

Summary - As Severus' sister, things don't go exactly as planned, even with Draco by your side now.

Trigger Warning - Death, a bit soppy, it might be absolutely horrible

Request - Yes! By @sabor-a-ksoo

I'm super sorry if it's horrible! But I hope you like it!

Fifth Year

You smiled at Draco from across the hall, blushing softly as he winked at you. It was lunch time and, while you usually sat with Draco, you promised some of your friends you'd all sit over at Ravenclaw and catch up.

"Y/n, what's that there?" Your friend y/f/n asked, pushing a bit of hair over your shoulder and pointing at the bruise on your neck, wiping a bit of the concealer off of it to show it's vibrant shade. "Hey, don't do that, I have class with Sev next!" It felt weird to refer to him as Snape, seeing as you were Snape too. You pulled your hair back over your shoulder and glared at your friend, a blush covering your cheeks.

"Well, what is it?" You gained the attention of your entire friend group, all of their eyes set on you. You glanced over to Malfoy to see him smirking, having been upset you covered the mark he purposefully left on you to remind the first years that you were with him.

"Draco and I might have....finally been together like that" the blush on your cheek grew brighter as you admitted to your friends. It had been a rough day for you yesterday, and Draco stayed with you through it all. One thing led to another and you found yourself so incredibly safe and comfortable in his arms, losing your virginity to your incredibly amazing boyfriend.

Your friends all gossiped about the deep mark on your neck, chatting to you about the time with your boyfriend before you admitted to wanting to leave a bit early to get a slow walk in with Draco to your shared class of Potions. Leaving your friends, your bookbag over your shoulder, you met with Draco at the entrance to the hall, slowly walking hand in hand with him.

While he had been quite hesitant to show any form of PDA when you first got together, although having gone to the ball together last year did help in your favor, the two of you had grown comfortable to a small bit of it in the hallways.

"I see your friends found my little mark." He spoke, the cockiness flowing from his lips quite happily. "Dray, you know the only reason I covered it was because I have to talk to Sev today. I have to tell him." You had wanted to tell your brother the moment you found out, but your schedule kept you quite far from his classroom yesterday, and you and Draco had been a little caught up in your dorm room after dinner.

His demeanor softened for you, kissing your forehead softly. "I know, love. I'll be there, if you want me to, you know that." his voice always had a soft tone when it came to you. You always dreamed of changing someone like the muggle love stories spoke of, being the good for someone who was so bad, but you genuinely didn't expect it when you met your boyfriend, but the last thing you were going to do was complain.

You both sat in class, Severus keeping the two of you as far away as possible in his class. While he accepted the fact that the two of you were together, he still hated the idea of Malfoy holding you in general, let alone his own classroom. You sat in the front, where he kept a nice eye on you during the time spent in his class, Draco sitting in the back corner with Goyle. You were copying the notes on the board when you heard the smack of your brothers book coming in contact with someone's head. Although, your expectations were not met when you glanced back to see your boyfriend rubbing his head, the note someone must have passed him now being held by your brother.

"Passing notes, Draco?" His voice was sharper, expecting better from his student, especially Malfoy. He unfolded the note, keeping eye contact with the blonde. "Sir, I wouldn't -" Crabbe was silenced with a sharp look from Snape, his eyes looking down on the note.

Whatever he read, you could tell he didn't enjoy. The grip on the paper tightened, his jaw clenched as he looked down at the fifth year, his look even sharper than you thought it could be. "See me after class, boy." He spoke, walking to the front quickly.

The class was dismissed early, which surprised you incredibly. While your brother was a lot of things, a teacher who let students out early wasn't one. Although you knew he would focus on Draco, you stayed behind to talk to him, slowly packing up your bags. "Y/n, leave." The voice was almost as sharp as it was the first time you spoke to Severus, the tone slicing you. "I need to talk to you-" "I said leave!" He stood, slamming his hand on his desk. "No!" Your legs forced you to stand, your eyes forming slits of their own. "Okay, then you can watch me murder Draco for sleeping with you." His feet carried him to your boyfriend, pinning him against the wall, Snape's wand digging into his neck.

"Severus!" You yelled, rushing to the two yourself. "Stop it!" The fear in your boyfriend's eyes are what you expected filled them the first time he was threatened by his head of house. "You think you can sleep with my sister?" Your hands shook, your mind racing as you tried to think of a solution.

"Dad's dead!" you yelled out, hoping to gain his attention.

While you did, your heart hurt at the way you set this on the older man. "What?" He asked, letting go of the boy, turning to look at you. "He, he passed away, Sev. I got the owl yesterday. I was going to find you, but none of my classes came close to you yesterday, you weren't at dinner, and I know you'd be upset with me if I broke curfew." You left out the part of being happily in bed with the boy slowly backing away.

"The funeral is two days from now."

You weren't sure how the rest of the day happened, you weren't really sure how the next two days happened, but you found yourself standing between Draco and Severus, a black dress sitting upon your skin as you watched the funeral. Your hand was tightly in Draco's, your eyes glancing up to check on the dark haired man beside you occasionally.

After you had a moment with the grave of your father, you met the two back in the car, heading to the house you grew up in. While it was dark and dreary for you, you only imagined what Severus was feeling. You met with the minister, your father having left his will with him. While you were quite surprised of the outcome, Severus didn't even flinch as you were left with everything your father had to offer, leaving him with nothing.

You walked into your room, glancing around at the space, remembering the memories you had, the positive and happy ones, but only felt a sadness for your brother, knowing he had nothing of the sort. Your feet quickly led you to your father's study, having heard him enter it as you walked off yourself, only to find him sitting in the desk chair, a letter in his hands. He was shaking slightly, causing a worry to fill up inside of you. Before he noticed your presence, too wrapped up in the letter, your wand was pulled at two words slipped from your lips, "Accio letter." Before he could stop the parchment from leaving his fingertips, it fell to your own, your eyes skimming the paper quickly.

"Severus....my only son....I apologise for so much....I know I was wrong.....your sister.....I have no right to ask you for anything.....watch over her.....If there is any good I ever left for you, it's her...." As your eyes went back to the top of the paper to read it's words properly, it was taken out of your grip, folded, and placed in the inside pocket of your brother's suit before he walked out silently.

Sixth Year

Your breath was held as your stared up at the dark haired woman, a fear in your entire soul, one you didn't even know you could feel. You heard him before you saw him, his horrible voice filling your ears. "Another Snape, I knew ministry records would prove to be more than beneficial." Your eyes shut as he stepped before you, only to have Bellatrix's hands forcing them open, your eyes making contact with his. "You will help Draco." Be stated, looking behind you to the boy being held back by his father, desperately attempting to reach you. "You will. Kill. Dumbledore."

You were released, your body falling to the floor, only to be cradled in your boyfriend's arms moments later. "I'm so sorry love, I'm so, so sorry." Tears slipped from your eyes the moment you knew your were alone with Draco, a sob softly falling from your lips. You were scared beyond imagine, never having thought you'd come face to face with Voldemort like you just had.

You were forced up quickly, oxygen leaving your lungs as you feared the worst, but were quickly met with the face of your brother. "How?" He asked, looking at Draco. "Umbridge, as soon as he slipped into the Ministry, she was quick to explain about the other Snape. Mom wrote to her to invite her to the Manor, when she arrived, Bellatrix met her." You stared up at your brother, but his eyes refused to meet yours. He nodded once, twice, before stepping back to pace the floor.

"I'll write to Beauxbatons, I'm sure they will let you in even though it's your sixth year. If not, Ilvermony would be more than happy to take you." He nodded once more, moving to the door. "Sev, stop." You spoke, but watched him continue his walk. "Sev." You tried again, but the sound of his steps continued to fill the air. "Severus!" You yelled out, a sob slipping again.

"I'm not leaving Hogwarts, I'm not. I'm not leaving Draco, and I sure as hell am not leaving you! I'm your sister, everyone knows now. I'm not leaving." Your voice held stronger than you thought it would, but your tears still slipped down your cheeks. Although he didn't turn to face you, you watched his shoulders tense before exiting the room, your body collapsing into your boyfriend's once more.

As you walked with Draco through the halls of your school, your heart felt heavier than it did every year at school combined. The joy you felt every time you walked into the door of the school didn't fill your body, the warmth you felt each moment in it's corridors was replaced with a chilling cold that felt harsher than the worst of winters.

With every attempt of the murder, you found it harder and harder to breathe. Draco had admitted to you about Snape taking on the Unbreakable spell for him, not much was said about you and, nothing was ever said to you. Any type of time you set aside for your older brother was now filled with plans of, well, murder. Plans to kill the best headmaster you ever knew.

As you and Draco stood before the old man, your heart broke with every padding second. "Draco, Y/n, let me help you." His voice was feeble like, almost dipped in death already. "I don't need your help. Don't you understand, we have to do this, we have to kill you. Or he's going to kill her, me. Both of us." His hand was tightly enclosed in yours, but as the room filled with death eaters, Bellatrix pried you both apart and whispered harshly to you both. "Do it!"

But, the spell was cast by the man who had separated himself from you all year. Your eyes wide as you watched the man fall from the tower, both Draco and Severus ushering you off the grounds.

Seventh Year

With each word that came from Hogwarts to any "death eaters" meeting, the muggle pen wrote it all down on the soft skin of your arm, only to be copied down onto parchment and sent out in hopes that it safely met the trio.

With each day that passed, the fear in your heart grew. Not only the fear of Voldemort, but the fear of death that came with any student that sat in the halls of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts.

Your heart clutched with both love and hatred of the school. Love for the memories, the moments, the time spent. Hatred for the actions being fulfilled there by the man you called your brother.

You stayed quite close with Draco in his home, the both of you fearing every breath you took. The honest feeling of life of death hung over the backs of you both, the fear of the coming war plaguing you, paralyzing you. The only hope you had was the hope of the trio, of Harry Potter. The boy who lived in fear every second, just like the entire wizarding world.

You longed to see your friends, you longed to see your professors, you longed to see your brother. But each day was filled with voices of the dark, plans for the deaths, and nightmares of the future. It all lead up to the moment you stood behind Voldemort, praying the help you sent before had met Harry, your hand tightly in Draco's. As the wands raised, attempting to break down the protections spells, you released the hand of your love and fled off into the woods, praying you could find any way of entrance into the castle. Your heart beat harshly against your chest, the sweat pouring from your skin as you looked at the professors on the other side of the spells.

You smiled at them, hope filling you as they smiled back. Thank merlin for Harry communicating your loyalty to them all. You were filled with a happy kind of dread when the barrier broke, knowing it allowed you in, but with the price of the wrong end of the war following you. You slipped into the castle, finding the trio with quite a bit of work.

Your greetings were met with quick hugs and smiles, but was followed with spells being cast in every direction, hoping you could protect each other with each one. You all froze as Harry groaned in pain, your heart hurting for the boy before you. None of you deserved this war, none of you deserved this fear, but Harry didn't deserve this pain.

He explained the location of the dark wizard, leading the three of you to the boat house. A squeak almost left your lips, but Hermione's hands slipped over you, holding your head to her chest as you watched in horror, Voldemort speaking to your brother. With each passing second, you felt as though a millions years moved before you. Your heart shattering as you watched the horrid snake beat into your brother, taking with him each breath of life.

As soon as the girl let you go, you scrambled into the building, rushing to the dark haired man. "Sev, Sev, no." You cried, holding him to you. "No, it's okay, you're gonna be okay. Harry, do something!" You screamed at the boy, looking at him desperately. "Y/n," he began, but words refused to form at his tongue. "Hermione, you have to know something, some kind of spell." You sobbed harder as she looked as heartbroken as the boys, causing you to look down at your brother. "Sev, please." You cried, watching as Harry took the tear from his cheek.

"I am so sorry, y/n." his voice grew weaker with each syllable, his eyes almost shaking with the force he was using to keep them open. "I- I love you." He whispered, his eyes desperate as he prayed he was heard by the one person in the world he found himself able to love after Lily.

Your sobs filled the air, your arms holding his body. "Sev, Sev, I love you too." You cried out, wishing nothing more than to be able to go back and hold him like a sister should her brother more than you ever did.

"I won't let him win, I won't." you whispered, your eyes closing as your felt a part of you slip from your being, leaving a brother size whole in its place.

After the war

"You're sure you have everything? I mean, if you don't, I'll owl it to you, but you have your robes, yes? You'll need to put those on before you arrive. And you have a bit of money for the trolley, yes? Your dad gave you some?" You patted down your son, attempting to tame his hair. While he got the color from his father, the texture and mess came from you.

"Honey, Harry is here." Your husband's voice was soft as it always was in your ear, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both turned to greet the man. "Harry, Ginny." Your arms wrapped around both in a hug, having kept in touch with them quite a bit sense the war. "Y/n, Draco." Harry said, turning back around to attend to his own son.

"How is he feeling?" You asked Ginny, greeting Hermione and Ron as they found you all. "About as nervous as Harry was his first time. Pretty sure he gave us the same look Harry did when Mum told him to run into the wall." She laughed softly, smiling at you. Draco had slipped his son a few more coins, whispering the words, "Say, 'We'll take the lot', okay? You do it, not a Potter."

Your own laughter filled the air as you caught the silent whispers from your husband. "Leave him be. So Harry bought out the lot first year, he doesn't have to do it his own first year." You smiled, kissing his head as he stepped onto the train, your smile growing as he sat in the compartment with the Potter's and Weasley's.

The train began pulling off at 11:00 sharp, your hand waving frantically. "Be good, and you better write! I love you so much Sev!" You called, your heart squeezing ever so slightly at the nickname.

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huntertales · 4 years

Text

Part Two: Who’s A Good Boy? (Dog Dean Afternoon S09E05)

Episode Summary: While investigating two bizarre murders, Y/N and the boys realize there is an eyewitness to both gruesome deaths–a German Shepard. Anxious to find out what monsters they are dealing with, the three look up a spell that can help communicate with the dog. When Dean decides to be the one to perform the spell, he quickly realizes it comes with side effects no one saw coming. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,741.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

By the next morning you and the boys could add another body to the list. A young man was murdered late into the evening, at an animal shelter of all places. You had a feeling it wasn't a coincidence from the one you were looking into. Both of them dealt with animals in the location of where they were killed, but the difference between the two was how it was done. Max had his body contorted in a violent manner, the newest victim's body was covered in his own blood after being clawed to death. You took one more good observation before the body bag was zipped up and the coroner pushed him out to the van, where the man would be shipped off to the morgue.

“Claw marks?” Dean noted the different cause of death.

"Yeah. The cops said all the cats went missing." Sam added on to the weird factor of the case. You didn't understand why someone would go through all the trouble to steal all the felines from the shelter only to leave the rest of the animals. You highly doubted there was a crazy cat lady/animal lover behind both of these murders.

You passed by the dog kennels as you and the boys made your way through the shelter, all abandoned for one reason of another and in need of adoption. All their little faces and adorable eyes made your heart melt. What you wouldn't do to be able to give them all a good permanent home. "Right, so," You focused your attention back onto the conversation. "Yesterday we're dealing with some sort of snake monster. Today it's a killer kitty. Makes sense."

"Hey." Dean stopped at a particular cage when he spotted a German Shepard that he swore he saw before. "Why does that mutt look familiar?"

You reached out to grab the clipboard and glanced at the dog's information to see what his name was. Dean was right. You had seen him yesterday. "That was the taxidermist's dog."

"So, he's been at both crime scenes?" Dean found all of this to be more than just a simple coincidence. You merely shrugged your shoulders, Sam nodded at the similarities. "Maybe he’s a suspect. You know, may—" He stopped for a moment when he saw an officer passed by before continuing when the man was out of earshot, continuing on with his theory to who might be to blame for this. The dog sitting inside the kennel. "Could be a skinwalker, maybe a shapeshifter."

You stared at the German Shepherd, who merely sat there with his tongue wagging out, the sight alone made you smile from how innocent he looked. "Doesn't look like a monster to me." You crouched down so you were at level with the dog and stuck your fingers through the fencing, letting the Colonel move forward and sniff your skin to get your smell. When he felt comfortable enough you scratched under his chin. "More like a handsome boy."

"One way to find out." Dean took out a silver dollar from his pocket and sank down to the ground next to you. "Come here, boy. Hey. This isn't gonna hurt at all. Unless it hurts"

Dean rubbed the coin behind one of the Colonel's ears, and like you suspected, nothing out of the ordinary happened. "Huh. Guess we can rule out killer." You said. You scratched one of the dog's ears, smiling in delight from how he reacted. "Isn't that right, boy?"

You pulled your hand out of the cage and pushed yourself up to your feet right when the Colonel changed his tune. You watched as he went from a content dog to barking at the stranger who approached from behind. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was just the sheriff. For some reason the Colonel did not like him.

"Do you agents need any further assistance?" He asked. You noticed right as the sheriff took off his hat the barking stopped. You didn't think much of it. You presumed the Colonel who the stranger was and stopped.

"Officer, I think we're okay." Sam said. "Thanks."

“All right, well,” The sheriff nodded. “let me know.”

You noticed right when he put his hat back on the Colonel started barking again. Dean picked up the observation as well. He pushed himself back up to his feet and stopped the sheriff from going anywhere, needing to test a possible theory from asking a strange favor from the man. “Officer. Excuse me, can I borrow your hat?”

The sheriff willingly handed over his hat. You watched as Dean turned over to the kennel and merely placing the hat over his head caused the Colonel to erupt into barking again. Right as he took it off, the barking stopped. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked over at the boys, each of you seeming to have the same idea. You heard the sheriff make a remark about the kind of trouble the dog was going to have getting adopted before being on his way. It was something more. You turned your attention back to the German Shepard as he continued barking before the man was gone.

“Okay, so, the Colonel’s not a suspect.” Sam said, noticing himself about the strange reaction.

“Yeah, but he’s a witness.” Dean mumbled. “Hey, boy. You speak sign language?”

“That’s monkeys.” Sam corrected his brother on the animals he was thinking about. “You know what? This is gonna sound crazy. I read this book about this guy who tried to teach his dog to speak after it witnessed a murder.”

“And it worked?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask out of curiosity to see if it was a success, despite how you chuckled at the bizarre idea. Sam shook his head. “But he wrote a book about it?”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t have what we have.” Sam said. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the number of someone who was able to help you. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. “Kevin. Hey, it’s me. How do we speak to a dog?”

+ + +

To say you were excited about spending the afternoon with the German Shepard was an understatement. You ignored Dean’s annoyed stares and remarks from having the dog ride in the backseat with you and the chance of getting the interior ruined. You needed the Colonel in order to figure out who killed his owner. And he was on his best behavior. You sat on the floor of the motel while Sam gathered all the supplies you would need to make the spell in order to speak to the dog.

"You are just so handsome." You cooed at the German Shepherd, petting him and scratching behind his ear when you found a spot he liked the most. "I think this might be my favorite hunt we've ever done. A cute face like yours will get adopted in no time. Who's a good boy? It's you. Yes, you are."

"Don't get too attached to the mutt. We're not keeping him." Dean reminded you. He didn't understand why you were gushing over the dog. It wasn't like you were going to be able to keep him. He wasn't a personal fan of dogs. Didn't understand what the big hype was about. They bark at the smallest things, not to mention how they liked to shed everywhere. It was like having a child covered in fur. "We're doing the spell, figuring out who killed his owner and it's back to the pound."

"I know that. But it's not everyday we get to work with such a pretty dog. German Shepherds have always been my favorite. I wanted one as a kid. But my mom was allergic." You explained to the older Winchester why you were attached to the Colonel. You smiled and continued speaking to the dog in the kind of childlike voice Dean always found irritating. You praised the mutt for doing nothing but sitting there. Despite how this annoyed him with everyone else, he had to admit he liked seeing you so happy. It’d been a while since he got to see how your face lit up and with a genuine smile. You seemed to notice the older man’s pessimistic behavior. "He's a grump. Dean doesn't like dogs. But how can you not love such a cute face?"

You softly patted the Colonel one last time before you got back up from the ground when the door to the room opened, revealing Sam with all the ingredients you would need for the spell. You made your way over to the table to get started. However you felt a nudge on your knee, distracting you from participating. A smile crept on your lips when you saw the Colonel was back at your side. He rested his head on your lap and stared at you with those puppy dog eyes. You playfully rolled your eyes before you went on petting him, listening as Sam got started.

“An inuit spell?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Sam said. You watched as he reached for another ingredient and mixed it into the plastic bowl he found in the motel that was supposed to be used for ice. “Who knew the Men of Letters had its own Eskimo section?”

“I swear, you discover something new in that place.” You mumbled to yourself. “And it’s supposed to let us communicate with the Colonel?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the plan.” Sam answered. He reached out and plucked a hair off the Colonel’s backside, the strange disruption from you scratching his head made the dog lift its head up from your lap to see what the younger man was doing. Sam dropped the hair into the bowl and stirred it into the mixture to make sure it was all combined together. “Kevin said it’s like a sort of human/animal mind meld.”

“Meaning?” Dean questioned his brother, wondering about the simplified version of the spell.

“If it works,” Sam explained to his brother as he poured a vial looking brown liquid into a clean cup. Your face scrunched up slightly from realizing that you were going to have to drink that for the chance to communicate with the Colonel someway. “we should be able to read the Colonel’s thoughts.”

“All right, I’ll do it.” The older Winchester declared, snatching the cup off the table before either you or his brother could jump on the opportunity. You let out a loud scoff from the move that he pulled, prompting you to give him a look to explain himself of why he wanted to do this.“You got enough on your plate, sweetheart.”

“Like, what?” You questioned him in a frustrated tone of voice.

"Uh, like...you're tired." Dean sniffed the drink before giving a bogus response. You quietly laughed from the answer even you knew was crap. You weren't tired. Sure, you weren't back to yourself one hundred percent, but you didn't understand why you couldn't do the spell. "You're on the mend. Okay? Plus, Sammy's got a sensitive stomach. Last thing we need is him chucking this stuff up. Huh?"

“You hate dogs.” You pointed out to him.

“No, I don’t.” Dean chuckled off the accusation. The Colonel turned his head and let out a quiet noise that sounded like a bark. You quietly laughed. Guess the dog disagreed. Dean rolled his eyes from the petty argument. He turned his attention to the drink that he had to unfortunately swallow. He had his fair share of weird food and drinks over the years, the stuff should have gone down easy. “Doesn’t look so bad.” Dean drank the entire thing like it was a shot. He let out a sigh from the aftertaste that lingered. “I was wrong.”

“You wanted to do it…” You muttered under your breath.

“Come on.” Dean waved a hand for his brother to fork over the words he needed to say to make the spell complete. He coughed a few times from the way the drink snuck up on him as it settled into his stomach with consequences. He managed to chant a few lines without barfing up the ingredients. You examined the Colonel to see if anything might happen. The dog continued to rest at your feet. “All right. Let’s get this party started. Tell me everything you know.” The Colonel responded by letting out a yawn. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Dean amused himself with a corny joke as he let out a quiet chuckle. You and his brother didn’t think it was funny. “Tough crowd.”

The Colonel threw the man a bone when he lifted his head up and let out an unexpected bark. You raised your brow slightly and looked over at Dean, hoping somehow it was the dog’s way of communicating. Dean merely shook his head. You let out a quiet sigh from how the spell failed. Well, it was worth a shot.

+ + +

A little while later you and the boys settled down for a quick lunch as you discussed the next possible course of action. You weren't hungry as you thought you were. Every once in a while you ripped off a piece of your hamburger and fed it to the Colonel when the boys weren't looking. You felt like a kid feeding their unwanted vegetables to the family pet so you could be excused from dinner. He kept staring at you with those puppy dog eyes. You couldn't resist just giving him a treat. You’d find something else to snack on later like you normally did while you completed some more research.

“So, call Kevin.” Dean said. “Spell tasted like ass and it was a bust.”

“At least it didn’t affect your appetite.” You noted. “Geez. I’ve never seen you eat like that before. Take it slower next time. You’re not that young anymore.”

Dean rolled his eyes from your remark about his eating habits. He opened his mouth to try and excuse the reason for his ravenous appetite, but someone cut him off. “Change the station.” Dean heard a male voice come out of thin air. He turned his head head to the dog sitting next to him when he realized it wasn’t Sam complaining of the station he turned on the radio. The Colonel continued as he was while Dean observed him for any kind of change in behavior, his mouth hung open with a little bit of drool escaping his mouth. Dean heard the request again. “Change the station.”

“What?” Dean asked the dog for some kind of clarification. He wasn’t exactly sure how the spell might work if it actually did. Sam repeated after his brother, not sure himself of what was going on. When the older man did, he was quick to hush the both of you from trying to say anything else. The Colonel must’ve been speaking to the man telepathically. “You—shut up. It’s working!”

“It—go!” You hissed at the man.

“Say that again.” Dean told the dog.

“You call this classic rock? Next thing you know, they’ll be playing Styx.” The Colonel had an opinion on Dean’s music taste of all things. To say Dean was oddly offended would have been an understatement. One thing was for sure, he didn’t stand for something trashing his impeccable music taste. Not even a dog. “And Dennis DeYoung? A punk.”

“Dennis DeYoung’s not a punk.” Dean argued with the canine. “He’s Mr. Roboto, bitch.”

“Why are you arguing with the dog about Styx?” You asked him, becoming confused yourself at the one-sided conversation you were only able to hear.

Dean realized that you and Sam couldn’t hear the Colonel’s thoughts like he could. The man was having a full conversation with the mutt. “Wh—uh, yeah. Um, hey, boy.” Dean veered the conversation to the reason why he did the spell in the first place. “What were you trying to tell us about the cowboy hat?”

“The douche wheel who killed my best friend was wearing a cowboy hat.” The Colonel said. Dean wondered about the kid who was working at the shelter the night he was murdered. He was communicating with a dog. The man wasn’t sure if this was the weirdest thing he had ever done for a hunt. It was well up there. “Yep. Same guy killed both.”

“Ask about the cats.” Sam said, throwing his dirty rolled up napkins into the trash.

“Yeah, uh—” Dean was about to do that. But for some reason he was distracted by the ball Sam had thrown. He was overwhelmed with the urge to grab it from the trash can and placed it on the table. “And what about the cats?”

Sam picked up the napkin his brother fetched, unsure of why the man did it in the first place. “I don’t want this.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see much.” The Colonel said. Sam rolled up the napkin even more and tossed it once again into the trash hoping where it would stay there. “I didn’t exactly have the best view in the orphanage. Oh, but I could smell him. Guy reeked of red meat, dishwashing detergent and Tiger Balm.”

“So what’s he saying?” You asked the older man.

“Uh, that the—” Dean once again automatically reached for the napkin when he saw it be thrown across the table and into the trash. He tossed it back down on the table to Sam and went on with what he learned from the Colonel. “The guy smelled like ground chuck, and soap suds and old-lady cream.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked. Once again he picked up the napkin he tried to discard twice now, only to fail after his brother picked it up like it was some kind of ball.

You noticed Dean was scratching behind his ear without much thought, like it was second nature. He shrugged his shoulders at his own behavior. “I don’t know.” He said. It seemed he wasn’t even aware of his strange actions that weren’t like him. The Colonel found it amusing when he titled his head and started laughing. Dean didn’t find it the least bit funny. “Oh, what are you laughing at?”

The Colonel was about to break the news to the man, until his ears picked up something that sounded like a car door sliding shut. He knew that noise. Suddenly he started barking like how he had at the shelter. Instead this time it was for an enemy all dogs shared. The expression that crossed Dean’s face was laser focused. He had the overwhelming urge to jump out of his seat and head straight to the window, and that’s exactly what he did. You felt your mouth part open in complete shock as the Colonel joined him, the dog jumped onto his hind legs as he peeked through the curtains to spot the mailman. Dean started banging his hand against the window as the Colonel continued barking upscenely, both trying to appear threatening to the stranger.

“Hey! Hey, hey! Yeah!” Dean shouted at the mailman just trying to do his job, only to be stopped by a grown man who was desperately trying to get his attention. For some reason the man pointed a finger at the stranger and shouted words at him, like he was trying to get his attention and seem threatening. “You! You!” The Colonel continued to bark as Dean did the same with his own words. “Hey, hey! You! You! You!”

Dean repeated after himself several more times until he saw the mailman go on his way, brushing off the man’s odd behavior. He felt himself let out a growl in frustration. “Hey! Stop that!” You were giving the command to the Colonel in an attempt to get him to try and behave, little did you think it would have the same effect on Dean. “Come on. Sit down.”

The Colonel did as he was told. He stopped barking and made his way back over to you where he dropped down to your feet. Dean followed just a second after. You smiled at how well the Colonel followed commands, it earned him another scratch under the chin you noticed how much he enjoyed. Dean found himself growing annoyed from the thought he was able to hear about how the Colonel could get used to this kind of treatment from you.

“Hey, hey. Don’t get cozy, pal.” Dean grumbled to the dog. “She’s my female, not yours.”

You suddenly stopped what you were doing at the words that came out of Dean's mouth. You turned your head to "I’m your what?" You asked, not sure if you should be weirded out or start laughing. It took you a second to realize what was going on when you saw Dean scratching behind his ear. Playing fetch. Barking at the mailman. You felt your lips stretch into an amused smile. “I think the spell worked. In fact, I think it worked a little too well.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“I think…you might be a dog.” Sam broke the news to his brother, trying his hardest not to laugh himself at the irony of the situation. The older Winchester was slowly becoming something he hated. Dean didn’t understand what the both of you were trying to get at, despite seeing the evidence. “You’re scratching your head. You’re barking at the mailman. You’re playing fetch.”

Dean opened his mouth and tried to deny the claim that sounded absurd to him. However the man was faced with the reality of the situation when Sam threw the napkin into the trash and for the third time Dean tried to grab it. He managed to stop himself when he realized what he was about to do. The urge to continue playing this game was strong, but Dean managed to refrain himself. He found himself letting out a low whimper. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t play, or it was the fact that he had the urges of a canine.

“Ruh-roh.”

+ + +

You had to admit at first you found Dean acting like a dog a bit funny. From playing fetch with his brother by accident to him subconsciously scratch behind his ear when neither you or Sam were paying much attention. It stopped being funny when he started getting clingy. Dean wasn’t much of an affectionate person on the surface. His actions spoke louder than his words. And his actions were showing you that he didn’t want to leave your side. You had to push him away several times when he was overwhelmed with the urge to sniff you like a bloodhound. He complimented you by saying that you smelled nice—like fresh fruit from your shampoo you used this morning, the hamburger you had for lunch, and chocolate from the bar you snuck in your bag. You could have done without knowing what you reeked of.

What pushed you over the edge was when he tried sitting in your lap after moving from the table to the edge of the motel bed. He needed to follow you wherever you went. He claimed it was an accident. You were about to yell at him to stay away from you, but the look in his eye—that stupid puppy dog pout, made you roll your eyes in frustration and compromise with the man. He was sitting right next to you with your shoulders bumping against one another. You swore he chuckled to himself when you gave him and whispered a thank you to the damn dog. You swore the Colonel taught him a trick on ways to get you to do what he wanted with a simple look. You refrained from making any remarks when you broke off a piece of chocolate and shoved a piece into your mouth.

“Yeah. No, that—okay. Alright. Thanks.” Sam finished his call up with Kevin after trying to find more out about the consequences of the spell his brother willingly decided to drink without thinking twice. You looked over at the man when you heard him end the conversation. “So, apparently, the inuit spell has some side effects.”

“Oh, well, that would have been nice to know before I downed it!” Dean grumbled in frustration at the situation at hand. “What kind of side effects?”

“When you mind meld with an animal, it’s…possible to start exhibiting some of its behavior.” Sam explained to his brother the bad news.

Dean turned his gaze over to the Colonel who sat right across from you, as if he had any answers that might help stiffen the blow of what the older Winchester put himself through. “Don’t look at me, hoss.” The dog said. “It ain’t my fault.”

“Well, how long am I gonna have the urge to…” Dean didn’t want to say it out loud, afraid how you and his brother were going to react. The Colonel didn’t miss a beat when he said exactly what the man was thinking. Dean chuckled in nervousness at hearing it out loud. He shook his head. “Oh, whoa. Hey. I don’t have the urge to sniff butts.”

“Yet.” The Colonel warned.

You nearly choked on the piece of candy you accidentally decided to swallow right when Dean decided to say the inappropriate sentence out loud. “What?” You didn’t know why you sounded so surprised from hearing the behavior. Dogs were notorious for their odd behavior when it came to their other fellow species. You slid down the bed to give the both of you a few inches apart, never breaking eye contact with him. “Do you really have the—”

“No!” Dean shouted. He was suddenly filled with embarrassment from the question you asked him. “Come on!”

“Well, Kevin doesn’t know how long it’ll last. It’s not like it’s an exact science, you know?” Sam gave his brother more bad news. Dean reached out and ripped the candybar out of your hands. He needed a little pick-me-up for the situation he was in. “But hopefully, when the spell wears off, so will the side effects.”

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.” The Colonel warned him from doing something stupid. Dean froze in his spot with a piece of chocolate hanging between his lips, not seeming to understand what the big deal was. "Chocolate? Seriously."

Dean let the piece of candy fall out from his mouth and drop back down to his lap before he could pull a stupid move. You shook your head and ripped the chocolate bar out from his hands. The three of you needed to figure out who was behind the cat-nappings and the two murders. You folded the candybar back up and threw it back into your bag for later. You got up from the bed and tried to get your jacket that was hanging off the back of the chair. All you could manage was taking a step before you were crashing into Dean. You let out a frustrated sigh when he was continuing the habit of following you.

“Good thing you’re cute.” You mumbled to him. You had to excuse his behavior from the way Dean was acting. He couldn’t help himself. But there was one line you didn’t want to cross. “If you start humping my leg, I’ll put you down myself.”

Dean swallowed and nodded his head in agreement. You clipped on the Colonel’s leash and followed behind the boys as all of you made your way out into the motel parking lot. Your time with the dog was nearing the end. But you had a possible theory that if Dean was acting like a canine, maybe he could communicate with others. There were several animals at the shelter who witnessed the crime. It was worth a shot. You had no possible leads other than the killer liked to wear a cowboy hat.

“Where are we headed?” The Colonel asked out of curiosity.

“Back to the shelter.” Dean informed him.

“To sniff out more clues,” The dog wondered. “maybe dig up something we missed?”

“All right, one more doggy pun out of you, and I’m gonna have your nuts clipped.” Dean warned the dog of a punishment.

“I hate to break it to you, hoss.” The Colonel broke the news to Dean about the operation his owner had done when he was still a mere puppy. “My sacks’ emptier than Santa’s after Christmas.”

As if today couldn’t get any worse Dean watched as the Impala’s windshield became dirty from a white blob that fell out from the sky. Some bird just pooped on his ride. And he cleaned Baby right before the hunt. “Aw, are you kidding me?” He grumbled. Dean looked to see it was a pigeon who was to blame. It sat on top of a street lamp with perfect range to drop another load on the Impala. “Hey, dick move, pigeon!”

“Screw you, asshat.”

“Did—” Dean thought he was only able to communicate with the Colonel. It came as a shock when the pigeon talked back to him. You and Sam were finding all of this amusing from an outsider’s perspective, having no clue the discovery Dean made. He looked down at the Colonel for some kind of answers. “Wait a minute. Can I hear all animals?”

“Yep. Animals have a universal language—like esperanto.” He said. “But this one actually caught on.”

“And I’m just getting started, too.” The pigeon said. “Brewing a real big one. Ha! Bet your ride’s gonna look sweet in white.”

“What’s he saying?” You asked, looking up at the pigeon.

“You—he’s being a douchebag!” Dean shouted in annoyance.

“Who are you calling ‘douchebag,’ douchebag?” The pigeon mocked back at the man.

“Oh, shut it, you winged rat!” The older Winchester yelled.

“Hey. Calm down.” You whispered to him, chuckling nervously to yourself when you saw a few people notice the strange behavior Dean was showing. It appeared to be the man was having a one-sided conversation with the pigeon that couldn’t talk back. “Just get in the car.”

“Ha, ha. That’s right, Sally.” The pigeon taunted, thinking he won the fight against the human with the last word. “Go cry to Mama.”

“Oh, that’s it, you son of a bitch!”

Dean whipped out his gun and pointed it up at the bird, ready to shoot the damn thing out of the sky. Before he could do something stupid and get all of you arrested, you managed to grab him by the arm and pinned it back down to his side. "That's enough!" You hissed at him. "Stop acting like a damn fool and get your ass in the car!"

You shoved him towards the backseat where you put the Colonel in as Sam awkwardly waved at a few bystanders who witnessed the whole ordeal. You rolled your eyes in frustration and got into the passenger side, letting Dean’s punishment be to sit with the dog since he wanted to act like one.

+ + +

The ride to the shelter was an interesting one at that. Dean insisted on having all the windows rolled down to let in some fresh air. However you noticed it for another reason when both Dean and the Colonel stuck their heads out to enjoy the breeze. You tried your hardest to stifle a laugh you felt coming on from seeing the joy on Dean's face of feeling the breeze against his face that caused an adorable grin. When you got to the shelter and the Impala came to a stop, Dean immediately broke out of his behavior when he figured out what he was doing.

“I think it’s probably best to just leave the Colonel in the car.” Sam suggested to his brother when he circled around and tried opening up the backseat door to let the dog out. Dean had a shift in behavior, as if he was taken back at the mere idea of letting poor Colonel be all on his own. “Well, all the windows are open.”

“You think we like that?” Dean asked him. You furrowed your brow slightly when you caught him using a plural noun from what he was talking about. “You think because the windows are open that that’s some sort of treat, huh? No, the dog’s coming in.”

You and Sam shared a look from the even more strange behavior Dean was exhibiting. The Colonel respected the hunter for understanding the desire to not be stuck in the car while humans did chores. They liked to go wherever their best friends went. Dean petted the canine before letting him out of the car to join the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and went on your way to the shelter. Dean followed behind with the Colonel right by his side like how he argued to have. The man found himself stopping when he caught sight of a view he couldn’t turn away from. You turned your head to see that Dean stopped for some reason with his gaze upon something that caused a glint in his eyes you weren’t all too happy with. You’ve seen it before when he caught sight of a pretty face that wasn’t yours before the both of you got together. You followed his gaze until you saw what he was staring at. You let out a heavy sigh from how weird this was getting.

Dean and the Colonel gawked at a poodle tied up across the street to a bike rack. She was a pretty dog from how well groomed she was and her pink accessories her owner dolled her up with. Both dogs were infatuated with the bitch.

“Dean!” You hissed at the man, forcing him back into reality. He stopped ogling at the poodle and looked over to you to see that you weren’t the least bit amused. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow, not sure if you wanted an explanation for all of this. You chalked it up to the spell that was changing his inhibitions. "You know, I'm not opposed to getting your balls clipped.”

Dean understood the underlying threat you were hinting at without needing to hear more from you. He followed right behind you with the Colonel right by his side. All of you headed into the shelter in some kind of hope Dean might be able to use this spell for good and figure out who the man was in the cowboy hat.

[Next Part]

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the-weeping-author · 4 years

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Secrets are forbidden Ch. 3

A/N: so before I start this authors note let me say some of y’all will not like how I wrote hopper so please don’t @ me lol. But finally done with chapter 3 I’m so happy.

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @harringtown @violet-dahlia @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @thenameishayley248 @pappydaddy @simplesammyx @didyouputyournameinthegob @lenassaviorsblog @wolphielautz

Warnings: cussing, parent issues.

Wordcount: 2,592

Parings: Oc hopper x Steve Harrington.

Please enjoy 🙂

I woke up to the sound of the A/C kicking on, I threw my covers off of me. I rubbed the sleep from my face, I got undressed walking into my bathroom. I turned on the cold water, went to find clothes to wear for the first day back at school. I grabbed a pair of my black overalls, I grabbed a white t-shirt walking over to my dresser and I grabbed a bra, underwear. I walked back into the bathroom, turned the hot water all the way up, turned the cold down about halfway.

After my shower I put my clothes on, I grabbed my car keys walking out into the kitchen. I saw my father, I walked to the cabinet, grabbed a coffee mug. I poured myself a cup of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table drinking it while my father sat across from me. It was awkward, I didn’t know what to say. I knew my father didn’t hate me, but he didn’t care to talk to me either. I never knew my father’s issue with me, but I think it had to do with the fact that Sara and I didn’t share the same mother.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but I didn’t have time to sit and ponder on the thought. If I were to bring it up it might make matters worse between us, I didn’t want it to get worse. That’s why I was getting a job, it was sad. Not because I had to work, but because I’d rather have all my time taken up by work, school than spend more than an hour with my father. It was too late to try and get to know me. It was 17 years too late, I didn’t care if he wanted me in his life or not anymore.

After I finished my coffee I put my mug into the sink, I walked out the front door. I got into my car, drove to school. When I got there I got out of my car, walked into the school. Eyes were on me as soon as I opened the main doors, as soon as I entered the building I left the stress of my home life at the front doors. My grades weren’t going to be affected by my crush on Steve, my father, but definitely not by the upside down. I walked to my locker, I twisted my combination perfectly because as soon as I finished the last number it popped off.

Now my lock has a love hate relationship with me, it can wait in line just like the rest of the lovely people who love but hate me. I grabbed a few textbooks out of my locker, out the corner of my eye I saw a dude. Now I knew everyone, but I didn’t know this dude. I could tell just from looking at him he was troubled from the brown boots on his feet to his curly blond hair. I knew just from looking at him once I Wasn’t going to like him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get to know the guy.

All it took was for us to lock eyes, he was on his way over to me. I quickly shut my locker, nearly ran into the guy. When he got closer the more I could smell his aftershave, just the aroma made me nauseous. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as he approached, I leaned up against my lockers as he halted to a stop right in front of me.

“So you’re the queen of Hawkins huh?”

I looked up at him, confidently nodded my head at him.

“Yep that’s me, and how may I help you?”

He smirked slightly, ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

“Names Billy Hargrove, you’re going to give me a tour of Hawkins high.”

I let out a slight amused laugh, I looked right into his eyes.

“In your dreams Blondie.”

I smiled, walked away from him. There was one thing on my mind, that was to find Steve. I mean I was sure since Billy approached me he would approach harrington. If he hadn’t already done it. He’s intentions were clear, that was to put everyone on guard here. Everyone had a target on Steve's back, but I had a feeling Billy was going to knock a few of those guys out of his way. I mean after all this was high school, guys cared about their reputation. Girls were Way different, we didn’t care who was popular. It's why I loved Robin.

Robin didn’t care that I was popular, but she didn’t like crowds so that’s why she only hung out with me at lunch. I always sat with her, only because my “friends” bothered her the whole time. So I decided that we’d only hang out at lunch and after school. It was a regular lunch day, I was sitting in my usual spot. Next thing I knew that Billy guy was sitting next to me, Robin immediately stopped talking. I turned my head a little bit to look at him, smiled.

“Hey There Bobby how can I help you this time?”

He looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“My name is Billy, But I didn’t have anyone to sit with so I thought I’d sit with you.”

I looked behind Billy, then looked back at him.

“Well according to the group of people looking over here you found somewhere to sit.”

“Huh? I don’t know what your-.”

I put my hand up, he stopped talking immediately.

“Look Benny, why don’t you just save yourself the time. I wasn’t Interested earlier and I’m not now. So save yourself the embarrassment.”

He stood up, grabbed his lunch. I could tell he was seething but It didn’t phase me, I didn’t care he definitely needed to back off. He turned his head as he walked away, stopping not too far from us.

“The name is Billy by the way.”

I turned to Robin, she smirked slightly at the conversation that just happened. She drank some of her milk, the bell rang. I walked to my locker to get some of the things that I needed for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my last book when I turned, numbed right into Steve Harrington.

“Hey Steve.”

He smiled at me, nudged me with his shoulder.

“Hey hopper how are you?”

I shut my locker, looked at him.

“Well besides some guy named Baxter Hargrove coming up to me today I’m good. How about you?”

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, he cracked a smile at me.

“You mean Billy?”

I gasped dramatically, I put my finger on my Chin.

“Oh is that his name I was wondering why he kept popping up every time I turned around?”

Steve let out a laugh, shook his head at me then he looked down at me his smile dropping some at my last statement.

“He came up to you? What did he say?”

I shook my head, let out a laugh.

“He was basically trying to get me to give him a tour of Hawkins, but it definitely wasn’t happening. He probably just wanted to get alone with me so he could lie about some false sexual encounter.”

I barely saw steves faces drop, but I could tell just by mentioning Billy probably lying about something stupid made him upset. Which was weird cause we weren’t a thing, but I guess he was just being protective. For some odd reason, trust me it wasn’t like Steve to be protective Steve and I never had the best anything really. I mean we were always making fun of each other even in elementary school.

I shrugged it off though, I continued with the rest of my day. The last period of school went by like a blink of an eye, it was time for me to return to my Castle in the woods. I walked to my car, I saw Steve standing near my car. I guess Nancy was somewhere else at the time because they were always together, I walked to my car opening my door.

“What’s up Harrington?”

Steve smiled, moved off the side of my car.

“Nothing just wanted to come see if the queen of Hawkins high was going to Tina’s party.”

I let out a laugh, looked at him.

“Steve you know just as well as anyone else I’m going.”

He smiled then looked at me, nodded his head. I looked through my purse for my keys, When I finally found them he responded.

“Alright cool I guess I’ll see you then?”

I threw my purse in my car, looked at him.

“Okay Harrington what’s your damage?”

He cocked a brow at me, shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head at him, let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You know exactly what I mean Steve. We totally aren’t friends, now all of a sudden you’re being nice to me and making sure I’m going to a party so like what’s your damage?”

Steve looked at me, put his hands up in defense.

“Jenna I was just trying to be nice, maybe I want us to actually have a friendship instead of being at each other's throats.”

I nodded my head, looked at him.

“Okay Steve but we need to hang out more if I’m going to consider you a friend.. so here’s my number. You can call when you want to hang out. I have to go.”

I smiled at him while I grabbed a bubble gum wrapper along with a pen, I jot down my number. I handed him the wrapper, got into my car, buckled up then drove away from the parking lot.

After I pulled into my driveway I stepped out of my car, over the fishing line that was totally invisible. I sighed when I finally got inside the house, called out.

“El I’m home.”

She came out of her room with a smile on her face, she looked at me.

“How was school?”

I laughed at her, ruffled her hair.

“Well we have some new guy at school named Billy but he’s a dick, but don’t tell Hopper I said that.”

She smiled, crossed her heart then held out her pinky which I gladly accepted. I wrapped my pinky around hers, She told me about her day at the house and I told her about my day. I started dinner, after it was done my dad finally came home. I sat his plate in front of him, I sat Eli’s in front of her then I sat down.

“Hey dad, how was work?”

He poked his food with his fork, then shrugged.

“Eh.”

I looked at him then smiled.

“Anything exciting happen today?”

He shrugged again, took a bite.

“Nope.”

I looked at him, smiled.

“School was good, we got a new guy but he’s totally bogus.”

This time he didn’t reply. I knew he just got in from work, but he could at least indulge in the conversation. I sighed, quickly ate my food then stood up from the table.

“Alright El come see me before you go to bed I have something for you.”

She nodded, continued to eat. After I washed my plate, fork off I walked into my room. I sat on my bed, stared doing homework. About thirty minutes later the phone rang, I heard my dad pick it up, a few minutes later he knocked on my door.

“Jenna telephone.”

I cocked my eyebrow, I closed my folder, and got off my bed. I walked to the phone, I put it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Jenna it’s me Steve.”

I smiled slightly, I walked into a more secluded area of the cabin.

“Hey Steve what’s up?”

I heard him take in a breath then exhale.

“Nothing just wanted to hang out so I thought I’d call and see if you wanted to hang out.”

I furrowed my brows together, looked at my clock.

“Steve it’s ten thirty. There’s no way my dad’s going to let me go out.”

Steve went silent for a minute then he decided to speak again.

“You can’t sneak out?”

I sighed, put my palm against my forehead.

“Yeah I’ll get my shoes on, where should I go?”

“Come to my house duh.”

“Okay Steve see you in about fifteen minutes bye.”

After hanging up with Steve I slid on my shoes, grabbed my car keys. I walked out into the living room, my dad was watching tv so I decided to ask him just to let him know where I would be.

“Dad Steve wants me to go over to his house is that okay?”

He didn’t even look away from the tv, I barely heard him answer me.

“Mhm yeah have fun.”

I sighed, shook my head. Most kids my age would kill to have a parent who let them do whatever, but honestly it wasn’t everything expected it to be. He didn’t just let me do whatever I wanted, but he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

After I got to my car safely I put the key in the ignition, turned it. After it started up I pulled out of the woods, headed to the Harrington house hold. The sky was beautifully lit, the moon was full. It was a beautiful night to be out, but I assume Steve wasn’t one for stargazing. I mean come on he could barely hold a conversation.

The drive to Steve's house was quick, when I got there his porch light was on. I knocked on the door, he opened it smiling at me.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

I nodded my head at him, he opened the door.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

He looked at me, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well uh I honestly didn’t know.”

I smiled, looked at him.

“Are your parents home?”

He quickly shook his head no, let out a scoff.

“No they aren’t, they’re never here.”

I looked at him, looked around.

“Yeah I can definitely relate to that.”

His brows furrowed, he looked at me walking over to the couch sitting on it.

“What do you mean, isn’t your dad home like all the time?”

I let out a soft sigh, then sat beside him pushing my hair behind my ear.

“He is but he doesn’t really pay me any kind it’s a total drag.”

He pressed his lips together for a quick moment, then he rubbed his hands on his jeans. Since when did Steve Harrington get nervous?

“I’m sorry to hear that Jenna, would you like a beer?”

I probably should have said no, but I decided against that thought.

“Sure Steve I’d love one.”

He stood off the couch, walked towards the kitchen.

“Okay I’ll be right back, oh and Jenna.”

I looked up at him, arched my eyebrow at him.

“Yes Steve?”

“You can always talk to me if you need to.”

I smiled at him, nodded my head at him.

“Same here harrington.”

The rest of the evening was spent laughing, talking about everything really. School, parents, his relationship, and we even went for a swim which quickly escalated into a playful splash fight. I don’t know what changed between Steve and I but something did, I saw myself developing a crush on Steve, but I didn’t know how or when it happened.

A/N: thank you guys and gals so much for reading chapter 3 I hope y’all liked it. Sorry hopper fans but his attitude isn’t gonna change for a few chapters.

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x imagine #steve harrington #stranger thinge x oc #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #Jenna hopper x Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington series

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

fox rain | four

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 13.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop one on the angst train express!!! conflict, crying, hurt feelings and perhaps a little bit of a complex... also someone gets slapped (rightfully). what a chapter! • ☽ — notes: two months late LETS GET IT FOOOXXX RRAAAIIINNN !!! this shit HURTED. for maximum owies, I advise reading a particular intermission before this one uwu

— posted; 08.09.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | four | next • —

Never in your life, have you ever truly entertained the thought of killing someone before now.

As though your stormy mood is a thick fog permeating the air and rendering it unbreathable, the students moving past you in the hall hasten to give you a wide berth. You’d appreciate it, if you weren’t so caught up in your half-baked murder plans that you didn’t even notice.

You’re a nice enough person, right? You’ve never gone out of your way to be mean, or bullied anyone—hell, sometimes you feel so bad about the current state of the earth that you walk around the park looking for litter to pick up. Being the stellar example to humanity that you are, you’ve managed to steer clear of—for the most part, also not counting these very stressful past few weeks—drama. In high school you managed to dodge the drama entailed by school dances, juvenile love triangles, and pretty much anything pubescent you can think of. You did your own thing, and generally most people took enough pity on your poor excuse of an existence that they became oddly endeared and protective of you, like they were adopting a small alien ball of slime that fell from the heavens and wheezed painfully with each breath. You’ve never had to face the cold, agonizing frostbite of betrayal, and you didn’t really ever expect to.

But now for the first time ever you have, and god does it suck. You woke up this morning like you had a hangover, head throbbing as though an iron ball was rolling from one side of your skull to the other in uneven laps, and your eyes were somehow a combination of dry and tight, swollen and moist— admittedly, you still kind of feel like that to a degree. You woke up sad, and angry and hurt, but thankfully Karma isn’t one to leave you stewing in any one emotion too long. What a benevolent queen you find yourself ruled by.

As soon as you settled down this morning with your flavoured coffee (the last sachet from your “depression days” emergency stash on the top shelf of the cupboard—you feel as though with all you’ve been through, you deserve it) and opened your phone like a fool to pass the time while your waffle (another comfort food from your stash) cooked in the kitchen, you were met with a very sudden and very stark change in emotional stasis. No longer were you a moody, depressed and sad sack of mouldy mashed potato—now you were a fucking livid sack of mouldy, mashed potato, who nearly snapped her fork in half from the sheer strength of her tight grip.

After all you’d learnt of Sera the afternoon previous, you shouldn’t have been as surprised to wake up to what you did. And yet, the second you laid eyes on that damn post it had taken you so off guard you’d nearly flown into a blind rage on the spot.

The gall, the absolute audacity of her to plead and proclaim that she was going to “fix this”, only to turn around and plunge another knife into your back by publicly announcing on the university forum she used to start all this that she is the author. This entire ordeal was already such a convoluted mess that even before this, she never could have truly fixed it—but she could have lessened it, made it more bearable. Yet she didn’t. And with her blatant choice to not only do the opposite but essentially plagiarise your damn poem and steal your unwanted, unintentional fame—you’ve never been so fucking furious in your life.

You’ve never considered murder before now either but you have to admit, the further onto campus you get and the more whispering and gossiping you catch about the “development” in the mystery moon poem drama, the more appealing it seems.

All day, you have put up with this shit. All day, as you sit through class and then move from one session to another, you have heard people gasp and chatter and rant and rave about how Sera is the supposed author to the poem. You’ve heard them wax poetic about her and her “skills” that she doesn’t deserve and aren’t really for her, flattering comments about her ‘humble’, ‘sweet’, ‘sensitive soul’ character that you now know couldn’t be further from the truth. The combination of her betrayal and the injustice of the situation as you now find yourself in it are almost enough to break you into a soggy, emotional mess, but it seems the pure, unadulterated rage will be enough to feed your fire and keep you going for now.

You’ve been in such a state all day that you can hardly remember what it was like before you were angry. Depression? What depression? You’ve never heard of her. This must be what it feels like to be an Aries, you think. You almost feel invincible, and would if it weren’t for the looming cloud above you that rained angry droplets on your parade.

By the time you drag yourself through the day and your first tutoring session arrives, you feel a strange combination of emotionally exhausted and absolutely fucking wired. You’re still seething, of course, but it’s less of an in-your-face anger and more of a crazed undertone at this point. You attempt a smile when you enter the library and see Hoseok, but you mustn’t be very close to achieving it because a brief expression of fear flits across his features and he straightens in his seat. Oops, you forgot Hoseok is a scaredy cat. It seems you’ve accidentally activated his deeply ingrained and well-exercised fight or flight response.

“H-hey, y/n…. are you okay?” His concern for your wellbeing has seemed to override his initial fear response, and you feel a little touched amongst the angry bubbling of your insides. You try again to flash a smile, and this one appears to be a closer approximation than the last as some of the tension leaves Hoseok’s form.

“It’s a lovely day,” you say, fighting a twitch that’s trying to make itself known in your left eye. “But enough about that, let’s talk about you. What are we going over today?”

Hoseok is hesitant, pausing a moment as his eyes survey your seated form like he’s assessing whether it’s worth it to probe a little more. He seems to reach a decision and turns to his bag, pulling out his things. They hit the table with a tentative thunk, even the sound seeming cautious. He is treating you like a bomb that could go off at any moment and to be honest… you can’t blame him.

“I need your help brainstorming for a project that’s due in a few weeks,” he says, most of the fear having left his voice. “But I was wondering if we could practice essay writing some more, maybe timed? One of my exams is an essay.”

You wince for him, but nod and reach for your phone, unlocking it carelessly and trying to shove down the hot spark of anger that ignites down your spine at the post being the last thing you were looking at. With a little more anger than necessary, you flick that screen away and pull up the timer app. “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll split the session in half, I’ll start the timer.”

When you turn back to Hoseok, his gaze is on your phone as his brows draw together in a pensive sort of expression. Something you can’t decipher washes over his face in the next second, his eyes flitting to you and then to your phone before he’s sitting back, covering his momentary lapse with a bright smile. You’re a little bit suspicious but not bothered enough to really be wondering about whatever is going through his head.

You start the session, and given how previous ones have gone you’re kind of expecting him to fall into the same serious, broody mood as he has been. To your complete and utter surprise, however, Hoseok begins acting in his usual dumbass antics right off the bat. He’s more animated than you’ve seen him in weeks, making weird Hoseok Noises™ and laughing loudly, even poking you playfully every now and then.

You still feel a little stormy, but the longer the session goes on the more he has a smile fighting to be set free. It’s Hoseok, so of course that resistance doesn’t last long. By the time his session is drawing to a close he has you chuckling, a small smile on your face. He appears accomplished, grinning brightly himself before he catches sight of the time and it falters slightly. You wonder what could have incurred such a reaction before the realisation smacks you and suddenly the inklings of sunlight peeking through the clouds above your head are swallowed up again. Right, the whole thing with Jimin.

With the events of yesterday and this morning still fresh in your mind, the slight parallel hits a little closer to home than you’d like.

You don’t have to wonder if Hoseok has noticed the backtrack in your mood, because the expression of slight regret playing across his features tells you he has. He gives you a somewhat strained smile as he hastens to pack his things away, almost hesitating once done as though he wants to stay despite a deeper desire to avoid Jimin.

“I’m gonna head now, avoid some of the traffic on the way home,” he rambles, seemingly torn between meeting your eyes so he can smile and avoiding them since he’s fibbing and he knows you know. You squint at him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want you stuck in traffic,” you say, staring him dead in the eyes. “You live so far away after all.”

He lets out a nervous-sounding laugh, most likely at the way you’re looking at him, and slings his overstuffed bag over his shoulder. “Ahah… yeah.”

He lives about ten minutes away, the little turd.

You roll your eyes, giving the boy a brief smile. “See you on Friday, Hoseok.”

Somewhat relieved you’re not too mad, Hoseok grins and salutes, returning the sentiment before he’s hightailing it out of there faster than you can say “emotional constipation”. Well, now that you’re left to your own devices for the next eight or so minutes, you’re not really sure what to do. For a moment you sit there, staring in a somewhat disassociating manner at the dark, matte grey surface of the library table. It’s a little quieter than usual this afternoon, and it really allows you to zone out more.

You don’t really want to look at your phone, lest it appear like a request for more suffering to the powers that be. The last thing you want is them thinking you’re hungry for more shitty luck and going out of their way to give you more. So with your phone out of the question, you’re left with nothing to do for the next few minutes except sit and stare at nothing, and maybe transcend the mortal plane a bit while you’re at it. Which is what you do, and do so thoroughly that when a voice sounds next to you, you nearly scream and shit yourself.

“Uh, excuse me…”

“HOLYFUCK!” A strangled noise escapes you, body spinning to face whoever almost scared you to death. “DUDE, you can’t just—oh, hey Jungkook.”

The tall boy flushes as your face softens upon seeing him, the anger that resulted from your scare quickly fizzling away. Jungkook has a face that you’ve always found impossible to be angry at. It feels like being angry at a baby, or a puppy, or a little sugar glider with their big ol’ eyes and tiny paws. You just… can’t do it. You’re lucky he’s not aware of his power or else, like any other bastard adolescent male, he might use it to get up to no good.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you, I- I just saw this on the ground and came to give it to you. I think… I think one of you dropped it. I don’t know if it was you or Hoseok.” Jungkook does his best to meet your eyes, voice soft as he stumbles ever so slightly over his words. He can’t manage to hold your gaze for long however, before his is flying away and straying to the floor, and the ceiling, anywhere but you really. One of his hands rises to sweep through his long, inky curls and rub the back of his neck, the other occupied with gripping a notebook by his side.

You examine the object a little closer, quickly coming to the conclusion you’ve never seen it before in your life. “I don’t recognise it. Could be Hoseok’s though. I’ll keep it for him in case it is his. Thank you, Jungkook.”

The male freezes, completely disarmed for a moment as you flash him a grateful smile. He is so completely still in the seconds following that you can’t help but worry—did you look so bad just then that you shocked him into a coma? Do you have a pimple you don’t know about, glaring at him from somewhere humiliatingly obvious on your face? Is there something in your teeth??

"O-oh," Jungkook clears his throat, blinking twice and then giving his head a little shake as though to clear it. "It's no— It's no problem! I mean I kind of work here so... it would be irresponsible of me to leave it? I mean, not that I would, I—"

You can't help the brief chuckle that wrestles its way from your chest to escape unbidden, your hands reaching to take the notebook that he'd begun holding out for you not long after he started talking. In the process your fingertips brush his own and Jungkook lets out a sound that rings suspiciously like a squeak, hands yanking back so suddenly you almost drop the book before you can adjust your own grasp.

"Oop," he says, the tips of his ears beginning to glow pink beneath the tan of his skin. "Sorry, your next session is probably about to start. I'll leave you be."

Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he departs— for a second your wired brain almost tricks you into seeing a cloud of dust form behind him from how fast he flees, reminiscent of the cartoon characters from your childhood.

Well, certainly not the strangest interaction you’ve ever had with Jungkook.

Blinking, you adjust your grip on the book, fingers feeling like they’re slipping against the back for a moment before they finally stop sliding and the notebook remains firm in your hold. Weird, you think, but quickly dismiss it as nothing more than sweaty butterfingers—something you’re prone to getting when stressed. Which, lately, seems to be all the damn time.

You slip the book into your bag, setting a mental reminder to bring it next time you have a session with Hoseok so that you can ask if it’s his. You don’t actually remember what his notebooks look like (you’ve never really made it a point to burn them into your memory) so there’s a fair chance it could be his. In which case, you’re going to make fun of him for being a dumb doo-doo and dropping his book without even realising.

Considering Hoseok left before his session could even end, you were kind of expecting at least a few minutes of peace to yourself where you sit and dissociate by staring at the table again. You’re mistaken however, it seems, and you barely get to blink before there is a familiar set of footsteps making their way to your table and the subsequent light, melodic voice that sounds as they announce themselves loudly and clearly, as they usually do.

“y/n! Honey, I’m here!”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He seems to be in a good mood. May the lord give you strength.

Jimin’s footfalls change and you look up just in time to catch him begin skipping over to where you’re seated at the table, arms swinging and a bright grin overtaking his face, almost making his eyes disappear. You stare at him, caught off-guard by his sudden sunny disposition (the past few sessions haven’t been awesome to him, after all), but he doesn’t stop grinning at you the whole way over. You think you catch Jungkook giving him a dubious look from the front desk, but can’t be sure before Jimin is right in front of you and blocking your view of anything else with his midsection.

“Hi y/n!” he greets again, body swaying slightly where he stands before he slings his bag off and moves to plop in the chair. “Isn’t it such a lovely day tod—oh? Oh!”

Torn from your inner musings of whether or not you should be concerned at Jimin’s sudden mood shift, your eyes whip to his hand where it’s reaching for the chair seat, plucking something from the surface before he suddenly turns and flops down as originally intended.

Jimin’s face has morphed into a picturesque expression of curiosity as he holds up what was between him and his seat; a piece of paper, barely a slip, folded neatly in half. The nosy male is quick to open it, clearly enunciating the words that are apparently scrawled across the inside.

“’You look pretty today’… Aw, y/n, you shouldn’t have !”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost feel the nerve pinch inside your skull. Jimin, of course, knows that you didn’t leave the note for him, but apparently today is one of the days he delights in your suffering.

You almost contemplate the effort of giving a response before realising that you don’t even need one; the male has quickly lost interest in the paper, leaving it discarded on the table top, and is now staring somewhat wistfully out the window with a slightly dazed grin. Okay, what? When he’d first rocked up, he seemed like he was buzzed and brighter than the sun, in one of those energetic top-of-the-world moods. Now… you’re rethinking that observation. If anything, he seems a little distracted.

And as your session with Jimin begins and proceeds, you quickly realise just how true this is.

Initially, you’d been slightly worried about Jimin rocking up with the same knowledge everyone else on this damn campus no doubt possesses after this morning. However, the further into the session you get, the more it becomes apparent that he’s far too off in space to have picked up anything like that. Not to mention, the more you think about it, the more you realise that you’re not even sure if Jimin even goes here. So would he know about all the latest campus gossip and drama? He is friends with Taehyung…

Ultimately you’re unsure, but cautiously optimistic that Jimin hasn’t seen anything to do with the poem or the post that was released this morning. You also figure that, given how distracted he currently is, he probably wouldn’t have had a chance to pick up on the gossip running through the halls anyway— you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about Jimin pitching in his two cents as to who the author is, but honestly? A small part of you kind of wishes that he knew, if only so you could see who he supported in this scenario, like whether he would defend your honour or whether he would betray you and stomp all over your friendship garden by falling for Sera's propaganda.

You suppose there's no way to know, since you're definitely not going to inform him about everything just to find out. No, this peace and calm that comes from how simply detached he feels from the current messy climate of your life is nice and you don't really want to throw that away just yet. For now, you're content to just sit and let it be. It's actually helping a little more of your anger fizzle out, so that's a definitely plus as well.

Content as you may be to let Jimin stay oblivious and wrapped up in his own little world as he currently is, you can't help but wonder what on earth has him so out of it in the first place. You don't think you've ever seen him like this, all spacey and distracted, dreamy smiles sent into the air where his eyes stare, half-lidded and dazed. You'd almost worry he's high on something were it not the brief moments of clarity where he checks back in to be a little shit and tease you.

Today's session for Jimin consists of a few worksheets he's brought for you to assist him with— two of which are similar enough and the third nothing to do with the others— and you do your best to guide him through them. Usually Jimin isn't that hard to tutor. You figured out early on that he's motivated by positive reinforcement more than anything else, and praise is what tickles him most. With this little hack up your sleeve, you never usually have an issue with guiding him along in sessions. Today, however, not even praise seems to be enough to bring him back to the present long enough to pay attention and actually make a dent in the work.

You like to think you're a pretty patient person, but even you have limits and they're reached about two thirds of the way into the session when Jimin gets distracted once more mid-sentence and leaves you sitting in place waiting for him, for a solid three or so minutes.

"Hey, Park," you bark sharply, hoping that if you sound enough like Hoseok then maybe it will startle him fully out of his reverie. "What's going on with you today? What the hell has you so distracted?"

Jimin jumps in his seat at your sudden tone, and turns to you now with wide eyes. It takes a moment for your words to sink in through the shock, but as soon as they register he sags in his seat and the tension leaves his form. His eyes flick to the right, a shy, lazy smile tugging his lips as his thoughts clearly go somewhere else. Seriously? Just how easily distracted is he right now? You only just got his attention, for crying out loud!

Just when you feel about ready to reach over and strangle an answer out of him, the crimson-haired male speaks and halts your violent thoughts in place.

"It's, um..." Jimin rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, using both hands to fiddle with his decorative ice-cream pen, a sundae with chocolate and cherries sitting cutely on the end. "Say, do you..."

Great, you can't help but think, looks like you're in this for the long haul.

"Do I...?" you prompt him, when you decide he's dawdled long enough in giving you an answer.

"Do you... you know... uh." Jimin rakes a hand through his hair, a button on the sleeve of his light denim jacket almost catching on the strands. He pauses, taking a deep breath, and then turns to meet your eyes— wait, is he blushing? "y/n... you know Lee Sera, right?"

Your entire brain seems to halt, the tip of your pen hitting the tabletop despondently. There's something funny about the way he looks right now, something odd and niggling at the back of your mind, but you can't quite place it because you're sitting there with a mild case of whiplash. What. "What?"

Jimin lets out a noise that is somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, and shifts his gaze down to the paper on the table before him. Fiddling with the ice-cream pen once more, he bites his lip to hide a shy smile— oh, you realise what it is now. He looks like a school girl talking about her crush.

Two beats pass before that thought really sinks in —oh. no— and it's just in time for Jimin's continuation to sucker punch you in the face.

"Do you know if she... likes anyone?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain decides to pitch in, the words mere millimetres from your lips, 'Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now—'

You just barely hold the words back. The noise you make instead doesn't really sound human, nor does it constitute an actual response of any sort, yet it's all the male gets and still, he's not deterred. It's as though he hasn't noticed the steam currently beginning to spill from the surface of your head, coiling tendrils betraying your current fuming state. What kind of cruel injustice is this? No, you almost want to plead to the heavens and appeal the cruelty currently taking place on this earth— please no.

“Y-you’re asking me if… if she…” You can’t seem to get the words out, the sounds choking in your throat. Jimin does seem to notice this, taking a moment to send you a somewhat concerned expression. It’s brief, though, and he’s soon off in his thoughts once again.

“Yeah,” he says, appearing bashful for a moment. “Although, that’s kind of silly of me, isn’t it. I mean, it’s Sera. Of course she has someone special, right?”

For one thing, you’re wondering just how you’ve managed to get this far in your tutoring sessions without finding out about Jimin’s evident crush on your ex-best friend. Like, is this a recent thing? Or is it more of a slow-burn, consistent for a long period of time thing? And on the other hand, given the context of the situation (despite full details being privy only to you), you can’t help but marvel at Jimin’s apparent poor taste in suitors.

Really, of all the people he could happen to have a crush on, it has to be her?!

“Nggh…” you choke down the words that attempt to rise to your lips, suddenly very uncomfortable in your seat. A barrage of thoughts rain upon your brain, overloading your mind.

Does he know? Does he know about the whole mystery poem ordeal that has so far worked to ruin your life in more than one way? Has he seen the posts? Especially the one that Sera made this morning? It’s hard to pinpoint, but when Jimin doesn’t elaborate further and simply resorts to doodling on his paper as he disappears with the fairies once more, you muse that maybe he hasn’t. If he’d seen it, surely he’d be mentioning it as he spoke of her? Bitterly, you recall that no one today could seem to pass up the opportunity to praise her with every fibre of their being. Just the memory makes hot flames of anger lick at your chest, and you do your best to cool them before Jimin picks up on the Big Kill Energy beginning to emanate from your general direction.

Somewhat thankfully, it’s at this moment that the timer on your phone goes off, signifying the end of the session. A long breath of relief escapes you as you reach for the device, sliding your thumb across the screen to dismiss the timer. The sound seems to have brought Jimin back to the present too, as he’s begun packing away his things in an indolent manner, humming softly to himself. He pulls his phone out, skimming through his feed distractedly as he does so. You decide you may as well do the same, beginning to pack up while he does. There’s no rush, so you actually take your time packing your things away instead of hastily cramming them all in your backpack at once like you usually are inclined to do.

You almost zone out yourself before a sharp gasp breaks you from whatever reverie you were about to get stuck in. Your eyes whip up to Jimin and, immediately after seeing the expression on his face, a feeling of dread begins to creep into your gut.

“Oh my god…” he murmurs, hushed, eyes wide and glued to the screen of his phone. A beat passes before he scrambles to take it into his hold, ring-adorned finger whipping across the screen as he rapidly reads whatever is on there. You don’t like the way he seems to glow with each moment more that passes.

“y/n!” he exclaims very suddenly and very, very loudly. You jump in a combination of fright and tension. “y/n! She— she’s—!”

Oh, god. You wish you could sink into the earth and never resurface. He’s seen it.

Cramming the last few items in your bag, you make use of the fact that Jimin is still staring at his phone and pretend that you don’t hear him, rising from your chair and beginning to walk towards the library doors. Jimin scrambles to his feet, following after you like a puppy, or a child wishing to show their parent something important. “y/n!”

“Hm?” You throw the noise over your shoulder half-heartedly, looking hastily for the best escape route that Jimin isn’t likely to follow you down. Unfortunately this isn’t downtown, this is the second-biggest library on your campus, and there is nowhere you can go that Jimin wouldn’t be able to follow you.

“I— y/n! Do you know that whole mystery poem author thing? I heard something about it a while ago but I just— I only just read about it and! y/n!” Jimin reaches out to grasp you by the sleeve, effectively halting you for a moment. “It’s just been found that Lee Sera is the author!”

Lord give you strength, you absolutely want to die.

“O-oh?” The utterance is literally ground through your teeth, but Jimin seems to be in such a state of euphoria that he doesn’t even notice. Of course.

“I mean, this is such a shock but… I’m not surprised.” The male is positively beaming with pride, looking down at his phone fondly. You think you’re going to be sick. “She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so….”

You don’t know whether you’re going to implode from anger or frustration, or maybe a dangerous cocktail of both. It’s as though there are live wires beneath your skin, nerves abuzz and wrought with the urge to strangle someone (preferably a certain someone) or hit something (preferably your head, against a desk).

“She sure is something,” you say, the toothy smile you slap on completely juxtaposing the bitter note to your voice. Jimin again, bless him, completely misses it.

You’re so close to the doors, but not close enough. Please… you just want to go home and angry cry into your pillow.

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented,” Jimin’s tone is full of awe, and you know that you felt murderous this morning but now you feel that and incredibly done. When will karma finish rawing you? Have you not suffered enough? Was everyday living not torture enough? Jimin’s lovestruck babbling stops for no man, “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted—”

“Who’s such a gifted what?”

You jump slightly at the sound of a new voice, eyes whipping over to catch sight of Kim Taehyung as he slips into the library through the widening gap in the doors and makes his way over. It seems he’s donned a loose white shirt and black pants ensemble today, something you notice because of the way they flow as he walks. His question was directed at Jimin, but his eyes seem to be surveying your expression to get a read on the situation.

Regrettably, you can feel that the face you’re currently pulling… really isn’t a good one.

The second he sees him, Jimin changes targets and latches onto his friend’s arm instead. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about—oofft—”

You don’t quite catch it, but you swear you glimpse Taehyung— whose cheeks seem to have taken on a flushed tone— deliver a powerful elbow to Jimin’s ribs, who grunts but nonetheless continues, undeterred. You’ve really gotta give him points for his determination and perseverance at this stage.

“The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now that I think about it, it makes so much sense!” Jimin’s gushing again, and you really think you might be sick sometime soon. Is it possible to be so angry that you become nauseous? You suppose you’re about to find out. “She’s one of the best in her class, isn’t she? Of course she’s able to make such a beautiful poem that goes viral the second it’s released— it’s her!”

Taehyung’s eyes had been trained upon Jimin the whole time he spoke, but now they’re sweeping to you and for some reason, you find yourself freezing in place under their weight. The dark cocoa of his iris’ swim with something indecipherable, a curious tilt to the corner of his heart-shaped mouth. It’s as though he’s watching for your reaction to something. His gaze doesn’t leave you for the entire moment that he answers his friend, “Uh huh. Is that so?”

You’re unnerved— or maybe it’s just a very sudden, very potent overload of your senses. You’re angry, you’re upset and hurt; you’re frustrated now more than ever at the injustice of the situation and how much of an absolutely helpless position you have found yourself in. You want to leave, and you know that if you don’t soon, you’re probably going to start angry crying in the middle of the library and that is a mess you absolutely do not want to experience handling. Besides, you don’t think poor Jungkook at the reception is really equipped to handle those sorts of breakdowns. You really wouldn’t want to put him through it either.

“Right, well I really have to go. I have a bunch of readings to do, so… better get started on those,” you announce loudly, cutting Jimin off before he can start again and drive you any further towards insanity than he already has. “Finish those sheets, Jimin. Don’t make me chase you up.”

Jimin whips his hand to his forehead in a salute, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Already turning on your heel, you make your escape while you can and wave goodbye. “Okay, see you! Have fun doing whatever it is you’re about to do!”

And then you absolutely yeet yourself out the library doors and all but bolt home.

Alright. You have a date with your pillow and some tears, and you’re not about to miss it. May the gods of fortune guide you home without anymore incidents that make you want to slam your head against a brick wall, please and thank you.

x x x x

“— I just, sort of like, you know, write whatever comes to my head. Like, whatever I feel comes from the heart—”

She follows you like the plague, bits and pieces of her and oh-so-casual reminders that she exists and is tormenting you, everywhere you go, and it takes every inch of your willpower to block her out and keep walking as you have every other time you encountered her preaching to admirers in the public spaces you frequent on campus. Sometimes Sera sees you, and you think that if she weren’t surrounded by half a hundred people sucking her toes then she might chase after you. You’ve been screening her calls, after all, and there have been a lot of them.

You regret to say, that in the days following that cursed announcement, things don’t begin to die down nearly as much as you hope they would. People are still talking, still whispering about it, and instead of it becoming old news it’s as though instead it’s a rampant forest fire, feeding ravenously on the hot gossip passed between peers at brunch, posts typed out meticulously on various media and dramatic recounts told by the friends of those that, wisely, seem to live under a rock.

You, of course, couldn’t be any less pleased with how the situation is panning out.

Your hot, scalding, unadulterated cauldron of bubbling rage has since settled down to a reluctant simmer. This is partly because you realised it is kind of unhealthy to be that angry so constantly, and partly because you’re not a fan of the constipation that results from being so tense with anger. You lose some, you lose some, you suppose. It’s lose-lose these days, babey!

The climate at university isn’t looking good for you, and each day passes with great testament to your willpower and determination not to purchase an automated vehicle and run yourself over. You still go to classes, and attend even the stupidest of lectures and tutorials (you’ve had to suffer through experiencing Seokjin more often than you’d like, but he seems to have toned himself down a little the past few times you’ve seen him— perhaps he’s caught wind of that [redacted] post and actually feels sorry for you?... No, he’s probably just got the flu and doesn’t want to use his voice up to torment you all at once). To be honest, you even kind of forgot about Jimin and his apparent crush for a while— probably would have continued forgetting if it weren’t for your sudden recollection approximately three minutes before his session on Friday.

With Hoseok gone, early as usual these days, you’re left to stew in your own thoughts and it’s barely a few minutes into dissociating that you remember Jimin’s last session and the knowledge that unfolded towards the end of it.

True to your luck and arguably a few minutes early to being right on time, you hear Jimin’s patent patter of footsteps and fight the urge to sink in your seat. You really need to get it together because this is ridiculous, you’re not prepared for anything and everything is out to ruin your day one way or another. You’re well on your way to crashing and burning in some sort of way but you still have no idea when exactly it’s gonna go down. An absolute travesty. You’re a mess waiting to get even messier at barely a moment’s notice.

“Afternoon, y/n!” Jimin crows in greeting as he nears you, a skip in his step and three books in his arms on topics that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Does he even go here? You really wonder sometimes. “The sun says hello!”

You’re unsure whether he’s referring to himself, or the fact that the sun has indeed just peeked out from behind the clouds that have obscured it since early this morning, but either way the best you can manage is a strained smile in returned greeting. You can’t really bring yourself to look at him the same. Have you lost respect for Jimin after finding out that he has a massive crush on Sera, the person single-handedly responsible for ruining your life the most it has ever been ruined before and then going to ruin it further after you confronted her about it? Absolutely. Can you tell him without sounding like an absolute asshole because evidently to everyone but you Sera has managed to keep up a stellar appearance and benevolent persona? No, no you cannot and it’s probably going to end up making you drink questionable fluids later.

Somewhat stupidly optimistic, a small part of you hopes that maybe it was a brief crush, a spur of the moment affection erection, and that this Jimin in front of you now has realised the error of his ways and has moved on from this blight in his romantic record.

Of course, this is not to be, and the second there’s a lull in conversation after he’s begun working on the task you set him, he begins chattering away as he scribbles his half-hearted answers on the paper. If he starts dotting his I’s with hearts, you really might k-word yourself.

The topic of his vocal musings is, of course, one Lee Sera. You manage to sit there as he waxes the usual poetic, the stuff you heard last session and the things you’ve heard floating in the halls, with minimal incidence. While he’s talking about Sera, you’re constructing a little zen garden in the depths of your mind and it’s taking all of your brain power. Well, almost all of it— you do catch one little tidbit that makes you halt in your mental raking of sand.

“-- and I mean, I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t stop thinking about all those conspiracy posts on the forum, and, like… well, now they know who the author is, but they haven’t discovered the muse, you know? So like…”

The implication of his words hits you like a freight train, and the anger sizzling in your abdomen cooling suddenly into an odd sense of dread. Oh, oh no.

“I don’t think it is, but what if it really is me she wrote it about…?”

It seems, that Jimin— bless his pure, naive heart— has begun to hope. Learning that “Sera” is the author of a poem he’s suspected to be starred in seems to have crumbled the floodgate keeping the bulk of his feelings at bay. As he continues to mutter and ramble, pausing in his writing every so often to doodle a heart, or a tree with a heart and initials on it, you realise just how deep he seems to be in this little infatuation.

The very prospect of there being a chance his feelings aren’t unrequited? He can’t help but cling to it, and the more you hear tumble from his mouth the more you realise this tomato-haired crackhead is actually a hopeless romantic, and literally cannot stop himself from hoping, from feeding that fantasy he has.

Sitting there and listening to him, as the person knowing who the poem is really about and where Sera’s fixation doesn’t lie, you begin to feel a little guilty. You can’t tell him, can’t inform him of the reality because it would compromise you— not only that, he’s so taken with Sera and caught up in the romantic glow of the situation as he sees it that you doubt he’d believe you. That saddens you a little, that realisation. You’ve been friends with Jimin for months now, you’ve tutored him and even had a few impromptu therapy sessions when he rocks up a mess; but not once have you ever seen him or Sera so much as glance at each other, not once has his name passed her lips, and yet… if you were to confess to him, right here and right now, that you are the real author of the poem… would he believe you?

A part of you suspects the answer, and it makes your heart sink.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything to him. The rest of his session is spent stewing internally in your own perplexing cocktail of guilt and hurt, and you realise only as it ends and you watch him leave through the door that you never even had a chance to convince him that he’s not the muse. It feels cruel, thinking of doing such a thing when you now know how attached he is to the possibility of being the muse with Sera as the author. It would be an awful thing for you to do, to stomp on the morsels of hope that have bloomed within him for his crush. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are the original author, and you know who the poem was really written about— is it not the morally right thing to do, to tell him the truth?

Do you protect his feelings, or do you hurt them for a greater good?

You don’t know which is the right thing to do in this situation, and when you eventually pack your things up and exit the library, it’s with a sick feeling in your stomach and a foreboding tingling of your sixth sense that tells you this… isn’t going to end well.

x x x x x x

VVVVVBBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVBT.

It seems to take longer for the ringing to end this time, you note, as you somewhat despondently watch the phone vibrate and move across the table slightly from the force of it. Then again, it could just be the thousands of calls you’ve screened over the weekend that have you feeling so weary. Most would get the message that your continued silence and refusal to answer indicate, but apparently not Sera. You’ve always known she’s stubborn, and determined, but this is borderline crazy and you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the emergence of all these facets you never knew about or even noticed before now.

The weekend just gone, the two days that are meant to be your one time of reprieve and sanctuary from the messy shithole your world has become lately, had been desecrated. Not even in the safety of your own home could you pretend your anxieties didn’t exist, the tell-tale vibrations of your phone and the occasional, persistent series of dings that alert you to a new message were ceaseless. It’s a little concerning, her dogged dedication to attempting to contact you, but at this point you’re not even interested in psycho-analysing it. You just want a break, and for the “block call” function on your phone to maybe actually work for once.

Actually, you’ve been (unfortunately, regrettably) given a lot of insight into sides of Sera you’d never witnessed before, faces she’d kept hidden behind a carefully prepared facade and the persona she wanted to present to the world for the duration of your friendship. The messages she sends you come in groups, and more often than not in completely contradicting tones. Begging, pleading, empty apologies, anger, spite— you’ve seen them all, sometimes in the same message. For the most part, they’re shameless pleas and begs for you to talk to her, to answer her calls and listen to what she has to say. Some of them, though, give you a massive whiplash when you read them.

One such text from mid-Sunday reads from the notification bar, “i’m doing what you wanted, what the fuck is your problem? why are you so mad? honestly, at this point it’s a little selfish of you, i’m sacrificing so damn much just to…”

Another, barely an hour after that one, was quick to backtrack, “llisten y/n, i’m sso fuckiggn sorry for that last tesct. it was so uncalled for im so sorry. i’m trying so hrard but you wont evenn anser my callss, and im jsut, imr realluy having g scucjh a hard time with all of this stuff goigng on adn…”

You didn’t click on the notification or open them, so you don’t actually know what she says in the latter half of her messages. You don’t think you want to though, if the start of some of them are any indication as to what the rest will hold.

As if your phone being constantly lit up in some way or another due to her wasn’t enough, you also had to bear witness to the rest of the bullshit manifesting at her hands. In actuality, it was largely this that is responsible for relighting your rage pit and getting you back on the “incredibly pissed and absolutely unimpressed” track.

Contrary to the texts and voicemails Sera left you over the course of the weekend, she is simultaneously active on the cursed forum that she used to start all this, and the posts you've been seeing only serve to fuel your anger. At one point you got so mad you nearly threw your phone into your pot of noodles, the only thing stopping you being that you’re better than that and you’d rather throw yourself off the bank into the nearby river than let her get one up on you in any way.

Pleading and begging she would be in your inbox, and then she’d turn and press send on a post in the forum that completely contradicts whatever crap she bawled at you in her messages. The forum is currently an absolute mess of shipping posts (no longer starring you, but her) with varying suspected muses, the odd conspiracy post, and questions directed her as the ‘author’ that she answered in full character. You could deal with the shipping posts (well, all but one. That one made your blood boil and your stomach twist into an ugly pit of warped envy), but her impersonating you as the author and answering questions about your work as though she wrote it herself? You’re ready to spill blood.

The most common question, of course, in all its variations is something best encapsulated by this particular gem that shows up late Sunday evening: ‘omg, i love love love moonlight sonata! the second i read it i couldn’t help but fall in love, whether with you or the poem idk yet! I just wanted to know, like probably everyone does, who was the muse?’

That [redacted]’s response to this is probably the one that gets your blood boiling the most too.

‘hi, thank you so so much for all the love! its so strange since this was never meant to get out and i never really get such response to my works,, but i’m getting more used to it and im so so grateful!! haha! its actually funny you say that,, it was so embarrassing at the time but i once had a teacher say that they thought i could make someone fall in love with me with a poem alone >< hehe i guess they were right! and i did write moonlight sonata for someone, but i’m not sure if i should reveal that just yet… you’ll have to wait and see!’

Murder is illegal and so is manslaughter. Again, with more feeling. Murder is illegal, and so is manslaughter. There. You take in a deep breath, attempting desperately to find some zen after recalling all the forum posts you’d seen over the duration of the weekend. You suppose the only silver lining you’re going to be able to find in this is the fact that Sera doesn’t actually know who you wrote the poem for. Well, she might have a suspicion, but you’ve never told her. And even so, there would be no point in her ‘revealing’ who your muse is, since she’s claimed she is the author and ‘confessing’ someone would lead to circumstances she’d likely rather avoid.

But, now that you think about it, shouldn’t that mean that she’d try and avoid mentioning it altogether? If so, why is she feeding it every chance she gets…?

You don’t get to spare that train of thought much time, since despite how long the weekend drags on, the next day arrives very quickly. Before you know it, almost the entire day is gone and you’re zipping through your tutoring session with Hoseok, helping the somewhat frantic boy with a last-minute assessment he’d completely forgotten about. You’ve spent the whole day successfully avoiding anything to do with Sera and that stupid poem, and you’re actually feeling quite good at this point, in comparison to how you’ve been feeling the past, well, the past month or so. The hour passes quicker than you’d like and before long you’re packing your things up and helping Hoseok with his own bulging assortment of textbooks and notepads before they all go tumbling to the floor. You swear you see some receipts with hasty scribbles littering the bottom of his bag but you try not to look since you don’t want to ruin your progress and stress yourself out. You’re in such an oddly peaceful mood you’re actually thinking of asking Jimin if he wants to spend the session outside under the trees in the new garden the university brought in. Uncharacteristic, you know, but what is the human experience if not getting so stressed and exceeding your emotional capacity so extensively that you transcend all planes of feeling and feel contrarily at peace?

It’s as you’re exiting the library after your session with Hoseok, carrying some of his things for him while he fixes his bag, that the universe decides to remind you of your place and the fact that you can never truly avoid your problems in life. Apparently, they’re prone to chasing you down and sniffing you out like a bloodhound, and like a particularly nasty yeast infection they never truly go away until you seek professional help and purchase an antibiotic restraining order for that shit.

You barely get the words, ‘See you on Wednesday, Hoseok’, out of your mouth before you hear another familiar sound, much sooner than you anticipated. Hoseok returns the farewell and turns away, still cramming the rest of his things in his bag as he begins to move off. A laugh, light and airy and very familiar, brushes your ears and you turn with a slight smile on your face. Excellent, given he doesn’t see Hoseok making his quick escape, then he’ll probably still be in a good enough mood to agree to studying outside with you.

You turn, greeting already on the tip of your tongue, and promptly feel the words die in your throat and the smile on your lips drop completely. Oh, for the love of fuck.

Jimin is smiling, laughing, as he comes down the hallway, cheeks flushed pink and eyes disappearing into gleeful crescents— it’s a sight that would made you smile if it weren’t for the fact that he’s not alone.

The woman of the hour, the source of your suffering for the past month or so, is striding along next to the oblivious male, like the scorpion perched on the frog’s back. She’s placed her hand on the back of his arm as they walk, smiling at something he’s said as he chatters away, resembling an eager puppy as he does so. You recognise the move as one of her favourite lightly flirty ones.

Somewhat belatedly, your flight response kicks in, and you go to move and leave while you can— but its not before Sera turns and notices you standing there, mid-movement.

The shift is instantaneous. You might have thought that the interested expression she was directing at Jimin was genuine, if it weren’t for the way her entire demeanour changes the second she catches sight of you. Your first instinct is to be angry that she’d managed to find her way to Jimin, and that he’d probably fall for whatever bullshit spouted from her mouth about being the author, but as you see the slight, victorious flicker pass through her gaze, you become angry for another reason entirely. The suspicion weighing heavy in your gut makes your blood boil as Sera straightens, angling her body away from Jimin completely and all but non-verbally dismissing him, as though he’s no longer even there.

Jimin halts, brows drawing together as he takes in the change in Sera’s behaviour, confusion colouring his puppy-like features as he looks around for anything that could have triggered it. His eyes fall on you and they light in recognition, smile returning to his face as he waves at you, some of his crimson locks falling across his forehead from the movement. “Oh, y/n! Hey! I was just on my way to the session!”

Something churns in your gut, a foreboding feeling that feels far too icky to touch.

He takes a step closer, but pauses when Sera moves forward. Your entire body is tense with the conflicting urges to run and sock her in the face, limbs coiled and ready to spring you away. You’re going to have a massive crick in your neck after this. She begins stepping closer, hand stretching out as though to touch your arm, her brows drawing together in as close an approximation as she can get to regretful.

“y/n, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” she says, tone having adopted an edge you’re very familiar with. Is she stupid? You know all her manipulation tactics, what is the point in employing them now? You think you know, though, and the thought only serves to stoke the bubbling pit of molten rage in your stomach.

Her hand reaches for your arm, trying to touch it, and you move it out of the way before she can, taking a few firm steps back. “Don’t touch me,” you warn, unable to help the glare that your features are pulled into. “I’m not interested in talking to you. I don’t want to.”

She’s really pushing it. You’re a patient woman, but even you have a limit and she’s fast approaching it.

A flicker of irritation flashes across Sera’s features before she masks it with her go-to ‘kicked puppy’ look. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin flounder in confusion, probably because he has absolutely no idea what happened between you.

“y/n,” Sera whimpers, and when you see Jimin shift in concern behind her you realise why she’s acting the way she is. She’s using him as collateral, and she used him for land development to actually lock you down. Seems she doesn’t take being avoided very well. “Why are you being so harsh? I— I’m doing what you asked, why are you still so mad?”

You can’t help the venomous response that rips itself off your tongue, glare deepening. “Cut the shit. You know exactly why I’m pissed— it’s the same fucking reason I was pissed last week, except now it’s worse because you’ve made it worse. How could you possibly think any of what you’ve been doing is what I asked?”

You can only be glad that Hoseok has already left and the hallway is mostly deserted, the sole witness being Jimin to the spectacle beginning to unfold as Sera places a hand to her chest, sniffing and throwing her other hand out for emphasis. “Please, y/n, what do I have to do to fix this? I really have been doing what you asked, I’ve been—”

It’s as though something snaps within you, almost an entire week of her bullshit placing you at your wits end. You’re fuming, practically spitting flames, and it’s just barely that you hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around her throat. “You’ve been doing nothing but make things worse for me! You started this whole thing, you continued feeding into it even though you knew what it would mean for me— there is no fixing this!”

“y/n,” Sera’s eyes have begun to water, and you’re so enraged you don’t even see Jimin taking a few alarmed steps closer. “Please, I-I’m so sorry, I’ve said it a thousand times that I am s-so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare come to me and tell me you’re sorry. You’re not sorry, you were never sorry, and you clearly don’t regret a thing because the entire time since last Wednesday all you’ve been doing as parading around and proclaiming yourself as the author of that stupid poem when we both know it isn’t you!”

Sera flinches back, a visible clash of hurt and rage whipping across her features. It seems she settles on the latter emotion, face dropping into a glare and mouth opening to hurl a response back. The front she has put up is falling apart the longer this goes on. “I’ve told you so many times how much I regret what I did, how can you say—”

“y/n, what the hell?” Jimin’s voice has a sharp edge you don’t think you’ve ever heard before as he steps forward suddenly, looking incredulous and angry at once as he suddenly reminds you of his presence. “She’s the author, stop being so horrible. Isn’t she your friend? How could you doubt her? Is it so hard to believe that she’d want to write a poem for the person she likes?”

You’re momentarily stunned by his words, confused as to why he’s stepping in to defend her so avidly even with his little crush. It takes a moment, but it clicks eventually— dread fills the pit of your stomach as you realise that the idealistic hopes Jimin had revealed to you last session about being the subject of the poem have been exploited by a scorpion wishing to cross the pond.

“Shut up, this doesn’t concern you.”

Torn violently from your thoughts by the harsh, unexpected words, your gaze whips back to Sera, eyes wide. Jimin flinches, a soft noise of shock and surprise escaping him as his own wide-eyed gaze centers on her and hurt floods his deep chocolate irises. “Wh-what? But you said—?”

“Shut. Up,” she grinds out through teeth clenched so tight that part of you thinks they might shatter beneath the pressure.

Jimin fumbles, his confusion urging him to continue when he probably shouldn’t. “When we were walking here you said that you… that I was—”

Sera explodes, like a bomb with faulty wires and a timer that went off too soon. “I LIED! I’m not the author, and even if I was, that poem would never be about YOU!”

In the seconds that follow her booming exclamation, her words ring in the absolute silence of the hall. For a moment, it’s still. Then your eyes flick to Jimin’s face and you see how it falls, and all of a sudden it hits you— the realisation of what she just said, and who she said it to. How awful Jimin must feel, to hear those things directed at him. Now, for a moment, you see red, and you feel it slowly climb up your body from your toes to your fingertips and to your chest. You aren’t even aware of moving until you’re barely a foot away from Sera and your arm is whipping through the air, body apparently more in control than your brain.

You’ve never slapped anyone before, didn’t ever think that you really would, but the motion comes easily and the harsh impact of your hand against Sera’s cheek is satisfying in an odd, sickening way. Apparently you pack quite a punch when absolutely fucking livid, because her head turns from the force of your blow, her eyes shooting wide. You’ve left a mark in her foundation. Jimin’s crushed expression crosses your mind’s eye once more and suddenly the satisfaction you felt prior isn’t enough. You go to move again.

You get barely a split second into the movement before arms are looping under your armpits, your body being hauled away and out of hitting range. You’re so angry you barely pay attention to who it is, your focus on the piece of work in front of you and the absolute spitting rage that has swallowed you whole at the sight of her.

“How dare you—” you seethe, the words spilling like acid from your tongue faster than you can think them. “How could you say that to him—”

Everything suddenly hastens into movement from the stillness that had possessed it before. Distantly, you realise the person restraining you has stopped moving backwards and is attempting to calm you, but that doesn’t carry much weight when you hear a choked noise and your gaze is drawn suddenly to the side.

Jimin has taken a step back, almost stumbling in his leather boots, his hands trembling and brows drawn together, expression nothing short of crestfallen. You swear you catch his bottom lip quiver, and then your attention is taken by the way his dark eyes begin to water right in front of you. You’re almost rooted to the spot in shock as they begin to fill with tears, but you don’t get to see them fall because before they can, Jimin turns on his heel and begins walking away, pace quick and hurried.

“y/n.” The red has cleared from your vision enough that you now realise the person restraining you is Hoseok, his voice sounding close to your ear. He speaks again and you freeze because it’s with a tone you’ve never heard come from him before. It’s fury, but quiet and controlled unlike your hot spark of rage, and it makes you snap back into your senses instantly, spine straightening. “Go after him. He’s hurting.”

The brain cell rattling around in your brain reserved for mortal combat might be telling you to finish Sera off while you can, but Jimin is your friend and the reason you want to kill her in the first place is because she did hurt him. And the look on his face… you’ve never seen it on him before and you never want to again. For whatever reason, her careless words seem to have cut him deep, and you need to go and make sure he’s okay.

Without a second thought, you slip out of Hoseok’s arms and he lets you go. You begin in the direction that Jimin is going, footsteps hastening in an attempt to close the distance. You forget about Sera in favour of chasing more pressing things. “Jimin—”

The call had slipped out of your lips unwittingly, but the sound of it seems to set Jimin off. He quickens his pace further, and his legs aren’t that much longer than yours but the muscles are clearly more developed since you’re eating his dust even more than before. He disappears around the corner, and you just barely catch sight of his behind before you have to push to glimpse him once more.

Whether he doesn’t want to be followed by anyone, or whether he— heaven forbid— thinks it’s Sera coming after him, Jimin does his best to try and lose you. Around twists and turns, down hallways that you didn’t even know this building had, you chase him for what feels like forever and you can’t pinpoint where but somewhere in that time the two of you transitioned to almost running, Jimin’s light jog-speedwalk fusion easily getting the better of your own weak attempt.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, you can’t help but marvel that he really didn’t successfully streak across the university sports field for nothing— he’s super fast, and the only reason you’re able to keep up somewhat is through the temporary rush of adrenaline that slapping Sera gave you and the sheer determination not to lose him. You don’t normally have this much stamina, after all, but you don’t think Jimin is going to be running out on the other hand either. If he takes you up one more flight of stairs it’s game over for you.

“Jimin, wait—” you attempt to call out once or twice, but he never turns around, and each time you do so just results in him moving faster. You get the message quickly, but still have to bite your tongue to quell the natural urge to call out that rises.

The longer he goes, the more frantic he seems. Once or twice you think you see his shoulders shake, but can’t tell if it’s him or the rattling of your vision from your jerky movements. Jimin can’t evade you forever though, and this building and its hallways aren’t endless. Eventually you reach a dead-end, and the red-haired male gives up. He stumbles a little, making it through the doorway before he moves to the wall, his back to you.

Slowing down from your jog, you feel the tax of the exercise catch up with you as your breathing works to compensate the uncharacteristic energy use. You pause as you make your way towards him, somewhat tentative now he’s backed in a corner. Well, corner might not be the right word for it. Somehow, in all his evading, Jimin has managed to lead the two of you to the small balcony on the top floor of the building, barely anything more than a little alcove to overlook the horizon. It faces the direction that the sun sets, and you receive a view of that now, the soft reds, pinks and oranges a contrast to the light blue of Jimin’s denim jacket but a compliment to the scarlet of his hair.

Despite the fact you chased him this far, wanting to comfort him, now that you’re here… you feel kind of bad for intruding. Still, you didn’t tail him through the entire building for nothing. Tentatively, you make your way over to where he is. You’re not very loud, but he seems to sense your arrival when you step out onto the balcony with him, back still to you. You take another step closer, going to peer around his shoulder, but he flinches, bringing his hand up over the side of his face and using the other to wipe under his nose.

“Don’t look,” he sniffs. “This is humiliating.”

At his words, you feel your heart sink right down to your feet. The resulting sensation is an empty ache in your chest, something you think you can best describe as empathy that is a little too deeply rooted. Suddenly you realise that, in a way, this is your fault. You wrote the poem that ended up hurting him, and even though you weren’t the one who said those things to him, you’re the one that provided the fodder.

You don’t know what to say, so much was on the tip of your tongue trying to burst forth before, but now it’s as though your voice is stuck in your throat. You swallow, shuffling the slightest bit closer, and attempt to pull something meaningful from the dredges of your mind.

“It’s okay. Everyone looks a little bit ugly when they cry, you know.” Not what you intend to come out, but it comes out anyway.

It pulls an unwitting laugh from Jimin though, the sound tinged with the echo of a sob. He turns and presses his back to the wall, covering his face with both hands, and slides down until he’s seated on the floor, knees drawn up. You watch him for a moment, the way his form trembles slightly and he sniffs, before you’re carefully placing yourself down next to him, trying not to be too obnoxious in your movements.

You wait a moment, partly because you want to see if he is going to say anything and partly because you, yourself, have no idea where to start. It occurs to you, though, that maybe what he wants isn’t comfort in the form of words. When he doesn’t speak, and the moment still doesn’t feel right to say anything, you ease a little closer and, when he doesn’t protest or shift away, you do the only thing you can think might comfort him in this moment.

Silently, you move your arm up and around, slipping it over his shoulders and pulling him close to you into a half-embrace, feeling somewhat like a mother hen sheltering her chick from the harshness of the world. Jimin stills for a second, frozen in your arms, but then he lets himself fall into you and it seems the proverbial dam holding his tears at bay breaks.

He lets himself sob now, hands still over his face and his body shaking against your side as he curls up into you and draws his knees closer to his body. His tears flood his hands, some escaping to drip down onto your legs and shirt. Your heart aches at the sounds escaping him— trust Sera to unintentionally pinpoint someone’s deeply hidden trauma when insulting them. The only thing stronger than the dislike you feel for her right now is the regret that you allowed the circumstances of your own situation to spill out and affect other innocent people in your life, like Jimin.

You spend some time simply sitting there, letting Jimin cry out the hurt against you at the cost of your shirt and jeans, running your hand soothingly along his back and arm. You place your other hand on the knee closest to you, not much but another small symbol of comfort you hope he receives. He’s in a state for a while, sobbing and hiccuping until his voice grows a little hoarse and thick from the snot congesting his nose. Eventually, he calms enough that his body no longer shakes with his weeping, and after a period of silence broken only by a few sniffles here and there, the male pulls away so that he’s no longer leaning on you like the tower of Piza.

You let him slip out of your hold, simply sitting and waiting for him to speak— you could sense the intention in the way he wipes his face and swallows, readying himself. You don’t have to wait long.

“This is probably the one thing I’m most afraid of in life, you know,” he croaks softly, a humourless laugh tacked onto the end. Your heart gives a painful throb, but you bite your tongue from comforting him just yet. You can feel there’s more to come.

Jimin seems to finally manage to wipe his face somewhat clean, at last letting his hands drop onto his lap and allowing his head to fall back softly against the wall. His profile is illuminated by the last reaches of the sun, casting him in a soft pink glow that almost disguises the redness around his eyes and nose.

Watching him so keenly as you are, it doesn’t escape you when he opens his mouth to speak again and his chin wobbles, his gaze directed to the ceiling of the alcove. His voice wavers, growing strained as he vocalises the thoughts weighing him down so.

“It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” he says softly, still looking upwards. “Everyone’s afraid of rejection, but for me… I can’t— I can’t… handle it.”

“It’s stupid, to be crying over this,” he sniffles, eyes watering but no tears falling as he attempts to hold them back. “It’s stupid, but it just— it just hurts, you know? It fuckin’ hurts. All the people I admire, and the people I have admired in my life…”

Jimin blinks, a single tear slipping down over his cheekbone of its own accord. He lets it go, not bothering to wipe it. You’re caught frozen in your spot, watching with wide eyes as he reveals the most hidden part of himself and entrusts it to you. From just your usual interactions, you’d never have garnered that this side of him even exists. He takes a deep breath, a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter who they are, what they are to me, it never seems to change. Either they don’t want me from the beginning, or they— they find something more important to them than me and they leave.”

“A-and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but think,” he chokes a little, voice growing thicker and wobbling dangerously. He blinks rapidly, fresh tears burning his eyes. His voice cracks on the last of his words. “I can’t help but think, w-what if that’s what is meant for me? W-what if there’s no one who will stay?... What if no one will want me, y/n?”

His words are a boot crushing your heart beneath its sole, and you swear even with all you’ve been through in the past month or so you have never felt as gutted before as you feel now for him. The last question to leave his mouth seems to bring the rest of his feelings to the surface, his eyes closing as a soft sob slips from his lips once more. He brings his hands to his face again, elbows resting on the top of his knees, and you’re so busy trying to squash down your own tears for him that for a moment, you can only sit there and listen to him. You feel a bit lost.

What could you ever possibly do to even begin healing a wound that seems to run that deep?

You know, realistically, there isn’t anything you can do, and it’s not your place nor wound to heal. But still, you know there is something you can do to ease it a little in this moment, you just need to figure it out. It’s at that thought that suddenly, you receive a stroke of genius, an idea that honestly is a little embarrassing but definitely better than nothing coming to mind.

Already feeling somewhat humiliated in advance, you reach for your bag and open it enough to stick your hand in and rifle through it for the familiarly shaped object. Jimin has shown you one of the most vulnerable parts of him, so you can live with the embarrassment this once. Your hand finally locates what it’s looking for, pulling out the beaten-up A5 spiral notebook that has lived in your backpack for the past two years. Jimin either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough at the moment to pay attention to whatever the shuffling sound is, which you’re kind of thankful for because you need a minute or two to actually follow through with your idea.

You slip your hand back into your bag as you open the notebook with the other, performing a lucky-dip of sorts into the risky depths of your bag one more in search of a pen. You find one and pull it out without discrimination— god, alright, it’s the rainbow ink gel pen with a crystal cat on the end that you bought on a whim at the dollar store. Guess that’s the hill you’re dying on this afternoon.

Peeking to the side to make sure Jimin isn’t watching— he’s still crying into his hands, something you probably shouldn’t be slightly relieved about in the moment— you try and flick through the book as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the messy scribbles on each page.

This, is your little rough idea scrapbook. The only thing that’s in a state anywhere near as chaotic and messy as this is your phone notes, and you really don’t want to think about those right now. In this old, beaten notebook that surprisingly hasn’t run out of pages yet, is where you usually scribble your ideas for writings, or poems. You’re looking for one of the latter currently, a rough draft that came to you in a fever dream and you copied onto paper in a haze, before never touching again. It’s incomplete, but you’re finally about to give it the ending it deserves.

Finally, you catch sight of it on one of the pages to the back, the words “softer than the embrace of the moon” jumping out at you. Ah, this is it. The rough draft of Moonlight Sonata, the poem that ended up turning your life on it’s head and leaving you for dead in the dust from the upheaval.

Making sure Jimin is still not focusing on you, you uncap the stupid, glittery pen and hastily put it to paper, throwing down whatever enters your head that makes sense and feels right. You don’t think you’ve ever written anything this fast that wasn’t a heap of absolute trash, but perhaps it’s the emotional potency of the moment that has you scrawling lines across paper with ease.

You only take a few minutes, and after which you somehow simultaneously feel the cathartic effects of creating a poem and the embarrassment of the fact someone else is about to see it. Well, it’s not Moonlight Sonata in any way, but this little abridged creation… it’s not too bad.

Quietly as you can so you don’t prematurely disturb his weeping, you tear the page from the book and make sure there’s nothing on the back and the old title is scribbled out before you fold it in half, turning to Jimin at last.

Gently, you reach and brush some of the dyed strands from his forehead, successfully catching his attention. Jimin peels his hands from his face, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot but containing a curious glint as they turn to you.

You opt not to say anything just yet, pulling one hand towards you and placing the folded piece of paper onto his palm. Confused, he stares at it for a moment before bringing it back towards him and tentatively unfolding it. You wait until he begins to scan the page before you speak.

“Just because you weren’t the subject of that poem, doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of being the subject of any.”

His head whips to you as your soft words catch in his ears, eyes wide and glistening slightly, full lips parted and mouth slightly ajar. You can feel your face beginning to burn, but you ignore it for the sake of Jimin. You’ve come this far, you need to say it and he needs to hear it.

“There are many things about you to fall in love with, Jimin, and even if the author didn’t, I know someone will,” your voice shakes slightly as you speak, a small smile touching your lips. Something pops into your mind before you can call it quits, and you feel the rest of your face light on fire in anticipation. Right. Just do it, pussy. It was embarrassing when done to you, and it’s embarrassing to be the one doing it, too.

This is so humiliating, but you’ll do it… for him. Fuck this whole friendship thing, man.

Taking another deep breath, you reach for the hand closest to you and take it into your grasp, pulling it closer. “And I know it hurts, right now, a lot… and it might hurt for a while, and that’s okay.” You swallow your embarrassment and bring his palm to your lips, placing a soft kiss there, before moving his hand back and placing it over his heart. “But my mother always said kisses take the pain away, so I hope this can ease it, even a little.”

In the moments following your little spiel, it’s silent, and Jimin stares at you in a mixture of shock, appreciation, and something else you’re not quite emotionally equipped to decipher. The stillness breaks in the next second when his eyes water once more and he lets out a long whine that sounds suspiciously like your name, and to save face you let out a loud groan as you reach and pull him into a hug again, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Hopeless,” you say, shuffling you both so you’re facing the sunset and watching the last of it slip past the horizon. “If you keep crying, how are we going to explain your face after? I know I told you everyone is a little ugly when they cry but you’re really— ow!”

Jimin chokes a sobbed laugh into your shoulder, retracing his fingers from where they jabbed your ribs. You glance from the corner of your eye and can’t help the smile that rises when you see he’s clutching the scribbled poem you finished for him to his chest.

“Shut up and let me commit the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me to memory and watch the sunset before I push you over the railing,” he grumbles, smile evident in his voice. You roll your eyes again, face still warm from your embarrassment. You relax into each other, soaking up the last of the sun’s warmth while it’s there.

Backtalk, after you willingly humiliated yourself to make him feel better? Fuck this friendship thing, bro. Gremlins have rights, too.

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tokidokitrash · 4 years

Text

It’s been quite awhile since the previous post and I’m sorry!

I actually wrote this awhile back, but lacked the courage to post it.

I’m someone who is quite insecure and scared of how people might view me and my writings online.

But today I decided to just post this anyway-it’s June and Seven’s birthday is coming up— heck it!

I’m sorry it’s so long , and we aren’t at a conclusion yet- I’m just writing whatever comes to mind kinda and I’m grateful to any who reads it- your notes are such an encouragement, however small.

Also, amidst these crazy times, I hope you are all well, stay healthy, remember to eat!

——————————————————————————————-

The way we are - 02

Seven is left standing outside her door. He’s pretty lost for words at this point, which is rare for a smart mouthed genius like himself.

He has to admit, he feels better after laughing like that -it was cathartic, but after listening to what she just said, seeing her smile like she was entirely broken inside, he can’t help but feel that he’s lost something very, very important in that moment.

He’s realised she was probably crying.

And that it was most definitely his fault.

Pangs of guilt worked his their way up his mind, as his heart aches at the thought that he’s given someone as cheery as her so much sadness over his demeanour.

She had always been so strong, so happy. Shining with the brilliance of the sun with every step she took. Always seemed like nothing in life could bring her down. True, she was a little weird, with her adorable exclamations of excitement over what would seem to be the most mundane of things. How he’d catch her standing outside the apartment for a spell, start to worry she’d seen something or someone that could cause her any harm....only to realise she’d be staring adoringly at a pigeon who’d made his way down the corridor. She seemed to be delighted by any little critter or creature, and that part of her, he adored.

She was such a sweet creature herself.

He’d sometimes catch himself distracted by the CCTVs, ever on a lookout for a glimpse of you, eager to see if he could decipher what had caught your interest that day.

And oh, how his heart would swell whenever you returned to the apartment, no matter how distracted you’d be, or how many bags you were holding after a trip to the grocery store... you’d always find time to look up at the cameras and flash him a beaming smile, giving him a little wave or wink. He’d sometimes find himself giving you a wave back, blowing a kiss or two, despite knowing full well you’d never know this. You were just so, so cute, he felt his heart would burst at the seams and implode on him due to an overload of cute.

While he might be greedy for more of your attention, he savoured those little, minute, unseen interactions with you.

The incident with ‘unknown’ was the turning point.

Seeing that precious girl in danger once was too much for a lifetime.

How could he have let this happen? Was he just incapable to protecting those he cared about?

His mind entered overdrive at the realisation that Unknown was none other than his sweet younger twin Saeran, whom he’d always longed to reunite with someday.

But never in his wildest, sickest imaginings did he want a reunion like this.

Saeran, who stood before him, a completely different man. Gone was the timid, sweet boy- in his place was a twisted man whom the world had hurt too much...and it was all his fault- he failed to protect his brother .

So many unanswered questions reeled in his head, he was having the worse headaches of his life. Trying to piece together the massive puzzle that was unfurling right before his eyes. If there is indeed a god, he was being awful.

In the days he spent at MC’s place, frustration and growing anger seeped into his very core. The complications between Rika, V and Mint Eye...and how....what happened to Saeran?? Then there was the anger at himself... at how put MC in danger. He had nearly let his bright, shining flame get snuffed out.

All this was too much, he was slipping off his 707 persona, whether he wanted to or not. Telling himself it was for the best, he started pushing MC away, first treating her coldly, with disdain, as he tried his best to pour himself into the work.

Next came the harsh words lashed out towards her fuelled by his own frustrations.. Or just ignoring her, or just telling her she was being an annoyance, disrupting his work.

Yet she still always came to him, like she was pulled towards him by an unseen force.

Sometimes, all she wanted to do was sit close to him, watch him work.

Other times, she would make small talk, peppering the conversations with little jokes, trying her utmost best to lighten the mood.

She always seemed to have her eye on him, watching over him. Often fetching him some dr.pepper or honey Buddha chips, or, you know, proper food and water so he doesn’t die of malnourishment.

Once, he had accidentally dozed off mid-work, and woke to the feel of a blanket placed on his back. Then, being the jerk he is, he told her not to bother with him and leave him alone, to stop wasting her time on him, before grabbing the blanket and hurling it across the room, startling her.

Regret sank in immediately when he thought he saw her eyes glisten with the threat of tears... he saw her lips force themselves into a tight smile, the she pouts a little, rolls her eyes just ever so slightly, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Alright, alrighttt, sorry!!” She exclaims as she gingerly pick up the blanket- folding it neatly before placing it in the couch next to him...”jusssst in case, alright? “ she says in a whisper , before adding “.....Please take care of yourself.”

He just ignored her the rest of that night.

He hated that even in this crazy situation where he’s already decided to push MC away for her safety, she still made his heart glow with a slight warmth whenever he saw how much she cared for him.

Since the day after the incident, he realised she truly was a strange one. She seemed flighty, almost airheaded at times, like when her curiosity got the better of her and she touched the floppy disk containing all the photos he had of Saeran, leading Seven to lash out at her and tell her to mind her own business for the umpteen time...

Yet there where times she seemed acutely sharp, always seemingly able to see through his 707 persona- to look deep within him and see Saeyoung.

‘No. What she was attracted to was the 707 she could fool around with in the chat rooms. Not this horrible person I truly am...not Saeyoung.’

Heading back to his corner, Seven tried to settle back into work.. but his thoughts keep bringing him back to MC. He had never wanted to see her like this. He recalls what he managed to see in that short moment they had eye contact- the reddened, swollen eyes, tear-stained face. It ripped his heart to shreds knowing he did this to her.

During that moment, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to apologise to her, scoop her up in his arms and kiss all the tears away, whispering apologies and sweet nothings to her as he showed her that he cared for her just as deeply as she did him.

On the other hand, the other side of him wanted to bolt out of the apartment. So that he could never hurt her again- that way she could forget about him sooner.

At this very moment, all he could think about was how much of a jerk he was- how he really could never stand in the sun with someone as radiant as her.

He was filth.

Head pounding, he sighs, slipping his headphones on- well aware this might make his headache worse, but he still blasts the music anyway, as though he’s looking for some internal form of self-punishment.

Minutes had probably turn to hours, the sun had long since risen, already hanging a little lower in the sky. Seven cracks open another can of Dr.pepper, his tongue a little numb from the constant combination of Honey Buddha chips and his favourite beverage. Idly he realises the last proper meal he had ......was the same time as MC’s. That fact makes him straighten up. He had at least some semblance of nourishment over these last two days- what about her?

He started to feel ashamed of his actions, more so, his inactions. Had he truly been so wrapped up with work and trying to push her away, that he failed to check if her basic needs were met? Whipping out the phone that had been stowed away in his oversized hoodies’ pockets, he fires off a private message to her.

- ‘Are U awake?’

...he stares at the phone expectantly, waiting for her reply.

Only the reply doesn’t come.

‘...maybe she’s asleep. ‘ He quietly thinks to himself. The idea to hack into her phone crosses his mind, but he stops himself. If he does hack into her phone, not only would it be a telling sign of his occupational hazards, it might also be a serious breach of her trust....but from the way she used to flirt with him on the messenger, she sure gave the impression that she might not be totally against the idea of him sneaking a peek or two at her.

He brushes the thought away, absentmindedly rubs his face and ugh, he feels greasy and gross- he himself was in dire need of a shower, as he’d clearly neglected himself these last few days- well, maybe the days before these as well. The man took terrible care of himself once the momentum of work was in full swing.

Phone still clutched in his left hand, he starts looking up food delivery options. He couldn’t care less about himself, but was growing more concerned about MC- he won’t have her starving herself, not on his watch! He mutters the various food options he sees on the screen, wondering what would be a good choice. “........bibimbap? Kimbap? Ah maybe something different like western or....fast food?.........hnnnnnn Indian food? What would it be.....hmmmmm...”

“WOAHH”

Her voice booms from the phone and he yelps, fumbling about with the phone. He quickly holds the phone against his ear.

“is this a miracle?! Are you finally going to eat something?!” She exclaims, voice a littler higher due to excitement and he winces from the loud volume, pulling the phone away slightly.

“MC?? How come you’re on the pho- ahhh. I did it again didn’t I?? Ahhhhhhh I need to stop dialling you ahhhhhhh” he groans as he slaps his forehead. The sound elicits giggles from her, and his heart does little somersaults in response.

“Dawwwww did you truly miss little old me thaaattt much?”

Why Yes. Yes he did.

“I know choosing what to eat might be difficult.... but you didn’t have to call y’know- cause ...dundundun! Here I am!”

Right as she says that, the door to her room swings open and she jumps out of the room, one arm up in the air, the other holding the phone to her ear, presenting herself. To Seven, it seems like light has returned, and she’s brought a gust of fresh air with her- her joyful bearings seemed to alleviate that pounding headache he’s been having. Only now does he realise that he’s finally relaxed his furrowed brow.

“Ta-dahhhh~!” She says, and Seven can’t resist clapping for her, then mentally slapping himself for going along with her antics. Hadn’t he resolved to push her away, not show the slightest form of affection for her? But ahhh, how could he have possibly resisted that??

She brings her arm down and does a little bow for him, then patters over towards his corner, dressed in a large, long sleeved shirt and pyjama bottoms with animal prints all over. Her short umber hair a messy cloud, sticking up in weird tufts, being uncooperative with her as she gently combs through her bed-head. Being so stupidly adorable- he notes. As she nears him, she stills herself, before awkwardly sitting at the far end of the couch. “So, uh, I’m here to....help?” She says as she smiles widely, exaggerating for him. He resists the urge to chuckle, and tries to go back to his ‘serious, no nonsense, leave-me-alone’ persona...then he remembers whatever happened during his last interaction with her, and tells himself that he doesn’t have to be that much of an ass. He clears his throat, noting that her eyes were now downcast, but always sneaking glances at him.

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re here, I was about to order food for us-speaking of which, I hope you aren’t starving yourself. You shouldn’t bother with me, but you should make sure to eat, to take care of yourself, or the rest would worry about you..”

“Hmm, I know! You don’t have to worry about me too, Seven~” she sighs “I can handle myself too.” Her voice seemed laced with a barely noticeable tinge of sadness at that last statement.

Worried, Seven finds himself at a loss for words, he hadn’t had time to think about how to act around her, and as the awkward atmosphere nearly makes a comeback, her belly makes its presence known on cue with a small, but audible rumble. A slight pink blossoms on her cheeks, and they stare at each other, before casting a sheepish look his way.

“bibimbap sounds good right about now though...”

He darts his eyes away from her and disguises his chuckle as a grunt,signalling his approval in her choice, rapidly scrolling away on his laptop, searching for bibimbap...and it takes every fibre of his being maximum effort to hold back the laugh that nearly escaped him, as her blush turns from pink to scarlet.

——————-

Thank you again for reading! And thank you to @emberchoihan for your comment on my previous post :)

#mysme angst #mysme luciel #mysme mc #mysticmessenger #mm 707 #saeyoung choi #mm #saeyoungxmc #saeyounq #mm saeyoung #saeyoung fic #thewaywearefic #fanfiction #707xmc #707 #mm luciel #luciel x reader #luciel choi #thisshitiskindadraggyandimsorryok

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kellyashcroft · 4 years

Text

It’s You C.7 - Why Does It Hurt?

Summary: I’m Embry and I don’t think much of this whole soulmate business. What are the chances that in a sea of 7 billion people you’ll just find your soulmate? What’s the point in wasting your time with relationships with people that aren’t your soulmate? On the off chance that one or both of you do meet the one you’re destined for, it’s just gonna cause unnecessary pain but what’s the alternative? Stay alone forever waiting for someone that might never show up? I’m 26 and I still don’t have my mark and I’m tired of waiting.

Word Count: 3900

Warnings: Angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of physical pain, mentions of torture, fluff

A/N: Sorry it’s late, it’s been a busy week! This is the longest chapter yet, I’ve combined two chapters because the next one was really short but the next update will still be on Monday. Please let me know what you think and I will list the masterlink below for you! Thank you fpr reading, I hope you enjoy it!

Series Masterlink

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Will wakes up not much longer after me and as I keep my eyes on the television, I feel his head shift down to look at me.

"Sorry, I fell asleep" he mumbles and I move my head to meet his eyes, still being held in his arms.

"It's okay, so did I, I've only been awake maybe, ten minutes, I didn't want to wake you"

"I should go" he says as he moves to get up off the couch. He plants his feet on the ground as he stands up and brushes his hand through his hair as I turn my body to sit upright on the couch, wishing it was still two minutes ago rather than this awkward, weirdness. “I don’t mean, I don’t want to- - I mean” he stutters as he scratches the back of his neck and I squint my eyes at him, “it’s late and I can’t stay the night, I’ve got no clean clothes here or anything”

"No, I get it" I answer quickly, realising that I did actually want him to stay and a silence falls over the two of us again as we both look anywhere but at each other.

"I'll just, get" he points behind his head, "get my coat then" he says quietly as I look back at him as his voice grabs my attention.

"Okay, I'll walk you out" I say back as I get up and walk him towards the front door.

He hesitates just outside the door frame as he turns back to me and I lean slightly on the door.

"Embry" he starts, "do you? I mean, um, I" his nervous energy makes me stand up straighter, my heart racing in my chest. He lets out a breathy chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck with his hand again; I guess he does that a lot when he's nervous. "I had a really nice time tonight, thank you" he smiles up at me once he's decided on his words.

"I had a really nice time too, we should do it again sometime" his smile only grows wider at my words and a second later he leans in and places a quick, unsure kiss on my cheek and I feel my face blush.

"See you tomorrow" he says quickly as he turns to go to his car, looking back towards me as he gets into the driver’s seat and I offer a small wave and then he's gone.

I go back into my house, making sure to lock the door and find my phone, already having received a text from Will.

⁃ I really had an amazing time with you. Sorry I fell asleep. I really hope we can do it again, maybe next time I can cook for you? Good night, Em.

I can't help but smile and notice the nickname he's given me and I realise no one else has ever shortened my name. It seems weird to think about because it seems so obvious, but no one ever has and I like the thought that maybe he will be the only one to ever call me it. I quickly text back.

⁃ I had a great time too. It's okay, you look cute when you sleep. I'd love that. Goodnight.

I walk up the stairs into my bedroom, put on my favourite pyjamas again, now that they're washed, and slip into bed, hoping for a peaceful night’s sleep, but that's not what I get.

"You really just can't stay out of the way can you?" I hear a woman's voice say in an angry tone as I feel something being dragged from my face and I take a deep breath. "Always in the way!"

The woman grabs my left arm and picks up a metal device as she places it over the mark on my wrist and I let out a scream in pain.

"It'll stop hurting soon, we've done this before, stop fidgeting" she scolds and my blood turns cold at the pain and fear I'm feeling.

"What did you do with him?" I whisper through the pain. "Where is he?"

"Oh he's fine, don't worry, you won't remember him soon enough anyway" she says. What does she mean, I won't remember him?

The woman keeps the device pressed against my skin for what feels like forever and the pain increases and decreases in intensity over time. I hear my own screams and whimpers and I try to fight her off as she has more straps added to restrain me.

Eventually she stops and the pain subsides a little as she removes the device. I manage a glance down at my mark through my hooded and watery eyes, exhausted from the torture I've just endured and notice that the mark on my wrist is lighter, less prominent.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I jolt awake, yet again, to the sound of my alarm blaring and slowly I reach over to hit the snooze button, hoping for just five more minutes; enough time to collect my thoughts, before I get up out of bed, and start my usual routine of brushing my teeth, washing my body, putting on make up and getting dressed.

I decide again to drive to work today, feeling too tired to walk, as much as I miss my near the beach walks home and as I stop at some traffic lights I remember being here and my wrist hurting. I realise it was him I saw, Will. He was the guy walking across the street. I remember the same dark brown hair, the same smile, the dimple. He was the guy who's hand I shook and felt the same pain again. But the mark isn't supposed to hurt. I've never heard anyone ever say it hurt them to get their mark, so why did mine hurt?

I'm pulled from my thoughts yet again as the lights change and I continue my drive to work but I can't seem to shake the feeling that something's wrong. Surely there must be a reason that ours was so different? I make a mental note to go to Clive's after work and ask him if he knows anything about it. He knows an awful lot more about them than me, he practically wrote a thesis on them at one point, maybe he can help.

As I pull into the car park at the school, I see Will walking across a few metres from me and he raises his hand in a wave as he catches my eye and I think about how used I'm getting to seeing my mark on his wrist, and his on mine.

"Hey" he says as our paths cross near the doors of the school and we smile at each other.

"Hey, you okay?" I start as he shakes a plastic cup at me containing my favourite mocha, passing one to me and keeping one for himself. “Thank you”

"No problem.” He pauses as he smiles at me. After a few seconds he shakes his head as he looks down to the floor and continues, “Yeah, didn't sleep the best though, you?"

"Me either actually, I had the weirdest dream" as I'm about to start to tell him about it, the bell rings for the first class of the day and I feel like I've lost time, not a lot, only about ten minutes or so, but like as if somehow, the day is passing by earlier than it should. I was sure we had longer to talk.

"So today, class, we're gonna have a study session, so if everyone could take their notepads and textbooks out, I want you to all read through your evolutionary perspectives of eating behaviour essays and write notes on your essay. Try and shorten it into key points and then that into bullet points until you'll be able to know your paragraph from a few key words. If you need any help, just ask, otherwise, you can work in small groups" I finish as a few tables scrape across the floor, kids moving closer to their friends as a quiet muttering overtakes the room and I sit in my chair behind the desk.

My mind falls back to the dream I had last night and I can't help but feel like there's more to it, like it's not just a dream and like I'm missing some of the information. I start to look at my mark and notice that it's full in colour, unlike my dream, but as I stare at it, it starts to itch again and I get a sharp pain in my head as a flood of words enter my brain. They're all fumbling over each other too fast for me to hear most of them, the only ones I make out don't make any sense to me and I hold the side of my head as I scrunch my eyes, opening my mouth in a silent scream and hope the pain will subside quickly.

"Embry?" I hear and just as quickly the pain started, it goes and I look up to find Will, his hands on my forearms, his body twisted as he tells the class to pack up their stuff and that they're dismissed for the day. As the class empties he turns back to me with concern in his eyes, "are you okay? I walked past and you looked like you were in agony. What happened?"

"I, I don't know, my head just started hurting. I couldn't make much of it out"

"Make what out?"

"The words" I answer, "my head was flooded with words, I could only make a little bit out through the jumble: lost, taken, soulmate and you, but it doesn't make any sense, I don't know what happened". He sighed in response as he moved one of his hands behind my head and pulled me into his chest and held me.

We stay like that for what feels like forever, one hand never moving from the back of my head while the other dances up and down my back, trailing small shapes over my green dress.

After a couple of minutes he pulls back from me and wipes the remaining tears that have fell from my eyes off my face. “I’m gonna go and get you some water okay? Don’t go anywhere”

I nod as he hesitantly stands up and leaves the room, coming back only a minute later with a bottle of water. “I haven’t drank any of it, you need to have a drink okay? It’ll make you feel a bit better”. He says as he crouches down in front of me again, one hand finding its way back to resting on my forearm.

“Thank you” I whisper as I take a big gulp of water and he continues to look at me with worry in his eyes. “I’ll be okay, I just haven’t been sleeping very well” I say through a still croaky voice and he gives me a small smile in response.

“Just, relax for a little bit” he advises as he moves in slightly closer to me, “you’ve got like twenty minutes until the next class, will you be okay?”

“I’m good, honestly” I answer too fast, “you can go, but thank you”.

We share a tentative smile as he stands up and leaves the room, and again, I’m not unaware of his eyes lingering on me as he does so.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying to breathe through the almost crippling anxiety I keep feeling, devising it’s probably better to just leave the remnants of my coffee rather than adding more caffeine to this situation. I find a small post it note and write down the words I felt drum around in my brain and stare at them, holding for an explanation to drop from the sky when the bell rings again. Too quickly my students pile into the classroom and still not feeling great, I inform them they will be doing the same study exercise as my previous class as I sit back in my chair, tapping my pen against the desk trying to figure out what this could mean.

Not much longer passes before lunch has come around and before I can even move from behind my desk, Will is at the door waiting for me.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to sit with me at lunch today?” I hear him say.

“We sit together every day?” I question with a squint of my eyes.

“I guess that’s true” he laughs, “I mean, just me” he says as he slowly moves into the room as I walk around my desk.

“Are you asking me on a date to the cafeteria William?” I smile as he blushes slightly.

“No, not a date, I promise” he laughs as he looks back up to me and wipes his hand over his chin. “Just, I’d really like to have a meal with just you again.”

“I’d love to”.

Walking down the corridor to the cafeteria, I feel his eyes on me every few seconds and the questions he wants to ask are almost hanging in the air in front of us like a fog.

“I’m okay” I say as I turn to face him, nodding my head, trying to convince us both.

“I know” he says too quickly, “I just want you to know that if you’re not, if you need help, me to cover your class, if you need anything, I can feel the anxiety coming off you” his words make me turn my head to look at the floor as I feel him stop next to me and take hold of my wrist, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly against the mark that lives there, “that’s okay too. I’m here”. His final words have me lifting my head to look at him again, a small smile finding its way into my face as he slips his hand down to hold mine and intertwines our fingers. As I nod my head, he gives my hand a small squeeze before releasing it as we start up our walk to the cafeteria again.

Sitting down at a table on the far side of the room, we both dig into our meals, mine being chicken pasta and Will’s being bolognese, as we discuss his classes that day. Nothing major happened, like for example, he didn’t freak out all of his students by having an agonising pain in his head and had to have them excused by another staff member, but he did teach one of his classes about an obscure battle that I had never heard of. As the conversation about our classes dwindles down, we both turn to continue our lunches, comfortable in each other’s presence and my anxiety is easing from just being around him.

“I know you might not want to talk about it but, I meant it, anything you need, ever” he says with a level of sincerity I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before and I know he’s not just talking about today, he really does mean anything and with what time is coming up, I can’t even begin to express how much that means to me. “Chloe mentioned something this morning about this being a tough time of year for you?” He asks innocently and I can’t work out if I’m mad or grateful that my friend started this conversation for me.

“I don’t really talk about it at work but yeah, um, it’s coming up to the anniversary, of um, my parents death” I almost whisper, being brave enough to continue looking at Will.

“I’m so sorry” he says quickly, “she didn’t say that- -, you don’t have to-“

“It’s okay, I don’t mind, but like I said I just don’t talk about it at work, sometimes I’m okay but sometimes I cry and I don’t want to cry at work”

“I get it, so do you like baseball?” He changes the subject quickly and I can’t help but laugh.

The rest of the day goes by without a problem, each class going over the same study exercise based on what topic they’re focusing on currently and I spend my time catching up on grading essays.

As soon as the final bell rings, I practically run from the school needing to see Clive as soon as possible. As much as sitting with Will at lunch may have eased my anxiety for that time, it came back in floods throughout the second half of the day.

I walk into Clive's book store, hearing the bell above the door as I open and shut it. I nod in greeting at Clive, still by the counter, where he always seems to be and he nods back.

Knowing that the conversation I want to have with him is probably going to stir up some memories he'd rather forget, I take in a sharp breath as I start to walk over to him and he gives me a quizzical look. He must be wondering why I'm not just walking around the store like I usually do.

"I need to ask you something, and you might not like it, but it's important, I'll explain as best I can but I wouldn't bring it up if it wasn't really important. Not to you" he gives me a knowing look after taking my words in and gives me a small nod, assuring me that I can ask, but not confirming that he will answer, or even have one in the first place. "Okay, have you ever heard of anyone's mark hurting? Like when they get it? Or even after they've got it? Because the first time I saw Will, it was when he was walking across the road and I was driving and I felt this sharp pain in my wrist; I didn't have my mark then of course and I ignored it, but then later it got itchy and I thought I could see something but I was wrong, although now, I'm not so sure. And then, the first time we touched, after we met, we both got a sharp pain, so bad we had to pull our hands away from each other and then mine was itchy later in the day again, I never asked about his" I'm not sure at what point we moved, but as I continue I realise I'm sitting in my usual spot on the couch at the back of the store, Clive opposite me.

"So then, today all of a sudden, it starts to get really itchy again, but like, painful itchy, like I want to scratch through my skin itchy and then I get this splitting pain in my head and I can't see or hear anything apart from these words going round and round in my head, too many to make out except four. Only four make their way through to me" I tell him the four words I'd told Will about earlier in the day as he leans further towards me, intently listening to everything I'm saying, a look of confusion on his face. "So I think they're connected, I mean, the pain, the itch, and the word soulmate came up, that can't be a coincidence right? So, I mean you know more about it than anyone else I know so have you ever heard of this happening? I mean, is it wrong? Is it trying to fight its way off my body because it's a mistake?" I ask, scared of what the answer could be as he stops me.

"I don't think it's that. The marks are never wrong, ever. He's your soulmate, there's no doubt about that but it hurting?" He turns away from me slightly, looking nowhere in particular as he thinks. "The only times I've ever heard of someone's mark hurting is when someone tried to take it off, they physically tried to tear it from their skin, it didn't work of course, the marks are protected, something in them. And when you spend too long away from your soul mate, mine hurts occasionally when I miss Mary, a few other people who've lost their soul mates or have had to be away from them have said the same thing but it's an ache, not a sharp pain".

He looks back at my disheartened face, disappointed at feeling like I still don't really have any sort of answer. "I see him every day, we talk after work until we go to sleep, he's text me goodnight, every night and neither one of us has tried to get rid of the mark" I trail off, defeated.

"Leave it with me, okay? I'll have a look through my stuff, see if there's anything I can find that might explain it and I'll let you know if I find something but just, try not to worry about it too much, okay kid?" He offers me a small smile as he pats my shoulder and I realise that's the first time since Mary died that I've seen any type of real smile on his face.

"Yeah" I surrender, "thanks Clive, it means a lot, thank you" I add sincerely as I get up to leave the store before quickly turning and adding, "oh I almost forgot, Will asked me to ask you if you could order 1984 for him? You know by George Orwell?"

"Sure, I'll get on it straight away, I'll make up an invoice when it comes and keep it back for him or if you pick it up, okay?"

"Thanks Clive, for everything" I say as I leave the store and make it to my car.

On the drive home I decide it's been too long since I've walked near the beach and if there was ever a time I needed to be calmed by the ocean, it's probably now when my mind can't seem to stop spinning. I pull up on my driveway, get out of my car, and walk back towards the beach, deciding I'll spend a couple of hours there and maybe watch the sunset before I walk back home.

Sitting on the beach, this is the calmest I’ve felt since I was laying in Will’s arms. Making that realisation only panics me more, I mean, I’ve only known him a few weeks. How is it that someone I’m still aware I barely know has had such a profound effect on me? I feel like there’s an internal battle inside of me of running away from this and what it means because I can’t help but feel like I’ll be hurt, and another side of me that wants nothing more than to jump in, head first because I know he will never hurt me and I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused in my life.

Trying to shake all thoughts of Will and the dreams and the mark and my feelings about any of it out of my head, I focus on the sounds of the waves crashing in front of me and the feel of the sand against my bare feet, my shoes being placed carefully in front of me. As I dig my feet further into the sand, I wrap my arms around my knees, bending them up to sit in front of my face and I enjoy the beauty the beach offers.

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Taglist: @yourideasarepointless @stiles-o-dylan24 @moongoddesskiana @wydobrien @ashleyjeanthomas

Date posted: 04.08.2020

#its you #kellysashcroft #will x embry #writing #original writing #soulmate.#soulmate au #storytime

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veinereastath · 4 years

Text

lack of time (find some time for me);

Some time ago I wrote in one of the “gush about your OC” asks that Irina trimmed John’s beard once, and I’ve decided to elaborate on the subject, so have this... Thing. Pairing: Deputy (more or less) Irina Carter x John Seed. Warnings: None. Well, just a bit of blood, sexual tension, beard trimming, you know how it goes. :)) Word count: 2629. Sorry for eventual grammar mistakes, English hard mucho very~ ~ John's home, however cozy and quite nicely furnished, was not exactly what suited Irina’s taste. Although she was reassured by the sight of those well-known wooden panels and decorations - including deer skulls and stuffed predators, probably gifts from his oldest brother - she felt jusr overwhelmed by the size of this place. Her heart still belonged to those small cabins in the woods, or even a forest in itself, beautiful despite its dangers.

She was used to spend the night on a tree branch or in small caves. She usually had company in the form of rats, sometimes wolves also appeared, but after a while it ceased to discourage and frighten her. Routine. At some point she realized that animals in the Whitetails became so used to her that they were almost ignorant about her presence.

The ranch was, however, an unusually extensive property, and the only living things around were humans - that bothered her. Irina was used to being among animals, but people always heralded potential problems. The only trusted person - though the term wasn’t really appropriate - was John, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough – not to mention that it would just look weird – to follow him everywhere in order to get rid of the uneasiness.

Not to mention that she shouldn’t really be here, and if any of the guards caught glimpse of her, she would be probably shot on sight. To Joseph’s greatest displeasure, she imagined.

John got used to her visits, unpredictable and random, and they didn’t bother him at this point. Quite the contrary – he liked them, because it was the only chance to get to know her better. Irina was fascinating, but infuriating as well. He hated and loved her at the same time, because he wanted to know every single detail about her past and her mind, but she was only giving him the bare minimum. And though he liked to unveil everything piece by piece, he wasn’t really patient, and after days, weeks and months of playing this game with her, John’s jaws were clenching with more force, and his eyes were more sharp every time she was saying “no”, or just giving him this ominous half-smile of hers.

Irina wasn’t attractive in the typical sense of the word; the longer he looked at her, the more flaws he saw - lips that were rather narrow, a nose that for most of today's society would be considered a bit too big, eyebrows devoid of natural, feminine shape and symmetry. It seemed like she had never cared her appearance like most women – or, should he say, women that he used to know - did, but it was good because it meant she had more serious priorities. Deputy was also thin, but he suspected that being starved by Jacob had the greatest impact in this case. Her breasts were small, and torso in general was even slightly androgynous. Scoliosis did not escape his eyes either.

She had her flaws, but John knew that people were not perfect by nature; and he sometimes scoffed at himself when he realized that he was giving her appearance too much of an insight. It didn’t matter how she looked like.

But there were things he adored in her as well.

A massive scar cutting through her left cheek and distorting the corner of her lips was a fascinating thing – because while it definitely wasn’t something that could be called a jewelry, he was quite close to calling it this way. It was giving those typical, half-smirks of her even more dangerous notes, and in a very weird way seemed to just be destined to be there. John couldn’t even exactly remember how she looked like before the scar incident, and he didn’t really mind. It was unique, and made her look totally different dependable on the light source – when she was sitting by his fireplace, the flames dancing on her features made her look, interestingly, nearly divine; but when he was looking at her in his bunker in a dark room, where only half of her face was visible, he was pretty sure that before his own eyes stood the devil himself. Irina was a mess. Wild mess, indeed; always in a rush, always chasing someone or being chased, but she seemed to truly enjoy it. And even when she was standing right in front of him, covered in blood and with wet clothes sticking to her figure, John saw in her eyes those well-known sparks of excitement, like if she wanted more, more, even though her body was screaming and begging for a rest. She couldn’t live without a fight. Got addicted to it, pretty much like he used to with cocaine and women in the past, and how he got addicted to her. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t even totally rational, but he didn’t want to fight with it, and allowed the addiction to consume him whole.

“Fuck.” John cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and looking at his hands, standing in front of the mirror. He wanted to start his typical, mourning routine, but his mind had other ideas and wandered somewhere else, somewhere where it definitely shouldn’t be right now.

“Fjandinn.” This made him open his eyes and look in the mirror once again, only to see her leaning on the doorframe. Fjandinn, he repeated in his mind. Considering the way she liked to use this word, he already managed to deduce that it was something close to English “fuck” or “damn”. “Does even something so simple as trimmering your beard makes you go all cogitative?”

He clenched his jaw, but not in fury, rather in an amusement, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She was smirking, it was barely visible, but he saw it. Clever girl. “You’re trespassing, Deputy. Or are you here to arrest me for something? I don’t see a warrant.”

Irina sighed, averting her gaze and trying to focus on untagling a strand of her hair. Covered in blood, he noticed. So, everything seemed to go as usual in her life so far. “Naaah.” She murmured, sighing quietly. “Just trespassing.”

John smiled a bit. The audacity. “Came to steal another bottle of alcohol, I presume?” He asked, his eyes wandering to her slim fingers, fighting doggedly with strands of hair, combined from probably all shades of blonde know to this world. He even saw bits of light brown here and there.

“No.” She seemed pensive, like if trying to say something. Something that required her to be careful. “I was just passing nearby. Thought I would come in and see what’s up.”

Well, that would explain the hesitation, John thought. It was hard for her to admit that she genuinely wanted to see him, because it meant she really cared. Her pride, as always, was standing in her way, but this time she won the battle with herself. He was proud, but now it was his time to keep it to himself.

“Well, as you see, ‘something so simple as trimmering my beard made me go all cogitative’.” He repeated her words from before and she smiled bitterly, but still didn’t look at him. “So I dare to say that I’m well.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Well, he was pretty sure that this question will make it’s appearance, but that didn’t mean he prepared a good response. About you, he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. They were both prideful, it seemed, too prideful to admit that they have each other in their minds most of the time, one way or another.

“I’m afraid I can’t share these thoughts with you. It’s confidential, you see.” It was his time to send her a half-smile, with a hint of cynicism in it. Irina looked at him in this very moment, and he saw something flash in her brown eyes. Irritation mixed with interest. Oh, he knew that she would give a lot to get her hands on some secrets regarding the Project’s plans for the future. He also knew that this is not going to happen.

“’Confidential’.” She repeated and chuckled darkly. “I’m pretty sure that me and you sleeping with each other once in a month or so is also confidential. Would be such a shame if Joseph and other VIPs of your merry little cult got to know about it.”

He looked at her, sharpness in his blue eyes, but it only seemed to make her happier, because she smiled, and the smile was nearly genuine. Nearly. He turned around, finally, to actually face her, and leaned on the closet. “A-aah. This knife cuts both ways, dove. You’re way too smart not to realize that.”

“Mhhhm.” There it was, the hint of resignation. “You’re no fun, John.”

She rarely spoke his name aloud, and it made him feel something, a burn in his chest, but he decided not to dwell on it. “Of course not; I’m a professional. But there is always time for fun after the work is done.”

The girl hissed at him, but he didn’t miss the mirth in it. “Cheeky bastard, that’s what you are.” And with that she slowly walked over to him, holding the tangled strand of hair in her hand. Now she’s going to change the subject, he thought. “Help me, will ya’?”

He clicked his tongue in amusement but didn’t say anything, gently taking the problematic strand in between his fingers after soaking them in water. “Who lost his life today, hm?”

“Today? No one. The blood is two days old.” The ease with she was able to give such an answer was something that fascinated him. He chuckled shortly, slowly managing to win the fight with her messy hair, then brushing it behind her ear, mildly looking at the scar on the left side of her face. She always seemed to be nonchalant about it, and even now she didn’t flinch – but he knew how to read people, and never missed the ever so slight hint of irritation when his eyes were focusing on her distorted cheek.

“How about a shower, then?” John suggested, doing everything he could right now in order not to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He could never figure out why he wanted to do it, it just seemed to be an impulse. Sometimes he just wanted to hold her and don’t let go, sometimes to throw her into his bed and make her forget about everything else in the world. But something in him, the pride, he realized, wasn’t going to allow John to admit just how much he cared. She’s still an enemy, he reminded himself. Oh, but that only makes everything so much more interesting.

“I don’t have a time.” Irina murmured, and it seemed that she was fighting with something in herself as well. Lust or love, he had no idea. “Need a help with…?” She pointed her finger at his beard, just barely touching it with her fingertip. But it was enough to make him gulp.

“Don’t have a time for a shower, but you do have a time for that?” It would sound desperate and needy if he just straightforwardly said ‘yes, feel free to help’, so he absolutely wasn’t going this way.

“Your suggestion about me taking a shower could lead to only one outcome, and for that I indeed don’t have a time.” “And what outcome could it possibly be?” Of course, he just wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t start teasing her, and even though his face was stoic, the blue irises of John Seed’s eyes were glistening with obvious answer, the one that he was undoubtedly trying to put in her lips.

But she just shook her head, fighting with a smile trying to form on her face. It also had a second purpose – the hair once again fell loosely on her face, hiding the blush that started to blossom on her cheeks. You started it, she reminded herself, but it didn’t make it any different. “Just… Sit down.”

John literally purred, and she just clenched her jaw. Irina didn’t say anything else because she knew her voice would start to tremble. Her eyes were focused on the floor when he brought the wooden chair closer and sat on it, with his legs spread so she could stand between them. Oh, fuck you, John… Well, at least you’ve got trousers on. She reached her thigh holster – slowly, not to disturb him – and took a knife, getting ready to start. But in this moment those blue eyes of his darkened, and he grimaced.

“What? You didn’t think I will use an electric razor, did you?” Her words were full of amusement and this time she could fight with an ominous smile that appeared on her lips. “Oh, come on, John, I’m from a wilderness. Using something like this would be a true heresy, in my case.”

He huffed in agreement and clicked his tongue again, gently but firmly grasping her leg to make her come closer. He didn’t spread his legs only for her to stand so far away from him, after all. Irina hissed again, but he wasn’t bothered by it. John noticed long ago that she was indeed somehow wild, and half of her mind was spoken in growls, hisses and other sounds.

To his interest, Irina seemed to be experienced in beard trimming - she knew how and where to cut, as if she had done it many times already. It made him frown slightly, and he gave her a questioning look. John didn't have to say anything. You know me, he thought. You know what I mean.

“I used to know a lot of bearded men before.” Was her answer, and his nostrils flared up a little.

“Do I want to pressure this subject, or…?”

“No, I think you don’t.” She cut him off, but not angrily, clearly focused on her work and not interested in small-talk of any kind. He felt her fingertips brushing his chin as she tilted his head higher, his whole throat at her disposal, knife literally kissing the skin on it. “Don’t say anything and try not to swallow right now, unless you want a cut on your Adam’s apple.”

He won’t listen to me, she thought. He won’t fuckin… Yeah, of course he won’t.

John didn’t listen indeed, because he gulped with as much strength as he could possibly muster, while looking her dead in the eye. Irina didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes and sighed. Why did I fell in lo-- Why are you like this…?

A narrow trickle of blood began flowing down his skin, but the bastard didn’t even flinch, just kept staring at her, a silent challenge in his eyes. “I’m bleeding, officer. Could you help me?”

“Poor choice of words, my boy.” He was older then her, but it didn’t matter. “Said to a wrong person, they could be misinterpreted in a very, very bad way.” “That’s why I’m saying them to you. You’re not wrong person, after all.” Or are you? He didn’t have to say it, because she caught the wind of it immediately.

Irina sighed and put her knife away, then painfully slow kissed his neck, tasting his blood on her tongue. His grip on her leg got stronger and she barely stopped a whine that threatened to rise from her throat.

“Come on, Deputy. Don’t be shy.” He murmured into her ear and with one strong pull she was forced to sit in his lap, his right hand immediately clutching to her hair, while left one trailed under her shirt, caressing her spine.

It turned out she had to find some time, after all.

#another chapter of: this looked way better in my head #well #it be like that sometimes #deputy irina carter #john seed #my writing #far cry 5

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anabe23bookwormstuff · 4 years

Text

Who is Ben Solo? P.I

NOTE: So this was a sad part to write but I figured that the resistance wouldn't just forget about Ben's past and that his character also needed to prove in some that he is no longer Kylo, or that he not only wants to be in the light because of Rey but because he always felted compeld to go back and know he has the chance to do something for a group of people to ment a lot for his mother. I don't know kids, I'm sorry but happy times are coming I promise. Now enjoy.

"I'll see you soon then" Rey was saying goodbye to Ben with a small smile as they sat on her bed.

"I'm always close if you need me" Ben reminded her.

"Huh, I can't forget it" she was teasing, remembering how once she hated the thing that connected them so much but today was grateful to understand and count on.

"It's okay ,Rey" he stroke her fingers with his thumb. It was good he knew what went on on her mind because she couldn't explain the bad feeling she had.

"I think it's weird they only requested my assistance..." he agreed but didn't want to worry her further.

"You'll be back soon" she hugged him and he kissed the top of her head.

They changed and went out, Rey had to meet with Jannah and check with Poe if there were any more instructions for her.

For some reason Ben felt like there were more eyes on him than usual, he wondered if maybe it was because they somehow figured that he spent the night with Rey and they a problem about it, or maybe the preassure of trying to make everyone realize he wasn't bad anymore had him paranoid.

"Rey, I got you and Jannah some food packed for your trip since, you know, you kind of have to go know" Finn walked to her and hugged her.

"Hey" He muttered quickly to Ben and then ignored him. Ben knew that Finn had something against him but, he could work on that later. He was another name on his never ending list of people to apologize to.

"Morning" Ben replied.

"Rey, I got everything on the ship, are you ready?" Janah appeared followed by Poe and soon there was a small circle of people ready to say goodbye to them.

"Ummm yeah, I'm ready to leave whenever you tell me." she waved to her.

"Well if you'd leave know it'd be great, the coordenates are programmed and they are waiting for you in Keetar" Poe said.

"Well then, goodbye my friends. See you in three days." Rey sighed and said to everyone.

"Come on" Poe said as the group dispersed and only Finn, Ben and him scolted Rey and Jannah to the ship.

Rey squeezed Ben's hand and shared a smile before walking up the platform.

"Wait, wait! Rey, Lady, you forgot something" a droids voice could be heard.

D-O, Rey recognized. The tiny droid carried something behind him and went as fast as he could, Ben bent down to take what the droid was carrying so he could deliver it.

"Thanks D-O" he said picking up Rey's lightsaber and walking up to give it to her.

"Your saber"

"How could I forget it? Well, I think I won't need it, or at least hope so but it's good to have it." she put it on her waist band and resisted the urge to kiss Ben goodbye again.

"Thanks D-O!" Rey shouted hoping to be heard over the engine.

"Good luck" Ben waved and got down.

Rey took her seat next to Jannah on the ship and they started flying.

For some time none of them talked. Rey hadn't got much time to meet Jannah and she was not feeling like asking questions right now.

Thankfully Jannah understood her and only made small talk about the directions and such if she needed them.

"The last time you had to deal with the troopers they requested to join the society right?" Jannah asked when they were near Keetar, grounding Rey back to the ship.

"Yeah, apparently they just didn't want to leave because they didn't have a duty to anyone anymore, and they had gotten used to being in Naboo so, yeah they wanted to be a part of it"

"And how did you manage to do it?"

"Talking... for once, though I do fear that they had to pass a trial and some check some requierements before the queen allowed them to live there." she shrugged.

"That's so unfair" Jannah's hands tightened on the controls.

"Why is it unfair? they are stormtroopers, they may have executed people, harrased them, tortured them, I don't know. I think it was fair for them to go through a process and then given a chance to join society. They coldn-"

"They are just lookin for somewhere to belong" Jannah interrupted her.

"Not all troopers are like you or Finn, not all of them regret what they've done or changed their minds before hurting someone"

"So would you like me to go to trial too? or Finn, do we have to prove you in any other way that we want to help?" she was being defensive.

"What... I-I never said anything like that okay? I'm just telling you how Queen Zorya handled th-"

"Your boy Ben joined society just like nothing happened though, no trial, no answer to his actions." Rey was going to say something but Jannah only spoke louder like she knew Rey was trying to defend him.

"Don't you think you're being a little hypocrite, Rey? Huh? He executed people, harrased them, tortured them, even worst he destroyed planets! and yet, he gets to come back just like nothing. He answers to no one and gets a pat on the back and a place in the resistance wit-"

"Was that why you wanted to join me? To complain about him and how much you hate him?!"

"No, but if I have a chance then... you may as well know that I'm not the only one who can't forget who he is!"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore" Rey saw no good on extending this argument. People would see Ben as they wanted to. Patience, she rememberd, Maz said she must have patience, and making enemies with this girl before even getting the chance to really know her was no good either.

"I have the right to tell you my opinions about him, and my opinion on the issues we've come her to look after" Jannah kept going.

"You do, I just don't want to argue further about it"

"You're not the queen or something, I hope you-" a beep called their attention, they were minutes away from getting to their destiny and soon they'll have to look for a place to land on.

"I don't think I'm anything, okay? I don't want to fight with you... or anyone. That's all Jannah, and I apologize if my comments have been rude" Jannah didn't answer but quit fighting and sighed.

Outside they could already see the purple mountains that made Keetar so interesting, the clear rivers were extending below them and a little yellow snow had started attatching to the glass.

The beauty of this place brought peace to the girls, another ship indicated them where to land and the ladies soon guided them to the King's room.

Back at the base Ben was left with the realization that this would be his first time without Rey here, he was aware that the main reason people either stayed away from him or were minimally kind to him was because she protected him in some way.

Like the first day he was here, that the medical team didn't want to help him until she begged them to do something.

He decided to go for breakfast and then make a plan of what he'll do for the next three days, also he was still thinking of ways to apologyze to Chewie.

Ben took a tray from the large pile on the siting area and then went to the few pots available to check his options.

There was a gooey thing that he was mostly sure would be oatmeal and some type of dish that combined things from the garden with something that smelled sweet. He went for the oatmeal instead and then headed to look for a place to eat.

He had gotten so used to eating wih Rey that not being with her felt like some kind of betrayal, like something was missing to his morning. Also at this time all the tables were mostly full and he realized, not really to his surprise, that no one wanted him to join them.

They would either turn their backs on him or simply try and cover any empty spaces. He couldn't blame them.

He was walking to his quarters when someone called out for him.

"Do you want to come sit with us?" Kaydel asked, waving her hand from a table close to the improvised wall of the area. The other two guys siting with her didn't look enthusiastic at all with this idea.

"Thanks but I have something to do, see you later" he politely declined and kept walking away.

Once in his room he let out a deep breath he hadn't realize he was holding and then sat down leaning on his bed.

He played with the spoon and his food for a while, trying to feel hungry. It wasn't that the food wasn't good but he was quickly loosing his appetite.

He actually liked some of the food options they had around the day, they felt home made, something he barely got to experience himself and it was something so different than what he had at the first order that it constantly worked to remind him of who he no longer and didn't want to be.

The sound of Rey's droid brought a small smile to his lips.

"Master Ben, when is master Rey coming back?" the droid knocked on Ben's door whit it's wheel a couple of times before he opened it.

"Well in three days she should be back here" he said taking a spoon full of oatmeal.

"Oh" the droid made a sad noice.

"Is there anything you need buddy?"

"Just this squeaky wheel, see? squeaky" the droid went back and forth trying to prove it's point and Ben chuckled.

"Didn't she oiled that wheel two days ago?" he took a can of oil from his working desk and kneeled.

The droid shook his head like saying no.

"Liar" Ben muttered amuzed with the droid.

"Thanks, Ben" D.O said before leaving him alone again.

No problem, he thought.

When he fnished eating he wrote a list of the things he had to do at least for the rest of the day, they included helping Poe, finding a way to apologize to Chewie, think of a way to apologize to Finn, start writing his proposal of what to do with the remains of the first order and their options, gather and archive information of the most affected plantes, the ones he and Rey had alread visited and the ones that were doing okay but had no communication with them.

At some point he heard BB-8 following someone and he tentatively wrote down: build a droid? he could maybe use the help... and the company.

He headed outside tot ackle the first thing on his list.

"Hey Maz, is Poe around?" he hadn't thought about him maybe going out or something.

"Hello Ben, how are you?" she smiled at him.

"Good, thanks. How are you?"

"Keeping up. Have you already eaten anything? I didn't saw you in the morning"

"Umm yeah, I got up early don't worry" she didn't retain him any longer so he kept walking.

"Hi... I... was wondering if you needed help with anything"

"Hey, well we are getting the boxes of provisions to the kitchen so if you want to lift some things that'll be great" Poe offered.

"Sure" Ben rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and followed Poe to the ship where a line of men and women were takng things down.

A girl he was almost sure was called Rose handed him a big box and with the force he decided to lift another pair, hoping to help.

He heard someone mutter behind his back, show-off, and sadly realized that people took it as if he was wavng his advantage on their faces, when he was just trying to help optimize things.

An hour later they were done and decided to head to eat.

"Are you coming?" Poe patted Ben's back as he walked and noticed that Ben was staying back.

"Maybe I'll eat later... I don't want to- put preassure on anyone" he pursed his lips and Poe reminded what Rey asked him yesterday.

When did he notice that Ben wasn't the same as Kylo, well this could be a wonderful example or earlier helping them. He felt bad for the guy, well not too much, but enough to try and include him.

"It's okay, come on. We're discussing some things after so there's no point in you leaving" Poe insisted and started walking hoping that he would follow.

The strange looks at him weren't absent during their break, but at least no one complained.

Ben had never spent time with so much people during meals before coming to the resistance, or heard so much noice, so much noices and the laughs. He could maybe compare it to his time at Luke's temple but... even there, he didn't think the other kids were as loud.

To his surprise he learned that he enjoyed listening to people's jockes, memories or even gossip. He was fascinated by how close these people were to each other and the natural flow that seemed to suround them.

He could guess who were together, who were friends for a long time and who were knew in the group. Of course no one was as knew at him, or as left out, but still.

"Hey! Jannah and Rey have landed and I got the update from most of the rulers on you know, the voting thing" Finn said coming by, the moment he showed up people try to make some space for him to sit down.

"Don't move, don't move. I'll eat during the meeting, which is in like five minutes so, I'm getting my tray." He winked at them and raised his brows when he noticed that Ben was also with the group.

He offered to take his tray and the ones from the people who had finished too, and even if they were hesitant at first, they allowed him to.

"I see you've joined us" Finn called out to him as he served himself the food.

"Well, there are no vacations are they?"

"Did you have vacations at the first order?" Finn said, and his tone was a little too much rude than he had intended to at first.

"No"

"Just kidding buddy" Finn walked away leaving Ben standing there. Ben sighed, he could feel how much Finn despised him.

When he decided to join the group gathered around Poe and a map they were already in the middle of the meeting.

"So Rey has to figure out a way to do it right?" Ben heard someone say.

"Yeah. And also here and here, there were explotions that left damage so we have to go tomorrow and fix them, I'll tell you the groups later" Poe signaled the map.

Ben stood with his arms crossed at the back of the group.

"Talking about that, since Rey can't go for now we will send another group to Hatarr to check on the village." Finn said.

"Oh, I had forgot abou that" Poe sighed. Finn made some joke about being tha the reason why he was also general and they all laughed.

"What about the votes? Is Rey already working on it?" Some girl asked.

Ben was starting to get angry for some reason.

"No, don't you know that she's out with Jannah to help with some trooper camp?" Finn said to whoever.

"Oh... no, sorry, I must've been out when they left."

"Well, she'll take care when she's back". He dismissed it and Ben felt something inside him trying to burst. This time he couldn't keep it down.

"Exactly why do you need Rey to do and check everything? aren't YOU the generals?" he raised his voice and slowly people turned to see who had said that. The ones standing in front of him got out of his way, taking many steps away from him.

Which only made him more mad because he wasn't even doing anything wrong. He raised his voice yes, but he didn't shout, he didn't hit anyone, he didn't even clench his fists and yet people looked at him like he had his former saber on.

"Are you mad we don't give you as much protagonism, oh Supreme Leader?" A soldier, or a flyer from the corner of the group said facing Ben.

"I'm just saying that she isn't supposed to just live to solve the galaxy's problems you know? There are plenty of people here that can do some of the tasks that she's been given"

"Like you?" the man insisted teasing him.

"Or you, or anyone here really"

"Yes, we are aware and I asure you that this people also do their job Ben" Poe said.

"You suddenly feel like telling us what to do Ren?" A friend of the man from before said.

They were teasing and trying to see how long Ben would wait before showing everyone how he was just the same monster.

"I understand is hard for you to not be needed, but this is the first time they've asked us for you not to join Rey" Poe explained.

"Listen, again. It's about that, I'm not trying to order anyone around but I just feel like you expect her to solve everything for you, and that you are often losing your time" he admited walking closser to the map where they stood around.

"Excuse me? How are we losing time exactly?" Finn squinted and clenched his jaw.

"Well, you send small groups to one planet, like for a week. And you are two generals, not just one, but two and yet you can't keept track of the work that's been done to save your life, you eat more times than you do anything productive and you just toss must of the activities like Rey is going to do them"

"We know you only care about Rey so who gave the right all of a sudden to give a fuck about what we do or don't do" Finn answered.

"I don't just care about Rey, I'm saying this to you because I think you're working ineffectively to help the galaxy"

"So what do you think huh? Let us step aside so we let you rule your majesty" Finn got very close to Ben, defying him.

The people around had started cheering and whistling waiting for a fight.

"I have some ideas, I would like to tell you all about them, and they can't be executed just by me, I would need a lot of people for them to work and I DON'T think about ruling anyone" he said to everyone but mostly to Finn.

"You know, we don't really have to listen to you, you being here is just courtesy for Rey and our late beloved Leia" the man from earlier said.

Poe had started trying to calm people down but one by one they started yelling Ben their opinions.

"I advise you to better shut up and wait for Rey to come back" Finn said. Ben rolled his eyes making Finn even more mad.

"You think you're so clever, you have no one Ren, Ben, whatever you chose to call yourself. We all know your act won't last."

"You're waiting on Rey once more to come and fix your problems" Ben said.

"We don't just pin everything on Rey because we don't want to do it or something, but because we know she'll be the best at doing it, and that she has more strenght than anyone here, including you" Finn buried his finger on Ben's chest and pushed him away, earning a grunt from him.

"Now what huh? Are you finally gonna show them who you are? Come on, hit me. Push me, do whatever you do with the force to hurt me. I'm waiting!" Finn exploded.

#reylo #fanfix #fanfic #adam driver #star wars #daisy ridley #dyad

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beeexx · 4 years

Text

Set after 2x6, Alex and Kyle talk about things.

You can read it here on my ao3 too. Just a little snippet I wrote after everything so to say.

“I need a friend.” That’s the words Alex wakes up to when he finally crawls out of his bedroom to open the door to Kyle’s persistent ringing. His cheek has a crease from sleeping in a weird position on his pillow and his hair is sleep tousled.

At the sight of Alex Kyle’s eyebrow shoots upwards and his mouth open.

“Wait, were you sleeping?” Alex is too tired to feel bothered by the fact that he is indeed only wearing sweatpants and a blanket wrapped around himself.

“Maybe.” He mutters

“Dude, it’s like 1pm.”

“Yeah well…”

“Okay, maybe you need a friend too, can I come in?” Alex bites back the reply of we’re not friends which threatens to escape. Also, the fact that he steps aside to let Kyle in probably means they are. From behind him Kyle picks up two plastic bags and sidesteps Alex to get inside.

“Just make yourself comfortable.” He mutters to the empty space and closes it slowly. His brain really hasn’t woken up enough for this. He walks into his bedroom and puts on a t-shirt and an old ratty jumper lying at the back of his closet. When he finally makes it to the kitchen where Kyle is he decides that Kyle and him are definitely friends because a cup of hot steaming coffee is pushed into his hands. He can’t help the moan he lets out at the sip he takes. Kyle just chuckles and leans back against the counter, looking happy.

“So, what’s up?”

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, if you’re not here to talk about it then why are you here?”

“Well it was this, the gym or gettin drunk, and before you ask, yes I already tried the gym. It didn’t do the trick. And the second option being alcohol, it is 1pm and I am not in the habit of getting drunk at that time, and I also have a job to go to tomorrow and I didn’t think you would appreciate getting drunk with me. Because, well because you have a job to go to as well. So I had to get creative and hanging out honestly seemed like the best option I had.”

Alex takes another sip.

“Should I feel offended by the fact that I rank the lowest on that list?”

“I thought you might say that so I bought bribing material.” He looks through one of the plastic bags and holds up a couple of Airheads and a packet of flaming hot Cheetos. Kyle wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah that is definitely not bad bragging material.” Alex puts the coffee down and takes the snacks off Kyle.

“I haven’t had Airheads in so long.”

“They used to be your favourite when we grew up.”

“You remember?” Alex is actually surprised to hear that.

“Of course I remember. I don’t even know why you like them so much but today I am definitely not judging because on the way here I stopped and probably bought mine and your weights combined in snacks.”

“You really must be having a bad day.” Alex laughs.

“I drove all the way here and brought enough snacks to give me diabetes in 20 years time, so yes I definitely am.” Kyle says and picks out a bag of Moams from the bags. Alex peeks over his shoulder to see that Kyle definitely wasn’t lying. The bags or filled up with different kinds of snacks to honestly last Alex 6 months.

“Did you at least bring anything to drink with all of this?”

Kyle replies by taking out a six packs of Mountain Dew and Coke and Alex shakes his head but goes for the Mountain Dew.

“I haven’t had this shit since I was a kid, that’s for sure.” He takes out a glass and hands one to Kyle before he fills his glass up with the soda. He takes a sip and it tastes just like he remembers, sickly sweet. He takes an even bigger sip.

“So, what’s next then?”

“I have thought of that too my friend.” Kyle says and apparently he has because what he does next is that he he puts a stack of DVDs in front of Alex and steps back.

“Wow, you really have.” Alex leans over and looks at the selection. He spots Back to the Future at the top.

“I have.”

“Star Wars? Really?” Alex holds the DVD up.

“Oh yes, I am desperate enough to watch Star Wars, that should tell you something.”

“Yeah, but Star Wars, that’s a new level even for you.”

Kyle snorts and pops some popcorn into his mouth.

“I didn’t know you even owned this.” Kyle shrugs.

“I bought them a while back but I’ve not really had the time to watch them.”

“I see… well you know what sure. Let’s watch Star Wars.” Alex picks up one of the bags along with his snacks and walks into the living room, Kyle in tow.

“This is a nice place.” Kyle notes as he lays himself down onto the couch like he owns the place. Alex lets him, just because he’s having a day. He sits down on the other end and opens up the Cheetos.

“Thanks.”

“The military pay for this?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm, not bad.”

Alex picks up the DVD.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?”

“I’m probably the only 28 year old who hasn’t seen Star Wars, I feel like I’m missing out on part of my culture.”

“I mean yeah you probably are the only person our age who hasn’t seen this. You know you’re supposed to start with episode IV right?”

“What? How does that make any sense. Why?”

Alex laughs at the obvious confusion Kyle seems to feel over this.

“George Lucas had the idea for Star Wars for a long time and while he was making the first film he had already figured out a lot of the backstory and what happened before it. But because he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t completely flop he waited to make the others after the success was already certain of the three first films.”

The room’s silent and Kyle’s looking at him like he’s slightly insane.

“Okay, you asked.” Alex says, his cheeks only heating a little.

“Yeah, no, okay that was totally on me. I did ask.”

Alex replies by chucking a Cheetos at his face and Kyle’s reflexes kick in and he catches it mid air. He looks proud and Alex just rolls his eyes.

“Okay, are you sure you want to spend the afternoon watching Star Wars of all things? I’m sure I can find something that you’d actually enjoy.”

“Nope, I’m certain.” Alex relents and puts on episode IV. He’s having a little bit of a hard time believing this whole to be fair but whatever if Kyle doesn’t want to talk about it then he’s not going to push him.

Alex lasts about 40 minutes of munching snacks and drinking Coke like he’s 15 again, and a part of him enjoys it because he doesn’t have to think about…...things……. but he’s been living by his own motto when it comes to everyone which is that he left bullshit in Iraq. He sighs and presses pause.

“Hey, that Luke person was just about to do some training with the erm stick….oooo lightsaber, why did you turn it off?”

Alex is surprised Kyle actually seems to have grasped what is going on.

“The fact that you’re keeping up tells me this is serious enough that we need to have a conversation.”

Kyle’s eyes widens and he slumps down in his seat and crosses his arms.

“Are you pouting like a child??”

“No.” The tone is so petulant Alex laughs.

“Come on, what’s going on? I’m trying to be a friend now. For real totally trying.” Kyle grimaces

“I’d rather watch Luke Skytalker.”

“Walker.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’d rather watch him and Han Solo save Carrie Fisher.”

“Princess Leia, also you know who Carrie Fisher is?”

“Of course I know who she is, I was a jock but I wasn’t blind.”

Alex can buy that.

“Nope, we’re still talking.”

Kyle sighs and lies down completely on the couch.

“Okay, well the other day was definitely weird. I’ve been avoiding Liz because, well I am struggling a little bit with having to deal with her choosing Max and me doing her every bidding which is clearly not healthy so I went to this gay bar just to get away a little from everything and I ran into Isobel. Now I like Isobel, and we danced and had a good time and then we were totally gonna sleep with each other but I chickened out because I kind of like this other girl so I went back to the hospital to see if she was still around only to find out that she was in surgery, all alone without telling me anything…. and I’ve been feeling kind of off since.” He rambles on.

“Wait, did you just tell me you went to a gay bar?” Alex cannot believe this. Kyle groans and hides his face.

“My hopes were that you would hyper focus on me and Isobel almost sleeping together rather than the gay bar part.”

“Oh you and Isobel almost sleeping together that doesn’t surprise me one bit to be honest. I thought it would happen sooner than this.”

“....what?” Kyle shouts.

“But you, Kyle ‘Hyper Masculine’ Valenti went to a gay bar?”

“Can we focus on the other parts of the story?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Ugh, well I’m very comfortable in myself and my sexuality thank you very much but even us straight guys enjoy putting glitter on our faces from time to time.”

“Oh my god.” Alex laughs, loving this. “You had glitter on your face?”

“Totally.”

“Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Sorry.”

“Well that’s just a crime, you went to a gay bar with glitter on your face and didn’t take any photos?”

“You can just come with me next time and see.”

“Honestly I might, it sounds very tempting.” Alex jokes and Kyle smiles.

“Back to the issue please.”

“What is the issue exactly?”

“I don’t even know, I like Steff and I thought we had something going on. But now I’m worried about her too, and then the whole Isobel thing and it’s all just messed with my head.”

“I don’t mean to make it into a competition over who’s had a worse day out of the two of us, but I honestly think I win.” Alex says without thinking. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No I mean nothing by that.”

“Pfft, you left bullshit in Iraq, well I left bullshit in high school, so what’s going on? I’m only going to assume it has something to do with you staying in bed like a teenager to 1pm.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this... Well I went with Maria to find out more information about her mom’s disappearance and we ended up in the middle of nowhere with this crazy guy who stabbed me in the chest and chased Maria through a cornfield. Michael came later too, but Maria had already disabled the guy by then and I was mostly fine. Then we find out the crazy guy has a twin who is well, not crazy and shoots his brother in front of us and tells us to call an ambulance and then get the hell out of there. Which we do and then after coming down from the adrenaline of almost dying well, I have a threesome with Maria and Michael….”

Kyle spits the soda out.

“What the fuck?!”

“So I win then?”

“Oh totally, but also what the fuck? You had what now? A threesome?”

“Yeah.” Alex runs a hand through his hair and avoids looking at Kyle.

“But you’re gay.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“Erm so why? I mean not that I’m against threesomes, you do you if you know what I mean. I am however having a little bit of trouble understanding why you slept with the love of your life and your best friend in this world?”

Alex tries not to flinch at the words because he’s kind of tried to stay in denial about the whole goddamn thing and when it’s put in the terms of love of your life and best friend in the whole world it sound really stupid.

He shrugs.

“I just… I just… I don’t know I didn’t want to be alone after everything that had just happened. I mean getting stabbed is not something that’s ever happened to me. It wasn’t exactly common when I was deployed so getting sneaked up on and then assaulted wasn’t something I wanted to go home to an empty house with. I have enough PTSD already and that was just doomed to set of insomnia for a while. So staying was better than leaving and then one thing led to another.”

“Wow man...that’s tough. How are you feeling?”

“How often do you think I end up sleeping to 1pm?”

“So, is this one of those instances where I have to go beat Michael up?”

Despite all it makes Alex smile. He feels grateful for Kyle.

“No it wasn’t his fault. And also we’re not in high school anymore, I could totally take the both of you on even with just one leg.”

“Yeah that’s definitely true. Well you say the word and I will drive over and drag him out the junkyard myself.”

Alex smiles again.

“Thanks, but no need.”

“So you’re not angry?”

“No no, not angry, I just…”

“He chose Maria again?”

Alex wonders if it’s all written on his face and that’s why Kyle seems to be able to read it all.

“No it’s not really that. I just. I feel anger towards my dad sometimes. Because he fucked me up so badly when I was young.”

“Hey hey, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Kyle puts his hand down between them on the sofa, leaving it there for Alex to take if he wants to. He exhales.

“I went to therapy after I lost my leg. It’s the first time I went. I should have gone way earlier because my pile of issues were huge even before I lost it. I was forced to go when I lost my leg, because even then I was convinced I didn’t need help. Because going to therapy is the weakest thing a man can do. That’s what I heard on repeat in my head when I was being wheeled into her office a month after the truck had exploded with me in it. It was his voice saying, “You’re weak Alex, you’re weak” over and over again…”

Kyle doesn’t say anything, Alex has turned his head away, staring in the opposite wall so he doesn’t have to look at Kyle’s face.

But…

He does take Kyle’s offer up on support and grabs his hand on the couch in reassurance. Kyle grips it tightly and Alex continues.

“We didn’t really talk too much about my life before the Air Force. She was a good therapist, she really was but I wasn’t really there to unpack the trauma of having all my self worth being beaten out of me by my father, so we didn’t. Which is why, now that I’m back here that the things that happened before I enlisted have just been pushed away and undealt with for years. Which is not the ideal way of dealing with issues. They are all just being dragged back up again and I keep going in circles around it. So sleeping with Maria and Michael really wasn’t the solution to anything, but I’m not sure it made anything worse either.”

Kyle grasps his hand again encouraging him to go on.

“Michael’s the only person I’ve ever had any sort of relationship with, the only person I’ve ever really wanted to be with too but when we met I was young and the issues had only just begun. Michael had his own set of problems too and while I am definitely guilty in how things went down between us then and now I still even now, I just…”

He starts scratching at a loose thread on the sofa, just to have something to do.

“Love always comes with some sort of conditions. That’s all thanks to my dad… I can’t escape the feeling of every time I let myself be vulnerable something is going to happen that ruins it. That I’m not good enough or that I’m not loveable because I am who I am… I don’t like myself at times because my dad drilled that into me, that I am unlovable, and if I don’t love myself how is anyone else supposed to? I never feel secure either, in myself or any partner. It’s just a big mess tangled together.”

Alex takes breath and bites down the tears. Even talking about it is really hard for him.

“I love Maria as a friend, but I guess she’s just had this ability to make me feel safe where no one else has, not even Michael. And it isn’t Michael’s fault really, because he didn’t know what I needed, how could he? I didn’t even know at the time… I just know that after what happened between us that it’s time to move on, move forward and demand better for myself. I just want more than what I’ve been given before…”

“Wow, I really should have brought alcohol shouldn’t I?”

Alex chuckles watery and looks over at Kyle who looks like he’s been hiding his own tears.

Ugh, not really how he planned for this day to go.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to put all that on you.” He clears his throat in embarrassment.

Kyle looks annoyed and pulls on Alex’s arm. He doesn’t understand but moves closer to Kyle. When he’s close enough Kyle wraps his arms around him and Alex is stunned into silence.

“Don’t ever apologize to me Alex. Especially not for something like this, okay?”

Alex nods silently and for a moment allows himself be held. After a while he distangles himself and moves away. Kyle lets him.

“So, are you and Michael over then, for good?”

Alex takes a long moment before he replies.

“I always had this idea that we would end up together, but after everything I honestly don’t know any more. If I live long enough then maybe yeah in the future. But not for a while. I need some time to figure out who I am.”

“Okay, well even so, even after what you and Michael have been through, however bad it was at times it would make some sense too if you wanted to give yourself some time to mourn him and whatever you had together. If you don’t then that hole in your chest might just expand forever.” He says softly. Alex gulps and sighs, refusing to cry again.

“Y-yeah.”

They’re both quiet for a while, Alex just sitting with what he’s come to terms with.

“So, more Star Wars?” Alex nods and jumps on the distraction Kyle offers. He opens up a package of Maryland cookies and munches them down.

All this food is looking more and more like comfort food to him.

…….

Two films later Kyle is laying on the floor, crumbs on his chest and his head in his phone trying to figure out tiktok dances. Alex has taken up the whole couch and he feels drunk. He probably is going through a sugar high because his whole body is buzzing with energy.

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much sugar.” He groans and eats an M&M.

“Me neither.” Kyle is definitely looking way to concentrated on that tiktok thing.

“Kyle you’re almost thirty, are you sure there isn’t an age limit on the app?”

“Shut up.” Kyle mutters but puts the phone down. Alex snort and throws some popcorn at him.

“Do you have any food around?”

Alex shrugs, he has no clue. Kyle groans but gets up and walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a pair of Alex’s sweatpants that are way too small for him, but the day spent eating just junk food, the jeans he arrived in had long gone been discarded of. Kyle bangs about in the kitchen for a while and Alex doesn’t move because he’s kind of comfortable where he is.

“You have pizza, that will do.” Kyle declares and comes back out with the stack of DVDs that had been left in there earlier.

“So you pick something. I need something other than the force, lightsabers and aliens. I feel like we should both be done with aliens for the night.”

“Then why did you bring Infinity War?”

“What? I like that film.”

“God who are you?”

“What? It’s really good, also Captain America is inspiring.”

“Patriotism and steroids your thing Valenti?”

“Funny, no, well you know what he’s actually pretty hot and he’s workout routine is impressive as hell.”

“Honestly, I’m more into Robert Downey JR. and that man is over 50.” Alex quips back. Kyle looks thoughtful.

“Nah, still digging Chris Evans more.”

“I mean blondes were never my type.”

“Yeah that much is clear.” Kyle snorts. Alex throws some more popcorn at him and Kyle whacks him with a pillow.

They end up watching Legally Blonde instead and this is definitely one of the strangest days Alex’s ever had. But it’s also kind of the best ones he’s ever had too, not that he’s letting Kyle know that of course.

It gets late, way after 2am and Alex is not cruel enough that he is going to let Kyle drive home at that time.

“Okay, I’ll stay but I am taking the couch.” Kyle says. Alex scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this couch is really uncomfortable, it will mess up your posture for sure.” Kyle eyes it suspiciously.

“My bed is big enough for two.”

“Are you sure?” Kyle looks uncertain.

“I’m sure.” Alex says reassuringly.

So, they end up sharing a bed just like they used to do when they were kids and things were good and normal between them. Also Alex’s bed is definitely big enough for the two of them. He invested in this bed when he decided to stay here long term. He’s spent too many years of his life sleeping in uncomfortable beds that he’s done with that forever. So he had splashed out on this because he deserved it. And he was nearing 30, his back definitely deserved it.

“This reminds me of us as kids.” Kyle says later when they are comfortable. Ales chuckles.

“Yeah same, I hope you’re not still a snorer.”

“I haven’t snored a day in my life.”

“That’s definitely a lie and you know it.”

Kyle laughs and fake snores. Alex snorts at the ridiculousness of it all.

He falls asleep feeling a little better though.

……..

At 4:30 am they are abruptly woken up by someone knocking on his door.

“What the fuck?!” Kyle groans. Alex doesn’t even turn over, instead he starts poking Kyle’s arm. He refuses to get up. Kyle groans some more but after a while he gives in and leaves.

Alex is so tired he doesn’t even listen for who it is. That’s a mistake.

The person who has decided to come disturb him at this god forsaken hour appears to be Isobel, and her voice is loud.

“Oh my god Kyle, you left the bar a changed man I see. I can’t believe you slept with Alex.”

Alex sits up immediately, as quick as he can with just his one leg and pulls the duvet up to cover himself. Her eyes trail over him and Alex brains clicks into action because that’s definitely what this looks like to an outsider. Kyle comes running in, his hair a mess, shirtless and still looking half asleep.

“That’s definitely not what happened.” He says, Isobel narrows her eyes.

“Well it’s not really any of my business. I hope you used protection.” She sits down on the bed and Alex doesn’t understand what is happening because Isobel and him are definitely not close, and for her to sit down on the bed like she knows him is strange as hell.

“What are you doing here Isobel?” He asks.

“Oh, well we’ve been trying to get in contact with both of you for hours, but none of you have been replying. You usually answer when Michael or Maria calls but you dodged those too, which is strange but whatever.”

Alex honestly doesn’t even know where his phone is, he hadn’t looked at it all day yesterday, so he definitely has no clue what has been going on in the life of people outside this house.

“But after everything that happened I felt like being nice and charitable and drive all the way over here. I also thought you’d be up by now Captain, doesn’t your day start at 5 normally?”

Normally yeah, he might be up by this time, but not when he’s consumed his own weight in sugar and gone to bed late while dealing with things, then he doesn’t.

“So I’m charity now?” He says instead.

“Something like that, come on let’s get going. Chop Chop.”

“What happened?” Kyle asks.

“Max remembers something, from a dream maybe. Alarming things, so come one. I’ll buy you two coffee on the way there.”

She blows a kiss at Kyle and leaves the room. Kyle gives him a look at Alex sighs.

Yep, no rest in Roswell, that’s for sure.

#roswell new mexico #alex x michael #malex #kyle valenti #fan fiction #rnm 2x06 #alex manes #kylex

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