#felix's weird thoughts and drabbles
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A tiny new scene for this Obikin Neighbors AU to finally explain the title
"You know," Anakin began tentatively, breaking the silence that hung between them like a heavy curtain, fidgeting with his fingers, ”the whole street is asking what's between us. They talk, they stare-" He stopped, flicking his tongue over his lips. “You know, they just judge.”
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his features before he hid it away. "I know," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "They talk way too much."
Anakin nodded in agreement, shifting uncomfortably in the car seat. "Yeah, but with us, it's different."
Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But they know nothing," he insisted, his tone weary, feeling suddenly breathless. "They've never seen anything. We've been careful."
Anakin chewed on his bottom lip, "Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if we're being careful enough," he confessed quietly. "The rumors, the whispers... they're getting harder to ignore."Obi-Wan's expression softened. "But between suspecting and knowing is a thin line," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's the line we walk."
#the neighbours au#obikin#felix's weird thoughts and drabbles#obikin au#obikin fic#star wars inspired#star wars au#obi wan x anakin#hope you like it#tiny wip#it isn't wip wednesday yet I know but i had to write so how about we introduce WIP Sunday?#Paplatine is the leader of some bad neigbourhood Home Guard thing and actually wants to start controlling the fucking Hood#controlling the suburb is a small step to world domination Palp#what the hell am i doing
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[1:06 PM]
☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
genre: fluff drabble, slight crack
pov: 2nd person
description: Felix may or may have not taught your child how to swear like a true Aussi. (i was having brain rot for this specific scenario after a talk about hyunlix's bby and I literally could not work on anything else until I wrote it out)
pairing: dad!Felix x reader
warnings: aggressive swearing (c*nt)
word count: 172
©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
"Felix, my love, please tell me why I found our 3-year-old playing alone in her room calling her stuffed duck a 'fucking cunt?'" You ask, walking into the kitchen where Felix was making lunch for the three of you. You set the laundry basket on the floor and walk up next to him. Felix lets out a hearty laugh.
"Maybe Sir Quacks-a-Lot was being a fucking cunt?" He chuckles.
"It's not funny. She's 3 and has the mouth of a sailor!" You softly slap his arm.
"It's kind of funny. I swear she's not that bad though." He finishes putting the food on the plates and starts taking it to the table.
"Oh for fuck's sake," You hear a tiny voice say from down the hall. You turn to Felix and and quirk an eyebrow, crossing your arms.
"To be fair, I thought she had her headphones on." He sheepishly smiles.
"Uh huh... Lovebug! Come say goodbye to daddy! He's going to spend some time at Uncle Channie's for a time out."
—
Buy me a coffee?
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Permanent Taglist
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#feelbokkie writes#stray kids#skz#felix#lee felix#yongbok#lee yongbok#lee felix yongbok#felix imagines#felix drabbles#felix drabble#reader x felix#felix imagine#felix x reader#felix reaction#felix reactions#lee felix imagine#lee felix reactions#lee felix imagines#lee felix x reader
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Drabble #2: Different.
Pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader
Content: smut shot, unprotected sex, breeding, fluff(?
Notes: hope y'all enjoy it😁👍🏻
Since your teenhood you and all your friends thought you'll never change your disgusting taste in man, always falling for the bad boys, always dropped with your heart on the floor, that's why you decided not to date until you fixed this little big problem of yours.
You met Felix because of his stubborn ass, lately you've been taking yourself to this little dates visiting calm not very known restaurants, he saw you once on a brunch and lost his opportunity to talk to you, he cleared land, seas and the sky to find you again. At first you found creepy everything he did to know you, but you gave him a chance.
Felix was different to all the guys you've dated before, Felix is pretty, he's gentle, he cares about you, he's passionate, he's not afraid to show his feelings, certainly something new for your heart. He made you love again, there you were, always babying him, loving the skin ship and pure kisses, but something was missing.
"What's missing for you? The guy gives you everything you ever asked for" Chris said frustrated, your best friend was the no. 1 fan of your relationship, sometimes you think that if you break up he'd change you for Felix, you ain't blaming Chris.
"I don't think I can talk bout this with you, Chris, you're a man"
"Eyo, I'm your friend, if it's something sexual I can even give you advice" it felt wrong, but you needed to vent this to someone as quick as possible."He's too vainilla, I love him but yk, I wish he would bend me over and rail me"
"Okay, that's a lil too much for my ears you freak" he said with his infamous red ears, you laugh. He smiled creating a plan on his mind.
Days passed and you tried to forget that small issue, Felix invited you over to make pumpkin pie and watch movies, perfect date for the fall but he was weird today, nothing you couldn't ignore. Low lights, cinnamon and pumpkin candles, his sofa was full of blankets and pillows, he was sweet as per usual, you two changed into pijamas and baked a delicious pie, the time was around 12:34 am and you were cleaning the counter top while Felix was decorating the pie.
You felt something someone behind you, hugging your waist, leaving kissed on your nape and roaming hands on hips and stomach, not mentioning the boner on your back. This wasn't your boyfriend, it felt distinct, it felt stronger and sexier.
"Felix?" you sight to his touch.
"Sssh baby, let me take care of your wishes" his hands made room to your clothed center, ghosting his fingers in your clit and folds making you whine, trying to get out of his lock to touch him but it was impossible, when did he get so strong?
He took your breast and kneaded them like a baker for a living, you could feel your legs getting weaker. "I'm gonna take you right here and you'll like it, okay sweetheart?" he was expecting an answer, foolish Felix, he turned your face around, your deer eyes full with excitement and lust made him twich in his pants, definitely he should do this more often "please Felix, I'll love it".
He pulled both of your fluffy pijamas, you moaned cuz of the mix cold breeze and juices in your pussy, he bend you over on the counter and caressed your back slowly making you impatient. "Lixie please, put it in already" you pleaded, and he smacked you ass. "I'm giving it the way I want, don't be a brat now" he teased your entrance to make you suffer a little, but he couldn't even hold it like this, he you bottomed out in one go making both of you moan out loud. Exactly what you wanted, pain and pleasure.
He trusted slow but strong making you a mess "That's what you wanted, hmhm? Me fucking you dumb, baby?" he groaned, you couldn't even think at this point "You could've ask sweetheart" he said going faster, your pussy vibrated around him, the effect of his newly dominance and deep voice was messing with your brains.
Hitting the right places you were trying to hold onto anything close to you, the known sensation of a knot on your stomach was coming closer, Felix knew because of your clenching around his cock, he kept his pace and moaned close to your ear, he knew how his voice made you a total slut. "Felix! Felix! I'm cummin" you moaned, he smiled hitting in you and letting himself go too, cumming inside of you, riding both of your orgasms.
You panted with your face smacked on the counter, trying to process the juices spiling out of you and how did he knew about this fantasy. He started giving you back kisses, giving you comfort "How about a hot shower and movies, babygirl?" you slowly turned around with help, his face full of freckles was too cute to know he fucked you a couple minutes ago.
Almost on the verge of falling asleep on his arms you needed to know how he full filled your fantasy out of nowhere "A little bird told me, and I'll do anything for you" he said and gave you a kiss on your forehead, your eyes felt heavy on his embrace, your last thoughts were love, comfort and a self note to thank your big nose bird friend.
#stray kids#felix#lee felix#felix smut#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard hours#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#stray kids smut
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seungjin drabble
i'm in a very good mood tonight so let me share this drabble i wrote the other day between midnight and 1am while watching New Girl and thinking damn this should not be Jess and Nick, this should be Seungmin and Hyunjin (they share NO similarities except my lizard brain picturing them everywhere)
tags: alcohol game / kissing / pining (lots) (is it a seungjin written by me without pining?)
sorry for the mistakes etc. etc.
oh and i also posted this on twitter
Hyunjin can hear all their friends cheering for them to kiss from the opposite side of the door, his whole body is combusting. Not only is it an extremely embarrassing situation but the worst is the fact that he has been dreaming of kissing Seungmin for months now but never had he thought that it would be in this situation.
He had imagined it after a cute date maybe, if he ever had the strength to ask out Seungmin for real. Or maybe it could have involved a bit of alcohol, for courage, but definitely not a drinking game on a night he was trying to actually have sex with someone else, and Seungmin is in a more or less committed relationship with another man.
“We don’t have to do that,” he says with a laugh that he hopes sounds casual.
Seungmin sighs and the voices outside the room chant even louder, “well…”
He chews on his lower lip, and gosh why can’t Hyunjin stop staring at it?
“I can kiss you on the cheek and say we kissed? Take a picture of it,” he offers. Even the thought of his lips on Seungmin’s lip is enough for him to drive him crazy but Seungmin really does not seem like he wants to be kissed by him.
And Hyunjin does not want to lose his first kiss with Seungmin through a stupid game. It was supposed to be a trick to kiss Changbin so Felix would stop trying to steal his one night stand. It unfortunately backfired in the worst way possible.
“That’s a good idea,” Seungmin smiles. He feels like he is about to melt onto a puddle of love because of how cute he looks. “Kiss on the cheek, it is.”
(He has admitted now weeks ago that this is not a normal way to feel about your roommate platonically)
He buries all these thoughts deep down and takes out his phone. Seungmin awkwardly gets closer to him and quickly Hyunjin can feel his warmth in his personal space, he internally screams.
“Why is it so weird?” Seungmin laughs, “we live together, we’ve seen each other through everything but kissing you on the cheek is suddenly so awkward.”
“Right,” he swallows with difficulty, trying to focus on unlocking his phone and opening the camera app. His ears are ringing so loudly that he barely hears the chant anymore. “You ready?”
“Should I…? Kiss you?”
Hyunjin really hopes he is not blushing too much or that alcohol has made Seungmin completely oblivious. Which is possible considering everyone and their mothers know about Hyunjin’s delirious crush on him, but Seungmin does not.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll take the picture.”
He waves his phone like a loser and Seungmin giggles at it. He takes another step closer, “ready?” it is a whisper now almost on his neck, and it really is torture at this point. He just nods and puts the phone up, he tries to focus on the phone and not on the fact that Seungmin has to get on his tippy toes for his mouth to reach Hyunjin’s cheek and then the feeling of his lips on his skin. His lips are so soft and warm, and Hyunjin needs all his focus to actually take the picture and not just let himself appreciate the moment. It only lasts a few seconds because those smartphones really are quick to take a picture and Seungmin immediately breaks the contact when it is done.
Hyunjin stares dumbfounded at the wall in front of him, not even controlling the smile on his lips and the overall excitement at the fact that it might have been the closest physically it has ever been to Seungmin.
“Is the picture okay?”
“Mh?”
He glances around to see Seungmin looking at him with amusement in his eyes, “they’ll lose their voices if they keep screaming like that, we should send them the picture now.”
“Oh! Yeah right.”
He quickly sends the picture to the group chat they have. For a second there is a silence on the other side of the door and he feels relief and a bit of regret, sure, at the idea of being freed from this situation.
“THIS IS NOT A KISS!!” Felix yells with his deep voice, and Hyunjin will make sure he is going to pay for that. The chanting comes back even stronger.
Seungmin sighs, “IT IS!”
“NO!”
Hyunjin stays still, paralyzed. Seungmin groans.
“Fuck,” he whispers and it feels like it is the first time he hears his roommate curse like that.
He shakes it off and bangs loudly at the door, “hey, guys,” he says loudly, “that’s enough, just let us out!”
Everyone boos at that, he exhales.
“You agreed to the game at first, you have to play!”
He turns to Seungmin apologetically, “I’m sorry.”
It is his fault after all, he wanted to kiss Changbin at first like that, he had not expected for Seungmin to be pulled, it was just him being horny for a guy he had just met that had brought all this on Seungmin.
“Let’s just do it.”
“What?”
“Let’s kiss, this is nothing right? We just lost a game.”
“But,” he mutters pathetically, anxiety piling inside him like legos, “uh.”
The way Seungmin looks at him, waiting for him to do or say something but Hyunjin does not know why.
“Friends kiss all the time for fun,” Seungmin keeps explaining and it is logical and rational, exactly like Seungmin is, “it does not mean anything.”
Except nothing is logical and rational in Hyunjin, and surely not the fact that he wants to kiss Seungmin but not because it is a game, and not because it does not mean anything.
“I’m not sure…” he starts.
His roommate tilts his head, “why?”
“Because,” he stutters in his words, “I just…”
Seungmin stares at him with even more expectation and it makes him lose it completely, panic completely taking over his brain.
“I don’t want it to happen this way!” he almost screams out.
He immediately regrets it when he sees the way the other man's eyes change and confusion is readable on his face.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Hyunjin chokes out. He turns around to the door and starts banging against, “hey, open the door, now, this isn’t funny anymore!”
Seungmin grabs his arm when he is about to hit the door again, forcing him to turn around. He had never thought the latter could have this much strength, “Hyunjin, answer me, what is this about? That you don’t want us to kiss that way?”
“Because it’s uncomfortable for both of us,” he tries to justify himself, “that’s… that’s what I meant! They should not force us to do anything we don’t want.”
“I don’t think this is what you meant.”
“Well, it is,” he retorts before going back to banging on the door, “Felix!”
It hurts his fist but at this point he would do anything that means he would be able to get out of this situation. His heart is racing in his chest and the alcohol is not helping with his panic attack, making it hard to breath, even harder to think. All his body just begs to get out.
“Hyunjin..” Seungmin whispers behind him but it is barely heard as the door finally opens.
Felix looks at them with a sheepish smile, “you’re both losers for that, you know?”
“I know,” Hyunjin just answers and then immediately rushes to the kitchen.
At some point Hyunjin loses track of the night even more than before the kiss incident. He knows Seungmin’s boyfriend but not-really-boyfriend arrives and they leave to his room, and it only makes Hyunjin drink more. Felix side eyes him all the time but he rejects every tentative that he tries to talk to him. Of course, Felix ends up making out with Changbin and Hyunjin is not even jealous about that because all he can think about is Seungmin. He wants to disappear. Eventually everyone leaves.
“So,” Felix sits down next to him at their kitchen table, “what happened exactly?”
Hyunjin groans. The alcohol makes him dizzy.
“I thought all you wanted to do was kiss Seungmin.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
Felix puts away all the glasses that are still filled with liquor away from Hyunjin’s grip.
“I want to, of course, but not like that!”
He immediately puts his hand in front of his mouth, glancing around the bedroom corridors but no one comes out.
“It’s Seungmin,” he goes on, this time whispering, “I don’t want to kiss him because of a stupid game, I want to kiss him because I like him and because he likes me!”
He moves his hand toward the corridor, “but he does not,” he whimpers, “and I panicked because he was saying stuff like let’s kiss and I told him that I didn’t want it to happen like that. I’m stupid.”
“You’re not,” Felix tells him empathically, “you’re a romantic.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, it makes his head hurt, “now he knows and it will change everything.”
“I’m really sorry,” his best friend says, “I didn’t think this would lead to that.”
“It’s not your fault, we were playing.”
“Still,” he pats his arm with affection, “for what it’s worth I think it’ll be okay.”
“Whatever, I’m going to sleep.”
He gets up, waves Felix goodnight and goes toward his bedroom. He is about to open the door of his own when Seungmin’s door opens. He closes it carefully behind him.
“Hey,” Seungmin whispers in a sleepy voice.
“Did I wake you up?” he asks, trying very hard not to look directly at him and his cute pajama set.
“No, actually I was…”
Hyunjin waits a moment for the end of that sentence but nothing comes.
“It’s nothing,” Seungmin ends up saying, “you should sleep.”
It is like his brain is not the one controlling his muscles because when Seungmin turns away, Hyunjin grabs his wrist and pulls him close. For a second neither of them move, he can feel Seungmin’s heart beating under his chest. He dares to move his fingers from his wrist to his hand and Seungmin lets him do it so he gets a bit bolder and tilts slightly his head forward.
He is not sure why he is doing that, maybe all the alcohol he has drunk all night finally reached its peak and this is the thing he will be mortified of tomorrow morning. But right now, he does not care because he feels even more intoxicated by how close Seungmin is to him, and the fact that he is not moving away.
“You can,” Seungmin whispers very quietly.
Hyunjin does not think any more and he grabs his chin with his other hand and crashes his lips against Seungmin’s. It is not exactly like the first kiss he had hoped for with him but it still feels like a fire is burning in his body, and the way Seungmin reacts makes him even more eager to deepen the kiss. During the time of the kiss the rest of the world suddenly disappears, nothing else is real except how Seungmin’s body feels near him, how his lips taste. Everything is warm, everything is exciting and soft.
When their kiss ends, they stare at each other again for a while, breathless, lips swollen. Seungmin pulls away.
“Goodnight, Hyunjin,” he says.
Hyunjin watches him go back to his room, feeling like the world has collapsed around him now that he can not hold onto Seungmin.
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Engagement Ring
Kim Seungmin x fem!Reader
Your childhood best friend and boyfriend since high school, Kim Seungmin, has finally decided to propose to you! But the proposal ring he bought…… seemed a bit too small?
♩ drabble, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, messy proposal, felix being felix, probably the happiest thing i've written in a hot minute
♩♩ word count: 1.4k (kinda long to be a drabble but whatever)
♩♩♩ A/N: this one's for my dearest @seungly
this is loosely based off of this one-shot I wrote for Seungmin a while back, but you could totally read it as a standalone.
"I know this sounds unbelievable, but Felix you have to listen to me."
One morning, after Seungmin, your childhood best friend and boyfriend since high school, left for work, you called your best friend Felix.
"If this is about Seungmin… I don't want to hear it."
"Oh come on Felix, this is really important to me! I don't have anyone else to talk to but you!"
You could almost see Felix rolling his eyes at the sound of a sigh of boredom coming from the other side of the phone.
"Fine, fine, go ahead, I'm listening. Seriously Y/N, you should make more friends."
"Hey hey! It's not about me not having any friends!"
Felix always teased you like that, even though he was right……
"Back on topic, didn't Minnie and I recently start living together?"
"Yeah? Have you finally discovered his flaws?"
"Sadly, not really. My Minnie is still perfect. But… I was washing his pants yesterday and I found a little box in his pocket."
"He's going to propose to you?"
Hearing "little box", Felix immediately thought of one containing an engagement ring.
"Oh, don't interrupt me! I was just getting to the point!"
You coughed a couple of times and continued your story.
"I thought Minnie was going to propose to me, just like you thought. He's been acting a bit strange lately, every time he and I were alone he was nervous, like we were back in high school. So when I saw this little box, I was quite happy, figuring that the day had finally come. Although I was a little worried about the fact that he had forgotten such an important item in his pants pocket… But it wasn't the first day Minnie lost things."
"Can you get to the point? Where is the ring? You didn't wash it, did you?"
"No! I took it out before I washed it. The problem is what happened after I took it out!"
"What's wrong with the ring? Does Seungmin actually have poor taste?"
"Perhaps even more embarrassing than that…… I tried it on, the ring."
"And then what?"
"…… It wouldn't fit."
" HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ！！！！！！"
Felix laughed at you unmercifully.
"Don't you laugh at me! I came to call you for help! What do I do with this? I can't put it on! Won't it be awkward when he tries to put the ring on me only to find out that it doesn't fit?"
"Would Seungmin really make such a cheap mistake? Does he not even know the size of your finger? Didn't you say he could tell you were going to have your period before you do?"
"Yeah! That's why it's weird… How could Minnie have made such a mistake? I didn't believe it either, thinking maybe it wasn't a ring to be worn on the hand, but a necklace or something… But it was in a ring box, and there was no chain to string it on…… Felix, what do I do with this?"
The two of you were silent on the phone like this for a long time.
"…… Say, Y/N, this is not me cursing you or doubting Seungmin…… But is there a possibility…… that this ring wasn't bought for you?"
Kim Seungmin would never cheat on you. This was something you would never question. You've known each other since kindergarten, you've been in love with each other since middle school, you were the model couple in the whole school in high school, and your classmates thought you were married in college. You had your normal little arguments during the time, but it was never a serious relationship problem.
How could you believe that Kim Seungmin would cheat on you? Especially after he had just moved in with you?
No way, absolutely no way ……
But if it's not cheating …… What did that ring mean then?
After the call with Felix, you sat right where you were and didn't move until Seungmin came back.
"Y/N? I'm back …..Y/N?"
Seungmin came in through the door, took off his jacket and shoes, and wanted to look for you in the bedroom as usual, but instead he saw you in the living room, dazed.
"Y/N?"
He noticed that you weren't paying attention to him and came over to you with a puzzled frown as he sat down beside you.
Then, he noticed the tear marks on your cheeks.
"Y/N!"
Seungmin panicked visibly, his hand immediately brushed against yours, gripping your hand that was trembling a little. His eyes tried to meet yours, but you were deliberately avoiding his gaze.
After recognizing that he couldn't make eye contact with you, he spotted the tiny box sitting beside you.
"You found the box? Did you open it?"
Hearing his words, you immediately pulled your hand out of his palm.
Seungmin's eyes showed a hint of sadness.
"How could you do this to me?"
"What?"
"I trusted you, I always trusted you… Seungmin."
You didn't call him "Minnie", which made Seungmin even more upset.
But at the same time, there was also a hint of confusion.
Because he has no idea what you were talking about.
"What are you talking about Y/N…why can't I understand a word?"
"Did you really find someone else?"
Seungmin froze.
"You think I'm that kind of person? Y/N…don't you know how much I love you-"
"Then what's this?!"
You held up the small box, took out the ring inside and placed it in front of his eyes.
Seungmin looked at you in disbelief, and then looked at the ring.
Then he seemed to understand something and his ears turned red in the next instant.
This reaction was not expected, you looked at him with eyes full of doubts.
"You, you thought this was for someone else?"
This statement made you not know how to respond.
"Is it not for someone else? It didn't fit me at all… Did you actually buy the wrong size?"
Seungmin shook his head quickly, but then stammered, not willing to speak.
"It's not… It's not for someone else …… It's not bought in the wrong size either ……"
"So you mean this is for me?"
He nodded.
"If I tell you the truth, you have to promise you won't laugh at me…"
This time it was your turn to look at him with worried eyes.
"How could I laugh at you, Minnie ……"
Hearing the familiar nickname, he finally got up the courage to take the ring from your hand.
"This ring is …… I bought it the second week after we started dating."
The second week of you started dating? That would mean …… High school?
"When you were in high school? When we weren't even adults yet? Just two weeks into our relationship? That was when you decided to get our engagement rings?"
Seungmin nodded hesitantly, looking up to observe your expression.
You just widened your eyes.
How could there be such a silly yet adorable person in this world?
But …… It didn't surprise you that he would be the one to do this kind of thing.
"I… I realized how stupid it was right after I bought it! That's why I never gave it to you …… But I knew one day we were going to get married! So… So I kept it, planning to give it to you when we grew up and after we graduated from college. But the other day I …… When I took it out, I realized that the size I bought was way too small and there was no way I could propose with it …… I actually went out today with the intention of buying another one."
He said, as he took out another similar small box from his pocket.
"I was planning to propose to you in a place with lots of people and have it be romantic… I even booked the restaurant already! But since this has now turned out to be the case ……"
As you cover your mouth in shock, Seungmin slowly drops to one knee in front of you and opens the box, which quietly holds a dazzling ring that shines as brightly as if it were a star.
With a slight tremble in his voice, excited, and anticipating, Seungmin slowly spoke.
"Y/N… Will you marry me?"
Looking at the man you have known and loved all your life, getting down on one knee, seeing the profound love flowing from his eyes, and listening to his excited and slightly trembling voice, you thought there would be only one answer.
"I hope this ring fits me."
"Felix, you have to listen to me."
"Are you ever done? One time in the morning just wasn't enough huh? You just had to call me a second time? Just tell me Y/N, are you guys breaking up or are you getting married?"
"We're getting married!"
#skz angst#stray kids angst#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#seungmin fluff#seungmin angst#seungmin imagines#seungmin x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff
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Friend of a friend~ Changbin drabble
❖ Stray kids, Changmin x gender neutral reader
❖ Fluff, Drabble
❖ Tw: Small Injury
❖ wc:723
❖ @atiny-piratequeen @atiny-dazzlinglight @kimnamshiks ❖ Masterlist ❖
. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
I have no idea what started this XD
. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
“A B C D-” As Han, Felix and Jisung saw who could shout over the others loudest, Chan slipped away. Intent on finishing his discussion with the manager before lunch break finished, the leader left knowing that while chaotic the members could handle themselves just fine. Besides you were there, which meant a certain someone was on his best, if noisiest behavior. Chan knew should you need to corral the boys for even a moment he would be by your side in a snap helping to gather or reign them in.
And seeing how he was glued to your side as you cleaned up after them, and was even fusing to try and beat you to clean up, there truly was nothing to worry about. Being Lee Knows best friend has brought you to meet each of the members one after the other, some on purpose, some by accident. However amusing as it was, there was one person who, even after years of hearing of you from Lee Know and the others had only met you within the last few months when they were all quarantined and you came as a special favor to quarantine with them and be their maid, chef, and caretaker. Paid for of course by JYP, it had just become a habit to have you around. Upon seeing the positive effect your presence had upon the members they were hiring you on a trial basis as counselor and emotional supporter. You still did chores, and the like to help care for them, but you didn’t wash their underwear anymore, unless you felt like being generous.
However from day one of that quarantine, the others had noticed something. The loud, ravenous muscle headed, strong young man had become relatively quieter and softly do eyed and bashful. It was clear as day, even to a unhappy Lee Know, that the Seo Changbin was smitten on you. Once quarantine was over, and the puppy was allowed out to interact with you more fully he was never far from you. A room down the hall from the dorm had been prepared for you, and it had been Changbin who had nearly knocked Lee Know down to run forward and be the first to offer help moving you into your new home. Of course he had received several death threats and a kick to the ass but from the elder but nothing could wipe his smile away when you thanked him.
Now as he raced to be productive and assist you despite your insistence he rest, Lee Know was resigned to wait until the dumb rapper confessed to you. There was another less likely possibility you finally believed his words and warnings that Changbin was not just being kind to you, god if only you knew all the sappy things he said when you were out of ear shot. Or how he waxed poetically during song writing without saying your name, trying to play innocent and oblivious despite all of them knowing it was you he was alluding too. However as you straightened up and stood too quickly banging your head on speaker, Lee Know wondered if that time was really as far off as Chris kept telling him it was. Moving to go check on you himself, Lee Know smiled, Changbin had brought you immediately into his arms. The loud rapper was carefully cradling your head to his chest, concern written in his every fiber.
His once fears of your becoming a couple were almost gone now, even he could see Changbin would take care of you in a way he had thought impossible. Though he was worried that he’d walk in on you two kissing now which was weird, seeing as you were like his sibling and Changbin his younger brother-but standing there as even the younger members abandoned their tiktok making to check on you, he smiled. To be honest seeing how softly Changbin was holding you, how you had your hands on his hips to steady yourself, blushing as you used his frame to hide from your embarrassment warmed his heart. He’d never admit it, but he thought you two would make an adorable couple. Perhaps, if he just nudged Changbin you might accidentally kiss…but for now he’d give the pig headed member a little longer to win you over.
#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#stray kids x you#stray kids reader insert#stray kids imagines#stray kids#ChangBin#stray kids changbin#changbin x gender neutral reader#changbin x reader#changbin drabble#changbin x reader insert#changbin x reader drabble#Stray kids x gender neutral reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids gender neutral timestamp#skz#changbin skz#skz x reader#kpop writing#stray kids fluff#stray kids x reader fluff#stray kids x gender neutral reader fluff#stray kids x gender neutral reader imagine#skz changbin#skz changbin x reader#skz changbin x gender neutral reader#kpop fluff#changbin fluff#changbin fluff drabble
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20 questions for fic writers
This seemed like fun 😅💖
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
39 on AO3 (I’ve still got so many I never bothered to port across and probably never will 😅 All of my new stuff goes on here though!)
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
512,495 uploaded so far (though I’ve got quite a backlog still to edit and upload).
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Wonka (2023), Undertale, BNHA, You me and the Apocalypse at the moment. Maybe I’ll go back to MCU, LoTR and Witcher someday. I am really, really tempted to start writing for more Mathew Baynton related fandoms; I am utterly obsessed with Ghosts at the moment as a reader 😅 I need more Thomas/Pat, Thomas/Julian, and Pat/Cap in my life! 🔥
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Twelve steps - 2,927 kudos - MCU, post civil-war, following the twelve steps of grief after a physical injury changes Tony’s life forever.
Unleashed - 1,274 kudos - Undertale, fellswap, shameless reader/Mutt/BlackBerry BDSM fic.
One track mind - 840 kudos, MCU, found family Darcy-centric Drabble.
Unforgivable - 628 kudos, Hobbit, post-canon everyone lives fix-it.
Taking the me out of teamwork - 602 kudos, MCU, Tony leaving the avengers Drabble.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not?
I now do my best to respond to every comment I get on every fic. I used to worry it was weird or annoying, but now I just try and focus on showing my appreciation for anyone that takes the time and effort to comment on my silly things.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Ooooh gosh, either Twelve Steps (kind of a hopefully ending at least), Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices (my first finished and shared dove), or possibly Three Strikes (which I will go back to write an even darker follow-on at some point).
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Aaaa what even is happiness? Probably (Pure) Imagination; it’s just smut with a very open but happy ending. Or The Most (Un)Romantic Day of the Year (which I should up uploading in early April '24).
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I got some for one of my Undertale fics where people hadn’t fully read the tags 🥲 That fic hasn’t been finished but hopefully I’ll go back to it one day.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I mainly write smut now 😅 80-90% of that is some kink of BDSM, fetish, or kink related smut. A real mix of long fics and one-shots. I feel more comfortable writing smut than I do fluff at this point!
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I have started writing them again. At the moment, Wonka (2023) x You, Me and the Apocalypse (2016) is probably the most recent strange one? I’m also working on something Wonka (2023) x Ghosts (2019) at the moment, possibly with a bit of Spy (2011) and You, Me and the Apocalypse (2016) thrown in, but I'm not sure yet if I'll actually upload that one or not.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I’m aware of 🤞
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I believe Twelve Steps was translated into Russian but that’s it.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have not, but I’d absolutely love to! 👀
14. What’s your all time favourite ship?
At the moment? Felix Fickelgruber x Willy Wonka (2023); it used to be Duo x Treize x Zechs 😅 but even back then that was a rare pairing to find 😅 I’m not sure if I’ve got an all-time favourite ship anymore; I prefer specific tags to ships. I’ll read anything sugar daddy or most healthy RACK/SSCK BDSM-related fics. Oh! Or anything with good, detailed aftercare.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
It’s not looking great for Unforgivable 😢 maybe some day I'll go back to it.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I have no shame when it comes to smut. I’ll try writing (almost) anything at least once.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Repetition. So, so much repetition. Editing is not my strong suit, though I try my best.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
It can be interesting if done well? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it adds much to the story and can just slow things down for the readers (especially if there is no translation provided).
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Gundam Wing as a literal child back in the 00s 😅
20. Favourite fics you’ve written?
Sugar Daddy? Call Me (Sir) has to be my absolute favourite just because it introduced me to so, so many amazing new fandom friends along with my absolute favourite discord server of all time.
His (Darkness) is the one I’m most excited about writing at the moment.
For A Moment is probably the one I most want to go back and do a sequel for, I feel far too bad about leaving Felix in that situation.
Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices is probably one of my absolute favourites (and ironically one of my least kudos’d multi-chapter fics); I think it’s just a bit too dark for the fandom which I totally get.
(Pure) Imagination is the one that helped me get back into writing again, so it's got a special place in my heart.
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OK so @lunamadrigal put the idea of a Pepa and Alma bodyswap a la Freaky Friday into my head and I had to write something real quick, just a little drabble.
******************
"I'm so sorry." little Olive wails.
Dolores shushes her daughter and assures her that everything is fine. "These things happen, mija. Don't worry about it. Just calm down and let's get you to bed so you can rest. We'll undo it tomorrow." She turns to her mother and grandmother. "Everything is fine, right?"
Pepa smiles. It feels weird on her face and not just because it's not fine, not fine at all, but also because it is not her face.
And isn't that a nightmare inducing thought.
"Right!"
Alma just nods. Good thing Olive is too young yet to realize what the dark, thundering cloud over her head means.
Dolores accompanies the sniffling child into her new room. The others only wait long enough until they hear the door click shut before completely losing their minds.
"I'm old!" Pepa screeches. She hurries to a mirror. It's slow going. Her old bones creak with every step. She screeches once more when not her own face, but her mother's stares back at her "I'm so old, oh Dios, I'm old!"
"Pepa!" Her mother scolds. Everyone is weirded out seeing the otherwise animated Pepa so oddly still, with hands folded in front of her stomach and head held high. "I'm right here!"
The cloud over her head belies her calm. It is dark and thundering and raining a little. Her eye twitches every time a raindrop lands on her head.
Pepa smirks evilly and points at her mother (at herself?) "Mama. You have a cloud."
A fresh downpour starts up and Alma groans and waves her arms above her head. To no avail.
Felix stares between the two of them. He looks sick. "I don't know how to deal with this. Seriously. I don't."
"Oh yeah? Imagine how I feel!" Pepa squishes her mother's face (or is it her face now?) between her hands, still staring into the mirror. Anything to make the wrinkles disappear. "I'm so old!"
"What kind of gift is this?" Camilo wonders. "Body swapping?"
"Maybe it's a karma gift." Bruno snickers. He turns to Pepa, only at the last second remembering that he has to look at his mother if he wants to address his sister. Wow, that's a headache in the making. "That's what you get for calling me old all the time."
Pepa wants to hit him, but her old body does not cooperate. Julieta has to support her.
"Easy Pepa. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can reverse it in the morning when Olive has calmed down. Let's just go to bed."
"That's a good idea. Things will look better in the morning. Now I need some cuddles to calm down."
Felix looks dazed as he takes his wife's arm to lead her to their bedroom. Only a very pointed clearing of the throat alerts him to the fact that he has taken his wife's arm.
The body of his wife.
"I don't know if that is proper, Felix." Alma muses with the voice of Pepa. His actual wife taps her foot and has her hands on her hips with an unamused scowl, while everyone else howls with laughter.
Felix drops the arm like it's on fire.
"I don't know how to deal with this!" he wails just like little Olive earlier. "I really don't!"
#encanto#disney encanto#encanto fanfic#encanto headcanons#pepa madrigal#alma madrigal#Poor felix#Dude really doesn't know how to deal with this#It is of course reversible#Don't worry
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What if last legacy MC joined the dark side with rime? Had this piece of work for a while and decided to give some drabble and angst with Rime x MC.
Caution: There is mention of attempts at self-harm or suicide by MC cliff diving. (Kinda similar to the scene with belle in twilight in New Moon). Cussing and self-reflection. DO NOT FOLLOW ANY HARMFUL ACTIONS these characters do or say. If you are struggling with personal stuff or topics please seek the proper help or comfort.
Please note: I will do requests for Last Legacy, Arcana, Obey Me, and more. And will post a list of what I accept or don't accept. For future reference I will not mention suicide or self-harm anymore this was a one-time thing I wrote when last legacy first began. Furthermore, I hope you all have a wonderful day!
It felt soothing to feel the cold night breeze brush my skin as my senses intensified well into the night. The moon was a sparkle of never-ending twilight; which to me came across, as a broken sphere in the dark sky. Going for walks in the nearby forest was endless serenity, so I decided to do something different, to be more open to outdoor activities. Weird to not procrastinate and be motivated to stick with something. (Good job me.)Stuck in between a game and reality that's risky, mysterious, and time-consuming still ravish my mental state. I loop the events that lead up to this moment of predominant period. To others, it would be horrific but to me, it is thriller gameplay as a devoted fan of the Last Legacy series.
Porrima's noises are heard as a whisper, as opposed to the waves crashing against the rocky landscape. Looking down at my feet, I couldn't resist the thought of, "What if….?"
(If I never touched the astrolabe and someone else did? Or Rime never perished by the Lord of Shadows? What the Star sworn think of me now? What do my family and friends believe I took off towards? Does Felix hate me for breaking my promise to him? I never should have left them alone.)
"You would think after losing your life several times to me, it would be smart to NOT relax at a ridge. When anyone could nudge your insignificant tiny self off... at any moment.", at that cold statement I swivel my head to see only Rime walking out of the shadows of greenery.
Rolling my eyes I dismiss him, instead, I plant myself at the end of the ridge and kick my feet to a tune I hum subconsciously. Only to be a forgotten lullaby. Silence fills the air as the tension festers about to boil over and burn my nostrils with the acrid smell. "Loneliness doesn't look good on you, Starlight. Matter of fact-...!?" I cut him off with a sneer, narrowing my eyes at him.
"What do you want from me?
I gave you everything back, betrayed and manipulated my friends- …. the heroes of the story. Joined the "stupid" Griefers just to shut you and the SHADOW jackass up. You once said you detested my existence before, whatever, reason you attained to push me down even more. Save it, Bambi! I got my karma!! Now go kiss the Lord of Shadows ass, while it's still cold before he burns your tongue!" I huff as my face heats up and tears threaten to slip down my face. His face doesn't even flinch at my outburst, merely his stare is enough to make me break my gaze.
I lick my chapped lips, biting down to hold in a growl. All I can do now is collapse on my back to look up into the ominous star-lit sky. Breathing is easy to do, except, ….. honestly living life to the fullest. I lay there in the empty landscape with silence all around waiting for a heartless response. Nothing. (No snide comment?)
Unexpectedly, I whirl my head to the left only to see him in the moonlight looking toward the horizon. His features are flawless (sadly for me he hasn't changed since we were kids) my watery eyes scan his cleancut smooth face; of course it curves more at this angle. From his strands of white intertwined with pink or reddish tamed hair as it hovers at his shoulders; to the scar fleshed skin he exposes, yet rarely looks to. His soft voice startles me when he speaks in a composed tone, "Do you believe in Fate, itself?"
I sigh and bite my bottom lip, "A little bit."
"Would you still believe in fate if it held unimaginable nightmares waiting for you on the other side?" He gazes down at me with, such intensity I can't help but swallow any answer I held on my tongue. He smirks when he notices I recoil from giving him a straight answer. "You are right. I can not stand your stubborn ass. Although, when you scream like that I can not help... but notice only you, Mc." Our eyes stay locked in a pensive state that burns my sense of judgment. The thought of sharing a moment with a psychopathic Deer makes me shudder with….I don't know this feeling. I've noticed we're merely inches apart as I set my gaze on his passionate manic expression. My breathe hitches a tiny bit clenching in my throat for a means to escape. He notices I've gone silent now when he reaches to lift my chin up between his cold palm. (Was he always this cocky to get what he wants?) He smells like whipped vanilla and feels like death is all around; except, he makes me feel like I don't need to be fixed. Then I remember everything the world were stuck in has become from our mistakes. It's too much for me as I burst out cackling like a madman. Spit must have left my mouth because he backpedals away from me in one move.
"The Hells is so funny?!", his fluffy brown and spotted white ears twitch a little to his clear annoyance and confusion to my laughter. For some odd reason, I end up coughing in a fit of giggles to choke on my saliva. Through my watery eyes, I can see his scrunched-up expression of a pout. After a few seconds of breathing hard, I lift my body to lean forward. Wiping tears away I spit out, "The look you gave me was pure hatred, fascination, and lust that I couldn't help but laugh at our situation!" His expression turns back to a serene look. "You still aren't scared of me yet?! Guess, I have to come up with ways to torture you till you shatter!" He gets up stretching every joint he has within himself.
"Are you going to leave then?", looking up at him to receive a "tsk" surrender from his lips. "First you want me gone. Then you try to kiss me. Right after that you laugh at nonsense. Now you want me to stay. Is it madness or stupidity?" Still, he doesn't leave when I maneuver to stand up at my full height. The wind picks up that sends shivers down my backbone awakening all my nerves.
"The world is cruel, Mc, do not let its second of calmness fool you into a state of false hope for a future", the words he speaks are like ice pricks to my chest. His voice, bitter with each word he confesses to me.
"Then why not go back to the Starsworn with me? Since everything to you and I is either taken from us or gone" a say this rubbing my hands together to create a warming sensation to my frosty fingers.
Licking my blue lips I suggest to him, "You're a grown-ass man. Deal with it or apologize like a man...or buck."
"It's not simple to abandon a plan already set into motion. There are enemies in every corner, higher beings controlling the narrative, power taken from one by another." He pauses to stare at me for a second raising an eyebrow. "And then there's Gremlins like yourself with a relic you don't have a clue how to use or deserve….yet."
"Rude! I guess I deserve it. Still, rude coming from Rudolph the red nose reindeer.", I bark after whacking him on his shoulders, nearly leaving a red mark on his caramel skin. He doesn't budge to my demise.
He continues with a sad expression he rarely shows, "the choices I made can not be changed or ignored. Life goes on and on; until one is to think about the ending one receives.
No matter the wins, losses, or love I have gained was to only be left with nothing." His features start to darken with each passing second.
"Death was an ending…..
…. My friends, my family, felix disregarded the fact I still lived on within their hearts!! ……..And; however, ….he suffocates on the last words. His freckled features scrunching bit by bit as his magic spills from him like inky spirals of his anger. I can see black flames burst around us creating a hex underneath our feet to ignite with each breathe he takes. My heart shatters as I notice with my chaotic magic the blackened heart he has been caring for salvation with his thoughts and emotions. More than anything I want to reach toward him and hug my old companion who seems to have forgotten our past friendship. (He deserves to be free from this sick experiment.)
How come you were enough?
And I wasn't?"
His words clamp around my heart and soul that shatter beyond my imagination. This moment stays between us, two damaged people, with no hero insight to save them. Nothing I say or do can fix the situation we put ourselves into at the minute. Peering at him I can see him breathing hard; although, he is too prideful to admit his true emotions. To which my body maneuvers past his corrupted magic to the ledge of the cliff. He looks at me with narrowed red-silvered pupils, but it never stops the words from leaving my mouth.
"No one can replace you, Rime. No matter what happens. They may see you as an enemy, but in my heart-of-hearts I know Felix, Anisa, …..and Sage; nevertheless, cherish you in any form you would reach out and take now. Yes, you hurt them, beat them, and tried to seek vengeance. Reasonably, you have a family confrontation to face, you have a chance to fix it unlike me. Please, don't waste it."
Warning: If uncomfortable with this part please skip over.
The words hang in the atmosphere when the world dips in my perspective to which I decline off the rocky cliff. Stars burn luminous colors in my eyes to the point of my water ducts defying my sense to see…anything but blurs of color. Gravity pulling my core down towards the rocky tides hone my mind to inhale a breath of fresh air. Soon as I hit the water it thrashes my body into sharp cut rocks. Every inch of my nervous system screams pain, either from the frigid saltwater or scraps coating my skin. Air breaks between my unsealed lips where water seeps within my lungs. I close my eyelids to accept my fate all too hastily.
Proceed with reading.
Until something wraps around my torso leading me up to the surface of the ocean. My eyes snap to the one thing holding me above the waves of Porrima. (Rime?!) Coughing saltwater out of my mouth I let him drag us both to the sandy littered shore. (He saved me for what reason? Does he want to personally take me out with his own hands? Or do something even worse to me?)
Right, when the pain subsides a little I lean my head towards his hovering figure now dripping wet. "You shouldn't…", before I can speak more he covers my mouth with his hand. "Why are you crazy!! Saying foolish stuff, only to just fall off a ledge! After our first encounter, you would think to STAY. AWAY. FROM. EDGES!!" His scarred fleshed chest heaves with every breath he takes as he removes his hand to wipe over his soaked face. No matter his temper he checks my face with a look of concern/irritation who knows at this point. He sits me up slowly with his hand still rubbing circles on my upper backside.
"Well look on the bright side", I heave a breathy sigh. I look up at him with a wicked grin.
He rolls his red-pinkish eyes as he slumps his forehead against mine. "I wasn't aware there was any bright side." He sighs as he can only ask one thing.
…………."Which is?"...........
"I can finally confess I was saved by a psychotic deer with an urge of vengeance", I pause. "Maybe a "good-looking, dripping hot" deer…?!"
After I said that he just gets up steadily to pull me on my soaked toes. He turns to walk away. Without turning in his soaked see-through silk clothes he waves his hand to open a portal. His silky voice drips in a sullen tone, "Hurry up, Mc. I don't have all night to dry us both off before sunrise." I stand but not before asking, "Perfect, you know a dry-off spell?" His head swivels to stop and stare at my wet complexion, in his most infamous grin, narrowed eyes, and as his ears perk. "I was reckoning we take turns heating each other up to get a feel of each other first." Chuckling at my red-tinted face he goes into the portal as I stand star-struck. Till I eventually follow behind to an infinite adventure ahead for us to discover together in the meantime of our temporary truce.
#rime varela#rime solano varela#last legacy#gender neutral reader#fictif#last legacy rime#angst#tw s3lf harm
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2022/05/01
If you offer drabble requests DT is going to challenge you a little, you know that, right? He's a bit of a tester when it comes to things (even himself drawing) -Wolfy
Edward accidentally revealing his powers during a fight with Felix, just Felix being the only enemy -DT
Dude, some of this shit I write and think of myself is weird as shit.
Gimme some time to make a request notice and then you can go ham on it, buddy-
(Lemme do this fucking prompt real quick-)
TW: VIOLENCE AND BLOOD, PANIC ATTACK TOO-
---
Edward was sure he was going to die.
He was going to die, wasn't he?
The pressure on his wind pipe was excruciating, causing him to cough and wheeze as punch after punch landed cleanly to his face. He wasn't sure how or when Felix got the upper hand, but he did and Edward can't escape.
"How does it feel now, Edward??" Felix growled, said boy's nails digging into his wrist in desperation. "Not so high and mighty, are we!?" Edward bit back a whimper, fear flashing in his eyes as Felix grabbed him by the face, lifting his head.
Edward started to scream as Felix bashed it against grassy ground, over and over and over again. Dizziness, fear, it sparked in him like a forest fire, kneeing Felix in the back as he was thrown for a loop. His throat was clogged with the urge to hurl, yet it was blocked by the hand around his neck, and Edward's breathing grew even more stunted with each powerful slam.
The world became blurry, flickering in and out, in and out. Edward was screaming, there was so much screaming as Felix just grinned and laughed, rambling about how he'd soon be king, soon be the one on the throne, at the top of the hierarchy.
Edward didn't want this.
He didn't want this anymore.
He was blacking out, so much was happening; what could he do, what could he do? Thoughts were no longer coherent, he was sure his skull should have cracked by now, at the very least a concussion. Nothing was making sense, nothing felt real anymore. He wanted out-needed out. Out, quick, think-he couldn't think- there's too much, just too much, do something, he needed to do something.
So he did. He did do something.
There was a scream, he heard a crack, and there was a sudden weight lifted off him, and every movement stopped. His hand fell from Felix's wrist, only to feel a sharp tug from the tips of his fingers as he coughed and sputtered, sweating profusely as he took in deep breathes, almost letting the sick pour out of his mouth, but he kept it in. There was still screaming, was it his? No, no it wasn't, it was Felix. But why? What happened?
Edward sat up in an instant, grabbing his neck and scooting himself away from the threat, only to hear a sharp scream, and another snap. His fingers wouldn't move the way he wanted to, yet that feeling was so familiar. Why? Why? What's happening?
His mind began to clear; slowly, gradually. His eyes started to refocus as he gripped his chest with the normal feeling hand, finally looking up to see what was wrong.
He almost screamed along with Felix.
His strings-his fucking strings, they were wrapped almost deadly tight around Felix's wrist, which he could now see was bent too far to be normal, and Felix's face was all shades of blue as he screamed his lungs out, tears pouring from his eyes.
Edward broke his wrist. Felix was screaming from the pain. Edward used his strings on him. Felix was screaming from the horror. Edward sucked in a slow breath as Felix tried to tug and pry, only to choke back a sob when his wrist practically flung to another broken posture, another crack ringing out into the air. That was three, broken three times within the minute.
He couldn't do this, he couldn't watch. He hated Felix, but he just couldn't do it. The strings loosened their grip, and fell to the dirt floor as Felix collapsed, cradling his fucked-up wrist as Edward swiftly retracted his strings, choking on panicked breath.
"W-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Felix shrieked as Edward stood on trembling legs, blood trickling from his mouth and nose, bruises on his face and all over his body along with horrid scratches and gashes from stray branches, his ankle was probably messed up too, just not as badly as Felix's wrist.
Edward didn't answer, simply watching with a paling expression as Felix leaned down, head pressed to the ground as he cried and cried like a baby. He raised a shaky hand to his line of sight; whether he was reaching for Felix or an unknown answer, he didn't know.
"I...you weren't...meant to see this..." Edward muttered, half to himself, but Felix responded through tears anyways, "YOU T-TWISTED FUCK!! YOU FUCK!!" He screamed insult after dirty insult through the excruciating pain as Edward numbly backed away, trying to calm his pounding heart.
"...No one will believe you," he found himself saying, slowly shaking his head when Felix looked up at him through tear-stained eyes. "No one will believe you, so don't bother trying to expose me..." Edward rose a hand to his cheek, finally noticing the tears mixed with his blood and sweat as he sniffled.
"Please. Just stay quiet."
---
WOW that got emotional-
Challenge me, I dare you, you'll lose uwu/playful
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I hear my heart breaking tonight
Guess who is back? Obikin RomCon AU, still inspired by Mitski lyrics, found another gem in my drafts...
(a movie still that may or may not have been the inspiration for the last scene :-)
AU prompt: Anakin is born in messed up circumstances, forced to travel from one city to the next, never forming any sense of real identity or feeling of belonging until they somehow end up in Tatooine, a town somewhere in Oregon - but that can't be it, can it? Is that all he can expect of life? That is until he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, a boy two years his senior, so untouched by the bad sides of life, unreachable, that stands for everything that he can never have. An idolized love is born. But Obi-Wan deserves someone better than him, doesn't he?
(My roomate literally demanded for hours for Anakin's perspective on the happenings of "I glow pink in the night in my room" (here the original text if you are interested, it's not necessary to be read for this one) It turned into an expanded version with character study aspects (writer's anger I call it). Prepare for a long ride and a few TW unhealthy coping mechanisms, strong words, Anakin has anger issues and is need of a hug, seriously give the man a hug, and a steamy situation is mentioned. All thank my roommate for the idea and ENJOY!)
Anakin was six years old when the harsh realization of how fucked up his life is hit him for the first time. Fucked up, fuck, fucking, Life is shit. A cheap bitch with an open backdoor for every motherfucker. As an adult thinking back, these curses and slurs pass his mind. But back then, as an innocent kid, he might have not known them but til this day they express perfectly how he felt, rolling off his tongue with this perfectly burning sensation.
Fuck. It tastes as it feels. Harsh pronounced with a tad of spit to it, the k vibrating in the buccal cavity. Red-hot coal on his tongue.
Fucked up.
Sitting there on the terrace in their small backyard, his legs dangled over the edge, a crumpled tissue in his hands for his runny nose, it had hit him like a truck.
His 6th birthday was last week. A muffin on the breakfast table had marked the passing of another year in Oasis Spring. A cheap chocolate chip treat, that came bundled with others in the two-dollar section of the bakery aisle in the local supermarket. The muffins had smelled of lemon, not in a refreshing or natural way but in an annoyingly and excessively sugary manner, much like scented soap. The kind you find in tacky highway motels.
But his mother had smiled, so he had tried his best to smile too, forcing it onto his face. “Close your eyes, blow out your candles, and make a wish, Ani.”, she had said, “But don’t tell anybody or it won’t be granted.” He had nodded and then done as he was told, shut his eyelids, pursed his lips, and blown out his candles. Something inside him had halted. He hadn’t known what to wish for. Just one stupid wish. Something childish. Something other kids his age would wish for, but what did they actually wish for?
He didn’t know.
At the end of the day, what was there to wish for in Oasis Spring?
Six lit candles for another year stuck in the middle of the desert, six candles for more midnight microwaved lasagna dinner with plastic forks, country music, and fight at the breakfast table, six candles for more barking dogs in the neighboring backyards and the clinking of bottles next door, six years candles for another year closer to sweet sixteen and the taste of his first canned beer, six candles for being stuck here just like anybody else.
So, there he sat, a week later, barefoot on the terrace of their cookie-cutter tract house, with a runny nose and cargo shorts that barely covered his bruised knee. A band-aid had been plastered over it, carelessly, already peeling off. His skin itched, scratched from falling onto the sandy asphalt all day. He rubbed with his fingernails over the wound gingerly, careful to keep sand out of the scratch just like his mother had taught him. “You don’t want it to get infected.”
He was six and still not able to ride his bike properly. Shame tinted his cheeks and his eyes started to burn. Stupid training wheels. It was not his fault that here, in stupid Oasis Springs, all the roads were sandy and full of potholes.
And in this god-forsaken place, he would remain all his life, gradually becoming more and more like the others. The signs had always been there – the stale muffin with the floury dough for his birthday, the screaming adults inside doing “grown-up talk”, the bruises on his mum’s arm, the scratches on his knees. His life was a mess and he was stuck in it.
He was angry and at the same time he wanted to cry, so he pushed his knees up to his chest and swung back and forth, trying to calm himself down.
There was no one to console him. The other kids would only pinpoint at him and the adults were inside, the door closed, impossible for him to get in. His mum had sent him out to play like he was a toddler or a dog or some kind of pet. He scoffed angrily, wiping away his tears. She had knelt down to him, ruffling through his tousled curls, and told him that he should be a good boy now and go out and play with his friends – except he had no friends and she knew that.
He was too tiny for his age, all bones, and sinews, skinny like matchsticks, doe-eyed like a girl, always dressed in the same shorts and T-shirts from charity shops, and got his hair cut by his mum, which meant not at all or bowl cut at best. The curls reached down to his shoulders, and the ends were bleached by the desert sun, making him appear blond – like a stupid cherub or something. The kids at elementary school had dubbed him Tinykin. The perfect target to be made fun of. They grabbed him by the hair, rolled him over the asphalt (the one with the potholes) or stole his shoes – just as they had done today.
In the past, his mum had only smiled at him when she saw the bruises on his arms and legs. Bath day comes only once a week, Bathtuesday with lukewarm water and cheap shampoo. Sometimes he tried to avoid it, feeling ashamed of his marks, throwing a tantrum, and crying like a baby. Anything to escape her sad smile. Her treatment was always silent, almost mechanical. She never said anything and merely applied a band-aid over the black and blue marks, as if they would help anything. They never did, band aids were for open wounds, not bruised skin. But she felt better doing it, taking care of him. He recognized it in her eyes, so when he had to, he let her do it.
Just for the sad smile to stop.
He found himself on the verge of crying ugly his doe-eyes out, which made him look like a girl, feeling rejected, put back into the role of a toddler, unable to communicate his pain, clenching his aching knee and thinking how fucking unfair the world was. It was not his fault he was born this way, with a girly face, with a mum that does only sadly smile, growing up in fucking Oasis Spring in Arizona, in the middle of the unforgiving desert, with grocery prices unpayable and no way to escape it all.
If he could, he would grab his bike and ride into the horizon just like the end in one of these western movies, he watched in the middle of the night when mum and the man they live with were absent – just with his bike and not on a horse. In some daydreams, he pictured himself with a cowboy hat, a smoke nipped between the lips, his plastic Nerf gun clicked to his belt like Terence Hill or Bud Spencer in “God Forgives… I don’t.”, a lasso coiled on his back, and a herd of cattle ahead.
But of course, he was six and was not able to climb on a bike properly. He was chained to this place like a dog to its cage. A sob broke free from his throat. Fucking life. Never granting him anything.
Maybe he should have wished for that last week, the candles still burning in front of him atop his pitiful muffin.
He pulled his legs closer, hugging them like they were his only solace, much like he’d hold his stuffed bear at night. Maybe his mum was right with sending him out, he was behaving like a toddler, sniffing back tears with his eyes filled to the brim. Six years of age but still a tiny-winy crybaby inside. He will not cry; he told himself and clenched the underlip between his teeth, refusing to let the emotions take over. He was not a girl like his peers said he was. Not a Pussy like Bud Spencer or Terence Hill would say – or he imagine them saying.
So, he roughly wiped away the tears, that kept coming, and grimaced, feeling utterly ridiculous. Like an idiot with a painted face in the corner taking up space.
Inside the house, he could hear his mum’s angry shouts; followed by a loud thumb as if something had been thrown down to the ground. This time the fight seemed to be different. The arguments were typically loud and harsh, but never physically violent. The property was never damaged. The things they own were sacred because they only own so little. Shoes were worn until they fell apart and even then they were hoarded rather than thrown out. In this family, they seemed more inclined to hurt each other than their possession.
Later, the windows were shut, sealing in the noise, the screams, the world – leaving isolated Anakin outside.
The adults had forgotten about him. Anakin spent the night on the terrace, curled together into a ball, still barefoot with a runny nose, clinging to his clothes and shivering in the night’s sudden chill. Sleep did not come easy to him, it always slipped from his grasp before he could dive into it fully. No dream he could escape into. So, he spent the night staring at the starry sky, cursing fate, doubting God (he never much was of a religious person), or whatever higher-up power was up there.
Was it too much to ask for just someone to hug him? To tell him that it is ok to cry?
Or simply remember that he was freezing outside and open the door?
The next morning, his mum packed their bags, stuffing random things into their suitcases. She was angry, cheeks redden with frustration. It was the first time Anakin saw her in furious and it was almost like she was ashamed of her wrath. She wandered around the house, piling up his toys, cooking utensils and other random items. At one occasion, she threw a plate against the wall in her haste. Then she felt apologetic, collected the shards, clumsily pieced them together with one minute glue from the dollar tree and then at the end, kissed him on the crown of his hair, telling him that everything would be alright. “Don’t worry, Ani, I promise.” He wasn’t sure whether she said that for him or for herself.
It was evident that more than just a plate had been broken and it wouldn’t be as easy to be glued back together as the cheap china.
She was like a hazard, pushing clothes into the suitcase with so much force, that the zipper ripped open. Anakin watched as she cried and then brought yarn and needle and fixed the bag. It was a never-ending cycle of emotions and shattered glass. Sometimes things got messed up in her hurricane. What followed was a halfhearted attempt of redemption and a kiss on top of Anakin’s head. The fleeting touch of her lips that she gave him out of some obligation she felt. To be a better mother, to look like a better mum or to feel like a better mum. She loved him, he knew that, so let himself be hugged, kissed, or plastered with band aid to make her feel better – or just to avoid her sad smile.
After a couple of hours, she packed their bags into her car, stuffing it to the brim until nothing more fitted inside. It was not her car technically. It belonged to the man lived with them in the cookie cutter trac house and who had been the other partner in the screaming match last night. But this morning his mum did not care for his and her, splitting things up, just taking with her whatever she could get her hands on. It seemed like she did not care for a lot of things, wandering around the house like a whirlwind, leaving behind a trail of destruction. So, she loaded their things into the trunk, fastened Anakin’s seatbelt, drove out of the garage and sped down main road.
It was a Friday morning, they left Oasis Springs.
The early morning sun had bleed over the horizon and the first heat shimmer lingered over the asphalt. It was four hours until school would start and two until the town would slowly start waking up. Most of their neighbors had closed window shutters, not noticing them passing by, too caught up in their own world. Only the old Nicky, an ex-veteran, sitting in his white tank top and boxershorts in the front lane, barely raised his head when they drove past him. He muttered something like “God...”
Oasis Spring wouldn’t miss them.
Anakin asked why they had left his bike in the house, he still wanted to learn riding it. His mum only smiled as answers. It was the sad one. The one he hated. So, he kept his mouth shut, not pressing any further.
He looked out of the window, recognizing remnants of his childhood pass by. The streets with the potholes, he had wished to speed down on his bike till the crossroad. The neighborhood, tract house lining up the next tract houses but not the nice variant Anakin saw in movies. No white picket fence, no mown front lane, no swings in apple trees. The difference to a trailer park was little. Then the concrete cuboid with the tiny sandy backyard, that was his elementary. The pathetic palm tree on Kinsey Alley, which he had fallen down and scarred his brow when he was four, doing some stupid bet with the neighbor’s boys. Mr. Miller’s house with the dog cage in the backyard. Anakin had sneaked to it one time, expecting cute pups. Instead, he found a Pitbull, barking at him aggressively.
Last night he had cursed Oasis Springs, his life, but even now driving past it, he was carrying it within him, in this car, in the air he breathed, in his mother’s heart. It was inescapable. There would be other Oasis Springs, different sandy streets, new kids mocking him, other barking pitbulls and more screaming matches behind closed doors.
Because his life was fucked up.
His mum’s eyes were focused on the road as she turned the steering wheel to the right, right like she was driving north, out of the town. She did not notice her son clenching his hands to fists – or if she did, she did not say anything.
After five minutes Oasis Springs was out of Anakin’s sight when peeked out of the window. Seven more hours and the godforsaken desert was gone, after two days the whole state of Arizona. Out of sight, not quite yet out of mind, he thought, running his fingers over his bruised knee.
=
After eight years of running, ending up in Oregon and with that in Tatooine was not the plan – at least not from the beginning. They just happened to stay there. At first glance, Anakin thinks Tatooine is just one of the many intermediate steps, they do on their trip. It always works like that, his mum chooses some town nearby, she gets a job there, they move out of their motel room into some kind of semi-permanent living condition with the new money and then she gets him to attend the education there. Once the bills start to pile up and the dept collectors chase them, she packs their things, drives north as she always does, and then they start somewhere else from scratch again.
But somehow, they manage to stay in Tatooine. The bills still come in, and the dept collectors still knock at their door but nothing drastic happens that would force them to run away like always. No screaming neighbor, no bad ex-boyfriend, and definitely no dead man in the pool.
After three months of working, his mum finds them a tiny apartment a five-minute walk down the main road, she takes over the night shift at the local Wendy’s and enrolls him in Tatooine junior high. He is 14 and a half, too old for junior high but that is their only option. His CV is a patchwork of gaps and bad grades, so he repeats a year. It’s only for his best, the teachers say and his mum believes that.
She tries her best, she really tries, he knows that when he sees her putting her strands into the hair net, flipping burgers in some greasy diner till late at night, and then cleaning the floor on her knees for the extra bucks.
He knows it when she comes home at night, still trying to be cheerful after a long day of work, and when she tries to buy him things to make him fit in better.
These things are clothes from Goodwill, band T-Shirts from the late 70s when she was young. Music, that nobody listens to anymore. They are not his style – they are black, at least - but she loves it when he wears them, make her feel like a good mum. So, he does it. No matter, that they do the opposite of what his mum thinks they do.
She never wants him to get a job, even though he has got pretty good at tinkering with vehicles, she wants him to focus on school instead. As if he would care for that, he curses silently, it is only purgatory. The moment he walks in, the teachers have already formed their opinions about him, just punishing him ends and ends for simply existing.
In Tatooine, he finds Mace, a grumpy old man, who owns a workshop on Jefferson Alley, a seedy neighborhood but good enough for him. Anakin is 15 now, all the height he missed when he was a kid, has rushed to him in his teens. So, now he towers over all his peers and most of the adults, tall and lanky, all bones and sinews. He looks older than he is and he uses that to his advantage – at least, he thinks he can outsmart Mace.
Mace knows Anakin’s real age but he decides not to comment on it. He lets the boy tinker in his workshop – that is more a garage than an actual shop – lets him spray paint the cars, wash off the dirt, and if Anakin is patient, lets him help fix the vehicles. He pays the boy a minimum wage in the garage but what can Anakin do? He is lucky enough that Mace even lets him work there.
Sometimes Anakin ditches school just to take over one shift, midday especially, feeling better with his hands dirty under some engine cover than in the hallways or the physics classroom. His engineering talent is only wasted there. He loves the smell of the motor oil, the grease of the machines, and the scent of the solvents in the paint, better than anything the school can offer.
But most importantly, Mace lets him be himself – or the version Anakin has become. Mace gifts him the first mechanical parts for the build of a motorbike, which he has no use for anymore. He does not comment on Anakin’s black-painted nails and once the boy asks him, he just shrugs with his shoulders and shaves off the boy’s curls with a razor blade. It is nearly buzzcut, in the back there are still some longer locks, that Anakin ties together to a tiny ponytail, a short mullet.
The haircut makes Anakin feel relieved like he finally shed off his past, he is no longer girly with his now-cut-off curls. No one can grab him by the hair, roll over asphalt or steal his shoes.
He is not Tinykin anymore.
The kids in school fear him with his shaved mullet. The scarred brow from the fall when he was four, the black nail polish, the oldies Rock’ n’ Roll’ T-Shirt, and the biro doodles on his arm, which he draws because he has no tattoos yet, looking realistic though. They all perfect the image people want to see in him.
For the first time, Anakin feels powerful. His looks, his attire, and his public image have become his armor, shielding him from any sort of harassment. Tinykin is gone. The kids whisper when they see him in the hallways with held-up hands but stop when they feel his glare on them. Fear is control, he realizes, brushing through his short hair with one hand, one leg crossed over the other, the used combat boots shimmering polished, red shoelace marking him as a leftist.
So, he lets them stare at him, he lets them call him a Satanist and he lets the teacher think of him as a delinquent, never granting him the hallway pass. As a provocation he smokes on the school grounds, shares a pack with the older students, smudges coal liner under his eyes, and picks up any fight he can, snarling with bared teeth like an animal.
There is surprisingly much power in his lanky limbs, he thinks one night, hunched over the sink, observing his bruised rips in the mirror. He hisses once he touches them, his skin is adorned by black and blue marks, some already fading while others blossom on top of them. Battle marks. Soldiers are proud to carry them, so he should feel the same.
Tinykin can bite now, he has gone through a metamorphosis, and he is like Chuck now. A Pitbull. No longer girly.
And it makes him feel good, the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he sees red. Him pushing his body further than he ever thought was possible, the limps aching out of exhaustion, the sinews impossibly stretched but still going further. And he likes the dominance, the sentiment, when the others crouch beneath him, feeling sorry about whatever comment they made about Anakin or his mum. Anakin makes them beg – or wishes to make them beg, wishes to spit on them.
The thought is aggressive and venomous. Suddenly he is afraid of it, afraid of going too far, afraid of the Pitbull inside. Still, he is dependent on it, addicted to the taste of blood on his tongue. So, he just continues. Fist fighting, bleeding, caring for the wound, and fighting again.
One day he will end up in the hospital but he still does not care.
One fistfight later, it is enough, states the school when they call him into the administration office. He just shrugs it off, his lips bleeding, from one punch, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. The other one looks worse, is his only thought as he stares down at his split knuckles.
It has consequences. Everything has consequences. Life does never grant him anything.
The principal’s office calls his mum and tells her about his disruptive behavior in class, how his grades have fallen since last December in every subject, that he has vandalized the school toilet with Anarchic political propaganda, dresses inappropriately, and is missing in every second-class unit. She apologizes over the phone, begs him to not throw him out yet, and gives him another chance, offering a donation with money they do not have.
So, they let him stay and punish him with detention. For two weeks he scrubs gum from school desks, cleans the dirty tiles in the toilets, or sweeps the schoolyard. His mum takes over another shift at Wendy’s to pay off the money and smiles at him sadly. There is disappointment in her eyes. He feels embarrassed, pinches his bruised lips, avoids looking at her, and still starts to cry, feeling suddenly like his real age, a fifteen-year-old teenager, and hugs her like a little kid. She only hushes, strokes through his now short hair, and plasters one of her infamous band-aids over the cut on his lips.
Her words are that people like them just have it harder in life, so they must keep fighting.
People like them? People who just take their legs and just run away all life?
He hates that expression, hates that he was born like that, that he never had a fair chance, and feels a sting of hatred for his mum. Why did she even get him in this messed up world if she knew his life would be a fuck? She had done that to him, chained him to this, made him endure it.
And if she talks about fighting back, why does she always submit to others and crawls on her knees over the dirty tiles in some diner just for a few bucks more while other people spit at her?
Why did she back off just because the principal called her? Why did she not have his back like a real mum would? Why did she not defend him?
But his mum only wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly, smiling at him. It is the sad smile, the one that always shuts him up. She walks through the tiny living room area, grabs two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and puts the takeaway on the dishes. It is left over from Wendy’s she got to take home after her shift. “Come on”; she says as if she had not just bribed the principal, “Turn on the telly, there is a Bud Spencer film on Channel 3.”
For a second he stares at her. He has just cried a minute ago but he turns to the TV, a cheap model he got from eBay for free, and turns on the screen. It awakes with a screech, that makes him wonder how long the model will last. She takes the seat next to him on the couch. “Everything will be alright.”
He cringes and feels the sudden urge to curl up into a ball or disappear. He truly feels like 15 now. Nothing is fine and she knows that. But she searches for his warmth and cuddles him. He feels uncomfortable with the contact, incredibly stiff, but he lets her do it just so that the fucking sad smile disappears.
That night his mom falls asleep in front of the Television while watching Anakin’s favorite Western. In the dimmed lights of the electrics, he recognizes the exhaustion, that marks her face, new wrinkles have formed next to her eyes. He carries her to bed, sitting next to her for an awkward minute. He fidgets with his fingers, feeling embarrassed of his teenage anger outburst from before but not knowing how to put it into words, so silence stretches out in the room.
“I’m sorry.”, he tries to whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry for calling you a bad mum.” He nearly swallows the words, that is how uncomfortable he feels speaking them.
He waits for her to react but she is already asleep.
Maybe she is a fighter, he thinks as he rests her head on a pillow, a warrior just in a different way than him. She is not young like him and has not the power in her limbs to just start a fight with everyone who behaves nasty.
Another wave of embarrassment hits him, so he escapes the room, flinging a window open, gasping for breath, just out of that room.
So, he sits on his windowsill, biting his bruised lips ashamed, the pain clearing his head. With his nails, he breaks off the Black polish, a nervous habit. His mind conjures images of his six-year-old self. The same heated anger wrenches his heart, he hears the phantom scream of his mum inside, cries ugly with a runny nose, cursing the world silently for his fucked-up life.
He does not want to wake her up that night. Does not let her see that she made him tear up.
=
Half a year after his 15th birthday, he has collected enough parts to build an entire motorbike from scratch. Mace helps him and tells him the do-s and don’ts of the process while handing him the screwdrivers. Once it is finished, he pads the teenage boys on his shoulders. There is even a spark of pride in his eyes.
Mace has grown into some sort of fatherly figure over the last year for him. The man has a stoic face, never emotionally caring for others, never hugging Anakin, never asking how he feels – but he helps Anakin, never asks questions when the boy is on his mat at 2 am or if he has school tomorrow, just silently guiding the boy into the garage and to his newest project.
Mace never raises the wage, still paying the boy only a few bucks an hour but he buys him lunch when Anakin takes over the midday shifts – that is the deal, midday shift for a Chicken Sandwich, or he gifts the boy mechanical parts for Anakin’s projects and lets him build them in his garage once he is finished with his tasks.
One of them is the motorbike. At 15 and a half Anakin’s bike is finally ready, half a year too young to be legally driving it, but who cares for a license in Tatooine? He grabs a can of spray paint and colors it in black to match him but something is missing. Mace nudges him slightly, handing him another spray can. It is red. He adds another single line, creating the illusion of fire when it is speeding down the streets. A flaming motorcycle, could be a reference to a Comic book, Ghost Rider, or something, Anakin grins to himself as he puts on the helmet to drive it for a test run.
It is Mace’s Helmet, the same for the Jackett, that Anakin has thrown over his shoulders, some bike gang insignia stitched on the back, two knives crossing. The older man has said that he had no use for it anymore and now that Anakin has a bike, it would be better off with him than lying around in the dust of his closet. Anakin had started to tear up but Mace had just hushed, grabbing the boy for a brief hug, in which both felt uncomfortable and later just stared at the ground embarrassed.
It was too early for such an intimate act.
When his mum recognizes him pulling up in front of their apartment building, she is anxious. She runs down the stair, meeting him, about to scold him but then she sees the joy in his face.
So, she asks if he is now finally able to live his dream and ride a bike. He nods and he speeds down Jefferson Alley, his mother clinging to him in the backseat, screaming against the wind.
For the first time in fifteen years, Anakin feels truly happy, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Maybe his life isn’t as fucked up as he thinks.
=
He is sixteen when his curls have grown back so that they reach his jaw now. He lets them hang loose, never caring for them with any styling product like his peers do. They frame his angular countenance, the small chin, the sharp bone structure, that has grown more prominent in the last year. His face still has big eyes and plush, reddish lips but they are contrasted by his sharp jawline now. He looks different, harder, matured, marked by life just like his scared body, he thinks when he sees himself in the mirror. A fighter. A troublemaker.
The brio doodles on his arms have become real tattoos, once he has hit sixteen. Now a barbed wire twines around his triceps, fading down into billows of smoke, a cityscape blooming on his lower arm. His chest is covered by a St. Andrews cross. Rex looked at him strangely when Anakin requested to let a catholic motive cover his chest and lower abdomen. He raised his brows the stencil hovering in the air. Are you Sure, his eyes said. Anakin has only nodded.,
He is not religious but it’s a sign of protection. Why should he not feel a need for protection?
He still spends most of his time at Mace’s workshop but somehow school has become more prominent too. The cause is the invention of the Tatooine High Physics Club – not that he is particularly interested in Physics, quanta, or atoms, they just give him the perfect opportunity to tinker. Last month he built his first robot and the other had helped him with the programming. IT has never been his strong suit. To a certain degree he was interested in the construction of electronic devices but the world inside, the software has never been his aim. Partly fault for that was that he has never had a computer at home and has ditched most of the classes where it was used – but suddenly it became of interest to him.
It is a better future, his mum tells him one dinner, IT is better than whatever he does at Mace’s garage. He could study computer science someday. He looks at her, suddenly feeling nausea, the leftover from yesterday rumbling in his stomach. He digs his nails into his palms, biting his tongue, holding any backlash back.
They have started to have a lot of conversations like that since he started Highschool.
Just look at him, he thinks, the tattoos, the black painted nails, the music taste, the red shoelace in his combat boots, the biker jacket over his shoulders, he is not the guy for Uni. It would be the same as in school. Everywhere he goes prejudice marks his way. He would have to fight harder than anyone else, suddenly get a good GPA, and find a scholarship. As if he could ever afford to go to college on his own.
He would just end in a purgatory of endless debts, that he never in his life could pay back.
He will just end like his mum. After the school graduation, he will work at Mace’s workshop full-time but that will never be enough money to support them both, so he will take over any job he finds, flipping burgers in some kind of fast-food chain and cleaning the floor for the extra few bucks.
He swallows. It is like he was born to become like that. It was his destiny from the start and after all these years of ditching school, fighting, and doing the absolute worst he has only dug his grave further. Life was never fair to him. The fucking world is unfair. He was destined to become like that and everybody has pushed him further on that path.
Anakin feels sad and then angry. All the sadness that does wrench his heart, he pushes it into his anger. Wrath is an easier emotion to deal with than tears and all the fuck. When he feels angry, he can get drunk and pick up the next fight till his knuckles split open and blood runs down his cheeks. Life does make Anakin kneel to it but in a fight, he can make others kneel to him. Be the one in the prominent position for one fucking second in his life.
When adrenaline is running through his veins, the only thing that counts is who is the better fighter and not who was born in the better situation.
Or he could fuck, get wasted and pick up someone, lets himself be dragged into a cheap motel, and then shag like an animal. It’s carnal intercourse, not lovemaking – who has time for that and who is the idiot and believes in love – then he is like a predator, just doing whatever his body needs to let go of this anger. The next morning, he forgets whoever his partner was, not that it does ever matter to him. He just leaves the motel room early the next morning.
He has become an arsehole, he realizes, and his mum would be disappointed.
So, sitting there at the dinner table, all his behavior of the last years, all the time he has acted out of anger or thought he has fought the unfair system, start piling up on his shoulder, revealing themselves to be only burdened.
Others have never liked him, so he became unlikeable instead of trying, bared his teeth, and hissed like an animal.
Others have seen the delinquent in him, so he has become the delinquent, smoking on school grounds, fighting, and ditching class.
He runs to the bathroom and only vomits, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands gripping the sink. His mum does ask him what happened later, there is a spark of worry in her eyes, but he refuses to answer, once again putting up the face of the insolent child, the troublemaker.
“I’m sorry.,” something deep inside whispers.
=
Anakin has his first time with a man the day his mum gets the cancer diagnosis. It is a rainy day in August, and the cloud ceiling lowering over the town of Tatooine, suffocating him from above. How ironic, a fucking symbol for his emotions. He chokes, he swallows, he lights himself a smoke, grimacing bitterly.
The hospital calls him at work, midday shift like usual. Mace tells him to pick up the phone, he suspects nothing, speeds down to the telephone, and answers. For the next fifteen minutes, he listens to the doctor in a trance, answers yes when it is needed, yes to if he would pick up his mum – she is still affected by the anesthetics from the screening, yes if she should start chemo and yes if he would cover the costs.
It takes him another fifteen minutes to realize what it does mean for them as a family, what he has agreed to. Stage four breast cancer, chemo, no health insurance. They do not have the money for treatment, in no world will they ever have. The doctors tell his mum, she knows it, he knows that she knows. He picks her up, she tries to say it, he ignores her, and the rest of the ride home is silent.
He carries her up the stairs, sets her down on the couch in the living room area, pulls her favorite blanket over her, and rests her head on a pillow. She tries to protest, tell that she is no porcelain doll but her voice is hoarse, her arms are shaky and midway she realizes that herself, so she stays silent, ashamed. He makes her a cup of chamomile tea, the cheap one from the supermarket around. They talk, they talk about everything, how lovely he was as a child – he only remembers himself crying, how she always dreamed about opening a real restaurant – he only knows the taste of leftovers from Wendy’s, and what his dreams for the future are – he lies to her about studying, she knows but she still smiles, clinging to the nice words because what else has she left?
They talk about everything and nothing.
In the end, he is exhausted, excusing himself, lying about having a shift at Mace’s workshop, willing down the sobs that want to escape his mouth, brushing his hair into his face to hide the specks.
He wants to escape the apartment where he only finds disappointment in his mother’s eyes, where they only lie to each other, and where the air tastes of death, that suffocates him with every breath.
He feels bad for going, leaving her alone, leaving the death-forsaken woman but he still does it., crying with a runny nose, feeling selfish, and at the same time desperate for a hug.
That day he finds himself in the same bar, he always goes when something bad happens to drown himself in liquor. The barman Yoda already knows him and his favorites. The first few shots are on the house and then an “anonymous” person starts paying for them. Anakin does not care enough to actually ask who it is, he just drowns them in one go and grimaces at the burning feeling in his throat.
The world starts turning around him and it is a pleasant feeling, nothing is clear, and everything is hazy. He roars like an animal, falls from his barstool, and fails to stand up again when a stranger helps him up. He has a nice face and friendly hazel eyes – at least Anakin thinks he has. He offers the teenager a hand and tells him he would drive him home; the smile is open and honest – too nice for a seedy town like Tatooine.
Anakin tries to protest but the stranger has already manhandled him out of the bar. He is placed in a car, diagonally laid over the backseat. He feels like he wants to vomit but the stranger is nice, helps him up, holds up his hair, and helps him unbutton his shirt. It is hot in the car, and the stranger smiles.
The moment, Anakin lays bare on the cheap plastic leather of the Ford, he realizes what is happening. The stranger has started to fidget with Anakin’s jeans, fumbling at the zipper. There is still a genuine smile on his face, telling Anakin that everything will be ok, abusing Anakin’s drunkenness. His jeans are pushed down to his knees, exposing his boxer shorts and his bare tighs. Anakin is suddenly shy, trying to cover his naked skin but the stranger pushes his hands away, pining them over his head with force.
Anakin’s mind is still gone, still sitting in his apartment with his mum, conversing stifling Smalltalk, crying for his mum and missing her so much but his body does react for him instead. He feels a warmth forming in his core, a tinge of drunk arousal, mixed with disgust for himself. It is strange and his drunk body tries to convince him that it is hot.
Then he is flipped over, his chest hits the backseat and he moans at the sudden friction. His jeans are pushed down even further, his boxershorts following. Nervous fingers explore his backside, the touch is fleeting, unsure, embarrassed. The fuck itself happens in haste, it is quick and dirty, the other man fucks him bare, nervously, fingers grabbing Anakin so tight that it bruises for a second and then disappearing, never quite there, as if he wants to leave no trace. The stranger gives Anakin the feeling that he is a plastic toy, something to be used and then thrown away.
For a second Anakin does not care, likes the sound of bodies slapping against each other, the feeling that he has some use. It does his job and makes him forget about his fucked up life for a second.
Once the stranger is finished, he cleans himself with a wipe, pulling up his trousers as if nothing happened, and leaves Anakin dripping on the backseat. So, there he lays, another man’s body fluids running down his thighs, still in a drunken haze, with a mum with stage four cancer, he grimaces bitterly.
He does not feel angry, he does not cry. He just feels empty. The St. Andrews Cross burns on his chest.
The embarrassment takes another day to enter his system. Then the wrath follows, wrath is easier to deal with than embarrassment, than feeling dirty, than the need he has to shower to wash off the other man’s scent from his body. So, he lets the anger roar in his chest.
=
He meets Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time at a house party – meeting for the first time is not the right expression. He knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before, he recognized him in the hallway when he saw the copper strands and the horn-rimmed glasses. Kenobi is the president of the Physics Club Anakin sometimes attended, Kenobi is the golden boy of the student newspaper, he was the guy on the bleacher that Anakin saw when he finished PE class and Obi-Wan has collected his dad's car a few times at Mace’s garage.
So, technically he knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before but this evening he gets to know him for real. Whatever that means.
Rex, Anakin’s tattoo artist, and semi-best friend, drags him there. Rex is two years Anakin’s senior, has a bleached buzz cut, arms covered with black and blue Ink, and a smirk, that Anakin can hardly say no to. Last summer Mace hired him and the two have instantly linked. Rex is not the best mechanic but he needs the money, so they made a deal. Anakin taught him the fundamentals and for that, he got a discount on the tattoos he wanted to get.
His mum has stopped working four months ago, half a year after her cancer diagnosis. Too late in Anakin’s opinion, too early in hers. They have started to fight more often. She thinks that he is too overprotective over her, he thinks she is only working herself to death. She scolds him for his life choices, he screams at her how she thinks he is paying for her chemo. It only escalates and, in the end, both cry and he is feeling once again like the true teenager that he is, clinging to her like a little child.
So, Anakin lets himself be manhandled by Rex to the party in Quinlan Vos’ house. It is near the Jefferson Alley, a quick walk by foot from Mace’s workshop, far enough from his apartment, and far enough from his mum.
Since his mum’s cancer diagnosis, he has dropped out of school, working full-time at Mace’s garage, the count of his tattoos has doubled, now covering more than just naked skin. There is now a bike and a sandy backyard on his left thigh. Fucking Oasis Springs, he thinks, he could not escape his past, so why not embrace it?
He has thought about a tattoo of his mum’s name but then he discarded the idea, as too cheesy. She would hate it, tell him that is like looking at her own gravestone and she is still very much alive.
He has just grabbed his third beer – his drinking habits have become worse too – when he notices Obi-Wan. The other man, also two years Anakin’s senior – in the same year as Rex, wears a white polo shirt, stuffed into his cord jeans and cute horn-rimmed glasses. He looks like he does not belong to this party, totally out of place with his outfit and the nervous laughter that speaks of insecurity. Anakin nudges Rex’s shoulder but the other man just shrugs in a manner of Why would I care, so Anakin steps closer to Obi-Wan.
The other man has something about him, that makes Anakin want to look closer at why he is so nervous. Anakin has no savior complex but something like the abuse, that happened to Anakin in the parking area of Yoda’s bar should not happen again – or at least, if Anakin can do something against it, so he steps closer to overhear the conversation.
They talk about “Seven Minutes in Heaven” and Obi-Wan seems nervous, and uncomfortable with taking part but Quinlan Vos - Anakin cursed a silent “arsehole” – seems to be reluctant to listen to his friend. He has put one arm around his shoulder, nudging him closer, trying to encourage him. It makes Anakin cringe, it is uncomfortable to watch, makes his inner Pitbull bark aggressively, and makes him want to split his knuckles open on Vos’s skull.
Since his mum’s diagnosis, his anger issues have become worse, too. He fights, smokes, and fucks more than ever. – much to his mum’s disappointment but it is the only thing keeping him together, keeping him working at Windu’s, and with that the only thing paying for the chemo.
So, Anakin joins in last minute, kneeling himself to the circle, taking another sip from the beer. Some raised brows but nobody refuses him to take part. He is Anakin Skywalker, a heavy drinker, a delinquent, known for his bed stories – why not have him in a round?
The bottle gets spun a couple of times but nothing happens to him or Obi-Wan. People get taken to the closet; they snog there until the next couple takes their place. Anakin is bored, he stares at Rex who has already found himself another activity, he yawns bored. Maybe he should have stayed at home.
That changes when the bottle stops in front of Obi-Wan, who lets out a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s my turn now.”, he says with a voice that sounds surprisingly tiny for a teenager. He brushes with one hand through his copper strands and rearranges his Polo Shirt, the glasses nearly fall from his nose because of his hasty movement, his cheeks are blushed and his body posture speaks of insecurity. “Who wants to do it with me?”
The question is asked with a tone that breaks Anakin’s heart. It reminds him of himself, him before most of the bullshit had taken place, before his job at Windu’s, before his first tattoo, before his first fist fight, before his mum’s diagnosis, before he has become who is now before he was broken. It is like looking into a mirror and seeing the young boy in Oasis Springs with a runny nose who just wanted to learn to ride a bike to make friends. Tinykin, he wants to sigh.
Anakin feels stupid to raise his hand that quickly but what else can he do? The Pitbull in his chest roars with the need to protect, bite away Quinlan’s greasy hand from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, protect Obi-Wan at all cost, shower him with compliments till all insecurities go away – but Anakin is not a man of nice words, life has hardened him, so all he can do is stand up and play the part of the heartbreaker who has taken a liking in the shy boy.
Nobody makes a comment, they do not care enough – or they care enough to spread a rumor the next day, whatever. So, the two get taken to the closet and Obi-Wan laughs more nervously as if his insecurity would disappear if he does it more often. It is a painful sound in Anakin’s ears, making his heart wrench. He wants to grab Obi-Wan’s hand, squeeze it, tell him that everything will be alright – but it would only scare Obi-Wan way, too soon.
The closet is so small that both must stand with only a few centimeters between them, a contact that is forced to be intimate and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan shivers, trying to distance himself, laughing one more time when he realizes that Anakin notices it, it is like saying “Nothing against you, but could you please stop invading my personal space?”
Anakin clears his throat and steps the tiny step back, that he can take in the small closet. His back hits a shelf with canned food.
“So, we have to kiss now, don’t we?”. Kiss is pronounced breathy, a word with insecurity laced to it. Obi-Wan has never kissed anybody, it is clear as daylight, and he is nervous to do it now. He does not want to do it, he just feels like he needs to do it.
“We don’t have to do anything”, Anakin answers and takes another sip from his beer. It is room temperature now, tasting disgusting on his tongue but still better than nothing, a bit of liquid courage for the next words. “Just because some bastards tell us to do something, we don’t have to do it.”
“You are Anakin, right?”, Obi-Wan asks unsure, trying to change the subject. “I saw you a couple of times in Mace Windu’s shop, you work there, don’t you?”
Anakin only nods, adding another “Still do.” after the silence stretches out uncomfortably.
“I have not seen you in school for a really long time. You used to attend Physics Club; I noticed you there a few times but then you just stopped coming. CP30 still needs the new gadget for his eyes, the boys have been too shy to add it without you.” Obi-Wan’s chuckle is still nervous. “Why did you stop? – I mean coming, why did you stop coming?”
“Bad things happened.”, Anakin answers taciturnly, taking the last sip from his bottle, already regretting it. The closet is so tiny that he feels the warmth the other man radiates, a bead of sweat runs down his cheek, and he wipes it away, trying to grin reassuringly. Everything is alright. He brushes a lock behind his ear, suddenly feeling itchy, and uneasy on his feet like he needs to do something. He starts drumming on his empty bottle, avoiding eye contact.
It was a stupid idea to cage himself with Obi-Wan in a closet that barely measure two square meters.
“You still can come, CP30 is waiting, nobody will touch him if you don’t want that.”
“I-“, tries Anakin but Obi-Wan’s nervous talking interrupts him, the other man fidgets with his fingers. “We have classes as always and the Physics classroom is open as usual, Thursday afternoon and Fridays till 3 pm.”
“Yeah”, grumbles Anakin, staring at everything other than Obi-Wan, trying to get his inner Pitbull under control that roars to surge forward and kiss him til all the nervous words stop flooding from his mouth. The other man’s cheeks are still blushed from the heat and some of his copper strands are damp, slightly curled, making them look impossibly fluffy, that Anakin gets the itch to brush through them.
It is an itch he should not scratch.
“I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“No-“
“I just thought after you volunteered that you might be slightly interested.”
The shy man makes Anakin cringe. Obi-Wan looks so unsure of himself, pushing and pulling at his Polo shirt, cheeks heated because of his words. Obi-Wan has never kissed anyone before, roars his inner Pitbull, why don’t you take his first kiss? You are a good kisser, you could make him enjoy it.
Anakin plunges forward, cupping the other man’s face with a swift movement, surprised by his actions. He turns his head away, staring at his shoes instead, the combat boots are old and used, has bought new ones since his mum’s diagnosis, saving any money he has. His voice is hoarse and slow when he continues, “Ehm -I am interested.”
Then he leans in, brushing his lips slightly against Obi-Wan’s forehead, getting addicted to the taste of the honey-kissed skin with the slight hint of male sweat, the urge blooming to taste it with his tongue and then he wills it down, jerking back like he has burnt himself, nearly falling over himself, embarrassed by his own animal-like thought just to take.
In that second the closet is opened and a weirdly grinning Quinlan Vos eyes them, scanning for a sign of snogging. He eyes Obi-Wan’s damp curls, his heated cheeks, and the Polo shirt.
“Happy Seven Minutes in Heaven, Obi.”
“Ehm-“
Anakin feels like he wants to vomit.
=
Anakin is 17 when Obi-Wan graduates. He watches from afar, sitting on the bleachers Obi-Wan used to sit on, smoking a pack – he has even called Mace for a free day, knowing that this will only end in Yoda’s or some stranger’s backseat, all just to stop the throbbing sound of his breaking heart.
It’s like watching everything, that could have been, and at the same time never will be. He could be standing there, getting his A-Levels done, posing with his friends in these stupid robes, hugging his mum, and hearing her whisper into his hair how proud she is.
But it will never be. He will never finish school and instead works full-time to pay the bills. And what friends? The kids, that have harassed him in Oasis Springs or the kids who were afraid of him in Tatooine? Who would be standing here with him now, grimacing like an idiot for some graduation photos?
You could have been a part of this now, the Pitbull whispers to him bitterly as Anakin lights himself another cigarette, you could be standing there now, planting a kiss on the shy boy’s lips if you just had been brave back then. You could be there now as just a friend and maybe even as his boyfriend.
I am broken, sighs Anakin, I have a fucked-up life. Obi-Wan deserves better, Obi-Wan deserves the world, he should leave this shit hole that is Tatooine and finally find someone who cherishes him.
So, he sits there and watches from afar as everybody becomes older, graduates, leaves the town, starts studying and he just stays Anakin, working in Mace’s garage, sitting the evening with his mum in front of the telly, watching some western, crying himself to sleep at night for everything that could have been.
=
Anakin is 19 when he meets Padme again. The night before he has drunken until he blacked out and she had been the first face to greet him in A&E. As strange as it sounds, they fall in love quickly – or she falls in love quickly. She is a doctor, she likes to heal, likes to take care of, likes to amend and he is her little project. She thinks she can fix him, takes him out, controls his drinking and smoking habit, stops him from fighting – she is good for him, his mum smiles.
He reads that Obi-Wan has left Tatooine. He is for the first time in the Newspaper for some charity event in New York, that he attends with his newlywed wife. She looks pretty, tall, blond with a perfectly proportioned body and the wedding ring glimmers on her finger. Obi-Wan has not changed much, it has been years and yes there is a beard now covering his dimples, but there is the same insecurity, the same shyness in his posture, that makes Anakin's inner Pitbull beg him to take care of him.
He is happy now, he tells himself and smiles bitterly, Obi-Wan has become what he has deserved, a perfect life.
But Anakin cannot help to feel jealous of the other man, of all the possibilities the other has, no chain caging him in Tatooine, no mum with stage four cancer, no same old job, that he carries out every day since he is fifteen, no debts that he can never pay back, no emptiness in his heart, that he cannot fill.
But isn’t Anakin happy now, too? He has Padme – at least he has someone, he should be happy now.
And his mum loves Padme, they form a bond quite easily – she loves Padme probably more than he does and that hurts. Padme is perfect for his mum, the definition of a woman with a golden heart, for the first time his mum is truly proud of him. It hurts his heart to lie to her like that, to pretend to be the happy boyfriend in love but he does it.
When their high school friends start asking them why they are not married yet, he decides to propose to her. He does everything the others do, he books a restaurant, hides the ring box in his best jacket, and then falls to his knees when it is the right moment. She smiles, cries out of joy, and showers him with kisses – he only feels uncomfortable, fidgeting with his fingers. Later on, he blames it on his nervousness.
He is 20 when he stands at the altar waiting for the bride. He is 21 when the twins are born and he holds Luke and Leia for the first time in his arms.
He tries to be happy, tries to be a good father, reads all the fucking books about parenting, makes himself a total idiot just to make the kids love, shows them his favorite westerns, lets them ride on his back, and sleeps next to them every single night for the first three nights of their life.
And he tries to love Padme, God knows, he tries so much. He takes Padme out for date nights, tells her how beautiful she is every morning, and kisses her open-mouthed and hungry to make her feel loved and desired in the marriage just to make him feel less guilty that he thinks of another man every time in bed. Over the years, he learns to love her, as cruel as it sounds, he learns to pretend to love her, to say the right things to make her smile.
And no matter how hard he tries; his life remains fucked up.
=
Anakin is 36, a divorced man, father of two teenage kids in puberty, with the first few grey hairs growing on his scalp when he wakes up early, yawning, rubbing his tired eyes, expecting to find the bed next to him empty and unused, just like he is used to it.
But instead, this morning a warm body is curled to his, a chest and a soft belly pressing against his backside, arms intertwined with his face and grumbling something like “Don’t go. It’s too early.”
A sweet, soft smile curves his lips as he leans down to kiss the other man’s cheeks and brushes his fingers through the copper strands. “Obi-Wan.”, whispers into the other man’s hair, tracing the jaw with his fingers, tracing the lines of his beard.
For the first time in 36 years, he has a chance to be happy - however, his fucked up life may be.
(this is a draft, that means it is still in the condition of a draft, not betaed... just wanted to rant about the idea, so enjoy!)
#idk what im doing#author is sleep deprived#very tired#all thank exam phase love you uni#obikin#obi wan x anakin#just wanted to write some obikin to calm down my raging mind and my insataible roommate#seriously obikin is balm for the soul even if this is a bit angsty now#anakin angst#sw thoughts#sw fic#obikin au#make it obikin modern au with angst#or a lot of angst#anakin needs a hug#anakin needs therapy#maybe the author too i mean i invented that in my head doesn't that say something about me too#felix's weird thoughts and drabbles#no why no literature quotes i really tried#padme amidala mentioned#sorry honey i didn't mean to do you so dirty#same for you Vos#star wars prequels#star wars au#not that much of a love story#some how unhealthy relationship but Obikin is nearly always somehow unhealthy#or at least when i write it#what am i even tagging here?#felix's try on humor#dark humor
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[9:48 PM]
☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
genre: fluff drabble
pov: 2nd person
description: Felix knows you have trouble sleeping while he's not there and he figured out a way to help you out.
pairing: Felix x reader
warnings: swearing
word count: 333 (unedited)
a/n: inspired by my insomniac ass having to use skz asmr to help me sleep
©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
"What did you just email me?" You ask. You are currently balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you wash your dishes from dinner.
"Ah, I didn't think you get it that fast. The wifi at the hotel is pretty shitty." You hear Felix moving around on the other side of the phone.
"And you couldn't text whatever it is?" You shut off the water and dry your hands before making your way to the living room where your laptop is.
"No, the files are too big and they probably wouldn't send until next week with my luck. But you should be able to open your email on your phone and download them to your photo album."
"What are they? Super high res nudes?" You laugh, opening the email and waiting for it to load.
"Shut the fuck up and just open the email, pervert." He groans, making you laugh more.
"I am! Oh, they're videos. Are you vlogging the tour for me?"
"...Do you want me to because I can." You can almost picture him panicking on the other end.
"No, it's fine. I'm just really confused and it's taking forever to load."
"I know you have trouble sleeping especially while I'm on tour or when I spend the night at the dorm so I made you some asmr videos to help you fall asleep. I wanted to give them to you before I left but editing took way longer than I thought it would. I sent a thumbdrive in the mail with all of them but that's going to take a while so I emailed you a few to tide you over until then."
"You did? You didn't have to. You already bought me a giant bear and a bottle of your cologne to spray it with so it would feel like I was sleeping with you." Tears start pricking the back of your eyes.
"We'll now you can also fall asleep to the sound of my voice."
—
Buy me a coffee?
—
Permanent Taglist
Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)
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Just an random ask: does observer have more ever-lasting scars like her lip scar, that can't be healed? And does scrap have them too? If yes, I want both of their families react to those scars (it's a headcanon that I thought of, because both of them goes into dangerous missions and fights, and there's no doubt that they get injured everytime :D )
They do actually!
Observer has some scars from The Incident because the Julieta from The Incident never gave her healing food, only food from others. (It never healed because it was never healed for a year)
Scrap is- actually I just remembered one from a post lmao, she has a lichtenberg (Lightning scar) on her back and left arm, they went to an AU and the first thing she did is to surprise Pepa lol. Although she forgot about it because of her bandages.
DRABBLE IT IS THEN
(I have to post it first just incase it kickc me out of tumblr again, it is NOT finished yet!)
—————
Ridiculous Scars
One used to wear her scars in pride, while the other laughed about their own.
They forgot about it, they really did, it brought them "funny" memories.
But then some idiots decided to be awake in the middle of the night while the other started a fight.
——♠︎◆♠︎◆♠︎——
The Observer Madrigals were sleeping, so Observer Mirabel herself got up from her bed and walked out of her room.
She wore a simple black tank top and black shorts, her poncho wasn't seen. She slowly walked downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water when she suddenly heard wispered voices.
"And then they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates." It confused her on who in the world would be awake IN THREE AM.
She silently marches in, her eyes completely glowing red, she snaps her fingers making the ceiling have light, and surprising the two people.
"Why in the absolute FUCK are you awake!?" She fumed, she completely forgot about the fact she wore a tank top that shows her weird scars.
Oh.
OH.
OH THE PARENTS WERE AWAKE.
Observer Mirabel blinked in surprise, she noticed that everyone awake was gaping at her with wide eyes.
Agustin literally sputtered, Pepa had a massive raincloud over her head, Felix was calm but his eyes decieve him.
And Julieta looked close to tucking her into a blanket and giving her her favorite food and drinks, while Alma looks like she's about to have a heart attack.
Observer blinked multiple times and rubbed her eyes, five of them were staring at her arm scars.
She rose an eyebrow, "I'll fucking explain once YOU tell me WHY are you all AWAKE!?"
——♠︎◆♠︎◆♠︎——
Scrappy Mirabel was just roaming around the town/village when someone suddenly bumps into her, "Oi watch it trash." Out of reflex, she responded.
"Trash? That's the most common insult I have ever heard and you were the one who bumped into me behind me-" she clasped her hands to her mouth, she looked to who bumped into her.
Oh, it was two of her bullies, Ricard and Juana. Both of them looked furious at her.
Juana was the first to reply, "Why you little-!" She tries to land a punch on her when she dodged it, 'The punch is sloppy and not properly aimed.' Scrap thinks.
She was going to run away when Juana suddenly aimed for a punch again, the people around them already wanting to interfere.
Scrappy Mirabel dodged the punch again, she has no time for this, "Oh you want to fight? I'll give you one!" She excitedly exclaimed and jabbed her, sending her to the ground.
Ricard suddenly tried to interfere by trying to scratch her, making her left bandage come off and reveal a lightning scar.
Scrap's eyes twitch, Ricard tried to grab her collar when she reacted faster and dodged.
"Ooh your punches don't make a sense." Scrap said in confusion, they looked lkke they never saw a fight and started one for entertainment.
Juana was already up and tried to grab her by the hair, 'Oh hell no you won't' she kicks Juana by the legs, making her fall again. She punches Ricard in the stomach, making him wheeze in pain. She punches him again and again to the point he fainted.
She was focused on Ricard that she forgets about Juana that she hits her in the back of the head.
She stops, "What? Are you in pain now? Pathe-"
THUD
THUMP
"Idiot, you're too prideful to be like that." Scraps says, she looks at her fist, it had bruised knuckles from punching them hard enough to make them faint, but not enough to break a bone.
Everyone was looking at her lightning scar now, it was on her left arm, she could hear some of them saying the name "Pepa" repeatedly.
She quickly walks away, knowing that Dolores heard the fight and told her mom and dad- and maybe sisters- maybe tìa-
"MIRABEL!"
Oh so everyone?
Pepa was looking at her scar in utter horror, a dark storm cloud above her. Julieta and Agustin looked like they wanted her to be put in a blanket roll and give her her favorite drink.
She looks at them wide-eyed, then to her lichtenberg scar on her arm, she point at her left arm, "Oh wait you're staring at this? This actually has a funny story I'll tell ya-"
"HIJA WHY DO YOU HAVE A SCAR ON YOUR ARM STRAIGHT TO YOUR BACK-"
"DAMN IT MIRABEL THIS IS WHY I SHOULD TIE YOU UP IN VINES!"
"Hm! Now I'm starting to panic on how did it form"
"Clear skies clear SKIES-"
"MIRABEL!" Ah- abuela is also here.
#mirabel madrigal#encanto au#observer mirabel au#mirabel au#scrappy mirabel au#encanto#Observer is THIS CLOSE 👌 TO YELL AT ALL OF THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE SUPPOSE TO BE MORE MATURE THAN HER#Oh wait she's the oldest observer lmao nvm#Scrap will gladly tell her family how she got her lichtenberg scar because she loves it lmao
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[16:55] ~ BC [M]
WORD COUNT: `1.6K
GENRE: Friends to lovers, smut, DRABBLE [This isn’t a work of art, it’s literally a drabble from my writers block pile]
PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader
Chan was passed out asleep beside you since you were the only one that seemed to be able to get him to sleep easily and through the night the boys called you in whenever he wasn't getting enough sleep. You and Chan were so close as friends that you didn't find it weird at all, he slept naked which had been weird at first but there was nothing between you and Chan -- however badly you wanted there to be -- so it was no big deal. You normally went to bed in nothing but a pair of panties and one of his shirts but tonight was too hot in the bed for clothes so you were in a crop top and panties laid beside Chan while he slept soundly. After Chan had fallen asleep you turned to face the wall so you weren't tempted to look at his abs, he was your best friend and you didn't want to change anything about that. Small grumbling began to sound from Chan, not unusual he normally talked a lot in his sleep but this time was different. He sounded like he was trying to say your name but couldn't quite do it,
"Y-Y/n," He finally moaned out, your eyes widened as he moaned your name and turned over in his sleep spooning you from behind which wouldn't have been a big deal if it wasn't for the boner that was now pressing against your ass and lower back.
"O-Oh shit," You whispered as you bit down on your lip, you could feel every inch of him which was starting to send a mess to your core at the thought of being this close to him like this. Chan began to move a little making you whimper softly when you felt him grind against you making him moan out in his sleep,
"Holy shit." You whispered as you felt him get harder -- as if it was possible. The door began to creak open and you glanced over, not moving too much since you didn't want to wake Chan from what seemed like an amazing dream. The sheets were covering you anyway so whoever it was entering the room wouldn't be able to tell what was happening,
"How do you do it?" Felix questioned once he saw how sound asleep Chan was behind you, you frowned wondering what he meant,
"Do what?" He nodded at Chan,
"Get him to sleep through the night," The truth was you had no idea how or why Chan seemed to sleep great beside you but you loved it, it made you feel needed in his life. Right now it was one of the best things in your life since his boner was pressed right against your ass making you needier than ever around him.
"Magic," You joked hoping Felix would leave soon but a frown appeared on his face as he began to remember that Chan hated sleeping with clothes on.
"Chan can't sleep with clothes on..." You knew what he was getting at with that sentence as a smirk appeared on his face, you began to thank the heavens that Chan was asleep throughout this conversation. Felix knew how you truly felt about Chan.
"He doesn't have them on-"
"Did you two finally-!?" You shook your head as he was questioning you,
"No," You whispered back to him as he got more excited than he needed to since it wasn't his love life you were talking about here.
"Did you want to?" He began wiggling his eyebrows and you could just see it in the low light, Chan began grinding in his sleep again and you held back the moan that was threatening to escape your lips.
"Get out Felix," He groaned as you didn't give him the answer that he wanted from you. The door shut and you finally let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding for so long, Chan was still grinding against you in your sleep so you wiggled back against him trying to satisfy yourself a little.
"Oh fuck," You whimpered as you continued to grind back against Chan as he ground against you, smirking as he realised you wanted him just as much as he wanted you but you didn't know he was awake.
"Y/n," He moaned pretending to be asleep, his hands landed on the bottom of your stomach above your panties and you froze in place as he began to slowly trail his fingers towards your panty line.
"C-Chan? Are you awake?" You stuttered out and a chuckle came from him as he pulled at your panty line,
"I am," You froze again and he kissed your neck grinding against you as his fingers pushed the fabric away from your pussy.
"So wet and swollen, I haven't even touched. Is this what it's like every time we sleep next to one another?" You nodded in answer to his question and he smirked running one finger through your folds making you hiss.
"So wet." He took your swollen clit between his thumb and index finger and began rubbing it while smirking against your neck,
"Tell me you want me," He whispered in your ear before biting down on your lobe,
"I need you-"
"Even better," He chuckled darkly ripping the panties from you and throwing them outside of the sheet,
"You're on the pill right?" He checked as he pull your leg up to hang over his arm as he dragged you backwards,
"Yeah," He smirked running his hard cock through your folds making you whimper out as soon as he came into contact with you, his free hand covered your mouth as he shook his head,
"They're right next door baby girl, you have to be quiet." You nodded in understanding and he began running himself over your folds again making sure to coat himself in your juices.
"I've wanted you for so long," He moaned pressing his tip at your entrance,
"S-So take me-" You choked as he pushed into you from behind making a croak leave your throat as you felt every inch of his hard cock pressed deep inside of you. He held onto your abdomen and pressed you back against him moaning as you clenched around his length,
"So tight angel, has no one ever fucked you good enough?" You shook your head in ecstasy, all thoughts of the people you'd been with in the past vanishing as his cock pressed against your hilt. He hadn't even moved yet but you felt as though you could cum on the spot,
"Look at you, fucked dumb without being fucked." He began to slowly pull out of you before pushing himself back into you roughly, being careful not to hurt you but groaning out your name.
"S-Shit Chan, faster," You couldn't stand the slow build-up, you'd needed him for so long you just wanted him to fuck you until you could no longer walk.
"Demanding? I like it," He held onto your waist from beside you and began to pound in and out of you roughly, thanking himself that he'd replaced the bed so it no longer squeaked whenever he moved around on it too much.
"S-Shit!" Your moan was muffled as he covered your mouth with his hand again resulting in his thrusts slowing down a little as he couldn't hold you in place,
"Shh baby, do you want something to bite down onto?" You nodded so he grabbed one of the spare pillows and placed it into your mouth smirking as you whimpered for him to continue again.
"You're so fucking tight and wet, shit." He groaned as he began to slam in and out of you roughly again, the sound of skin slapping together and wet sounds filled the air. At this point, you were surprised the boys hadn't come in to find out what was going on but all thoughts of them were leaving your mind as he continued to fuck into that one spot that made you see stars,
"G-Gunna cum," You warned him dropping the pillow from your mouth as he held your leg up high in the air and continued to pound into you from behind, as you went to bend forward he pulled you so you were flat against his chest. The way he was pounding into you made you feel like he was right in your stomach,
"Cum," He ordered in your ear and as if you were controlled by him you felt your orgasm rip through you. A warm feeling spreading through your body as your legs began to shake violently and you began bucking backwards into him.
"SHIT! I'm cumming! F-Fuck!" You screamed out as he continued fucking into you from behind you until he groaned loudly biting down your shoulder as he came into you, holding himself deep inside of you until he felt himself go soft inside of you and he slowly eased out of you.
"Stay here," He whispered giving you a soft kiss on your shoulder where he'd bitten you, he got up to grab something to clean you both up with while getting you some of his shorts to change into.
"You okay? Was I too rough?" You shook your head as you turned to face him in the bed,
"You were perfect," You whispered kissing him on the lips softly before laying your head down on his chest and listening to his heartbeat.
"We'll talk in the morning about what all this means...I'm not done with you." He chuckled kissing you softly as you began to drift off to sleep.
Tagline: @taestannie @peachyhan @jooniesdarlingdimples
#skz#skz x reader#skz smut#skz imagine#skz imagines#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagine#bang chan imagines#bang chan smut#lee know#lee minho#seo changbin#changbin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#han jisung#jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#seungmin#yang jeongin#jeongin
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forget me not.
♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.
♡ summary — Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.
wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?
You accept it.
For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.
♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader
♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies
♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.
♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha
♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.
Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.
It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.
When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.
The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.
Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.
There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.
When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.
Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.
So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.
You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.
Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?
Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.
The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.
You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.
As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.
You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.
The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.
Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.
Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,
"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."
Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.
In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,
"Okay."
—
The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.
Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.
Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.
Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.
"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.
Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.
The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.
You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.
Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"
But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.
"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."
It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.
No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.
To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.
Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.
Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.
"Of course."
—
Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.
People don't know this. They don't understand this.
He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.
But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.
Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.
The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.
Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.
—
Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.
You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.
But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.
For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.
Possible remedy according to findings entail
growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.
Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.
"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"
Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.
"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"
"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"
"I'm fine. Thanks."
"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"
You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.
So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.
"No. What does that have to do with anything?"
He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."
Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"
"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."
You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.
"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."
"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.
Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.
At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.
"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."
The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.
So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.
For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.
"Hi." He says finally.
"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!
Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.
"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.
Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."
In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.
It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.
You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."
Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."
"Alright."
Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.
And honestly? Neither had you.
It's quiet. Awkward.
"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."
You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.
"You...you don't have to tell me."
"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.
You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.
He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"
You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.
"Once."
Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.
—
Midnight rendezvous.
As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.
Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.
You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.
You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.
You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.
Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"
You hum.
"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."
Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.
"And?"
"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"
Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.
"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."
"Were?"
Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.
You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.
—
Bake something from scratch.
Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.
You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.
Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.
When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.
But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all.
If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.
"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"
"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"
You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."
Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.
"Huh?"
"I said you got a little...something..."
You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.
Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.
—
You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.
This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.
Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.
He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.
They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.
Though the answer is simple.
Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.
How ironic is that?
Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.
Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.
He's falling apart.
You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.
"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."
—
Self bleach hair.
It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)
His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.
You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)
You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.
"Ready to go?"
Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour. Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe. While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him.
"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.
"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"
You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"
Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell.
There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?
His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.
And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.
—
Make a snow angel.
From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.
The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.
Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"
Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose. You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...
"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"
What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.
"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"
You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.
For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.
“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.
You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.
Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.
You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night. See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.
You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart.
It’s too good to be real.
You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.
See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)
Hyunjin speaks up first.
“I love Haseul.” he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.
You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”
Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.
“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”
Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.
—
Learn to skate.
"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."
"You say it like I have a choice."
Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.
The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.
You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?
But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.
Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.
"I am pretty good, aren't I?"
He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."
Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.
"Oh my God! It is you!"
You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.
You let out a nervous laugh.
"And it's you..."
Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.
"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"
"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.
The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."
Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.
Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.
Right?
Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"
"Text me anytime."
"Sure."
“I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."
"Right."
Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.
Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.
—
Watch every Disney movie ever made.
You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.
"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."
Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.
He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.
You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."
Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"
"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"
"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."
A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.
—
Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.
The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side.
"Found it yet?"
You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.
You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.
Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.
"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"
You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous.
You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.
"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it.
—
It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?
There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.
Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say.
But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.
—
Kiss underneath a mistletoe.
“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”
Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
Now...something doesn’t feel right.
The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.
He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different. Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.
Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)
When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.
He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.
And like always.
He takes your advice.
—
Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.
Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh. Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.
Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”
Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”
Your brows come together in inquiry.
“What?”
"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”
He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.
“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you? "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."
A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.
"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know. Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.
It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.
"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”
“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”
“Oh hell yeah.”
—
"Move."
You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.
In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.
Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.
See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.
All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.
The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"
This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.
In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.
"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear, "After all that?"
"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.
"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.
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babysitters
pairing: felix x reader
genre: fluff!!
warnings: intense fluff ! and a few curse words..
word count: 1.4k
a/n: this is one of my very first drabbles so please be nice,,,
p.s, sorry the spacing is so weird :(
enjoy!
credits to the creator!
“felix,” you whined, drawing out the end of his name. “what’s wrong, angel?” he looked up at you from his phone. “i don’t wanna watch my sister,” you sighed, flopping onto the boy’s mattress dramatically. you laid there for a moment, letting the blankets swallow you whole as the sun shone through the curtains and onto your body. felix stared at you for a moment, admiring your beauty in silence. the way the sun hit your face, it looked like you were an angel or something.
“how come? she’s so cute!” he smiled down at you, thinking of the small child. you sat up, rolling your eyes at him. “not really, and even if she was, don’t let her looks deceive you! she’s the devil in disguise!” you flailed your arms around, pouting. felix let out a giggle, staring at your lips that quickly turned into a frown. his eyes soon met yours, as you stood up.
“it’s not funny felix! i’m serious! and i have to leave you soon,” you crossed your arms, leaning against his bed frame. you placed your face in your hands, letting out another long sigh. “fuck, my cousins are coming too! and i still have a ton of homework to do, and i have practice later. i have so many things to get done!” tears of anger and stress began streaming down your face. felix’s face switched from a smile to concern immediately. he stood up, snaking is arms around your waist, holding you close to him. you breathed in slowly, smelling his cologne. it was the one you had gotten for him for his birthday. you smiled at the thought. you could feel felix’s gentle fingers running down you back slowly.
“what if i went with you?” he offered, smiling softly at you. you lifted your head, staring into his round eyes. you scoffed, shaking your head. “i won’t make you do that.” you rested your head against his chest again, listening to the soft thump of his heart. “you’re right, you’re not. i offered for a reason. it’ll be fun!” he leaned back to look at you. he lifted you up swiftly, earning a gasp from you. “felix, put me down!” you smiled, wiggling in his arms. “it’ll be fun! let me come! it’ll be easier that way too!” he continued swinging you around, laughing. “if you put me down, i’ll let you come with me, okay?” you said between giggles. “woohoo!” felix cheered, placing you down on his bed.
when you arrived at your house, felix actually pulled you aside before walking in. “she won’t be mad that i’m here right? and you’re okay with this one hundred percent right? and..and-“ “felix baby, it’s okay. you’re gonna be okay.” you cut him off taking his hand, kissing the tip of his nose as well.
“EWWW Y/N JUST KISSED A BOY!” you heard your little sister call from inside the house.
“I HEARD THAT!” you and felix broke down into a fit of laugher, with your hands still intertwined.
“you ready now?” you looked over at him, finally catching your breath. he smiled, nodding. as you opened the door, you watched your little sister come out of the doorway in a big pink fluffy gown, and your mother’s high heels, with pink and purple glitter smeared on her eyelids, along with bright green lipstick. . you snorted, covering your mouth in an attempt to suppress your laughter. “what, i look good!” she said. you saw her strut her way up to your boyfriend, giving a small wave and a wink before walking away again. felix turned to you and once again, you broke down in a fit of laughter. “what the hell was that?” laughed, clutching his stomach as he rolled on the floor. you sat up wiping tears from your eyes, sighing before taking another breath to speak. “i think she has a crush on you,” you smiled. “she thinks she’s gonna win you over.” felix smiled, helping you off the floor. you both slid your shoes off and finally began to adjust to the new environment. toys scattered along the floor, along with small gummy packets covering almost every surface. you walked into the kitchen to see your mom and aunt, preparing to go out for dinner. “hey.” you smiled, leaning on the doorframe. “hey, y/n. thank you so much for this.” your aunt hugged you, walking out the back door. .“mom?” you said, waiting for her to turn around. “i want you to meet felix, he’s helping me tonight.” you gestured for him to follow you. she turned around, and her eyes softened. “this is him?” her eyes switched between you and him. you nodded, smiling wide. “i’ve heard great things about you felix. thank you for making her happy, and thank you for helping out. i appreciate it.” she smiled, before waving at you and closing the back door.
“y/n!” you heard your little cousins call from on top of the stairs. you walked over to the landing and smiled up to the two young boys.
“hey guys!” you knelt down, opening your arms as they charged down the stairs at you. they wrapped their small arms around your neck and sides smiling widely.
“who are you?” the older boy pointed up to felix.
“this is my boyfriend, felix. he came to help me.” you smiled proudly.
“hi there,” he bent down to face the boy. both of your little cousins gave small waves, getting shy because of his deep voice.
“don’t let his voice scare you, he’s really nice!” you smiled at the kids.
now on the couch with the boys, you called for your little sister, hopefully to actually introduce her to felix. she strut into the living room again in her sparkly tutu, and sat down next to felix, watching him closely. your cousins were occupied on the floor, with whatever cars they could find.
“this is felix, MY boyfriend.” you gestured to the boy, he smiled at her.
“you look very cute,” felix complimented her outfit.
“thank you!” she smiled at him.
you watched as the sun set in the distance, signaling it was time for dinner.
“felix, play tag with us!” your little sister asked.
“in a minute, i need to feed the baby, okay guys?” he smiled down at the two, picking up your baby cousin, and bringing him into the kitchen with you.
“you already made his bottle, right?” he turned to you, the baby cradled in your boyfriend’s arms. you smiled at the sight.
“yeah, are you feeding him? i’m not saying you have to, but if you want-“
“yes!” he smiled enthusiastically, taking the bottle from the counter.
you walked back into the living room where your cousin and sister sat on the couch, watching videos on her tablet.
“do you guys want mac and cheese for dinner?” their heads snapped up at you, nodding vigorously. you smiled at them, nodding.
“when is felix coming back?” your little cousin asked.
“we’re gonna put your brother to bed, and then he’ll be back okay? i’m gonna start dinner soon.” you smiled, knowing how much they enjoyed felix playing with them.
you walked upstairs to felix rocking your baby cousin to sleep. he was even singing something in a hushed voice. your eyes almost began to water, covering your mouth in awe.
you watched as felix gently laid the baby down, covering him with a small blanket. he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead.
“sleep well,” he whispered, turning around.
his eyes widened when he was met with your figure in the doorway.
“you’re gonna be a great father someday. i can feel it.” you whispered, walking down the stairs behind him. he stopped at the bottom, wrapping you in a hug.
“you won’t have to ‘feel it’, you’re gonna be there with me.” he smiled, tracing gentle shapes on your back.
“come on, before my sister tries to kill me for stealing her man.” you mocked her, walking back into the kitchen.
you could hear the giggles of your boyfriend and the kids from the living room, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, imagining what it would be like to have something like that with felix someday.
you finally finished cleaning up and cooking, you quietly brought the bowls of macaroni to the kids. you walked into the living room and to your surprise, felix was passed out with your little cousin and sister squished into his sides. you smiled gently at them, placed the bowls on the table. you leaned back slowly, pulling out your phone to snap a photo of their sleeping bodies. after slipping your phone back into yo pocket, you bent down to kiss your boyfriend’s head.
“sleep well, i love you so much.”
you sat down on the opposite end of the couch, letting out a content sigh.
how did you get so lucky?
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