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marvelslut16 · 4 years

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Prank gone wrong

Prompt number: 19 “I can’t do this anymore”

Fandom: It

Paring: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6k (this was supposed to be short!)

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Mentions of domestic abuse/domestic violence- nothing graphic. asshole Richie. Angst but ends fluffy

A/N: Oof I’ve been gone for ages, I’m sorry guys. But here’s day one of fictober, so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up and this will motivate me to write regularly again. I’m not sure if I love this one or not. I liked the idea when I started and then it took some turns and this is what I ended up with while writing between zoom classes, so sorry if it sucks. I added the second gif cause it’s closer to the age in the story.

It all started as a stupid prank, a way to get back at Greta for years and years of torture, you never thought it would end in you losing a friend. Just over three months ago Richie agreed to Bev’s plan, take Greta out on a few dates and then publicly humiliate her- give her a taste of her own medicine. But to everyone's surprise, it lasted way longer than a few dates and there was no end in sight. Worst of all it seemed that Richie was actually falling for her- he would defend her any chance he got and even started ditching the losers to spend time with her and her friends.

It was no surprise to you that Greta fell for Richie, he’s funny, sweet, and he’s aged well. His head has grown into his coke bottle glasses, he still wears hawian shirts but now he has a leather jacket over them constantly- a leather jacket that the two of you picked out together. There is no better than one Richie Tozier, and your feelings are getting harder and harder to deny. Your crush on the trashmouth developed back in middle school- the summer Pennywise reigned terror, but through the years your crush turned into something stronger- by senior year you knew you loved him. Halfway into said school year every loser, besides Richie of course, knew of your feelings for him. The pitied glances they would send your way were almost suffocating.

Richie is late to lunch yet again, probably making out with Greta in the hallway, so each of you are using this time to talk about the personal hell her and her friends have created for each of you today. You go last, quickly giving them a rundown of your encounter with her in the bathroom, where she threatened you to stay away from ‘her Richie’ and that you would live to regret it if you didn’t. She even ripped one of your textbooks out of your hands, dropping it into the disgusting toilet water- calling you a worthless slut on her way out.

“Greta is such a bitch!” you complain to your friends, mindlessly pushing around the mush they call lunch at Derry high with the cheap plastic spork they provide.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend that way,” Richie’s voice is calm and even- lacking the normal excitement and joking lilt to it. Your eyes widen in horror at him having heard you, then they narrow at how genuine his defense of her is.

“Richie, c’mon, let it go,” Eddie pleads, glancing between your shocked and hurt face and Richie’s angry one.

“No Eddie, I’m so sick of (Y/N) talking shit about my girlfriend!” you whip around in your seat and look at him in shock.

“Richie what the hell?” you rise out of your seat so he won’t look down on you literally and figuratively anymore. He cocks his eyebrow, head dropping to the side as he crosses his arms and lets out a huff of annoyance. “Ya know what? I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what anymore?” Richie doesn’t drop the cocky attitude, making the next words out of your mouth slightly less painful.

“Be your friend,” there’s a collective gasp from your friends. Richie’s face morphs into shock and sadness for a split second before hardening and sending you another glare. “Not when you’re dating her. She’s changing you Richie!”

“Greta was right about you, you are a bitch,” your breath catches in your throat and you fight the tears that well up in your eyes. Richie’s glare is unflinching as you stare him in the eye, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t regret a single word that he said. The murmuring from the table behind you stops the moment the words leave his mouth, they all stare at their friend in shock.

“Fine, then you’ll never have to deal with this bitch again,” you spin around and grab your backpack and lunch tray. “Fuck you Richard Tozier!” you dump your tray of mush into the trach on your way out of the cafeteria nad away from that stupid boy you somehow fell for.

“What did you just do?” Stan is the first one to regain the use of his voice, he’s glaring at Richie as the boy takes your recently vacated seat.

“I’m sick of her attitude towards Greta,” he tries to defend, shocked when all of his friends level him with matching glares.

“W-wh-what h-ha-ha-happen-ned to th-he pr-pr-prank-k?” Bill’s recently improved stuttering growing worse as he grows anxious at the turn of events between his friends.

“Greta isn’t the bad one here, we’ve been rude to her all of these years!” Richie once again tries to effectively defend his girlfriend.

“She wrote loser on my cast!” Eddie practically screeches before he goes into an anxiety attack, beleving it’s an asthma attack he takes two puffs from his inhaler.

“Her and her friends dumped wet garbage on me,” Bev adds, quieter than Eddie.

“That was in middle school,” Richie rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat.

“I thought you were in love with (Y/N) before the whole prank, that you did it to get over her,” Eddie says slowly this time, having calmed down from moments prior.

“Greta helped me realize I never loved (Y/N), I was doing what was expected after years of friendship,” the losers stare at him- open mouthed and gaping at Richie’s stupidity.

“She attacked (Y/N) in the bathroom this morning,” Mike tries to reason with his brainwashed friend.

“No, (Y/N) was lying to you guys. She attacked Greta earlier, not the other way around. She screamed at Greta to break up with me or she’d regret it, and then dumped her books in the toilet and called her slut.”

“Greta did that to (Y/N), you dumbass!” Bev grows increasingly angry, at Richie and herself for coming up with the stupid prank. “I was in there with her, Greta’s convinced (Y/N)’s in love with you so she wants to rip you apart. Do you honestly believe (Y/N) would do something like that?”

“Shit!” Richie slams his fists on the table, causing most of the cafeteria to turn and looking at him briefly before going back to their individual tasks. Everything Greta had blamed on you in the past three months comes rushing back and he realizes that they’re all out of character but in character for Greta. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that Greta was telling the truth so he had a reason to stop being in love with his best friend- he was too scared to tell you because you’re the only person that could actually hurt him.

“(Y/N) (L/N) to the principal's office immediately,” the voiceover the intercom cracks showing the age of the ancient system.

“Richie?” Stan isn’t sure he wants to know the truth as he asks the question.

“I told Greta to tell the principal,” his voice is oddly quiet and broken, definitely out of character for the jokester trashmouth.

“You fucking idiot!” Bev seethes, staring Richie down. They’re the only two that know the truth about your father.

You quickly get up from your place in the library and walk down the empty halls to get to the principal's office. Once you arrive the secretary gives you a dirty look, causing you to sink back and the pit of anxiety in your gut to grow. Greta sends you a triumphant smirk before going back to fake sobbing as she walks out of the principal's office and past you.

You feel like you're going to vomit as you walk into the principal's office behind him, the look on his face says you’ll get after school detention for at least a week! Whatever lies Greta told about you are clearly being believed by him and the secretary.

“You’re a good student Miss. (L/N), so why have you been harassing Miss. Keene?” he crosses his arms over his chest, they rest lightly on top of his bulging gut.

“I haven’t-” you try to defend, but he puts up a hand to stop you.

“She alleges it’s because you have feelings for her boyfriend Mr. Tozier and you’re upset that she chose her over you.”

“That’s not true-” his glare cuts you off this time.

“Today alone you threw her books in the toilet, threatened her for being with Richie, and called her a slut,” the words today alone stand out to you, how many lies did she tell?

“She did that to me! Not the other way around!” you try desperately for him to believe you.

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” he raises a brow much like Richie did in the cafeteria, Greta has both of them wrapped around her finger and against you.

“Because no ones ever done anything! She’s been torturing me since we were in grade school and she’s never got in trouble! A freshman came to you last week saying Greta was bullying her and you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to suspend you for the rest of the week.” he says firmly, no room for negotiation or pleading.

“That’s four days!” you cry out incredulously.

“Do you want to make it longer?” when you don’t respond he continues talking. “Your father is on his way, go get your books from your locker and leave school property.”

You hear someone call your name from down the hall as you grab all of your textbooks from your locker, trying to shove all five thick books into your bag. You ignore the voice up until it’s right next to you and you realize it’s Richie trying to plead for forgiveness.

“Lose my number, and while you’re at it forget my name. Stay the fuck away from me Tozier!” Your outburst grabs the attention of the other students walking to their next class, everyone shocked by the inseparable duo of Tozier and (L/N) fighting. You slam your locker shut with a loud bang, heading for the door and away from him calling your name.

Monday comes agonizingly slowly, but when it does you're sitting with Bev in the bathroom during third period, both of you telling your teachers you don’t feel good.

“How bad was it?” she flicks her lighter and lights her cigarette, standing next to the window so she can blow the smoke outside.

“Worse than it's ever been,” you feel ghost pains on your back from where your dad's leather belt met your flesh for the past six days. “Since Richie didn’t sneak in to help clean them this time I think I may have an infection.”

“He broke up with Greta,” Bev changes the subject, she knows you only trust Richie enough to see the damage your father inflicts, so she doesn’t bother to ask to check on it.”

“Good for him,” you stare down at the gross linoleum tile under your beat up Chuck Taylor’s. Richie had promised to take you away from your father the moment you two graduated, he’d been promising it for years, even while he was with Greta, but now you aren’t holding out hope for the promise.

“He’s been miserable without you,” the bell signaling the end of the period saves you from formulating an answer. Bev quickly flushes her cigarette butt and the two of you head to the cafeteria, you’re a little worried about sitting with the losers after your fight with Richie. Bev grabs your hand and gently pulls you to the table when she notices your hesitance. You catch up with the rest of the losers, minus Richie who isn’t in the lunchroom which you’re oddly sad about, finding out about tests and break ups you missed while you were suspended. The loud ear splitting sound of feedback causes the entire cafeteria to cover their ears and look to the microphone stand in the front of the room. Richie is standing in the front holding the microphone, cringing slightly at the loud sound. No lunch ladies run to grab the microphone from him, meaning he got permission to do whatever it is he’s about to do. His wild curls bounce as he nervously shifts from foot to foot as he looks around the cafeteria until he locks eyes with you. You can’t look away from him so you miss the smiles the losers give each other and the high five Bev and Ben share.

“(Y/N) I don’t know what I could ever say to you to get you to forgive me, I can never forgive myself for hurting you,” he talks into the microphone, everyone looking between the two of you, but neither of you seem to notice anyone but each other. “I know I embarrassed you, so maybe if I embarrass myself in front of everyone you’ll forgive me a little bit. (Y/N), I never meant to hurt you, I only agreed to the prank because I wanted to forget you. No- fuck that doesn’t sound right.

“I’ve been in love with you since middle school and I knew you could never love me too, even when Ed’s told me you did I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to forget my feelings for you because I never wanted to hurt you, so I agreed to the prank. But I hurt you anyway because I let Greta get in my head, so I even failed the damn prank. But I love you so fucking much (Y/N) and I’m sick of running from these damn feelings. All I want to do is take you away from this hellhole after we graduate, and go to NYU together like we’ve planned since Freshman year. I love you (Y/N) (L/N), and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing to you about how shitty I was if you give me a second chance.”

Your body stands up on autopilot, and you don’t realize you’re walking towards him until your face to face. Lifting your hand you gently push a curl that fell in front of his eye away and tuck it behind his ear, he leans his head into your hand as a lunch lady comes and takes the microphone out his hand grinning largely at teen love. You struggle to find words, so you wrap both your hands around the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him into a kiss. It isn’t your first kiss, Bill had dared you two to kiss sophomore year in a game of truth or dare in the barrens, but this kiss is different. These aren't two kids afraid of the adult feelings that were overcoming them, these are two almost adults finally giving into the most powerful and amazing feeling in existence. Richie makes sure to keep his hands away from your back, he’ll clean out your cuts later, instead he tangles his fingers into your hair pulling you in deeper. Before the kiss can go too far you pull back giggling as Richie follows your face trying to kiss you again.

“I love you too,” you rest your forehead on his, turning your giggling face into a mock serious one. “But you’re on thin ice mister.”

“I love you more,” he caresses your cheek and you grin happily, laughing at his antics when he starts speaking again. “Than I love Eddie’s mom.” the entire cafeteria is whooping and hollering at your kiss, but non louder than your losers. Well, everyone except Greta, who lets out a high pitched huff and storms out of the cafeteria.

“I think the prank ended up working out,” you giggle, lightly nipping at Richie’s thumb as it grazes over your lower lip.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

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andishacks · 5 years

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twelve days of tyrus 🌟 twelve

I TOLD MYSELF I WOULD POST THIS YESTERDAY BUT I FORGOT, so here it is, approximately 2 days late, but here anyway. this last prompt was a free space, so I wrote another songfic, because I cant be left alone for three seconds without writing a songfic. the song is one more day of snow from jasper in deadland, because it’s a really light song and I could imagine the teens singing it! but I didn't do this fic w all the teens because I am incredibly lazy. this is very domestic & a bit slow so I hope u enjoy that

also, ao3 link

my toes are bound to break off

my nose will crack if i cough.

but oh, look at the snow . . .

Christmas day, and Cyrus was taking a walk to TJ’s house, drudging through four-inch snow. It had been snowing nonstop all through Christmas Eve, and Christmas day was forecasted for flurries. On the roads covered in snow it was silent, but if you strained your ears you could hear families inside houses singing and talking, and that’s the perfect background noise for the type of day that day was.

It was the kind of day that you knew you were freezing, but you couldn’t go inside yet, because the snow was inviting, and the snow made you want to spin in a circle or just look up at the sky until more snow started falling and you could catch it. It was the kind of day where you, oddly, felt like you could breathe better than other days.

TJ, on this day, was at home, in a warm hoodie, watching The Wizard of Oz, which is not even a Christmas movie, he just felt like watching it. His father was out, his sister had friends, and it just wasn’t the kind of day where you wanted to talk about basketball - and all his teammates had plans. It was TJ-doesn’t-move-for-a-whole-day time. He’d been texting Cyrus about the The Wizard of Oz, and Cyrus had mysteriously stopped texting back, so he was watching The Wizard of Oz without what is arguably the best part of watching any movie, live-texting your boyfriend while watching it.

A knocking came at his door.

He checked the time. 11:30 AM was far too early for either of his family members to be home. Expecting it to be a salesperson or someone he generally didn’t want to see in the middle of his self-pity party, he just glared at the door, but the person outside was insistent on continuing to knock. He paused the movie, and stood up. He swung the door open impatiently, ready to tell someone off, to be met with Cyrus, standing at the door.

“Cyrus, what are you..?” TJ instinctively looked behind him for a car. “Did you walk here?”

“Yes, I did,” he responded, breathing shallowly, but smiling. “Do you wanna go out or are we staying in?”

“I mean.. I was planning on staying in.” TJ said, glancing back at The Wizard of Oz on their TV screen. He waved Cyrus in, and closed the door behind him. “I would’ve thought you had other things to do on Christmas than come visit your lonely boyfriend,” he said, huffily.

“Nope. Andi and Buffy are having quality family time, and you’re alone at home. Of course I’m here.” Cyrus took at his coat off and hung it on the coat hanger.

TJ slumped back on the couch, and Cyrus took a seat next to him. TJ looked over at him. “So, you’re really staying here, then?”

“Of course. You need the company. And I want to be with you.” Cyrus said, looking at the TV.

TJ smiled, crossing his hands over his chest. “Thank you.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be exactly a bad day.

They finished the movie together, which there was thirty minutes or so more of, and at some point Cyrus moved closed to TJ, and leaned on his shoulder, putting his arm around him. TJ had a hard time staying in his bad mood. When the movie faded to credits, TJ shrugged Cyrus’ head off his shoulder, and turned to him.

“So, food?” He said, awkwardly. He’d never hosted a - what was this? a Christmas.. hangout?

“You don’t need to. I do kind of want to get outside, though.” Cyrus said, his eyes lighting up as he remembered the snow. “It’s a perfect snow day. I have no idea what we’re doing inside.”

So Cyrus put his coat on again, and TJ put his own coat on too. Cyrus opened the door first, and TJ followed him outside. It was snowing again, lightly. Cyrus offered TJ his gloved hand, and he took it, and they started walking, clearly with a place in mind.

each drift is shoveled and curbed

each life completely disturbed

and all the world takes stock

as ice even freezes the clock—

TJ almost didn’t want to admit it, but it was the perfect snow day. They’d often had white Christmases, because of the cold, cold winters, but it wasn’t often that you had a day like this one was. Younger kids were out and about, as always, but there were kids - teenagers - from their classes laughing and smiling like TJ was sure he hadn’t seen them laugh or smile for years.

It was a Christmas day stuck in another timeline, TJ decided.

Cyrus pulled him along to the crosswalk, but there weren’t any cars on the road, and if they were, they were parked. They walked slowly across the road, trying not to slip. Cyrus adjusted his hand, and intertwined his fingers with TJ’s. They made it across, and Cyrus turned to TJ, who was very focused on the snow falling onto his face. He spent a good few seconds sticking out his tongue to catch it, and Cyrus waited.

“So, you can’t spend time with your family, but I thought this would be pretty nice.” Cyrus said, and gestured to the building they were standing next to.

It was a small bakery, decked out for Christmas, and it smelled like sweets. It looked cozy and warm. TJ put his hands in his pockets and smiled at Cyrus. “This is so cute.”

Cyrus looked up at him. “I know.”

TJ pecked him on the lips, and then they entered the bakery.

It was as small and cozy as it had seemed on the outside. The walls were light green, and the floor was wooden, and it seemed almost like a home. The few people who were inside were smiling at each other with faces flushed from the cold.

“Good morning, Cyrus,” a woman behind the counter said. “I didn’t expect you here today.”

“I am unpredictable like that,” he said, and then turned to TJ. “This is… the boy.”

“The boy?” TJ asked, grinning.

“The boy,” the woman said, raising her eyebrows and nodding. “Does he have a name?”

“TJ, ma’am,” he said, awkwardly putting out his hand for a handshake.

Cyrus was certain he’d never heard TJ call anyone ma’am.

“I’m Rosie,” she said, shaking TJ’s hand. Rosie was a tall, dark-skinned woman who looked like she gave regular hugs to everyone. Her apron, fittingly, was covered in roses, and TJ slowly pieced together, from the excessive rose decor in the bakery, that it was her bakery. “What can I get you boys?”

“Chocolate mint muffin.” Cyrus said, confidently. He’d been surveying the menu behind Rosie intensely.

Rosie nodded. “Mixing up your order, I see. And you, TJ?”

TJ glanced at the menu. His mind automatically went to what he usually ordered when there was anything sweet around. He wondered if he should get something different, just because it was Christmas, but decided against it. “A sugar cookie and hot chocolate, please,” he said, politely.

“Of course.” Rosie responded, and slipped her gloves on, and leaned down to grab their sweets out of the glass box next to the counter.

“You’ve brought me food from here.” TJ said, suddenly, remembering.

“Twice.” Cyrus grinned. “But I come here a lot more often than that.”

“I can tell.” TJ smiled back. “‘The boy’,” he recalled.

Rosie put TJ’s cookie into a little plastic bag with a rose on it, and gave Cyrus his muffin. Then, she handed a warm cup of hot chocolate to TJ. They paid, they left.

“Where to, next?” TJ asked, taking a very warm sip of his drink. Hot chocolate always tasted better while you were standing in the middle of the snow.

Cyrus looked up at him, having been staring at his muffin intently. “Well, I didn’t really have anything in mind.”

TJ looked up at the snow falling, and let it fall onto his face. “That’s okay. We can stay out here.”

So, they started walking together, TJ sipping at his hot chocolate and Cyrus very focused on his muffin. They were headed back, roughly, in the direction of TJ’s home, but they were both walking slowly, because there wasn’t really any rush. It was Christmas, no one was home, and it was snowing.

There was a comfortable silence in the snow, but there was still life. TJ could hear his own footsteps and Cyrus’ next to him, and sometimes, that’s just a good thing to hear. He knew someone was there, and he knew it was Cyrus, but he didn’t have to check or anything, because he trusted that he was there and that it was going to be an alright day if Cyrus was there, which was an extremely mushy thought to have, but TJ was starting to embrace those.

so out the door to the street

to find a friend in the sleet.

and through the flurry of fluff,

TJ was munching at his sugar cookie, and Cyrus was watching him, fondly. TJ wasn’t looking back at him, but it was alright. Cyrus’ muffin was getting snowed on and a little bit soggy, so he bit into it. Mint chocolate was an odd combination. Cyrus wasn’t sure why it worked, but it did.

Cyrus moved closer to TJ, like a plant attracted to the sun, mostly because he was warm. He did this a lot. It was nice to get close to someone, especially when that someone was TJ. Cyrus thought about holding TJ’s hand, but he was holding hot chocolate, and a sugar cookie in the other hand, so he just let their arms bump together and they kept walking. TJ glanced at him when he got closer, and Cyrus smiled, and tried to say, silently, something like: ‘hello, I’m here, good to be here with you.’

Cyrus wasn’t sure either of them were telepathic, but TJ nodded and went back to his cookie.

So, there they were, taking a walk through the snow.

They would get home. Eventually. But, for now, this was this, and Cyrus put his muffin’s wrapper in the nearest trashcan they passed, and then looked up at TJ, both of his hands in his pockets now, because they were cold.

He tilted his head, as if he was investigating TJ's face, and said, softly, “I think we don’t slow down enough.”

#text #andi mack #12 days of tyrus #fanfics #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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ongsniel · 7 years

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[request] if i could (i’d ask you to come back)

AUTHOR: ongniels (ali) FANDOM: WANNA ONE/Produce 101 RATING: PG-13 PAIRING: Ong Seongwoo/Kang Daniel WORD COUNT: 3,1k WARNING: none SUMMARY: On Saturday, they fight. It’s stupid and it’s Daniel’s fault is all that Daniel can remember. He is screaming, which is a rare occurrence, he is normally not like this, he shouldn’t have been like that. Seongwoo is listening to him, numbly nodding in all the right places as silent tears roll down his cheek. Daniel should have known when to stop.

Or alternatively: Ten things Kang Daniel misses about Ong Seongwoo: A List

[AO3]

Ten things Kang Daniel misses about Ong Seongwoo: A List

Number 1: His cooking

Seongwoo is standing in the kitchen with the fridge open as he looks through all of the ingredients that they have. He is wearing one of Daniel’s black hoodies, it is a little big on him but Daniel thinks he still looks really fucking adorable.

The younger boy can’t help but smile at the other.

Daniel goes over to Seongwoo, rests his chin on the other’s shoulder and wraps his arms around the older’s waist, back hugging him.

“Do you want anything special?” Seongwoo asks, leaning into Daniel’s touch.

“Not really, I’m fine with anything you make, to be honest,” he replies, he himself looking at the fridge’s content. “I don’t think my fridge has ever been this full, wow.”

“Yeah, I went grocery shopping yesterday since all you had was spoiled milk,” Seongwoo laughs.

“Jesus,” is all he can say back.

Seongwoo just keeps on laughing at him. The older boy takes a hold of Daniel’s hand and intertwines it with his own, lightly caressing Daniel’s knuckles with his thumb. They stay in that position for a while before Seongwoo makes them separate. He takes some eggs, bacon and parmesan out of the refrigerator.

“I’m going to make spaghetti a la carbonara since we didn’t have any breakfast anyway,” Seongwoo announces, grinning at Daniel happily.

“I can’t wait,” Daniel answers, leaning against the kitchen counter.

For the next half an hour, Daniel watches Seongwoo’s every move. Although the older boy didn’t look like it, he was more often than not a bit clumsy ,that, however, changed every time he stepped into a kitchen. It seemed like every single movement he made was calculated, even in just his boxers and Daniel’s for him oversized sweater he looked like the most elegant person on earth.

“It’s done!” Seongwoo announces contently, snapping Daniel out from his thoughts. “Tell me if you like it.”

He places a plate full of spaghetti in front of Daniel and hands him a fork, eagerly waiting to see what the younger thinks of his meal. Daniel chuckles before he actually tastes it.

“Fuck, this is really good,” he says sincerely.

Daniel immediately takes another bite, treasuring the bacon’s smokiness and the creaminess of the sauce plus the perfectly cooked spaghetti. Seongwoo’s face lightens up as he sees that Daniel genuinely likes his food.

They laugh together as they eat, teasing each other about last night – about their tipsy make-up sex and the way Daniel had embarrassed himself by calling his college professor “dad” during a seminar. It feels so incredibly domestic it makes Daniel’s heart swell up with affection.

Number 2: His smell

For the longest of time, Daniel had never notice how each person has a distinct smell – his mother had told him it’s because their family normally has a very bad sense of smell but Daniel is sure that he was just being ignorant at the time.

For the longest of time, Daniel had never noticed how Seongwoo smells like a mix of strawberry (because of his body wash), coconut (because of his shampoo) and when he was wearing freshly washed clothes, he also smelled like his lavender fabric softener. Daniel knows that for people it would be a rather weird mixture but Seongwoo’s smell always makes him feel happy.

He first smells it when Seongwoo and he are cuddling on his bed, Seongwoo’s head resting on Daniel’s chest as they watch some random Marvel movie. Daniel has his head on top of Seongwoo’s; he breathes in and out and then starts to recognize of the different aromas Seongwoo emits.

“You smell like coconut,” Daniel points out, completely ignoring the film that’s playing.

Seongwoo chuckles at that and looks up at him with a smile. Daniel can’t help but grin back at him.

“Yeah, it’s my shampoo,” Seongwoo replies. “You smell like freshly cut grass and coffee. Why are you sniffing at me anyway?”

“I’m not sniffing,” Daniel exclaims, laugh escaping his lip. “It was just all over my nose, that’s why I noticed. You also kind of smell like strawberry now that I actually think about it. It smells nice.”

Number 3: His cuddles

When Daniel enters his apartment, he is completely and utterly exhausted.

Today his neurology professor had wanted him to stay back to discuss what he had to do to get some extra curriculum and pass the class, then he had missed his bus and had to come all the way home walking.

To say it nicely, today hadn’t been his best day.

He lets his backpack fall onto the floor and immediately heads towards the living room. The sight that greets him there almost makes up for all the shit that happened.

Seongwoo is curled up on the couch, watching some random variety. It’s the cutest thing Daniel has seen in quite a while. Through all of his constant tossing, Seongwoo’s shirt has ridden down; exposing the smooth white skin of the older’s collar bone. Daniel gets the urge to bite it softly.

Daniel walks over to the couch and sits down. Seongwoo immediately starts smiling as soon as he sees him, which makes Daniel’s heart beat faster.

The older boy sits up and easily envelopes Daniel in a hug.

“Hey,” he whispers directly into the younger’s ear. “I missed you.”

Daniel embraces him back, muttering an “I missed you too, you don’t even know how much” and buries his face into Seongwoo’s chest. They fall back onto the couch like that, Seongwoo tightly holding onto him.

He then wiggles out of the other’s hug, moving to the side of the couch so that both him and Seongwoo are lying down, facing each other, Daniel’s hand on Seongwoo’s waist.

“You’re too far away,” Seongwoo frowns, cutely.

“We’re literally only a few inches apart,” Daniel chuckles, eyes crinkling and bunny smile forming on his face.

“A few inches too many,” the other whines.

Daniel can only laugh as he moves closer, plastering his forehead to Seongwoo’s and intertwining their fingers. Seongwoo pecks him on the lips and then closes his eyes, his hand moving towards Daniel’s hair.

The rhythm of Seongwoo’s breathing and Seongwoo’s hand caressing his hair lulls Daniel into sleep.

Number 4: Him being shorter than Daniel

“Are you having any trouble reaching that?” Daniel smirks from behind Seongwoo, looking at the other boy as he stands on his tip toes and tries to reach for the baking sheet.

Seongwoo turns around to glare at him for a millisecond before he goes back to trying to get a hold of the item. Daniel sighs audibly, teasingly, and walks over to Seongwoo. He presses his body against the older boy’s, hand sneaking onto his boyfriend’s waist, and then easily gets the baking sheet down from the top of the kitchen cabinet. To finish it off nicely, he kisses Seongwoo on the cheek.

“What are you going to bake, shorty?” He asks with a smirk on his face.

“I’m 180cm tall, I am most definitely not short,” Seongwoo answers, turning around in Daniel’s embrace and pecking him on the lips. “You’re only like 3cms taller, I’m not a shorty.”

“Whatever you say,” Daniel laughs, leaning in for another kiss.

Number 5: His pouting that then leads to… other things

”Ey, you know I hate horror movies, that’s so not fair,” Seongwoo pouts as he literally lies on top of Daniel, his chin resting on one of his hands as he looks into the younger’s eyes. “You selected the movie on purpose, didn’t you?”

Daniel only smirks at him and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I didn’t,” he replies smugly, his hands settling just above Seongwoo’s butt. “It’s my turn to choose the movie so you have no right to say no to this.”

Seongwoo just keeps on pouting at him, trying to act all cutesy on him so he will change the movie but Daniel is having none of it. He loves how Seongwoo clings onto him when he is scared.

“Please, please, please,” Seongwoo whines. “I’ll even pay for dinner the next time we go out even if it’s it’s your turn to do so.”

“Nope,” Daniel answers immediately, it makes Seongwoo pout again.

“Will it work if I say no sex for the next month if you don’t change the movie?” the older boy tries, now he is the one with a smug smile.

“I can live with no sex,” Daniel shrugs his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Seongwoo smirks, suddenly sitting up so that he is straddling Daniel.

“Yep, pretty sure,” he doesn’t know why his voice suddenly became so high pitched. “Really I’m very, very sure. I’ve got no problem with it, at all.”

The older boy leans in to kiss him then, his hands cupping Daniel’s face lovingly. Daniel’s hands automatically grip Seongwoo’s waist, then wander down the other’s shirt and caress his bare skin. Seongwoo deepens the kiss then, tongue softly swiping along Daniel’s lips. His hands let go of Daniel’s face, instead they go under Daniel’s shirt and to his happy trail.

It’s no wonder that they don’t get to watch the movie that night.

Number 6: Him stealing his clothes

Daniel has been searching for his grey t-shirt for almost half an hour, he had even gotten so desperate that he had called his roommate Jisung, who was at his boyfriend’s house, to see if he had seen it (he hadn’t).

He is looking through his laundry pile when he hears the door to his apartment opening and closing. By the steps he hears, he immediately knows it’s Seongwoo. Daniel lets the clothes he had in his hand fall and goes out to greet his boyfriend.

“Hey, I came by to drop off some food before I go to my classes,” Seongwoo says, immediately walking to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he smiles, cheerfully hugging the other. “Oh, by the way, have you seen my grey–“

Daniel doesn’t even finish his question before he knows the answer. Seongwoo has definitely seen it. He knows because his boyfriend is wearing it underneath his denim jacket. If it had been anyone else, Daniel would have complained but it looks so good on Seongwoo, he can’t say anything. He grins instead.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” Daniel asks, teasingly.

Seongwoo looks flustered for a moment, the Tupperware he was holding almost falling to the ground. The boy just scratches the back of his neck shyly, adverting his gaze from the younger boy. Daniel loves how he could make the normally over-confident, outgoing Ong Seongwoo this nervous.

“It smells like you,” Seongwoo mumbles, blush spreading across his face. “I like that about it, makes my theater history lessons more bearable.”

Daniel only nods understandingly, watching in adoration how perfectly the shirt fits Seongwoo.

Number 7: Waking up next to him

The sunlight flits into the room through the curtain, making Daniel frown and try to bury his head more into Seongwoo’s bare back. His cold nose makes Seongwoo grumble in his sleep and turn over so that he’s facing the younger boy.

Daniel, pretty sure that he isn’t going to get any more sleep, slowly cracks one eye open.

He is faced with a sleepy Seongwoo, breathing steadily, hair all mussed from all his moving around during the night. The sunlight is beautifully falling onto his three moles and nose making his features even more breathtaking than they usually are.

“Quit staring at me,” Seongwoo suddenly yawns, eyes fluttering open, long eye lashes looking beautiful in the lighting. “Less looking at me; more cuddling.”

Daniel chuckles; sleepily moving closer towards where Seongwoo is. The older boy smiles, he is obviously satisfied just being an inch closer to Daniel.

“Good morning,” Seongwoo whispers, eyes closed again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ong Seongwoo.”

Number 8: Getting protective over him

It’s the first time in about a month that Daniel runs into Seongwoo on campus. Normally they agree to meet up since their faculties are so far apart – theater and medicine majors have never been the best of friends – or they just see each other directly at Daniel’s home.

But today he actually just randomly sees his boyfriend. Next to him is his best friend Jaehwan, who has an arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s – Sewoon, he thinks – waist, as both of them talk to a man Daniel has never seen before. Said man looks kind of scary, to say the least.

His heart clenches in worry as he looks at the three of them talking to the man, Seongwoo in obvious discomfort judging by the frown on his face. Daniel feels his blood pressure rising as he continues to watch but can’t clearly figure out what the heck is happening. That’s why he decides to just head over to the group to check out what’s going on.

As soon as Seongwoo spots him, his entire body seems to relax. Daniel feels kind of proud. He pecks his boyfriend’s lips as a greeting as his eyebrows rise in question to know what’s up.

“Hey, what are you doing? Don’t you have a lecture soon?” he inquires, hands wrapping around Seongwoo’s waist.

“Well, this guy over here,” Jaehwan points to the man Daniel had deemed as scary with an unimpressed look. “Chatted us up, obviously hitting on your boyfriend although Seongwoo had told him he has a boyfriend. He’s been sneakily following us since then.”

“Until Jaehwan noticed, of course,” Sewoon adds with a small smile.

Daniel looks at Seongwoo to see if it’s true, Seongwoo nods. The older wraps his arms around Daniel’s waist too, head resting on the younger boy’s shoulder, seeking Daniel’s comforting warmth.

“Well, you can now clearly see he has a boyfriend, right?” Daniel asks with a confident smile. “There’s no need to follow him now, he’s off-limits, not in the dating market, not available.”

The man just huffs and indignantly walks away. For how scary he had come off, he really wasn’t.

“You okay?” he turns towards Seongwoo.

“Since you’re here yes,” Seongwoo grins, happily. “So lucky, you came just at the right time. Jaehwan was about to call the campus security.”

“That’s a relief then, the campus guard hates Jaehwan’s guts, I don’t think that would have been very useful,” Daniel replies teasingly, receiving Jaehwan’s middle finger as an answer. “I’ll pick you up after your lecture to make sure that dude’s not after you.”

“Oh, how nice, I have a personal bodyguard now, I am the new Whitney Houston,” Seongwoo laughs.

Daniel just pats the older’s head lovingly, listening as Seongwoo sings “I will always love you” on the top of his lungs, Sewoon and Jaehwan cringing next to them.

He realized then, he is completely and utterly in love with Ong Seongwoo.

Number 9: Him laughing without any reason

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Daniel asks nervously.

Seongwoo has been laughing for at least ten minutes straight without any obvious reason, nothing funny had happened and Daniel hadn’t made a joke either, so the only thing that could crack up his boyfriend this much is Daniel having something on his teeth or him looking ridiculous in any way.

“No,” Seongwoo manages to breathe out, still laughing without a stop in sight. “It’ just…”

“What? What is so funny?” The younger boy whines, his arms now crossed over his chest and a grumpy frown on his face. “Why are you making fun of me?”

“I’m… I’m not making fun of you,” Seongwoo chuckles, trying to calm down. “I’m just really, really happy.”

“Stop joking around,” Daniel snaps, obviously in a bad mood now.

Seongwoo laughs one last time before he heads to where Daniel is sitting on a chair next to the table. The older boy sits in the younger’s lap, looking at him with the most genuine smile.

“Seriously, seeing you just makes me really, really, really happy,” Seongwoo beams with the softest of voice.

Daniel isn’t completely convinced though so he just keeps staring at Seongwoo, trying to find out what actually is making the other laugh so much. Seongwoo, however, makes him forget all about the laughing as he leans in and kisses him, hard.

So hard that Daniel loses his balance and the both of them plus the chair fall onto the floor.

They end up laughing for another ten minutes, happily cuddling on the floor with tears in their eyes as they look at each other lovingly.

Number 10: Seeing him every day

On Monday, Seongwoo is at Daniel’s apartment, once again cooking one of the most delicious meals Daniel has ever eaten.

On Tuesday, he meets Seongwoo over coffee, the both of them too busy with their exams to actually stay over at each other’s apartment. Jisung is also in Daniel’s so they can’t be alone anyway. Still, they enjoy cuddling in the hidden couches behind the entrance and laughing quietly as they talk.

On Wednesday, Seongwoo surprises him at his apartment. He is in his most comfortable sweats on one side of the table, books spread across half of it, on the other side is Jisung, who looks like he has had one coffee to many. Daniel just smiles, giving Seongwoo a kiss on the cheeks before he orders some take out for the three of them. They spend the rest of the night learning together. Sometimes him and Seongwoo take breaks to smile at each other. At 2 a.m. Seongwoo and Daniel pass out on the couch, Jisung is nice enough to cover them with a blanket.

On Thursday, they wake up and eat breakfast together. Then they meet up at Daniel’s after their lectures and watch a movie together with Jaehwan and Sewoon, sometimes stopping to gush over the latest new college couple or celebrity scandal.

On Friday, they do basically the same thing but just go out to eat with some of Seongwoo’s friends from the theater department during the evening.

On Saturday, they fight. It’s stupid and it’s Daniel’s fault is all that Daniel can remember. He is screaming, which is a rare occurrence, he is normally not like this, he shouldn’t have been like that. Seongwoo is listening to him, numbly nodding in all the right places as silent tears roll down his cheek. Daniel should have known when to stop.

On Sunday, Seongwoo is not there.

The next Monday, Seongwoo is not there.

The next Tuesday, Seongwoo is not there.

The next Wednesday, Seongwoo is not there.

The next week, Seongwoo is not there.

The next month, Seongwoo is not there.

#ongniel #ong seongwoo #seongwoo #kang daniel #daniel #seongwoo/daniel #wanna one #produce 101 #produce 101 season 2 #prompt #request #kpop fic #fan fic #i think this is one of the fics im proud of idk why it's not even that good but

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nancygduarteus · 5 years

Text

A School Nurse Is on a Mission to Count the Women Killed by Men

PLANO, Texas—In February 2017, a school nurse in this Dallas suburb began counting women murdered by men.

Seated at her desk, beside shelves of cookbooks, novels, and books on violence against women, Dawn Wilcox, 54, scours the internet for news stories of women killed by men in the United States.

For dozens of hours each week, she digs through online news reports and obituaries to tell the stories of women killed by lovers, strangers, fathers, sons, stepbrothers, neighbors, and tenants.

[Read: Nearly half of all murdered women are killed by romantic partners ]

“I’m trying to get the message [across] that women matter, and that these women’s lives mattered, and that this is not acceptable in the greatest country in the world,” Wilcox says.

Her spreadsheet, a publicly available resource she calls Women Count USA, is a catalog of lives lost: names, dates, ages, where they lived, pictures of victims and their alleged killers, and the details that can’t be captured by numbers.

For Wilcox, these women are more than statistics.

She wants you to know Nicole Duckson, a 34-year-old Columbus, Ohio, woman whose friends “remembered her as a prayerful person and a loving mother.”

And Duckson’s 4-year-old daughter, Christina, who was stabbed to death alongside her mother, “a polite, happy little girl.”

And Claire Elizabeth VanLandingham, 27, a Navy dentist fatally shot by her ex-boyfriend. She had appeared in a video for Take Back the Night, the organization known for fighting dating violence, sexual violence, and domestic violence on college campuses nationally. Her mother said, “Her heart was kind; her spirit generous; her soul wise. She gave her smile to everyone who needed it; to everyone who hadn’t even realized they did.”

Those are just a few of the nearly 2,500 women listed in Wilcox’s album during the past two years.

“Where is the outrage? Where are the marches, the speeches? I know where the silence is. It is everywhere, and it is deafening,” Wilcox says.

Her crusade, she says, was spurred in part by the media frenzy about the shooting death of a gorilla, Harambe, at the Cincinnati Zoo and the uproar over the killing of Cecil the lion, shot by a Minnesota dentist as a trophy.

As an animal lover, she was horrified by those killings. But as she saw the social-media fury and the online petitions spread, she asked herself: What about women?

“Women are people and they deserve to have their lives valued,” she posted on Facebook in 2016, after Harambe’s death. “They deserve our voices speaking out on their behalf. And when they are abused, assaulted, murdered and erased they deserve our attention and our outrage.”

The FBI releases crime data every year, including the number of women who have been killed by men, but local police are not required to file reports to the federal agency, so some state figures are missing.

Florida, for example, has not provided its data to the FBI since 1996, according to reports by the Violence Policy Center, a nonprofit organization that advocates to stop gun violence. Numbers from Alabama and Illinois have also been unavailable or limited in certain years.

Since 1996, 1,613 to 2,129 women have been murdered by men each year in the United States, FBI data show. In 2017, the latest year for which data are available, the FBI counted 1,733 women. An overwhelming majority of those women were killed by a man they knew.

“If you just go by the raw numbers, it is undoubtedly an undercount of domestic-violence homicides,” says April Zeoli, an associate professor of criminal justice at Michigan State University and an expert on domestic-violence homicides and gun laws. Still, she adds, “it’s the most accurate picture we have.”

Wilcox, however, is doing something the FBI does not: putting faces to the cases. Recording the correct number of women murdered isn’t her only goal. Her work is about searching for their stories, finding their photos, trying to learn who they were, so that these women aren’t forgotten.

Wilcox is no stranger to violence against women.

When she was 21, she began dating a man she met in a bar in Dallas. She’ll never forget the first time he hurt her.

On a night out at a dance club, Wilcox’s boyfriend stepped into the restroom. When he came back, she said, he sprayed cologne into her face, which burned her eyes as she groped her way to the bathroom to rinse it out. It was an accident, she says he told her. But Wilcox knew it was an attempt to humiliate her.

The violence escalated, Wilcox said, culminating in a night that left a deep scar on the inside of her arm and a memory of abuse that echoes the stories of the lost women for whom she searches.

It was hot and the power had gone out, leaving her with no air-conditioning as she read a book by candlelight in her apartment. Her boyfriend began kissing her leg, she said, but soon she felt his teeth digging into her as he bit her. She told him to stop, but he put his hand at the base of her throat, pushed her down on the bed, and, after telling her he wanted to taste her blood, bit into the crook of her arm, tearing out skin, she says.

Wilcox went to a local hospital emergency room and then fled to her mother’s home. She eventually ended the relationship with the man.

Wilcox considers herself lucky. “I could’ve easily ended up one of the women on my own list.”

[Read: On the trail of missing American Indian women]

Today, she is married to a man who says his wife’s work has opened his eyes to the pervasiveness of violence against women.

“She’s inspired me,” says Mike Nosenzo, who married Wilcox in 2018. “The amount of time that she spends on it, the dedication that she puts into it—I don’t see how I could feel any other way.”

As her project nears the two-year mark, Wilcox wants to dig deeper to find more details on the lives of these women before their deaths: How many of the women had a protective order against their assailant? And how many cases involved a prior history of domestic violence?

She is here, she said, not only to remember these women, but to make people care about their fate, with the hope of raising awareness to save others.

“I feel like these women were completely failed by all of us, really,” Wilcox says. “A lot of these women did everything you’re supposed to do to keep themselves safe. They told people, they went to the police, they got protective orders, and it still was not enough.”

This post appears courtesy of Kaiser Health News.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/02/building-public-database-murdered-women/582769/?utm_source=feed

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ionecoffman · 5 years

Text

A School Nurse Is on a Mission to Count the Women Killed by Men

PLANO, Texas—In February 2017, a school nurse in this Dallas suburb began counting women murdered by men.

Seated at her desk, beside shelves of cookbooks, novels, and books on violence against women, Dawn Wilcox, 54, scours the internet for news stories of women killed by men in the United States.

For dozens of hours each week, she digs through online news reports and obituaries to tell the stories of women killed by lovers, strangers, fathers, sons, stepbrothers, neighbors, and tenants.

[Read: Nearly half of all murdered women are killed by romantic partners ]

“I’m trying to get the message [across] that women matter, and that these women’s lives mattered, and that this is not acceptable in the greatest country in the world,” Wilcox says.

For Wilcox, these women are more than statistics.

She wants you to know Nicole Duckson, a 34-year-old Columbus, Ohio, woman whose friends “remembered her as a prayerful person and a loving mother.”

And Duckson’s 4-year-old daughter, Christina, who was stabbed to death alongside her mother, “a polite, happy little girl.”

Those are just a few of the nearly 2,500 women listed in Wilcox’s album during the past two years.

“Where is the outrage? Where are the marches, the speeches? I know where the silence is. It is everywhere, and it is deafening,” Wilcox says.

As an animal lover, she was horrified by those killings. But as she saw the social-media fury and the online petitions spread, she asked herself: What about women?

Wilcox is no stranger to violence against women.

When she was 21, she began dating a man she met in a bar in Dallas. She’ll never forget the first time he hurt her.

The violence escalated, Wilcox said, culminating in a night that left a deep scar on the inside of her arm and a memory of abuse that echoes the stories of the lost women for whom she searches.

Wilcox went to a local hospital emergency room and then fled to her mother’s home. She eventually ended the relationship with the man.

Wilcox considers herself lucky. “I could’ve easily ended up one of the women on my own list.”

[Read: On the trail of missing American Indian women]

Today, she is married to a man who says his wife’s work has opened his eyes to the pervasiveness of violence against women.

She is here, she said, not only to remember these women, but to make people care about their fate, with the hope of raising awareness to save others.

This post appears courtesy of Kaiser Health News.

Article source here:The Atlantic

0 notes