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cuubism · 2 months

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Computation

part 7 of Complex Mathematics

(aka Dream vs Technology -- Technology: 1, Dream: 0)

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Wednesday, 3:54am

Hob. what is the wifi password?

3:56am: why are you texting me when I’m in the same house?

3:57am: I did not want to wake you up.

4:00am: ……….

4:01am: Ah.

4:03am: it’s 12345. which is terrible security by the way

4:04am: how do i know this and you don’t? we’re in YOUR flat

4:05am: Computers are your friends, not mine.

4:10am: It does not like the password.

4:12am: alright i’m getting up

Dream creeps back into the living room, holding a cup of tea, as Hob’s tinkering with the router. Turns out it needed to be completely reset before he could reconnect it to Dream’s laptop. Not that this is that hard, but for some reason Hob doesn’t understand, technology is simply out of Dream’s grasp. Head in the clouds, too smart for basic computer skills, etc etc.

“A peace offering,” Dream says, placing the tea on the coffee table. He perches on the couch beside where Hob’s leaning over the router on its spot on the bookshelf.

“I’m not mad at you,” Hob says. He pats the router as its indicator lights finally turn green again. “I will take tea, though.”

“I woke you,” Dream says softly.

“You’ve woken me before, you will again,” Hob says with equanimity. Their sleep schedules are out of alignment, it tends to happen.

It’s the wrong thing to say, though. Dream cringes, hands folding in his lap. “I should be able to handle such things.”

“It’s just the wifi.” Hob finally finishes reconnecting Dream’s laptop and turns properly towards him. Dream still looks guilty about it. Sometimes Hob misses the time before they were dating, when Dream would bristle at him instead of caving. Just because he doesn’t like seeing Dream feel bad.

He takes the cup of tea and places it in Dream’s hands instead, briefly wrapping their hands around each other. “It’s okay,” he repeats. Possibly they should have a longer conversation about it, but Hob’s not emotionally awake enough for it.

Instead, he gets up and heads for the kitchen to put on some coffee. He needs something with more caffeine in it than tea.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

“Might as well get something done while my brain is online,” Hob says. He goes to fetch his own laptop from Dream’s bedroom. Lord knows it’ll need to get reconnected to the glitchy wifi again, anyway.

Friday, 2:05pm

Hob.

2:06pm: ?

2:07pm: The wifi is angry again.

2:09pm: did you antagonize it?

2:09pm: hang on did you just wake up now?

2:10pm: I cannot comment.

2:12pm: I assume you have been hard at work in the library since six.

2:14pm: more like hardly working in the library. i did make an app that gives you a gold star every time you do the laundry

2:16pm: Will that assist in your routines?

2:17pm: probably not but it’ll be fun for 5 minutes

2:17pm: wifi password’s still 12345

2:18pm: maybe I should make an app for that instead…

2:20pm: I do not think it would help.

2:30pm: …You are not trying to make said app, are you?

2:34pm: nope just realized I’m late for a class and had to scramble out of there. I’ll be back later can do couples counseling for you and wifi then?

2:35pm: Very well.

For a while after putting down his phone, Dream stares at the wifi router in vexation, as if that will possibly make the angry red lights turn green again. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. He knows even less what to do to fix it.

He needs the wifi operational to keep generating these fractals. He supposes he could go to the library and use university wifi, but that requires going out in public, which is preferably avoided, at least while he’s trying to work. So he will have to do something else until Hob gets back from class.

He recalls what Hob had said. That instead of working on his dissertation he had made an entire phone app about laundry. He had said it so casually, like it was a doodle to pass the time. Dream can use apps—barely—but he cannot begin to fathom how he would go about making one. Hob does not understand how even in his procrastination he is exceptional.

Well. This is something that Dream can do. Hob hates doing laundry—hence the app-based reward system—but Dream doesn’t mind. He finds it meditative. He will have to be more precise about fabric care instructions now, as while his own clothes rarely range beyond grey, black, and dark blue, Hob actually wears colors which might bleed into each other.

He puts on his headphones with some music, gathers up the laundry from the bedroom, and goes about his routine.

When Hob gets back, Dream has finished hanging the laundry to dry and returned to his contemplation of the router, this time still with his headphones playing. He’s lost in thought, and doesn’t notice Hob’s come in until his hand lands on Dream’s shoulder. Normally a sudden touch when he’s thinking would make him jump, but he’s become used to Hob.

“Trying to solve your marital problems through telepathy?” Hob asks.

“We were never married,” Dream says. “Indeed we are enemies.”

Hob laughs. He kisses Dream on the cheek, then kneels in front of the router. “You have to stop tormenting my boyfriend,” he tells it. It only blinks back at him innocently.

Hob can be very silly at times. “I do not think arguing with the inanimate object will help,” Dream says.

“You never know.” Hob takes the router down and sets about unplugging all the cables. Dream still doesn’t know what any of them precisely do, nor how wifi works. It may as well be magic.

Hob has it fixed within minutes, of course. Far more effective than Dream’s intense staring. He gets Dream’s laptop reconnected, and Dream is finally able to start generating his fractal. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anything for my love,” says Hob, getting to his feet again. “Guessing you want some time to yourself now to work on this?”

“Yes,” says Dream, with some guilt. Hob has come home to help him only for him to immediately bury himself in his work again. But yes, he does want to make progress on this at last.

“Well, good,” says Hob, and Dream turns to him in surprise. “Because I’m due for a nap.”

Dream still hasn’t formulated a response to this by the time Hob’s disappeared into his bedroom. Strange, that their routines can be so opposite and still meld together so well.

Hob pokes his head back out into the hall. “Did you do the laundry?”

“Yes,” says Dream.

“I could kiss you,” Hob declares, then blows one to him before disappearing back into the bedroom.

Dream presses his hand to his cheek, as if to touch a kiss that had really landed there. Smiles to himself. Then goes back to his fractal.

Monday, 5:02pm

Hob.

5:03pm: Wifi?

5:04pm: …Yes.

Thursday, 9:50pm

…..Hob.

9:50pm: I’m sitting right next to you.

9:51pm: ….

9:51pm: I’m just gonna get you a new router. This thing’s got problems.

9:52pm: I think it is I who has the problems.

9:52pm: That too.

Saturday, 6:00pm

Hob.

6:00pm: Is it broken AGAIN??

6:01pm: No. I got dinner.

6:02pm: Oh!

6:02pm: Fuck I’m starving.

6:03pm: Coming back from class now.

6:03pm: Don’t touch the router it’s in a fragile mental state.

6:04pm: Aren’t we all.

Thursday, 3:50pm

This time, it is the wifi in Hob’s flat that is stymieing Dream. He does not think it is broken. Hob has merely changed the password, as he’s much more diligent about internet security than Dream, and then forgotten to tell Dream what it is. Or, more likely, correctly assumed Dream would have to ask him again anyway.

He briefly contemplates trying to deduce the password, but it is likely an incomprehensible string of characters that Hob would claim is ideal security precisely because of the impossibility of deducing it.

He refuses to text Hob about it again. Hob has a class to teach soon—Dream has his schedule memorized—Dream does not want to distract him. Though speaking of…

3:50pm: You have a class in ten minutes.

3:51pm: FUCK

3:51pm: I got distracted

3:53pm: Now… running

3:54pm: You are not near the building, are you.

3:55pm: NOPE

Dream smiles to himself, thinking of Hob sprinting across campus. It happens often. Hob is good at many things, but time management is not one of them. This is why Dream knows his schedule.

He does feel… a bit silly, though. He should be better at this, should he not? Less bothersome to Hob over small things that he should be able to handle.

Normally he would go back to his work to distract himself from these thoughts, but he still can’t work on his fractals without being able to connect remotely to the university computers, which are more powerful than his own. This is something Hob had also set up for him, because Dream had not been able to make any sense of the instructions he had been given for remote login, and the like.

Sighing, he instead takes his sketchbook out of his bag. It’s been a while since he’s made any time for drawing. But he had started looking at fractals in the first place to better understand patterns in art, to understand resonances between what occurred in nature and what was projected by mathematics. And drawing used to soothe him.

So he starts drawing, sketching the fractal he has been generating—to the extant that he can with the imprecise instrument of his pen. Even in infinite impossible digital form, the branching spirals eventually become too small for him to see, though he knows they continue on in perfect replication forever, smaller and smaller until they disappear into atoms. He cannot recreate that level of detail by hand. But he tries.

By the time he gets another text back from Hob, an hour later, he’s moved to the floor to have more space. He’s found a bigger piece of scrap paper and is drawing the fractal again, in more detail this time, color-coding the different shapes, free-handing where he should probably use a ruler for more precision. He has achieved several more levels of replication than before, but it is still not right. He can’t get it right. If he could only use the stupid computer system he could get it right.

Finally he looks at his phone, several minutes after the text alert pinged.

Thanks love 😘

Unexpectedly, it makes him tear up. Always this happens to him. He does not realize how frustrated he has become with himself until it is too late.

Of course, to only make matters worse, he is still sitting hunched on the floor, pen clasped tight in his hand, teeth clenched so hard it’s hurting his jaw, when Hob comes through the door. He must have texted not far from home.

“Hey, love,” Hob’s already saying as he comes through the door, “meant to stop and grab dinner but I totally forgot— I’m sure I have something here, though— Dream?”

Dream hasn’t moved from the floor, or responded. Hob puts down his bag and comes over to him. He looks down at the fractal, which is still incomplete. “Did you draw that?”

“Obviously,” Dream bites. The pen is still in his hand. He drops it, scraping a hand through his hair. Great. Now he’s snapping at Hob, too.

Hob sits down on the floor beside him. He studies the fractal. Then points to one of the shapes that Dream’s colored in red. “That’s supposed to be purple.”

Dream stares at the fractal. Hob is right, it is meant to be purple. According to the way Dream had color-coded it digitally. He looks at Hob. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve watched you fiddling with it enough. We set it up on your laptop, remember?”

Yes. Dream remembers. He remembers how Hob had helped him.

“Wifi giving you troubles again?” Hob asks, looking from the drawing, to Dream’s laptop, which is sleeping on the couch.

Dream nods, then saws quietly, “Are you not… frustrated with me? Annoyed?”

Hob doesn’t need to ask what he means. “Sometimes,” he says, and Dream can’t help his flinch. “So?”

“So?”

Hob shrugs. “I would have missed that class if you didn’t text me.”

Dream does not understand the relevance.

Hob looks up at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Aren’t you annoyed with me?”

Perhaps he is, at times. Recently, Dream has been too absorbed in his project to feel much about it at all.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It is just how you are.”

Hob seems to think that Dream still doesn’t understand the point he’s making, and perhaps Dream doesn’t. Hob takes his hand. “Look. I’ve no idea why someone as smart as you are is constantly defeated by basic technology, but it doesn’t matter. Always having to be the one to fix the router is a small price to pay for having you in my life.”

Dream’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He… he does not know if anyone has ever put up with him with so little complaint. For truly, it is not only computer troubles. It is all the small things that stack upon each other to make him feel different and difficult.

“I find I do not like…” Dream admits tentatively, “when you must do these things. That I should be able to do.”

“You did the laundry the other day,” Hob says.

Why must he jump topics in this manner? “I do not understand.”

“Well, we don’t actually live together, you know. You have your own laundry. You don’t have to do mine, too.”

“I thought it would help you,” Dream says.

Hob just waits expectantly.

Dream looks down at his lap. “Ah. I… see.” Hob finds him frustrating at times, he had said so, but still wants to help him. He finds Hob’s admittance that Dream is frustrating to be a relief, in its way. He would only feel more on edge if Hob pretended otherwise, surely to snap later when Dream was least expecting it, as so many have done.

“Give me your arm,” Hob says then.

When Dream does, Hob pushes up his sleeve, takes one of the markers from the floor and writes on Dream’s forearm, the wifi password is I love you.

“There,” he says. “Now you won’t forget.”

Dream touches the words with a light fingertip. “This is not good internet security.”

“Oh, so you do listen my ramblings,” Hob says, laughing. Always, Dream thinks. “What, you’re going to throw out my valentine because I cut the heart out a little wonky?”

He makes as if to rub the marker off, and Dream pulls his arm protectively to his chest. Hob’s smile softens. He carefully pulls Dream forward into a hug, Dream’s arm pressed between them. Dream tucks his face into the crook of Hob’s neck. It’s one of his favorite places to hide.

“I’ll help you fix your program after we find some dinner,” Hob tells him, rubbing his back.

“I think I should give up on using computers,” Dream mumbles.

Hob chuckles. “See how you feel about it after I make you some brownies for dessert.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the thought, and Hob kisses the side of his head. And Dream touches, again, the words Hob’s written on his arm, where it’s pressed between them. And allows himself to smile.

Wednesday, 6:03pm

Dream is attempting to cook dinner. Hob doesn’t think it’s going so well. At least not if the blaring fire alarm, which Hob’s just silenced by waving a dish towel at it until the smoke dissipated, is any indication. But it does mean he’s been treated to the sight of Dream with his sleeves rolled up, delicate hands at work—and wearing an actual apron.

Having soothed the alarm, he leans against the counter so he can shamelessly ogle instead of helping.

“What are you even trying to make?” he asks, eyeing the still-smoking oven.

Dream pouts. “Only bread. It should not be so hard.”

“You didn’t wait for me to get home to watch?” He imagines the sight of Dream aggressively kneading the bread dough. It shouldn’t be a turn on, but it kind of is.

“You would make a spectacle of my misery?” Dream says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about.

“Definitely,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, but turns to take the attempt at bread out of the oven. It’s… pretty blackened, to be honest. “Butter’ll save it, I’m sure!” Hob says cheerfully.

“Nothing will save it,” says Dream, morosely. He pulls off his oven mitt in apparent disgrace, and— Hob catches his arm.

“How has this not faded yet?”

For Hob’s writing saying the wifi password is I love you is still on his forearm.

Dream looks sheepish. “I got it tattooed.”

Hob tilts his head at him, confused. “So you could remember the wifi password?”

“So that I could remember this.” He traces his finger over, I love you.

Hob feels a blush creep across his cheeks. But it’s a pleasant feeling. “This is not even my best handwriting.”

“I know,” says Dream. He does not seem unhappy about it.

Hob takes his arm, touches the words, too. “You could have just gotten this part done.”

“I think,” Dream says slowly, touching the part that says, the wifi password is, “that this is another form of the same.”

And Hob… finds himself tearing up a little. Because it’s true. It’s so silly that Dream, certifiable maths genius, struggles so much with basic computer skills. But Hob will do any silly thing for him, because he loves him.

“Yeah,” he says, taking a shaky breath. “It is.”

“Unfortunately, you can never change the wifi password now,” says Dream, and Hob laughs wetly.

“I really can’t, can I? Terrible security. The things I’ll do for you, darling.”

“Would that include making proper bread?” Dream asks, and Hob nods, patting his arm.

“We’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Now he’s wondering how he didn’t notice Dream getting a tattoo. Though to be fair, they haven’t seen each other as much in the past two weeks as they usually would, thanks to very inconvenient scheduling. Apparently Dream’s taken advantage of that time to do this.

“Can’t let you out of my sight for a second,” he says, as he fetches a new bread pan from the cupboard. “God knows what you’ll come back with next.”

“Be careful or I will consider that a challenge,” Dream says, and Hob pauses as way too many images flash through his mind. He shakes them off. He’ll never be able to focus on anything like that.

And Dream, the bastard, is smirking.

“Watch that look on your face or you might find that flour you’re holding dumped over your head,” Hob warns, but Dream only looks victorious, and utterly uncaring of the bag of flour he's precariously picked up.

“How will you ogle me kneading the dough that way?”

Hob swipes a dish towel from the counter and throws it at him. Dream yelps and spills the flour, which poofs up in a cloud of white landing all over his black t-shirt.

“Hob,” he complains.

“Serves you right, you dickhead,” Hob says. It only returns the smirk to Dream’s face.

“If you feel that way perhaps I’ll decide I don’t need your supervision,” he says archly.

Hob tears a piece off of Dream’s first attempt at a loaf. Or rather, breaks off a piece, which is hard as stone. He shows it to him as evidence.

Dream snatches it and shoves it into his mouth. Bites down with a crunch so horrifying Hob’s afraid he’s broken a tooth. But Dream persists, chewing it painstakingly and then swallowing, as if by force.

“Taste good?” Hob asks.

“Yes—” Dream starts to insist—then dissolves into a fit of coughing that swiftly turns into giggles. Hob loves it so much when he laughs like that. It’s so rare.

Hob laughs with him. Then frees the crumpled bag of flour from Dream’s grasp and sets it aside, brushes the flour and crumbs from his shirt. Then he takes Dream’s arm and runs his fingertip over the words again, still in awe.

He again finds himself having to clear his throat to avoid tearing up. But he manages, and says, “Let’s get you some proper, not burnt bread, yeah?”

“Please,” says Dream, a tad sheepish. “I am… very hungry.”

Hob kisses his cheek, then goes about solving that problem, too.

#this is so... silly. so sappy #complex mathematics #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #proofread this many times so here's hoping it's fine now XD

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kiaxet · 1 year

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So it turns out the latest update in @somerandomdudelmao‘s apocalypse comic has been living in my head, and when that happens I need to get it out, so ~900 words of sad it is!

~~~~~~~~

Donnie is good at birthdays. He has been once he was old enough to understand the concept. It's a point of pride.

Specifically, he's good at presents. According to his data, most people who fail at presents do so because of the guesswork they seem to think needs to be involved. He's never understood the point of that. Data and hypotheses, certainly, but why guess when a definitive answer is available after a simple direct inquiry?

"What do you want for your birthday?"

Early on, the presents are easy. Art supplies. Comics. Stuffed animals. Things he could hand to Papa in an easily followed list format, or obtain for himself once they all got old enough to start safely leaving the lair and venturing into the city above. It's simple and straightforward and so, so easy to get right.

(Of course, he always has an annotated list of his own desired gifts to provide to his brothers; if he's solved the guesswork issue, he may as well make things easy for them too. Plus, that method ensures he gets what he wants.)

Things start getting a little more complicated as he and his brothers get older. Art supplies and comics and stuffed animals are still very much appreciated, and he's documented his brothers' tastes well enough to know exactly what they like, but the answers to his simple direct inquiry are different.

"Dee, can you help me plan this mural out? I think I have enough space, but I could use a hand with the measurements."

"Donton, my half of the day is gonna be a Jupiter Jim marathon, and I need you there. Without your laptop." A beat. "But you can pick one of the movies if you want."

"Hey Donnie, you think you can help me out fixing up the gym? Things just stay put longer if you weld 'em."

After a few years of documentation, Donnie spots the pattern. His brothers appreciate physical gifts from him, certainly, but that's not what they want anymore. What Donnie's family wants from him is time - time outside the lab where he spends a good amount of his days, time spent in conversation or shared activity or simply in the same room. It's not as easy as finding the right physical gift, but if that's what they want, then he's more than happy to provide. Now that he's discerned the pattern, it's just as easy to give his brothers what they want, and Donnie can continue to maintain that he is Good At Birthdays as a point of pride.

~~~~~~~~

The Hamatos don't do birthdays anymore. There's no time in the apocalypse, no supplies, and Donnie is one of the few who actually keeps track of the calendar date. The apocalypse certainly has its share of anniversaries, a list that only grows the more people they lose, but birthdays are no longer celebrated.

With one exception.

Casey Jones Junior, their collective adopted kid, is young enough that birthdays still matter - should still matter. They do their best to keep him safe and keep those days calm and happy for him, despite everything happening around them, and while they don't always succeed, they at least try.

And damn it all, Donatello is still good at birthdays.

"Casey Junior!" He greets the kid with a grin, leaning on his bo like it's not both an inconvenience and a humiliation to need to rely on it in order to stay upright.

"Uncle Tello?"

"Since I'm not very good at guessing, I'll ask straight out." This is not entirely true - he has a list of potential gifts for Casey drafted, with 98% certainty that whatever Casey asks for will align with one of them - but he requires that confirmation to move forward. A certainty in a world where certainty is in short supply. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"My...ah." Casey's expression falls and he looks away, gaze fixed on the paperwork in his hands. Donatello says nothing, pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room in order to give Casey space. "You...can do anything," Casey starts.

"Pretty much, yes." Material issues aside - spirits know he'd have a cure for whatever the Krang had infected him with if those weren't a concern.

"I want you to stay alive," Casey says, and Donnie's smile freezes in place as Casey looks back up at him. "Can you do that?"

Damn that two percent uncertainty.

"Ah. Of course." He shrugs, as though he doesn't know exactly what Casey is asking for, and pulls up a holographic display of a calendar. "According to my calculations, I will be alive next month, which means I'll be here for your birthday." Not talking about it won't solve the problem, but it may salvage this conversation. "So! What's an actual gift you want?"

"I want you to be here." Casey's gaze finds a point on the floor, and Donnie falls silent. "Not just for a month."

No. No, he needs something concrete - something he can act on - he knows how long his list of responsibilities is, but he still feels stymied, rushing up on the end, and he needs something he can do- "But it's not a gift," he replies, a last-ditch effort he's fairly certain is bound for failure-

"No. No, it is."

As always, all Donnie's family wants from him is time.

And now, at the end of his rapidly-shortening life, it's the one thing he can no longer give them.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #somerandomdudelmao #cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey jr #fic #I wrote this with a wicked case of vertigo #so if it doesn't make sense I'm blaming that #breaking that writer's block WIDE open #writing

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

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hiii, could you please write a peter fic based on you are in love by taylor swift??

*cleaning out my inbox*

‘One look, dark room. Meant just for you, time moved too fast, you play it back.’

Your eyes danced across the room until you found Peter’s, he was on the opposite wall but connected eyesight when you did. Neither of you blinked or tilted your head, just a single glance and you both knew what it meant.

Peter politely ended his conversation and you wrapped up yours, there wasn’t a reason to look back for him. You met him at the front door, it took you back to the first night you met. A party a friend threw, he was a friend of a friend and wasn’t even supposed to be there, but fate aligned.

You locked eyes with him across the kitchen, it was instant, you both moved in tandem until you met in the middle and talked for hours.

This time, he’s your boyfriend.

“Ready?”

“God, yes.”

—-----------------------

‘Buttons on a coat, light hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.’

You hadn’t expected much, he had seemed nice but so had every other guy you tried to date. It always started with them as prince charming but then after a few dates you realized why you were single.

Until the sixth date with Peter, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t seem like it will, what started as a lunch date bled into the evening, currently sitting on the green of central park looking over the playground.

You smile and banter back and forth with Peter, you don't remember the last time conversation flowed so easily between you and a suitable dater.

The air started to drop with the threat of fall approaching, you hadn’t planned to spend the evening talking with Peter in the outside air but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, everything new you learned about him made admiration blossom in your chest.

You’re shivering but haven’t noticed, Peter had.

While you’re in the middle of explaining your favorite book plot he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, it makes you stop talking. The warm wool eloped your shoulders, you were about to ask but he stopped you.

“I need you to stop chattering your teeth if I want to hear how this ends.”

You feel warmth hit your cheeks but you shake your head softly and pick up where you paused.

—----------------------

‘Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight.’

“I’m going to fail this test and then I’m going to fail the course and then I’ll have to drop out.” You sigh heavily and frown at your laptop, “there’s no other option.”

Peter’s trying to think of something quick, he only has one idea.

“I can think of another,” you peer at him and find yourself being tugged up by his outstretched hand, following him without another question. You watch Peter move around the kitchen, his task revealed quickly.

“It’s midnight! You should go to bed and leave me to suffer on your futon.” Peter has none of it, spooning coffee grounds into his french press. You complimented it the first time he made you breakfast the morning after, he told you it was less about being fancy and more about being poor.

There’s been more and more of those lately. You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

“I’m craving coffee, that’s all.” You know him enough to know he doesn’t really like coffee, but struggles through a cup just so you don’t feel guilty about him making only you a cup.

“I think you’re lying about that. I actually think you lie about liking coffee.” He’s been caught, the look on his face says it all. He’s amused, he likes that you’re figuring him out as much as he is you. “I like that it gives me something to do for you.”

You bite back a smile, you haven’t felt this good in awhile.

—------------------

‘You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts.’

“Good morning.” You wash your eyes over his skin, you’re so thankful for last night you ignore his greeting to move around his kitchen counter for a kiss. Peter’s hands scrunch the fabric of his shirt over your waist, “nice pajamas, are they exclusive?”

You nod and give a chaste kiss, “designer exclusive. They came from this super hot guy I’ve been seeing.”

Not talking, not hooking up, not friends. Seeing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve said that, or the last time they were spoken proudly. Peter’s eyebrows raise, “you’ve been seeing someone? Do I need to fight him?”

You can sense it before it happens, your hands clutch his over your hips. “I’m not wearing underwear!” Peter gives you a funny look, you squeal when you’re picked up and set down, your feet lightly kicking cabinets.

“Good thing the guy you’ve been seeing doesn’t mind.” You lick your bottom lip, last night wasn’t enough, you need his morning too. “Then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving me a kiss.” Your knees push open when he rests between them, you lean up into his mouth, and gasp when his hand pushes up your thigh.

Slow kisses, he presses into you. A hum pulls from the back of your throat when his trailing hand finds-

“Fuck. Peter, the toast is burning!”

—-------

‘You kiss on sidewalks. You fight, then you talk.’

Peter pulls you closer, you think it’s less about safety and more about keeping you next to him. You wonder if he still thinks about last week, you still do. You couldn’t admit the truth, the whole reason you pushed him out.

But you can now, and it’s at the tip of your tongue and you can’t hold it in any longer.

“It scares me how much I like you.” Quiet. You assume he didn’t hear you, it’d be the only reason he didn’t respond. You almost say it again but that much admission scared you. A kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t scare me.”

“It doesn’t?” Not even when you pushed him away? Not even when you shut down? Not even when-

“Not even a little.”

—-------

‘You can hear it in the silence.’

A bowl pushed into your hands, you’ve refused to speak to Peter for three hours and he doesn’t mind one bit. But he still made you dinner.

‘You can feel it on the way home.’

A dozen kisses, “let me know the second you’re home, okay?” And you felt each one on the way.

‘You can see it with the lights out.’

It’s the middle of the night and you’re tugged into Peter’s chest after a slight rumble from the sky. You said once that you were scared of thunder as a kid, but he’s taking no chances and letting you know he’s there and you’re safe.

‘You are in love. True love.’

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x reader #my writing

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whiskersz · 2 months

Note

Husk/Angel/Reader, reader coming out as gender-fluid but is mostly masc aligned but has to put up with misgendering bc of liking fem fashion and how they support reader

Yay, poly relationship! I hope you enjoy the little fic and the format, decided to mix up hcs and ficlet :)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

When you come out as Genderfluid, both Angel and Husk are very supportive; you guys have been dating for a while at this point, and they were already aware of your struggles with gender, but they never minded one bit, just wishing for you to be happy and healthy, and to eventually find out what fits you best, whether that meant discovering a label you’re comfortable with or deciding not to label yourself at all.

Husk is, let’s say it, not the most well versed in these kind of things, but he does identify as Pansexual so he knows a thing or two about the community. He gathers his own information though, don’t worry, he doesn’t really need you to explain everything to him; unless it’s something deeply personal that only you can explain, in that case he’ll take you aside and ask you in the kindest and most non-judgemental way possible.

Angel is very excited for your discovery! He immediately asks if there’s anything he and Husk can do to make you feel more comfortable, maybe if there’s any pet names you prefer on some particular days or if you need to go shopping for new clothes that are gender affirming. Husk considers the latter a wonderful idea and offers to pay for anything that you might buy, if that is the case.

All in all, both of your boyfriends reveal to be your biggest support system within the Hotel, and probably in the entirety of Hell.

So it’s only natural that, when you three encounter a form of misgendering for the first time, they’re very protective of you over it;

It’s not often that you venture out of the Hotel with both of your partners, but today you three decided to go shopping for a couple new garments; your outfit could be described as fairly neutral, you’ve settled on wearing the most comfortable things in your closet to make it easier for you in case you’ll need to change and try anything on.

The chitter-chatter between Angel and Husk fills your ears and filters out the various cursing and screaming that’s, as usual, coming from every corner of the street – you’re used to it though, this is Hell after all.

You reach your destination fairly quickly, a small shop in an alley situated not much far away from the Hotel; Husk keeps the door open for both you and Angel, holding his pouch tight as it contains the money he’s brought with him in case you decide to buy anything.

The shop is cute, walls wine colored with white rose patterns scattered across them; you comment on it before an employee makes their way towards your little group:

“Welcome, what do you need?” she asks, voice flat, her tail swaying in an almost irritated manner.

You pay no mind to it and answer her question:

“Uhm, I’d like to look at the dresses section please.”

“Sure, follow me.” She gestures at you three before leading you to a different room a bit in the back, which is surely brimming with dresses of any kind.

You glance at the ones more on the chic side, already daydreaming about all the dates you could wear them on; Angel wiggles his eyebrows and nudges you when your eyes are caught by a black mini dress worn by a mannequin.

On the right side are the cuter dresses, the ones that are mostly meant to be worn during summer. They’re pretty, but most of them are of a color that you don’t particularly enjoy.

Right in front of you are exposed a couple of more dapper ones, you notice Husk eyeing those himself and you already know he’s imagining you wearing them, which makes your heart beat slightly faster.

“I’ll be nearby miss, if you need further assistance.”

And with that, the employee leaves. But oh, she used a word that she shouldn’t have.

Before leaving the Hotel, while having a light breakfast with your boyfriends, you had told them about how you specifically wished to be called masculine terms today and that you prayed nobody was going to misgender you. So it’s only natural that Husk’s ears shot up and Angel immediately turned towards her once they realized too.

“Leave it guys, she doesn’t know.” You stopped them before they could say something overly mean.

“Nothin’ wrong with correcting people, sweetheart.” Husk argued;

“Right! Hey toots-“ Angel calls her over once more, explaining the misunderstanding and communicating to her your preferred terms today since she is going to be helping and working with you for a while. He does so with such authority that she profoundly apologizes by the end of it, which is rare for anybody in Hell.

“Stand up for yourself when we’re not around too, alright?” Husk reminds you once the exchange between Angel and the employee is over.

“The old man’s right,” Angel teases, “We don’t want you feeling uncomfortable. But am I glad you didn’t have to interact with that woman because man, she was an ass at first!”

You shush him rather quickly, scared she might still be in hearing distance. Husk doesn’t help you at all, way too busy nodding at Angel’s statement.

Once they make sure one last time that everything is alright, you guys resume looking for the perfect dress.

Husk guides you towards the cheapest but still classy options, lots of dark shades and perhaps even accessories, while Angel proposes various things that are the complete opposite of that.

You know very well that they’re just suggesting though, and you can calmly look for a dress that you like while they check the options they enjoy the most.

You end up finding one that’s of your liking with the help of the employee, who this times seems to be acting in a way nicer manner than earlier; it’s in your favorite color, perfect for any occasion just like you like it, and both your boyfriends thrillingly approve!

At the end of your little shopping spree – Angel ended up finding something for himself, too – you’re mostly glad that your boyfriends were there to make the whole experience a little less uncomfortable than it would’ve been had you gone alone.

You’re also delighted to see that both of them are ready to stand up for you in any situation, no matter how insignificant you might think of it as.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader x angel dust #husk x angel dust #x reader #genderfluid reader #masc aligned reader #poly relationship

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

Text

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 12

Chapter Summary: The evil that you thought you had gotten rid of is still very much lurking within Hawkins. You, your boyfriend, and your friends race against time to try and find Eddie before it’s too late.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, knives and blood, jealous Steve

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This chapter is starting to get season 4 going, so that’s pretty epic. I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you so much for reading it <3

Message me to be added to the taglist! Also, send me asks! Tell me shit, ask me questions, y’all are fun to talk to ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 11 | Next Part

***

Your Saturday started out like any normal Saturday. Steve peppered soft kisses to your skin as you woke up from your comfortable slumber wrapped in his arms. You ate breakfast together and got ready before picking up Robin and making your way to Family Video. It had taken a significant amount of convincing to get Keith to let the three of you work together, considering there was really only enough work for two people to do, but he finally agreed to it since, in his own words, “Steve barely even counts.”

You all were reorganizing the shelves as Robin recounted her conversation with Vickie at the basketball game the night prior. “Then Vickie laughed. And it wasn’t like a cheap fake laugh either. It was like…it was a real, genuine laugh!”

“Of course she laughed, Rob. It’s my muppet joke. It’s hilarious,” Steve replied as he restocked the horror section. You rolled your eyes from your perch on the counter, glaring up at him as you stopped sorting out the returned movies.

“My point is that Vickie laughed, and everything was just like…it was perfect! But I’m having this problem where it’s like, I should stop talking. I have said everything I need to say, but then I guess I get nervous and the words keep spilling out, and it’s like my-my brain is moving faster than my mouth or…or rather my-my mouth is moving faster than my brain, and…and it’s like I’m digging this hole for myself, and I want to stop digging and I’m trying to stop digging, but I can’t, and I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” you responded, looking at her with a great deal of sympathy. You knew how she was feeling. You couldn’t even count the amount of times that you had rambled on and on to Steve about something so completely and utterly stupid because you didn’t know when to stop.

“Ugh, I’m hopeless,” Robin backed up against the wall, throwing her head back in exasperation.

“Robin! Don’t say that; you are not hopeless,” you scolded your best friend, “I mean, look. I was completely and utterly hopeless before Steve and I started dating…like if he hadn’t shown up and the planets hadn’t aligned, I’d be single as fuck right now, but everything that the two of us have, started with us just being friends. So, the fact that you’re talking to Vickie and she clearly at least likes you in that capacity is a really damn good sign.”

“I wouldn’t say you would be hopeless, I mean, guys are pretty much throwing themselves at you,” Steve mumbled under his breath, thinking back to how you had interacted with Eddie the night before. You had seemed so comfortable with him and he hated to admit it, but the two of you looked like you belonged together far more than you did with him. Eddie marched to the beat of his own drum. He dressed different, he acted different, he didn’t go with the crowd or hop on the bandwagon. You were exactly the same. Sometimes Steve worried that you would wake up and realize that he was way too stereotypical and boring for you and that you would leave him. He pushed the thought aside as you spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Before Steve could answer, Robin began rushing across the room.

“Oh! I think I found our morning movie!” She held up a copy of Doctor Zhivago.

“Ugh, you know I don’t do double VHS,” Steve groaned, shaking his head as he walked past the counter towards her. You stopped him, smacking him in the chest before he could try and take the tape away from Robin before you spoke up.

“We’d actually love to watch it Robin,” you smiled, your eyes still glaring at Steve. Robin jumped up and down a little bit before turning on the television to get it set up, but all of you paused when the news came on.

“We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don’t have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning. Police have not yet released the victim’s name…” the reported stated, detailing all the information that was known and released.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, his and Robin’s eyes transfixed on the screen. His voice sounded far away as your vision blurred with tears. You could barely breathe as you thought about the only two Hawkins High students you knew that lived there: Max and Eddie. If it was either of them, you weren’t sure what you would do. You weren’t sure how you would be able to live and move on.

You stumbled backwards, and you knocked over a pile of VHS tapes as you blindly grabbed for the edge of the counter, beginning to hyperventilate. Robin and Steve snapped out of the trance the news had put them in, as Steve’s head whipped around towards you just in time as you collapsed to the floor.

“Robin turn that off!” Steve yelled, and she grabbed for the remote, quickly silencing the news. You were in a heap on the floor sobbing, barely able to hear Steve as he quickly sat with you on the floor, rubbing big circles across your back to try and calm you down. “Shhhh, y/n. I’m right here, okay baby….I’m right here with you and I’m not going to go anywhere,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple as you cried.

After a while, you finally found the will to calm yourself down, and you had been the one to turn the TV back on. You wanted to know as much as you could. You wanted as much information as possible to rule out the possibility that it was either of your friends. Really the only additional information you got was that it was definitely murder and that the police hadn’t released the names of any suspects, which was a whole lot of nothing to go off of.

You were biting your nails, staring at the screen with furrowed brows, when suddenly the chime of the bell above the door rang out into the otherwise empty store. You jumped, turning around to see Dustin followed by Max Mayfield herself.

“Max!” You shouted as you hopped over the counter and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She groaned, not expecting the sudden demonstration of how much you cared before she reciprocated.

“Hello to you too, I guess?”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” you breathed out, feeling a sense of relief flood your body, knowing that Max wasn’t the unnamed victim from the news. Max was struck by your words, not really even considering the fact that some of her friends may be led to believe that she had been killed based on the location of the murder.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Steve chimed in, pointing to the TV screen in the back corner of the room.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked suddenly. You looked at him with confusion plastered across your face.

“Someone was just murdered,” Steve replied, annoyed that the boy could be asking about phones at a time like this.

Dustin just slammed his hands on the counter in response, causing you to jump again in your anxious state, before he repeated himself. “How many phones do you have?”

“Two…why?” You spoke up, furrowing your brow.

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s in the back,” Robin corrected you, a similar look flashing across her face.

“Three works,” Max spoke up, looking at Dustin. Dustin paused, looking at Steve and Robin behind the counter before throwing his backpack across and hopping it. You and Max were civilized, walking around the counter to join them while Steve protested.

“My tapes! Dude! What are you doing, man?!” Steve groaned. Dustin had a special talent for making things significantly more difficult for Steve…especially at his place of work.

“Setting up base of operations,” Dustin replied, typing into the computer.

You attempted to shove him to the side, away from your computer, but he swatted your hands away. You glared at him with the might of a thousand suns before hip checking him, causing him to stumble to the side. “What the fuck do you guys need our computer for?”

“To look up Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers,” Dustin retorted as if it was obvious.

“Oh Eddie, your new best friend you think is cooler than me because he plays your nerdy game,” Steve grumbled back, but you were only half paying attention as you made eye contact with Max. Clearly the two kids knew something that you didn’t and you were worried what that meant in conjunction with the shit you were hearing on the news.

“I never said that!” Dustin looked at Steve, and you rolled your eyes.

“Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day,” Robin spoke up, reorganizing the shit that Dustin had knocked off the counter.

“Robin, I totally empathize but this cannot wait,” Dustin sighed as he started writing on a clipboard.

“What because calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency?”

“Exactly!”

“Do you want me to strangle him or do you want to?” Steve asked you. The chuckle he was about to let out died in his throat when he saw the look on your face.

“I really think we should hear them out,” your voice was small when you replied. You all looked over at Max and she took a deep breath before she began talking.

“The victim…it’s Chrissy Cunningham,” she started, “I saw her body this morning when the police were leaving. The thing is, I saw her go in Eddie’s trailer and shortly after, my TV started going nuts and the lights started flickering like crazy, which isn’t really super out of the ordinary, my electricity is shit….but then I heard screaming and looked out the window and I saw Eddie leave and—and he looked scared. Like really scared.”

Steve reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours before he spoke up. “So…Eddie killed Chrissy?”

“Steve! No, he fucking didn’t. That’s why we need the phones so that we can find out where he is so that we can prove that he’s innocent,” Dustin glared at your boyfriend, shoving him a bit.

“Just calm down,” you interjected, standing in between the boys. This was all a lot to unpack and you weren’t going to solve anything if they couldn’t stop bickering. When they both grumbled and crossed their arms, you moved around the counter, swiftly moving to the door and flipping the sign to indicate that the store was closed. “Just, you guys can use the phones, okay? But that’s it. We don’t do anything else until we have something solid to go off of. Do you understand?” You looked between Max and Dustin.

They both began to nod and you shook your head. “No, I need to hear you say it. I’m serious, someone was just killed and we are not putting our lives in jeopardy without some serious cause, okay?”

“Yes, we understand,” Max responded. Dustin spoke up in agreement, and you paused to look at them one more time before turning around.

“I’ll get Keith’s phone from the back. You all start making calls.”

You swiftly headed to the back, grabbing the third phone. You were turning around to leave when you about nearly jumped out of your skin, when you were met face to face with your boyfriend.

“Steve! You scared the shit out of me! Don’t fucking do that!” You put a hand on your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I don’t have a good feeling about this. I mean, the most likely scenario is that Eddie killed that poor girl and now we’re actively trying to find him. He could be fucking dangerous, and I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? So, let’s just stop all this bullshit before it’s too late,” he grabbed your hands, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of them as he looked you in the eyes. His brow was furrowed with worry, and you felt a pang in your chest. You knew you had to see this through, if not for Eddie, then for Dustin.

“Steve, I know Eddie. He wouldn’t do something like this. Trust me,” you told Steve, looking him in the eyes with so much conviction that he decided to let it go for now.

You brought the phone out and Hawkins’ Family Video soon became a bustling call center as you all took turns trying to get ahold of anyone who may possibly know where Eddie was. Name after name after name got crossed off your list as you found no answers, and you were beginning to feel hopeless when Max spoke up.

“Hey guys, I might have a lead,” she started, “apparently, Eddie gets drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick, and sometimes Eddie crashes there.”

“Alright, that sounds promising. So where does this Reefer Rick guy live?” Robin asked.

“See, that’s the thing. No one knows. He’s more of a…legend than someone that people actually know.”

“What about a last name?” You spoke up, attempting to find any additional piece of information that you could follow to find Eddie.

“I don’t know that either.”

“I bet the cops know the last name,” Steve spoke up. He hadn’t been super helpful in calling around, instead choosing to reorganize the store and do some light cleaning. He was reorganizing some tapes with his back to you all and he had said it so nonchalantly.

“What?” You questioned him, irritation settling in your tone.

“I said the cops probably know,” he shot back, “I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he’s been busted at some point. Means he’s in the system.”

“The cops? Really, Steve? That��s your suggestion?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“I just think at this point they should be filled in on what we know; what’s going on.”

“You think Eddie’s guilty, don’t you?” Dustin stepped forward, but you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to settle him. You could hear the hurt in his voice and you wished that Steve hadn’t been the one to cause it, but then again, tensions were high with everything that was going on; like the implications of Max’s account of her electricity going haywire around the time that Chrissy would have died.

“Woah, woah, woah, I believe in innocent until proven guilty and all that constitutional shit…I just, you know….I just don’t think we can rule it out,” Steve spoke up, avoiding making eye contact with any of you as he messed with a Rubik’s cube on the counter.

“Steve!” You scolded him. Why can’t he just take a leap of faith and believe you guys?

“That’s precisely what we’re trying to do here, Steve,” Max spoke up, glaring at the boy.

“And maybe we’d have a little bit more luck if you spent less time reorganizing shit that doesn’t need reorganizing and more time trying to find Eddie,” Dustin chimed in.

“Hey, someone’s gotta make sure things are in order here. Do you see how many fucking movies we have? It can be overwhelming for the average customer,” Steve tried to defend himself.

Suddenly an idea popped into your head, as you darted over to the computer, typing away into the system. “What are you doing?” Max asked.

“Maybe we don’t need a last name,” you started as you pressed enter on the keyboard. “Twelve Ricks already have accounts here…now it’s just a matter of narrowing it down.”

***

After determining the Rick most likely to be the Reefer Rick, you waited until it got dark to go scope the place out. You decided that you’d be more inconspicuous at night, not wanting to draw any attention to yourselves while you tracked down a potential murder suspect.

You were all piled in Steve’s BMW as he pulled into the driveway of one Rick Lipton. You felt nerves settle in your stomach as you tried to take a deep breath, Dustin quickly getting out of the car and ringing the doorbell. No one answered and after Dustin pressed the button repeatedly, Steve put a hand on his shoulder to pull him away from the door.

“Okay. Well, that’s settled, I guess he’s not here,” Steve spoke up. This did nothing to stop Dustin from continuing to pound on the door, yelling for the boy to answer. So much for being inconspicuous, you thought as you walked around the side of the house. Your hands trembled a bit, being a tad anxious about being out here at night, when your flashlight finally caught sight of a boathouse on the lake.

“Hey guys?” You called out. Steve was quick to join you, followed by the rest of the gang as you cautiously approached the metal lined shed. There was no real signs of life in there as you entered, and it seemed just as abandoned as Rick’s house. “Hello? Is anyone home?” You shouted into the darkness as you took a hesitant step inside.

“What a dump,” Steve muttered, taking in the sight of all of the clutter. In his mind, there was no way in hell that Eddie was here, so though he was taking all of this seriously, he wasn’t too committed to really inspecting the place with great detail.

You grabbed an oar off of the wall, walking over to the small boat docked in the center of the room as you shoved at the tarps with it, not wanting to get close just in case something was awry.

“What are you doing?!” Dustin whisper-shouted at you, perplexed by your actions.

“He might be in there,” you answered simply.

“Then take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off!” You whisper-shouted back at him, though when Dustin moved forward to do just that, you and Steve both yanked him back by his shoulders. You continued to poke at the tarp, and Steve placed a gentle but nervous hand on the small of your back, not wanting to stray too far from you.

Max suddenly spoke up from across the room, pointing her flashlight at some odds and ends on a small table. “Hey, guys. Someone was here.”

“Maybe he heard us? Got spooked and ran?” Robin suggested, joining Robin to inspect the items before her.

“Don’t worry. Y/n will get him with her oar…isn’t that right y/n?” Dustin spoke to you sarcastically. You were glad you had the self control to not swing it at the infuriating child beside you as Steve moved away from you to pull Dustin aside. He didn’t need the two of you arguing with each other. You two bickered like siblings and now wasn’t the time for a pseudo-familial spat.

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson,” you started, continuing to jab at the tarps, “but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight—“

Your words were cut off as a figure under the tarp sprung to life, grabbing you around the shoulders and pushing you against the wall. You heard the familiar flick of a pocket knife, feeling the sharp tip of the metal press against your throat. The boathouse erupted into a chorus of shrieks and screams, as you leaned your head back, unable to breathe as you stared wide-eyed at the boy you were tutoring for physics.

“Woah, woah, woah! Eddie! Eddie, stop!” Dustin shouted. He took a step closer and Eddie pushed you back farther into the wall, letting you all know that he wasn’t playing games. Steve felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. To Steve, Eddie’s actions confirmed that he was dangerous, that he had likely killed Chrissy, and that he was about to do the same thing to you. Steve’s mind was working double time trying to figure out how to get you away from the freak, as he started to take a huge step towards you when Robin roughly grabbed his arm, preventing him from getting any closer.

“Robin let go of me!” He shouted at her, trying to shake out of her grip.

“Steve,” she warned, and the way that she said it made him stop to reevaluate the situation, realizing the closer he got to you, the more he was putting your life in peril. A small cry escaped your lips as you tried to blink back tears, and Steve’s heart sank in his chest. He felt his hands trembling at his sides, wanting nothing more than to hold you and to tell you that everything was going to be okay, but watching as the knife threatened to break the skin of your neck, he wasn’t so sure he even believed the sentiment.

“It’s me, Dustin. This is y/n,” Dustin continued, gesturing to you, “she’s not going to hurt you, right, y/n?”

“Right, yeah,” you barely were able to whisper, the muscles in your neck all tensed as you tried to get as far away from the knife as possible. Your chest heaved as you swallowed and breathed out a shaky breath.

“Y/n, why don’t you drop the oar,” Dustin cautioned. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding it, barely even being able to feel the white knuckled grip you had on the handle. You willed your fingers to let go and as the oar crashed to the floor, the sudden sound caused Eddie to jump, leaning in farther and nicking your neck a bit in the process. You yelped in pain, and Steve started to freak out, unable to control his breathing. Robin continued to try and calm him down, but it wasn’t working super well.

“She’s cool, she’s cool!” Dustin reminded Eddie, still trying to talk him off of a cliff. Steve wished he had trusted his intuition earlier and kept you all far away from Eddie the freak Munson.

“I’m cool, man, I’m cool,” you spoke up, your voice shaky, “I’m helping you in Ms. O’Donell’s class, remember?”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, his eyes wild as he refused to let you go.

“We’re looking for you, we’re here to help,” Dustin spoke up, “Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band. This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D. And obviously that’s Steve; I know you know him because you hate him, okay? Eddie, we are on your side. I swear on my mother, right guys?” He looked to the three of your friends behind him who all desperately nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yes, we swear!” Robin agree.

“Yeah, on Dustin’s mother,” you squeaked out. Eddie looked at you and you could tell he was acting out of fear. You knew this wasn’t him. That still didn’t quell the fear in your own chest as you spoke up once more to whisper, “please.”

Eddie paused, his eyes searching yours to try and determine your intention. He knew that you were a good person. Hell, you’d been helping him through fucking physics which wasn’t exactly a cake walk. Seeing the terror across your face as you whimpered, however, was what finally broke Eddie, as he finally let you go.

You let out a small cry as the tears you had been attempting to blink back finally spilled down your face while you crumpled to the floor. Steve rushed to your side, sitting on the floor with you, not unlike he had earlier in Family Video when the news came on. Your hand clutched at your neck. Even though Eddie had only just slightly nicked you, your blood had dripped enough to stain the collar of your shirt, and began to seep through your fingers as you held pressure to the cut. It stung like a bitch, but you were more scared than hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me see, okay baby? Can you do that for me?” Steve asked softly, as one of his hands wrapped around the nape of your neck and the other gently tugged on your wrist. You obliged, trembling fingers dropping from your neck as you shook in Steve’s arms.

He used the sleeve of his jacket to put pressure on the cut to attempt to get it to stop bleeding. You took several deep breaths, wiping the tears away from your face as you began to finally calm down. It helped that you knew that Eddie wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. In your mind, he wasn’t a threat in the slightest, just a boy that was scared and needed some comforting.

“Eddie, we just want to talk,” you heard Dustin’s voice ring out in the empty boathouse. Eddie looked like a mess as he sat in a heap on the floor, looking equal parts defeated and terrified. Dustin tried to take the knife away from him, but Eddie tightened his grip so Dustin relented.

“We just want to know what happened,” you breathed out, your voice still shaky as you continued to calm down.

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie sniffled. You moved out of Steve’s grasp despite his protests, putting a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He tensed up but soon relaxed into your touch.

“Try us,” you replied. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the look on your face or the sincerity in your voice, but he decided in that moment that he could trust you guys.

He began by explaining that she was at his house so that he could sell to her, discussing how everything had been fine and normal…until it very much wasn’t.

“…her body just, like, lifted up into the air and, uh…and she just, like, hung there. And her bones…uh, she…her bones started to snap. Her eyes, man…it-it was like there was something inside her head pulling,” he whimpered with a faraway look in his eyes, “I…I-I didn’t know what to do, so I…I ran away…I-I left her there,” he scoffed, “you all think I’m crazy, right?”

“No, we don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin began to assure him, but Eddie quickly cut him off.

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds!”

You moved in between Eddie and Dustin, pushing Dusting behind you protectively. “Hey, we’re not bullshitting you,” you started, your tone leaning on frustrated, “we believe you and we’re probably the only people who fucking will, so I would suggest you find a way to calm down and shut the fuck up because what I’m about to tell you might be difficult to take.”

“Okay,” Eddie finally said. No one was really expecting you to be that blunt about things, but it needed to be said.

“You know how people say Hawkins is…cursed?” You started, trying to find the right words. Eddie nodded. “They’re not…way off. There’s another world; a world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours,” your hand subconsciously went to the cut on your neck, the bleeding having finally trickled to a stop.

“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max spoke up quietly, and you felt a chill creep up your spine as she said it.

“These monsters from this other world,” Dustin continued, “we thought that they were gone, but they’ve come back before and that’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again, we need to know,” you emphasized.

“That night, did you see anything?” Robin questioned. You all waited with bated breath for Eddie’s answer. You were afraid of what he might say and Steve stepped forward and grabbed your hand, sensing your anxiety.

“No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh…touch,” Eddie responded, “you know, I tried to wake her man, but she couldn’t move. It was like she was…she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell…Vecna’s curse,” Dustin whispered.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asked, pulling you into his chest. He needed something to hold onto.

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered and you shuddered thinking about it. You had thought you got rid of whatever entity was calling the shots from the Upside Down, but maybe you were wrong.

Maybe everything that had happened before was merely the beginning.

***

You all had taken turns recounting the last two years worth of events to Eddie as he sat there in silence trying to take it all in. After everything that he had seen, he really had no choice but to believe you guys, glad that you were all on his side. You promised the boy that you would be back with supplies in the morning, swiftly piling back into Steve’s car.

“Hey, you know when we had that really sweet convertible and I had you drive it up that big ass hill so we could use my radio?” Dustin suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?” Steve responded, not quite sure where the boy was going with this.

“Well, bad news is we’re gonna need to go use it again before we all go home because I have an idea, but good news is that it’s at my house now so that’s cool.”

Steve sighed and you all silently made your way to Dustin’s house. There wasn’t much to talk about. You tiptoed through his kitchen to avoid waking his mother as you all crept up to his bedroom. He started messing with all his radio equipment as you sat on his bed. While he was searching for the right frequency, Steve darted out of the bedroom and into the hall bathroom, opening the cabinet under the sink and rifling through it. He found what he was looking for and quietly slipped back into Dustin’s bedroom.

“Here,” he said as he sat down next to you. You looked at him confused until you saw that he had a first aid kit in his hands. He took out an alcohol wipe and started cleaning up the dried blood on your neck. You hissed when the wipe touched your cut, the alcohol burning as he disinfected it. He put some antibiotic ointment on a band aid and placed it gingerly over the cut. He noticed some of the hickies he had left on your neck the night before, quickly moving your hair to make them more inconspicuous. “There. All better.”

You couldn’t help but flush with how sweet Steve was being. Even if the world was undoubtedly ending, at least you knew that he was going to be there for you. You could tell that he was on edge, probably more so given how Eddie had reacted, and you just appreciated that he wasn’t overreacting…yet.

Suddenly, Dustin’s Cerebro came to life, and you heard the distinctive sound of police chatter over the radio as you were clued into what the Hawkins police department knew of Eddie’s involvement in Chrissy’s death. Unfortunately, though not released to the public yet, Eddie was prime suspect number one.

“Shit!” Dustin exclaimed. “Fuck!”

“Woah, woah, whoa, calm down Dustin. We’re gonna figure all of this out okay? Freaking out isn’t going to make any of this shit easier, so we might as well all stay calm,” your voice was remarkably even as you said it and it was starting to freak the rest of your friends out. Of everyone here, you should by all accounts be the most freaked out.

“Look, I don’t think that we should split up, given everything that’s going on,” Steve spoke. “My parents aren’t home, so how about everyone spends the night at my house? You can all call your parents and make arrangements when we get there.”

Everyone agreed with Steve, and you all made your way out to his car, Dustin leaving a note to let his mom know he would be gone before he left. “Y/n? Are you, like, okay?” Max asked hesitantly. Your mind flashed back to what it felt like to have a knife held up to your throat.

“I’m fine, Max. I promise,” you said, but it didn’t sound very convincing. You were honestly more worried about the kids. You thought about the fact that they were deprived a normal childhood, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. You were the babysitter, you were supposed to be the one to make sure that they were okay and safe and happy.

Steve finally pulled into his driveway, leading everyone inside and showing them around. “You all can sleep wherever. There’s a guest bedroom upstairs or you could sleep in the family room. I don’t care,” he sighed, just ready to go to sleep. Everyone got comfortable, Max and Robin choosing to sleep on the couches and Dustin taking the guest bedroom. You and Steve went to his room and you collapsed onto his bed.

“This can’t be happening again,” you spoke up as exhaustion from the day’s events settled in your bones.

“Yeah, I can’t quite believe it either,” Steve said, flopping down on the bed next to you. “Y/n, you have to promise me something okay?”

“What?”

“That if this all gets to be too much again, we call it quits. We get the kids out, we get Robin out, we get the hell out.”

“Steve,” you looked at him, trying to read his expression, “I can’t make that promise.”

“Y/n, everything has been escalating. First it was just one demogorgon, then it was a fuck ton of demo-dogs, then it was Russians and a giant flesh monster…I don’t know how we can handle anything worse, I mean we barely handled everything last summer!” He exclaimed, shaking his head at you. You could tell he was getting more irate, anger seeping into his tone.

“Steve, we either do nothing and die when the whole fucking world ends, or we do something and maybe die trying, or better yet, we fix the fucking problem and never have to worry about it again,” you replied, sitting up, slightly irritated with his tone. He stood up, looking down at you with a furrowed brow as he continued.

“You’re not understanding, y/n. Look, someone died. Unexplainably, just up and died in the most gruesome fucking way. We don’t know anything about how it happened or why or if it will happen again, and I’ll be damned if it happens to one of us, okay. Just promise me.”

“Steve, I can’t, and you know I can’t.”

Steve scoffed, trying to find the right words. He felt anxiety creep up in his chest as he decided that now was as good a time as any to get really fucking real with you. “Y/n. I want a future with you. We can’t fucking have that if one of us is dead.”

“We can’t have a future if the world fucking ends either. I have a massive fucking headache and I just want to go to bed, okay?” You got up and began changing into pajamas, and you heard Steve sigh behind you. He remembered his pinky promise to you in the woods that you were in this together. If you couldn’t make a promise to him, the best he could do was uphold his.

“Fine. But I’m not gonna be able to live with myself if something happens to you,” he warned as he crawled into bed, scooting towards you to spoon you. It was odd how casually you two could have a conversation like this, about the end of the world and the possibility of losing each other at any given moment.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” you replied, turning in his arms and placing a kiss to his chest. You willed the words to be true as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

***

Dustin threw the door open to the boathouse and you rolled your eyes, knowing it would likely scare the shit out of Eddie. You seemed to be right as you heard him shout from across the room, finally making it into the shed to see him pressed up against the back wall, knife extended out in front of him.

“Delivery service,” Dustin smiled at his friend. You waved sheepishly at Eddie, hoping that he could find it in his heart to forgive you guys for nearly giving him a heart attack…twice.

You all moved to stand around the boat as Eddie sat down in it, tearing into a box of cereal and eating it as if he hadn’t had a meal in days…which to be fair he probably hadn’t.

“So we have some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?” Dustin cut to the chase.

“Bad news first, always,” Eddie spoke through a mouthful of food. Your nose scrunched up in disgust as you scanned the room, noticing similar expressions painted on Robin and Max’s faces.

“We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with Dustin’s Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you,” you quickly spoke up as you gave the boy a sympathetic look.

“Also, they’re uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy,” Dustin chimed in.

“Like, 100% kind of convinced,” Max agreed. You rolled your eyes. So much for breaking the news softly.

“And the good news?”

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do too, and once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother will be gunning for you,” Robin spoke up.

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie clarified, his eyes staring off, unfocused.

“Exactly,” Robin breathed out.

“So before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence,” Dustin outlined.

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie fumed. Sure he loved the Henderson kid, but the boy got on his damn nerves like all the time, and this was one of those moments.

“Believe it or not, we’ve been through this kind of thing before…a few times actually,” you reassured Eddie, hoping that your words would calm his nerves but that was definitely a bit of a stretch.

“You’re telling me that you, Ms. 4.0, have been off fighting monsters while maintaining a perfect GPA?” Eddie asked in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

“I know, it’s pretty impressive,” Steve spoke up, throwing an arm around you, “we usually rely on this girl with super powers but, uh, those went bye-bye.”

“So we’re kind of in more of the brainstorming phase,” Robin spoke up and you all nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you really have nothing to worry about,” Dustin reassured Eddie, but all of you knew that that was far from the truth. There was definitely a shit ton of stuff to worry about. Before Eddie could ask anymore questions, you all heard sirens wailing in the distance. He quickly covered up with the tarp as you all ran to the window, watching as several emergency vehicles passed right by Reefer Rick’s house.

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you concluded that there must be another body. You all raced to Steve’s car again, following the waling sound of sirens, afraid of what you’d find.

***

a/n: thanks for reading people of tumblr! If you wanted to reblog, I promise I wouldn’t be mad ;)

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#stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you

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planetkiimchi · 2 months

Text

the language of flowers | l.jn

featuring: film director!jeno x artist!reader (no gendered terms), jaemin, chenle and jisung cameos

summary — jeno doesn't speak of his affection in words. instead, he teaches you that the letter "L", in his love language of flowers, is for lavender lozenges, lily of the valleys, lockets and love.

author's note: damn the stars rlly aligned for me to post this one... originally was just gonna let it rot in my drafts but here i am posting it for @strxbrymochi 's bday. happy belated bday ki !! muah ily

You should have been prepared for Jeno to be constantly busy when you started dating him four months ago. But it still comes as a shock to you when Jeno sits you down on a Saturday afternoon, a plate of violet cookies placed in front of you.

"I'm sorry," he begins. The moment the words escape his lips, you know what this is all about. Even so, you keep quiet, allowing him to continue with the apology he's prepared.

"I've been signed on to do a short film, and they want us to do the shooting overseas."

Although you knew it was coming, it still comes as a punch to your gut. Being away from Jeno is hard for you, and you don’t want to let him go.

"Where to?" you ask, the words coming out before you can stop them. It's too late now to tell him to stay, and you curse your brain for being two steps behind your stupid, ever-running mouth.

"London. It's a Victorian era film, they said, about flowers."

You permit yourself a small smile. "You love flowers."

Jeno looks down, nodding once. "Yep."

You reach over, tilting his chin up. "Look at me."

He does, eyes quivering anxiously while he waits for you to speak. You’re always the one talking—rambling—and now that you’re silent, it must scare him. You touch your forehead to his, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Don't be sorry. Go, and enjoy yourself. Pour your soul into it. I'll wait for you to come back, okay? Don't forget me when you're busy working with everyone else."

Jeno lifts up his hand, and you press your palm against his, fingers interlocking with his. "Won't forget you," Jeno mumbles. "I couldn't ever forget you."

You grin, kissing his nose. "I know you wouldn't, silly boy."

—

As Jeno wheels his luggage over the smooth airport floor, he turns to look over at you, shuffling your feet and staring at the ground. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "Blue salvia."

Think of me. It's one of the first flowers that Jeno gave you before you started dating, a secret confession you only learnt about when he finally told you what it meant. Now, it serves as encouragement for you, something to accompany you when Jeno can't.

You smile at him, eyes wide and pensive. "Have a safe flight."

Jeno wraps you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. He doesn't know when he'll get to see you again, and he's not sure if he can survive these months without you. But for both of your sakes, he'll try.

"See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile," you reply, the familiar words a promise between the two of you to weather this storm together.

—

Jeno sits in his seat, flipping his phone in his hand as he waits impatiently for the plane to take off. He tries his best not to look at the time, trying not to count down the seconds in his mind, trying not to keep track of how long it's been since he last saw your face.

An announcement starts to play, asking all passengers on the flight to turn their attention to the flight attendants as they begin the safety briefing. Jeno looks at the flight attendant, but doesn't process the words he's hearing, his mind too focused on the thought of you.

He slips his hand into his pocket, his fingers finding purchase. The plastic crinkles in his palm as he draws the object out, realising that it's a sweet. You told him once that you always have to bring sweets when you’re flying, to suck on in order to prevent your ears from getting blocked.

Jeno has packed the mints you asked him to, but they're in his bag. He swiped the lavender lozenges from your stash that morning, a keepsake to remember you by on the trip. As the pilot announces that the plane is taking off, Jeno pops the sweet into his mouth, the taste of sugar and lavender dissolving on his tongue.

He misses you.

—

Jeno is rudely awakened from his sleep by Jaemin shaking his shoulder. "Good morning," the elder says in a singsong voice, and Jeno's eyes spring open. He casts Jaemin a dirty look, but the latter just grins back at him.

Jeno sighs irritably, getting to his feet and hauling himself out of the bed. His heart's not in it—not in this trip, and maybe not even in the film—and Jaemin knows it.

However, it's not like either of them has a choice. Jaemin liked the script for this film, and Jeno did too. He had plenty of ideas for the film. Despite it being a small project, Jeno believes it can turn out much better than people are expecting it to.

The only issue is that it's not in Korea. It's far away from you, and Jeno needs you in more ways than one. You are his source of comfort and his pillar of strength, but most importantly, you are his muse. Without you, he finds himself unable to function, not knowing which step to take next. Because all he wants to do is find the path that leads back to you, even if it's the worst or stupidest decision he could possibly make.

Longing gnaws at him every day, carving a giant you-sized hole in his chest. He snatches his copy of the script off the table, and Jaemin takes a sweeping glance over the room.

"You've surprisingly tidy for someone who looks like he has zero motivation to keep things organised."

"That's because all of my shit is in my suitcase, so I'm prepared to go back at the shortest notice."

Jaemin rolls his eyes at Jeno's retort, clapping his hands together. "Alright, smartass. Get moving so you won't be the last one to arrive again."

Jeno tugs on his shoes, slipping his hands into his coat and taking an umbrella before getting out of the door.

—

Your takeout arrives earlier than expected, and you suddenly recall that you haven’t checked your mailbox in almost a week. Usually, Jeno's the one who does it, collecting mail while waiting for the elevator to arrive. When Jeno had just left, you had made a conscious effort to check the mailbox every day, but now that it's been almost a month, you’re starting to forget again.

You pick up the takeout box and place the food on the table before exiting again and heading downstairs to check the mailbox.

As per usual, the mailbox is full of bills, although usually the number of letters is much fewer. You mindlessly flip through the envelopes, not paying much attention, until one of the letters catches your eye.

It's sealed with wax, which strikes you as odd—who even uses wax to seal envelopes in this day and age?—and you place it on top of the other letters to examine later.

Upstairs, you neatly place the letters on the dining table for you to settle later on. Then, you turn your attention back to the sleek, cream-coloured envelope, intrigued.

You take a closer look at the wax seal, realising that it's a stamp of a flower bouquet. Could it be from Jeno? you wonder.

It doesn't seem very likely, however. Jeno has never been one for dramatic flair, and the simple yet elegant letter practically screams dramatic. There's only one person you knows that's this dramatic, and it's…

"Donghyuck," you breathe out. One of Jeno's college friends, Donghyuck is the definition of dramatic. He loves to exaggerate and make a big fuss out of everything, and it's entertaining to say the least. Donghyuck is also chattier than most, similar to yourself, and the two of you had hit it off when you first met at one of Jeno's college roommate's place.

Donghyuck is essentially your key to Jeno's past. Jeno has been a solitary creature for all the time you’ve known him, and he doesn't talk much about his life before he met you. Besides Jaemin and Donghyuck, Jeno doesn't initiate much interaction with his old friends either. His friends respect that, so you don’t know much about what Jeno was like in the past.

However, Donghyuck is different. He loves to bring up embarrassing memories, inside jokes, and tell people old stories about his friends. You have always loved to listen to Donghyuck talk about Jeno in college, or even his first impression of Jeno when he saw him around in high school.

If it weren't for Donghyuck, you might not even have known about Jeno's friends' whereabouts now, nor have gotten to know about them.

Remembering the letter in your hand, you hurriedly get a hairdryer to heat up the seal, gingerly removing it and opening up the letter.

Dear Jeno and Y/n, you are cordially invited to Lee Donghyuck and Ha Yeon-seok's wedding...

Wait, what? You read the first line again, your heart stopping when you see the word “wedding”. Wedding? It takes you a few seconds to remember that you’re 24 now, which is almost a reasonable age to get married at. Since neither you nor Jeno had dated anyone for a while before you got together, sometimes you forget that other people have been dating for years now.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and continue reading.

The wedding is to be held in London, and it briefly crosses your mind that Yean-seok is half British. Once you’ve processed that information, you do a double take and check the date. It's in six months from now, and you have to get presentable clothes that fit the colour scheme within that time period.

While you’re wondering now to get the clothes in time, your phone dings.

jeno: hey, y/n you: hello jeno: i have... news.

Jeno calls to inform you that, regrettably, there has been a complication with some of the scenes. For one scene in particular, they had arranged for a horse carriage to be used during the filming. However, due to a miscommunication, the horse has been sold to someone else instead.

The screenwriter insists on having the horse be a specific breed for stylistic reasons, but the budget for the project makes it infeasible for the team to find a suitable horse in a short span of time.

Jaemin wants to postpone the project so he can discuss the details with the screenwriter, and clarify everything to ensure there will be no more hiccups in the production. The rest of the team will either fly back to Korea, or stay in London, whichever is more convenient for them. Since editing can be done remotely, there is little incentive for them to all have to renew their visas.

However, Jaemin has asked Jeno to stay in London so all of the important members of the team can be physically present, to ensure everybody is on the same page.

When you ask Jeno when he will return, he shrugs and says, "In two months, or half a year—I have no clue."

Although you’re upset and annoyed with his lack of a reaction, you understand that Jeno is upset too. He's suppressing his emotions, which is a bad habit of his. But you aren’t going to lash out and make him feel more demoralised, so you just mutter a quick "love you" and hang up.

After hanging up, you belatedly realise you haven’t told him about the wedding invitation yet. Still reeling from his indifferent attitude, you decide to tell him after both of you have cooled down.

—

Days turn into weeks, that turn into months, and somehow you haven’t been able to address the issue of Donghyuck's wedding. You have been through your closet countless times, and after rummaging and filtering through both of your clothes, you’ve prepared a suitable ensemble for both of them.

You’ve sent an RSVP to Donghyuck to let him know that you and Jeno would be attending, and an excited Donghyuck had sent you a video of Yeon-seok and himself clapping happily.

You have also booked a flight for a week before the date of the wedding, to give yourself time to adjust to the time difference, and you plan to stay after the wedding to spend time with your and Jeno's friends as well.

Despite having settled almost everything, you’ve left one very important detail out—you haven’t discussed it with Jeno yet.

Jeno knows that there's a wedding, of course. Donghyuck had announced it in the group chat when he and Yeon-seok first got engaged, and Yeon-seok had sent an update once the details of the wedding were confirmed.

When Jeno told you about the wedding, you told him about the invitation, and you both laughed over how excessive it was.

But if you said any more about the wedding, you’d have to bring up the elephant in the room and ask if Jeno would still be working on "Chamomile Tea" during the time period, if he'd be busy, or if he'd return to Korea before that. And that, even after all the time that had passed, remained a sore spot for both of you.

So even as the date loomed closer, your conversations with Jeno never went too far in the direction of the wedding. Instead, you tiptoed around the upcoming event like shattered glass was sprinkled over it, and you didn't know what the consequences of stepping on it would be.

Arriving in London is a dream. It always has been, since you learnt that their universities look like castles and their winter consists of dreary, rainy mornings that are perfect for staying in and cuddling while cheesy rom-coms play on the TV. But it's never been your dream to land in London alone, with no one to pick you up from the airport, standing starstruck in the middle of the polished floors while people hurry by.

Some lady you don't recognise waves at you. When you frown, squinting to see if it's a familiar face, the lady walks up to you and grins, "Hi! I'm Soyeon."

You cock your head in contusion.

"I'm the screenwriter for 'Chamomile Tea', the short film Jaemin's overseeing. He wasn't able to come because he's busy trying to keep Jeno out of trouble, he said."

You let out a short laugh. That does, in fact, sound like Jaemin's job most of the time. Soyeon hands you a ticket, folding your fingers around it before you can protest.

"Jeno wanted all three of us to go to an art museum to get inspiration, but I've already finished my part for this project. All that's left for me is to give input, not come up with more ideas. Jaemin suggested that I give my ticket to you, so here it is." Taking a closer look at the ticket, you realise that it's an exhibition meant to celebrate the changing of season from summer to autumn.

"Leaves turning brown," you read aloud. "Petals fall and colours fade, yet many are enraptured by the cooling season that is autumn. Artist Hwang Yeji explores textures, colours and more in this vibrant display."

Soyeon smiles encouragingly at you. "I've known Jeno only for a few months, and he's always been extremely cold towards everyone, but his face lights up whenever he receives a text from you. And when you order takeout for him? That's the only time I see him enjoy his meals."

Your lips tremble as Soyeon continues, "Jeno's mind is a complex place. I'd hate for all that creative potential to be wasted just because he's busy moping. That's why I offered to pick you up instead of Jaemin—I was interested to know who could be the only one to make Jeno truly smile."

You close the distance between yourself and Soyeon, wrapping your arms around the latter. Even if you have only just met her, Soyeon seems so sweet and genuine. Her honest words caught you off guard, but you are touched that she dared to say them.

Soyeon pats your hair comfortingly. "Let me know if you need any more help."

You discreetly blink back tears, ignoring the stinging sensation in your nose, and force a smile. "Thanks, Soyeon."

"You're very welcome."

—

You climb out of the taxi with a sunflower in hand and your suitcase in the other. The exhibition is held in a building with windows as wide as you are tall, the stained glass illuminated by the sunlight.

The lady at the entrance scans your ticket and waves you through with a smile, and you return it before heading on inside.

Panels upon panels of stained glass line the corridors, angled in a way that pictures of light are projected on the ground, weaving between the paintings, casting an angelic glow on each artwork.

Jaemin catches your eye before you can get stuck at any of the paintings, and shushes you with a finger on his lips as you speed up.

"Hi, jagiya," he says lowly, wrapping you in a quick hug. "Jeno's busy and I didn't tell him you were coming, so the rest is up to you. I'll leave the two of you alone, okay? Call me if you need me."

You nod, squeezing his shoulder gratefully.

—

You tuck your sunflower behind your back and wheel your suitcase to the side, silently approaching Jeno. He's completely absorbed in studying the details of the painting, so you gently rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Hey, baby." Jeno turns, coming face-to-face with you. Your noses touch, and from the corners of your eyes, you see Jeno's cheeks flush red-hot. You raise your hand to cool his cheek, but he grabs your wrist first, eyes locked on your face. His pupils dart from side to side, scouring your face as if he's afraid you’re just a figment of his imagination.

You stay in that position, Jeno’s fingers curled around your wrist, until he's convinced that you’re real, at which point his face floods with exhaustion and relief.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the space between your chin and collarbone. His hands come to rest naturally around your waist, and his hand brushes against the sunflower.

He moves back suddenly, surprised, and you awkwardly manoeuvre your arms around him. This allows you to present the sunflower you bought at a nearby florist to your boyfriend, and you’re delighted by the grin spreading across his lips.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks.

"No, but you've given me red camellias, and I think that’s basically the same thìng."

Jeno chuckles. "Basically.”

Jeno reaches for your suitcase, holding tightly onto the sunflower you’ve just given him. He turns to you, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? I'll take you back to her hotel."

You frown, pulling back in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you tired?"

You wave his concern off flippantly. "I'll be just fine. I'll crash later, and the jetlag will hit me like a truck, but I've already allocated a week for getting used to it."

Jeno snorts. "As expected."

You wave your ticket. "Hey, Soyeon's already passed up her chance to see this exhibition so I could go, okay? I'm not planning to waste it."

Jeno nods hastily in an attempt to placate you. "Okay! Let's go then."

He trails behind you obediently until you see a piece that catches your fancy, stopping to take a look. The painting depicts several lilies of the valley in a vase. Behind the vase, there are two mountains painted in grey, but the small patch of grass that the lilies sit on is several vibrant shades of green.

You stay in front of that painting for a while, impressed by the details and texture on the canvas. A shutter sound catches your attention, and you blink a few times before turning to see Jeno holding up his camera and smiling sheepishly.

He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You looked too good standing there, I just had to get a shot of you."

"It's okay." You look back at the canvas, eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't you think the art style looks familiar?"

"I don't know much about paintings, so I can't say... " Jeno's reply dies on his lips, and he, too, stares at the painting with interest. "You're right, it does look familiar."

The two of you hum in concentration, Jeno resting his chin on top of your head while you wrack your brain for an answer. You tilt your head this way and that, and then it hits you.

"Park Jisung," you say at the same time Jeno does. "How did you–"

Jeno points at a small square of text. "It says right here. Park Jisung, 24, oil on canvas." You mentally slap your forehead. How could you forget that museums put up a description of each artwork and its artist? You must be too tired from the flight.

"That's right, " you say. "That's why it looks so familiar. Contrasting colours was one of the most defining aspects of his style."

You met Jisung at a kids' art camp when you were in university, and the two of you had learnt a lot from each other while teaching the kids. You were surprised to find out that he was two years your senior in a different university, despite being the same age as you.

You lost contact with him after that, and were very, very shocked to see him at Jeno's college reunion. Although you don't speak much to Jisung now, the things you learnt from him at that one camp will stick with you forever.

"That kid's insane," Jeno muses. "He skipped a year in elementary, lived with hyungs he barely knew in university, and did side jobs because he hadn't gotten a scholarship to pay for his tuition fees, unlike Yeon-seok."

You shrug. "Maybe not 'insane'. Just determined."

Jeno nods. "And he's not much of a kid anymore, is he?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Not anymore."

—

As you wander around with Jeno, stopping at paintings to admire them, a sense of melancholy threatens to overwhelm you, slipping between your eyelids like a mass of black water, a receding wave preparing to crash upon the shore of your eyelashes.

You blink back thoughts of insecurity, trying to focus on the artworks and not your feelings, but it’s no use. You can’t escape from the thoughts running wild in your head, and it gets the better of you, a lone tear managing to get past your barriers, trailing slowly down your cheek.

You subtly wipe it away, but Jeno notices immediately, and he stops short.

He turns towards you, concern emanating off his being, and it offers you some comfort. He holds you carefully, like he’s not sure if you’ll break apart in his hands. His body shields you from anything else in the museum, encasing you in a bubble of protection and silence.

You breathe in deeply; once, then twice. You feel the heat behind your eyes slowly fading to a simple stinging sensation, one that doesn’t make you feel completely helpless.

Jeno’s hands tighten around you, and you instinctively lean in towards him. He doesn’t speak, allowing you to unravel the spool of thread wrapped around your lungs, prying apart the anxiety that prevents you from breathing.

When you can think straight again, you look at Jeno, and he knows.

Without words, understanding passes between you, and Jeno knows everything that’s running through your mind.

He nudges you, gently. Are you okay? his eyebrows ask, raising so high they almost disappear into his fringe.

You can lie about a lot of things, like why you came to the museum in the first place or how you feel staring at the art on the walls or whether you’re okay right now, but you don’t. Because you know that regardless of what you say, Jeno will see right through you like you’re a ghost. You’ll never understand if it’s because it’s you, or if everyone’s feelings are transparent to him. You don’t think you care.

It’s enough to just stand there, weightless. You’re completely supported by Jeno, whose embrace is so tight it’s practically lifting you off the ground, and you;re not complaining.

If he could lift your burdens off your mind the same way he’s lifting your feet from the ground right now, he would. And you would want him to.

“I feel like my art’s worth nothing if it can’t be shown to the world.” You speak slowly, uncertainly, knowing you might cry if you let everything out too quickly. Jeno wants to stop you before you get caught up in the flow of you words, but he knows it’s better if you let it all out.

Opening a bottle of carbonated soda that’s just been shaken is dangerous, but if he leaves it alone, the bottle might just explode.

“I know I don’t make art to be seen. I make it for myself. But at the same time, can any artist say that their craft is not made for the eyes of man? We all long for approval and praise, and that is partly what we make art for.”

Your lips tremble, and Jeno finds himself forced to stare at your quivering eyelashes and the sheen of tears you’re barely holding back. Still, you steel yourself, digging your heels into the ground to steady yourself.

“I wonder, sometimes. If my art isn’t seen, is it even art anymore?”

That’s the minefield, the question Jeno can’t answer without speaking baseless comfort. He has no answer to it, only empty words that he knows will fail to put you at ease.

You, however, don’t expect an answer. You look curiously at Jeno, waiting for a response, but the response doesn’t have to be a satisfactory answer.

Jeno leans in, tucking your head between his chin and his collarbone, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

He holds you there until you’ve stopped trembling. Then, one hand still firmly in yours, he takes you back to the hotel, sitting on the edge of your single bed while you sit and stare into nothingness.

When you make no move to get changed, he stands, and brings you to the bathroom. He peels the clothes from your body, helping to scrub your skin until it’s a rosy shade of pink, then wraps you in a towel and moves your arms to dry your body.

After he’s showered, the two of you sit on the bed, Jeno on top of the covers, while you’re tucked underneath them. Jeno has no change of clothes, no money, only his phone and both of your tickets to the museum.

In his street clothes, he refuses to get under the blanket and dirty the bed, but you are content with his presence.

You lie on the bed with your arms wrapped around Jeno’s waist, and when the shock has faded, you cry yourself to sleep.

Jeno is there throughout it, a beaming light in the whirlwind of emotions you’re experiencing, a constant presence that grounds you. He allows you to breathe between sobs, until they slowly fade away and your eyes close, motionless.

The next day, you find a wreath of galaxes on your bedside table, along with a glass of water, and it feels like a great weight has finally been removed from your shoulders.

The day of Donghyuck’s wedding comes earlier than you were expecting. Between taking you out to dinner and going on bike rides around the city, Jeno has kept you busy. Busy enough to forget your troubles, or at least for you to be able to cope with them in a relatively healthy manner.

You hear three knocks on the door, and as you go to open it, you see Jeno standing there, in the emerald green tuxedo you picked for him and the matching tie. His shirt is a pale green, so pale it can be mistaken for white, and gel gives his hair a wet gleam.

He smiles innocently, and it outshines all the charm his outfit has.

You fell in love with all of Jeno, after all, not just his appearance.

Your sage green dress flows past your ankles, and it would drag on the floor if you weren't wearing heels. They’re tall, but even with them on, you are still only the same height as Jeno. He grins at you, and carries you, bridal-style, into the lift lobby.

“Leave some room for the grooms later, stop trying to one-up them,” you joke, but Jeno only hoists you up into a more comfortable position.

“No can do,” Jeno says cheekily.

You don't pursue it.

—

A surprise awaits you in the car. As you open the door to the passenger side, you find that it’s filled—and so is the driver’s seat. Your heart skips a beat, thinking you must’ve gone to the wrong car, but the sight of the driver’s face makes you do a double take.

“Jisung?”

Jisung offers you a shy grin. “Yep, it’s me.”

“Is it really you? I thought… I never thought I’d see you again! How–” your words come out from your mouth before you can think them through, your rapid-fire Korean faltering in your confusion.

“Donghyuck and I are friends, remember?” You don't really, but if Jeno and Jisung are friends from college, it makes sense that Donghyuck would know them both too.

You clap a hand over your mouth, mind reeling. “So… you were invited to the wedding too?”

Jisung nods. Then, he gestures towards the lady in the driver’s seat. “I also have to introduce her to you. Y/n, meet Yeji. Yeji, Y/n.”

Yeji offers her hand for you to shake, and you take it, wondering where you’ve heard the name before. Yeji, Yeji, Yeji… Ah. You’ve got it. “Hwang Yeji?”

She’s the artist who organised the exhibition Soyeon had given you tickets to view. It was there, at the museum, that you saw Jisung’s art. If she really is Hwang Yeji, then everything will make sense.

Yeji nods. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She picks up a small bouquet of pink peonies, orange tulips and heather, presenting it to you. “Jisung showed me a few of your pieces, mostly older ones,” she says by way of explanation. “They had the potential to become something more. I heard from Jeno that you’d seen my exhibition, so I know you probably like flowers, and you know that I like them too. So this bouquet is an invitation for you to work with me some time, for us to perhaps collaborate on another exhibition in future.”

You are taken aback by the sudden offer, but you’re not an idiot. You remember the way you had collapsed into Jeno the week before, scared that you would never be able to get your art out there. Now, your chance is right in front of you.

You take it.

Gratefully receiving the bouquet, you don’t miss the symbolism of the flowers, the goodwill the arrangement holds. You know it is intentional.

“Thank you for your offer. I look forward to working with you.”

Yeji shakes your hand heartily, and you and Jeno get into the backseat.

After settling in, you rest the bouquet on your lap, and you turn to see Jeno holding a white rose. You frown, wondering where he could’ve conjured it from, and lock eyes with Jisung in the driver’s mirror. You raise your eyebrows in question, and he shrugs innocently.

You roll your eyes at the conspirators, but turn your attention back to Jeno. Jeno carefully slips the white rose into the side of the bouquet, managing to prevent it from looking uneven. You play with the petals of the rose, its symbolism clear in your head.

Used to congratulate people on career successes, your mind supplies helpfully. The only career success you can think of right now is also the most recent one, Yeji’s offer to you. But there’s no way Jeno could have known that Yeji would put that offer out. Unless…

“Did you know?” You ask, tone accusing. You doesn’t have to finish the question; Jeno understands what you’re talking about.

“No, I didn’t know if Yeji would offer to work with you for an exhibition. Jisung only told me that he had shown Yeji your art, and I had faith in your abilities. I knew that after witnessing the extent of your talents, Yeji would have something good to offer you, career-wise.”

You can’t argue with that. The logic is sound, and the flowers are cohesively pretty. You continue to play with the petals, a small smile dancing on your lips.

The smile doesn’t escape Jeno’s attention, and he smiles too.

—

It starts to drizzle as soon as you reach the wedding place. Jeno is quick to procure a clear umbrella, holding it for both of you. He knows you wouldn’t want to get your clothes wet.

Jaemin is there too, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, standing by the side. Donghyuck’s wedding is a loud, chaotic one, with many guests you don't recognise all talking with each other. Jaemin hovers at the vague edge of the crowd, as much of an introvert as Jeno, and you tug Jeno over.

“Hi, jagiya.” Jaemin envelopes you in a warm hug, and he smells like home.

Jeno opens his hands for a hug too, but Jaemin only laughs and swats his hand away. Jeno slings one hand over Jaemin’s shoulder, and you snatch his umbrella away, going off to find Donghyuck.

The two men stand side by side, Jaemin still holding the umbrella, watching you disappear into the hordes of people.

—

The rain gets heavier, and you try to occupy as little space as possible, not letting a single part of your body protrude from under the umbrella. Droplets of rain splash onto your shoes and your face, and you wipes them from your face with the back of your hand.

Jisung stands beside Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, with Chenle, Jaemin’s old roommate, and a couple of other men you can’t remember the names of. Donghyuck and Yeon-seok’s roommates from university, you think, because you remember seeing them at the reunion.

You congratulate the grooms, and move to stand next to Yeji and Jisung. The small circle are the only people that have gotten a chance to speak with Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, and by the looks of it, their conversation isn’t going to end anytime soon.

Yeji makes small talk with you, and you laugh about a few shared experiences, before you notice the crowd starting to disperse, and the officiator announces that the wedding is beginning.

You move back to where Jeno is, and he leaves Jaemin with his umbrella, ducking under your umbrella to join you.

The wedding is simple and sweet, and there are tears all around as the two bridegrooms say their vows.

“...to love and to cherish, until death does us part.” Jeno’s fingers suddenly falter, and the golden locket he’s been fidgeting with throughout the wedding slips through his fingers. He lunges to catch it, and you finally notice what he’s been doing with his hands.

Resting one hand on his left knee to calm him down, you nuzzle into his neck, and nudge his hand open with your index finger.

“What’re you holding?” you ask under your breath.

“Nothing.” You briefly register the officiator allowing Yeon-seok and Donghyuck to kiss, and you look up at them just in time.

“Open your hand,” you command.

Obediently, Jeno uncurls his fingers, and you take the locket from him. You fumble with the clasp, but it springs open, and there’s a picture inside. Squinting, you realise that it’s a picture of you and Jeno, taken when you weren’t paying attention. Your hand is shielding your eyes from the sun, and Jeno’s firm hand is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

Your grip on Jeno’s knee tightens.

“How long have you been carrying this around for?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse.

Jeno looks away. “Since we took the picture. It’s been, what, two years?”

You feel your throat seizing up, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths. Jeno has been carrying the locket around for two years. Almost the same length of time that you’ve been dating for. He’s loved you enough for the whole span of that time to carry a picture of you around wherever he goes.

You can’t breathe. “You’ve been carrying this around for two years?”

Jeno shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, like a soldier going off to war,” he quips. Somehow, you’ve switched to Korean, but you don't quite register it. It just feels right, better, to speak in your native language.

It fits, the same way your body fits into the cracks of Jeno’s body, the way his arms wrap around you and fit into every nook and cranny of yours. Your scars line up against each other’s, and Jeno is the puzzle piece that makes you whole.

“So you love me.” It might seem strange, after all they’ve been through, to doubt it. But it hasn’t been long, and you hate to give yourself away, to love somebody else. Every day, you wonder if you’ve crossed the line from like to love, or if you’ve fallen out of like with each other.

“Yes.” You never knew one word could turn your world upside down. The rain has eased, but it feels like there’s water rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

Then, “Are you okay?”

You hear it from your other side, your left side, and you see Yeji there, concern in her eyes. You turn your attention back to the proceedings, and see Donghyuck taking the wedding bouquet from Yeon-seok, preparing to toss it in the air.

“Yes,” you say, determinedly. Jeno guides your hand to tilt the umbrella backwards, giving both of you a better view of the grooms, and the water continues to flow off the umbrella.

Neither of them makes a move to take it, leaving the more eager guests to rush towards Donghyuck, surrounding him. He turns his back towards them, Yeon-seok moderating the crowd, and tosses the bouquet into the air.

It arcs towards the middle of the crowd, and a lone carnation falls out. Jeno reflexively reaches out for it before it can fall on the soaked grass, and he tucks the yellow carnation behind your ear.

His face is right next to yours, his breathing fast and rapid, and you hear the pulsing of his heart when you place a hand on his chest.

Jeno leans his forehead on yours, the umbrella creating a bubble of silence and tranquility amidst the loud cheers and celebration outside of it. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he smiles, the tear caught on the upside of his upper lip.

You watch as he licks it away, and brush the pad of your thumb against the trail of the tear.

“Are you crying?” you ask softly.

“No,” Jeno says, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “It’s just the rain.”

You wrap your arm around his neck, nose bridge aligned with his, waiting quietly.

“I know you don’t want to get married now,” Jeno says. “But please, take this carnation as a promise that I will never let you have your heart broken.”

You have heard false promises fall from Jeno’s lips before. You’ve faced his broken promises, seen through his lies, accepted his empty praise. This time, however, it’s different. You know it in your heart, can hear the dogged beating of his heart, refusing to hurt you again.

You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll take that promise.”

—

floriography

violet: a declaration to always be true

blue salvia / azure blue sage: harbours sentiments of missing and thinking of someone.

peppermint: warmth of feeling

lavender: purity, devotion, serenity, grace and calmness.

sunflower: adoration and loyalty, long life and lasting happiness.

chrysanthemum: longevity, fidelity, joy and optimism.

red camellia: you’re a flame in my heart.

galaxes: encouragement.

pink peonies: good luck, prosperity and success

orange tulips: joy, enthusiasm and excitement

heather: admiration and support

white roses: symbolises innocence and purity. used to congratulate people on career successes.

carnations: symbolise pride and love for someone in a supportive way. used to tailor bouquets to one’s favourite colour due to their ease of dyeing.

#nct #nct dream #k-labels #🪁 — my works #💐 — the language of flowers #jeno #nct fic #nct dream fic #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #nct dream x reader

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irndad · 11 months

Note

Chrysanthemums for spencer 🫶 would be lovely

Chrysanthemums - a vow or promise (also ily)

It’s just a cut.

It’s barely anything, really. He’s walked away with a lot more pain and lot less attention, and really, really, he’s okay. But it’s hard to put up too much of a fight when she’s so close to him.

Her delicate finger brush over the wound, a little scrape above his eyebrow. He can tell by her expression she’s worried it will scar.

It wasn’t really a dramatic closure to the case, the worst of it being a minor explosion from the unsub trying to escape. The only injuries were Morgan’s shirt and his forehead.

Her tongue sticks out a tiny bit, focused on cleaning the wound, and there’s a reverence in how he looks at her.

It won’t scar, he wants to tell her, don’t worry about me.

But there’s a selfish, irresistible urge to this. Everyone else has cleared from the bullpen, distributed to their own home, their own loves. She’s here, attentively patching his forehead because- he can’t tell why. It’s been so long since someone touched him like this. Care without any sense of return needed.

It’s so hard to define her. Lovely smile and kind eyes, warm disposition and complete and utter control of Spencer Reid’s heart. She doesn’t even know it, and he’d prefer it that way. Because she- this is the kind of woman who stays and helps when everyone else has left, who touches him with a kind of gentleness that feels almost divine.

Spencer is an awkward man who never could even keep a date, let alone charm a woman whose essence radiates warmth and candor.

“That’s better,” she breathed, and he tries not to notice how he enjoys the warmth of her breath over face. “You’re going to be good as new before you know it.”

He wants to hold her hand. He’s thought of hit so many times, but this- the feeling of it, her standing above him, leaning down to meet his gaze as he sits in the same chair he admires her in every day. She smells like roses and peonies, and Spencer- it’s intoxicating.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he says, unable to break her gaze. It’s hard to fight, hard not to notice how their lips align.

Her eyes roll. A delightful, playful thing, and his heart skips a beat. She’s his weakness, even as she heals.

“I always will, Spence."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer

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redclercs · 1 year

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

INTRO: who's y/n anyway? ew.

— the one where everyone tells you who are.

warnings: ignore the timestamps please, online harassment.

masterlist ✢ next

Soft jazz is playing in the living room of y/n y/ln's apartment in SoHo, with all the curtains pulled back the golden hour feels like a golden infinity. We're already in our second cup of coffee, a specialty brought from Veracruz, Mexico by y/n herself.

This is not our first meeting, y/n and I go back a few years, when the box-office hit 'Supercut' sent her straight into stardom and earned her a place in the public's heart. Since then, there has been no other way but up for the young star.

From humble beginnings and a list of failed castings, roles as an extra and endless photoshoots with stock images, y/n knows what it's like to work hard to achieve what you want.

"Sometimes, when I look back at my struggles I wonder what made the universe align in my favor. Hard work only gets you so far, I am incredibly lucky too." She says, eyeing the framed picture of the wrap-up day of her very first movie 'Loneliness', where she played the daughter of a struggling waitress.

"I was in about six scenes, but I couldn't have been more thrilled. It was the first time I felt like a real actress."

Of course, there are other aspects of her life where y/n is extremely fortunate. It has been two years since she started dating Asian-American hearthrob Aidan Kim. Looks like 'Supercut' really was her luckiest strike.

"We do like to keep some things to ourselves," y/n laughs after I ask her for an update on her relationship, I want to know the details behind the lovestagrams we get on a regular basis. "We love and respect each other deeply."

Night has fallen in SoHo and while y/n shuts the curtains, I take my surroundings in once again. A loveseat with a stain on the cushion, a coffee table that Aidan brought from a trip to Nepal where he filmed his newest project, framed pictures of the couple and their families crowd the room. This is the home they have built for themselves.

Some may argue that y/n's specialty are romantic comedies where she gets to play the doe-eyed love interest to the dark and handsome male protagonist, but y/n has her sights set on bigger things. An Oscar nomination, maybe?

"I have fun with the movies I make, but I do want to expand my horizons. I have so many ideas I want to try, I just need a shot to prove myself." She beams with hope, in an ideal world, type-casting wouldn't be a thing.

Speaking of tall, dark and handsome, just as we're about to wrap things up, the door to the apartment opens and Aidan Kim himself comes through bearing a bouquet of roses and bag of take out. A sheepish grin bursts through his face as he realizes the interruption, and does his best attempt to disappear, not before giving a proud thumbs up to his girlfriend. This peek into their private life is enough to see how much they love each other.

"Thank you so much for coming," y/n has been an excellent host this evening, and I am happy to leave her to attend to her love nest. "It was a pleasure."

TWITTER SEARCH: y/n

Y/N’s SOCIALS

Liked by aidankim1, vicpresley, calumhood and others.

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ynstars pretty! hope you had fun babes

effmeaidan you’re only famous thanks to aid

cestbren please tell me you’re really going to be on euphoria

dropbeastsss she’s so fake idk why people like her

dropbeastsss I’m not even aidan’s fan btw

Liked by aidankim1, jessiegrey, vicpresley and others.

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softforyn mY PARENTS

aid4nshoe you followed him to Paris? God let him breathe

loladell my friend saw her today and she refused to take a pic lmao💀

ynflowers can’t wait for you two to get married🥺

↺ FROM ❛FLIXFANS ❜PODCAST MARCH 2022

Chelsea Gonzalez: I just- I feel like y/n is so lazy at this point. Girl you have been doing romcoms for years read a different script.

Gabriel Irwin: [laughs] I don’t think she even reads them anymore. It’s the same role every time that’s just the way she acts on a normal basis now.

Brianna Martin: that’s so mean! Honestly I just feel like she needs to switch agents, there were rumors about that marvel movie and then nothing happened?

↺ FROM YOUTUBE INTERVIEW WITH Y/N IN ❛ONLYFLIX❜ CHANNEL SEPTEMBER 2022

Y/n: I just love being on set, I have so much fun getting to be somebody else and it really feels like I’m in another world.

Ryan Campbell: But your movies aren’t too distanced from your real life situation are they? You have your own movie-like love story with none other than Aidan Kim!

y/n: Oh, uh… yeah I mean, one is fiction and another one isn’t? [laughs] real life relationships are definitely not like the movies.

Ryan Campbell: But how does it feel knowing everyone wishes they were you? I know I do!

y/n: [laughs] I really think we should go back to the movie talk!

↺ FROM ❛IT TALK❜ PODCAST NOVEMBER 2022

Riley Green: [cont.] I mean I loved her look on the red carpet, her stylist LOVES her.

Martha Vincent: y/n is a gorgeous woman, I think that’s why she’s so loved by the public.

Greg Zane: She’s certainly a rising It girl, I just wish we saw her more rather than her fiancé? Boyfriend?

Riley Green: Oh take that back Greg, I’m not about to get cancelled for your shade towards Aidan Kim.

─── team principal radio: ❝ this is my first fic for a f1 driver! exciting! i hope you enjoy this series as much as i'm enjoying creating it. i would love to know your thoughts through comments/reblogs!♡❞

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 angst

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jackiehicks · 8 months

Text

‘Best Kept Secret’

Wyatt Lykensen x Reader

request: wyatt x wells!reader with a secret relationship? they're just always sneaking away from friends during school to meet up.

A/N: my first request and it’s a wyatt x reader?? the stars literally aligned for me on this. i hope you guys like it!! this is set after the events of zombies 2 for timeline reasons. don’t get sick of wyatt just yet though, there might be some more content coming your way…

words: 1.6k

content warning: light swearing

y/n smiled at her phone and sighed. she had been dating wyatt for a few months now, but they had decided to keep it secret due to the fact that she was human and he was a werewolf. she knew seabrook was integrated now and the human/zombie/werewolf student body was becoming more familiar by the day, but it was just easier to keep her relationship with wyatt a secret.

she didn’t really know why they kept hush about it. perhaps it was so the two of them would be somewhat left alone by bucky and his aceys who found every opportunity to say something snide and cruel about y/n and her friends. maybe it was the fear of wyatt being shunned by his wolf pack - this was the first time a wolf and a human had started a relationship in well over a century. maybe it was the judgement she would get from her family.

to cut a long story short, y/n was burdened with the surname ‘wells’. not only was her mother the mayor and her father a well-respected zombie patrolman, but she was the twin sister of star cheerleader and monster-activism trailblazer addison wells.

it’s not that addison and y/n didn’t get along, they had been best friends since the day they were born - they practically came out of the womb holding hands - it’s just that y/n had seen everything that addison had gone through last year with her zombie boyfriend zed, and she did not want that for herself and wyatt. zombies were one thing, but werewolves were still a whole other story in seabrook.

on top of all that, y/n was simply never as popular as addison. she always felt like an outsider. where addison hid her natural hair with a blonde wig, y/n always wore her white locks proudly and defiantly. this got her in a lot of trouble with her parents and the school (seriously, being dress-coded for having naturally white hair was a joke) but she didn’t care. she wasn’t like all the other kids at seabrook, why try to fit in?

that’s how y/n and wyatt met, actually. y/n noticed how all of the wolves had streaks of white in their hair, and she was curious. maybe this was why she felt as though she was different from the others? she talked to wyatt about it, learned some interesting things about wolves, learned some interesting things about wyatt, and shared some interesting things about herself. the rest, as they say, is history.

so, y/n and wyatt were seabrook’s best kept secret. when they weren’t miserably hiding their relationship, it was sort of fun. y/n liked the danger of sneaking around with her “scary” boyfriend, and the thought of doing so was more than appealing as she stared down at her chemistry textbook on the table.

she closed the book and picked it up, making her way out of the library, when all of a sudden she felt a hand on her arm and was being pulled round the corner. she yelped just as she came face to face with her boyfriend.

“miss me?”

“wyatt, you frightened me!” she smacked him playfully on the arm.

“come on, i’ll walk you to your locker. you’re not gonna need any books next period.” he grinned as the two of them walked down the hall.

y/n placed the chemistry textbook in her locker as wyatt leaned nonchalant on the lockers next to her.

“where are we even going for our… free period?” he asked in a hushed voice. she smirked at him and shook her head. the halls were completely empty, everyone was already in their next classes.

“this was your idea, honey. i figured you would have a plan.”

“when do i ever have a plan for anything? you’ve been at this school far longer than i have, surely you know some good hiding spots.”

“i don’t know if you remember this, but i’m a wells. i have to be on my best behaviour at all times.”

“god, that’s pitiful. thank god you have me, you’d be so bored otherwise.”

y/n closed her locker and kissed wyatt on the cheek.

“thank god indeed. come on, i think the football field is unoccupied this period.” she grabbed wyatt’s hand as she started to run towards the school’s exit. he laughed loudly as he ran with her, and she shushed him.

y/n and wyatt sat on the bleachers, looking out over the seabrook football field. it was a warm day, as it usually was in their perfect town. wyatt and y/n enjoyed deep conversations in moments like this, no one around them to interrupt them, simply sitting and chatting. wyatt had his fingers interlocked with y/n’s as they spoke.

“you’d think the school would be more monster-friendly” wyatt sighed.

“yeah, i mean eliza was campaigning for zombie language classes which would have been dope, but there’s not much accommodation for zombies outside of what zed’s presidential campaign was going for.”

“and for werewolves… shit, people still won’t look us in the eye half the time.”

y/n smiled softly and squeezed wyatt’s hand. he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“sometimes i think you’re the only one outside of the pack who understands me, sweetheart.” he said. he was only inches away from y/n’s face, it would be so easy to just grab his cheeks and kiss him. so that’s exactly what she did.

y/n’s hands gripped wyatt’s face firmly and she kissed him square on the mouth - only briefly, but it left them both grinning. wyatt returned the favour, kissing her with such force that almost knocked y/n backwards. they laughed against each other’s lips until wyatt pulled away. he had a concerned look on his face, and y/n immediately worried.

“wy, what’s up?”

“not to panic you or anything, but i got a scent.”

“oh god, what is it?”

“smells like jock.”

“oh shit” y/n exclaimed, looking at her phone. there was 5 minutes left of their ‘free period’ and she had totally forgot that the football players and cheerleading squad start their practises early. this wouldn’t be much of an emergency, except for the fact that y/n’s sister was on the cheer team.

“we need to hide, right? if addison or zed sees us-“

wyatt finished her sentence for her. “we won’t be much of a secret anymore, i know. come on, let’s go.”

they made their way down the steps of the bleachers as fast as they could - why the hell did they sit all the way at the top?! - and began to make their way around the corner of the field when they saw the football team and cheer squad about to turn the same corner, with addison and zed leading the crowd.

“under the bleachers!” y/n whisper-shouted and grabbed wyatt’s hand, running to hide under the metal bleachers from her sister’s line of sight. the two were out of breath, quietly laughing with relief.

“you’re almost too good at this ‘keeping secrets’ thing, you know that?” wyatt asked, wrapping his arms around y/n’s waist. she put her arms on his shoulders and began fussing with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

“oh please, this is a team effort.”

wyatt hummed in agreement as he leaned in for another kiss, but the two were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

“you guys good under there?” zed grinned. addison was standing next to him, trying to hide her smile.

“i don’t know what shocks me more: the fact that you hid your boyfriend from us, or the fact that you skipped class, y/n.” she laughed.

“please don’t tell mom and dad.”

“about your truancy or your secret werewolf boyfriend?” zed interjected. y/n scowled at him.

“if you don’t want me to, i won’t.” addison reassured her. y/n breathed a sigh of relief.

“thank you.”

zed sauntered over to wyatt, putting him in a headlock.

“skipping class, huh? remember what i said about doing it like the zombies do?”

wyatt smacked his arm playfully. “yeah, right. like no zombie has ever cut class before.”

“we follow rules here at seabrook. come on, furball, can’t be missing two classes in a row.”

wyatt sighed as zed let him out of the headlock. he was still getting used to being so buddy-buddy with people outside of the pack, and zed really could be extra sometimes.

“he’s right, actually,” wyatt said to y/n, “we probably should get to our next classes. don’t wanna get caught by anyone else.”

“yeah, you’re right. you go ahead, i’ll catch up.”

wyatt winked at his girlfriend before he began to walk away. y/n turned to her sister, engulfing her in a hug.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you, addy. you have no idea how badly i wanted to. we were just worried what everyone would think. wyatt hasn’t even told his sister either and she’s the alpha werewolf and she’s, like, actually scary.” y/n blabbered, squeezing addison tight. addison laughed.

“sis, it’s okay. i was nervous to tell you about zed and i when we first started dating. don’t stress.”

“ugh, i love you. i really should go though, i don’t wanna be late and i know for a fact wyatt is waiting for me a few feet away.”

addison untangled herself from her sister’s tight squeeze of a hug.

“i love you too, now go!” she spun y/n around by her shoulders and gave her a shove. y/n waved goodbye before she jogged to catch up with wyatt.

zed wiped a fake tear from his eye, “ah, young love.”

“come on, casanova, you’ve got football practise.”

#zombies #disney zombies #wyatt lykensen #wyatt lykensen x reader #wyatt lykensen imagines #pearce joza

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kateysummers99 · 1 month

Note

Do you think the WWBM Interacial movement has now got to a critical point where momentum has starting to challenge even the majority of White Women now as far as there choices for relationship ? May we as White Males even lose this group of females to African Men more then we keep ourselves ?

The short answer is definitely yes.

Because of my own personal experiences and also just looking at major social trends, it's pretty obvious that IR relationships (in general, but specifically white girls and black guys) are much more common now than they were 10, 30, and 30 years ago.

I think there are lots of reasons for this and I’m obviously not an expert (I work in finance, not cultural psychology), but lets just look at the obvious trends:

Girls today are more empowered in general, and especially regarding sexuality and romance. I mention this a lot on this blog, there are less things hold girls back than there used to be. Movies and TV and culture in general are so much more accepting that people can love who they want to love, and that applies especially to society being more accepting of girls expressing their sexuality. I grew up in a time when dating black guys was an obvious but implied no-no, and it's just not the same today. (Note this is NOT true everywhere. Sadly there are racists and homophobes still, but they will probably be holdouts until they die.)

Black men are idolized for their physicality and masculinity by society more and more every day. Sports, music, advertising media, movies, social media and TV shows - you name it, black guys are constantly the icon of masculinity, status and power. This is really true for their masculinity, where we regularly fetishize the sexual prowess of black men in every day culture with phrases like “once you go black you never go back.”

Porn is free and everywhere. Also something that wasn’t the case when I was growing up, but now you just pick up any cell phone and in a few seconds be privately and anonymously staring at an amazing black man and his huge black cock (or whatever your fantasy is).

Also in the last few years, social justice and institutional racism has become a hot topic, I think a lot of women recognize that the same old white male patriarchy that has been suppressing women since the beginning of time has also been responsible for suppressing Black people. This puts white women and black men on the same side on a pretty deep level, where they see each other in the same existential struggle for happiness against the common enemy that is old white guys.

Another interesting thing that I've read reports about is more and more young white guys who are essentially "staying single" forever, sometimes due to porn addiction. They make a sexual connection with porn that is easy and judgment free, which is the opposite of the real-world dating situation where they deal with complex social dynamics and competition (including trying to compete against more masculine black men who are constantly in movies and music).

So if that's a growing tend... then young women find themselves more free in choosing partners, society idolizing black guys, exposed to IR sex and porn, and more culturally aligned with black guys… and young white guys basically removing themselves from the dating pool.

As for me personally, I have always thought think black guy / white girl couples are the most beautiful -- there's a special passion and primal attraction that goes deep down that you just don't see with other couples.

So yes, I think black guy and white girl couples are definitely more and more popular. I don’t think we’ll ever get to a point where all white men are unwanted forever (sorry white boys who message me, desperate to live in such a world), but I do think increasingly empowered girls and wider acceptance of female sexuality will naturally trend to more black guys and white girls together - which is all beautiful to me :)

#interracial couples #interracial love #ask me anything #ask me questions #social justice

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impishjesters · 4 months

Text

Jax reacting to hearing his s/o saying that they would like to marry him in the future

CW(s): rude Zooble, age gap, self-deprecation, unfinished relationship talk, eavesdropping, talk of marriage, Jax note: The "age gap" has no set age gap, just heavily implies and mentions that the reader is older and has experienced more as an adult then Jax might have. But there is no age mentioned for the reader. As for the "unfinished relationship talk", it's basically the reader letting Jax process everything that was said to get his feelings and thoughts aligned. Pushing him to talk when he's conflicted usually ends up with him blowing up, so they'll sit down and revisit the discussion later. A/N: I had this mostly written up ages ago, just needed to finish and clean it up. It felt weird... coming back to TADC after so long... This is also like over 2.2k words... normally I wouldn't post something this long here but, eh why not.

“So how long do you see the two of you ‘dating’ for? You know if there is an exit and we get out of here, the two of you will probably break up.”

“Why would we break up just because we’re back outside?”

You shot Zooble a confused look who only returned it with their own confused expression. It’s hard to speak for Jax, but you had been in this for the long run, it wasn’t just some “hey let’s date to pass time while we’re trapped here”. So far Jax has yet to give you any implications that he wasn’t taking this relationship as a means of passing time.

Zooble shook off the confusion and crossed their arms. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t get it what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you really think the two of you are just gonna continue as if this place didn’t happen?”

The confusion only grew the more they spoke, is that how the others saw your relationship? Just the two of you using each other to pass the time? Well, that hurt.

“I do actually, I don’t know what you and the others think about the two of us but I love Jax and I’d be willing to do my part to make the relationship work. I know he doesn’t seem like it but I know Jax would too.”

You leaned in close and cupped your mouth with one hand and spoke in a quiet voice. “He’s quite a faithful guy despite his flirty demeanor.”

Zooble let out an unpleasant snort at the statement, it was hard to see Jax as someone faithful and not just using you for his own means. But what did they know?

Unbeknownst to either of you, Jax had made his way over to the two of you but instead of making himself known, he tucked himself around the corner to eavesdrop. You rarely hung out with Zooble, so of course he got curious.

“So what, you’re just gonna keep dating him for the rest of your life?” They paused and blinked a few times before letting out a dry laugh. “Don’t tell me you see yourself marrying him?”

Marry? Marry who? His brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and irritation, you weren’t cheating on him, were you? The only other guy there besides him was Kinger, and let’s just say if it wasn’t for the fact he was trying to stay hidden he would’ve burst out into laughter. That’s a hilarious image, you with Kinger of all people.

“Marrying him?” The thought never crossed your mind, you saw a long life with Jax but the idea of marriage never popped up. Would he even want that? He’d probably make a joke if you ever popped the question, or say some shit like how he doesn’t expect you guys to get out of here so it’d never happen.

Plus would you want him to give up his youth any further than he already has by being trapped here? Did he even date before you? How much of his young adult life did he get to experience compared to you? You were older than him, you’d been able to do stuff with that adulthood before coming here.

Zooble frowned seeing you lost in your head, shit they didn’t mean to upset you. They uncrossed their arms and started to reach out to apologize but you snapped out of your thoughts before they could do more.

“Do you think marriage in the circus would be acknowledged out there?”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and gave your hand a little wave. “I mean do you think if we got married here, it would be recognized legally out there? I mean, even if it wasn’t then we could just get married again. Knowing Jax he’d probably not want anything fancy so a little stop by the courthouse to sign some papers would be fine with me. I’m sure Caine could create a perfect digital wedding, that’d save us a fortune. Do you know how expensive weddings are? And we’d get it for free!”

As you went off on your tangent you missed the look of shock on Zooble’s face, and the two of you collectively missing out on the reddening of Jax’s face the more you spoke. Zooble didn’t know what to expect after you’d gone silent, and neither had Jax—should he even be hearing this right now? You weren’t serious were you?

“You’d do that? Get married to him twice?”

A pleasant hum escaped you at the question. “If he wanted to, yeah. The topic hasn’t come up so I don’t really know what he’d think, but I’m not opposed to it. I know he’s got his quirks—”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Zooble interrupted.

“—but I accept those for the most part and it’s what makes him, him.” You continued, ignoring their interruption.

“I’m not the type to short-term date someone, and even if it’s weird to think about I could see myself settling down with him for good. Whether that’s here or there, though I’d much prefer it be out there but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

In truth Jax had never thought about marriage, he barely thought about dating until you showed up. And even then dating wasn’t on his mind until later on. There’s a tickle of laughter in his chest at the very thought, and not the good kind of laughter, the mockery kind of laughter.

Who the hell cares about something like marriage in the circus?

“You’re serious.”

You shot Zooble another confused look laced with irritation. “Zooble I’d appreciate it if you stopped questioning my feelings. I know what I feel and I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t serious.”

“Right, sorry.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, Zooble shuffling in place trying to brush off your intense staring. In the process of trying to look anywhere but you they caught a glimpse of Jax hiding, the two made eye contact and Jax nervously shook his head silently hoping Zooble wouldn’t call him out.

Zooble broke eye contact first and looked at you, crossing their arms. “If the two of you do have a wedding, at least the wedding will be small. You know, assuming you invite the rest of us.”

A smile washed away the scowl at the statement. “Of course! I couldn’t think of anyone I’d want more than you guys to be there, regardless of what Jax says I want my new little digital family to be there.”

You opened your arms to offer a hug, Zooble was one of the two people that you let initiate any physical contact such as hugging. They were stiff and it felt awkward but they returned the hug, letting you give them a good squeeze before pulling back.

Zooble caught Jax silently laughing at their discomfort and shot him a glare before looking at you. “I’m gonna go, this is too much wholesome shit for me.” they paused and nodded their head towards the doorway. “Besides, looks like someone wants to talk to you.”

Jax hissed, shooting them a glare with a silent promise to dismember them later for ratting him out.

Throwing a glance over your shoulder you see Jax and momentarily worry if he heard any of that. “Oh hey.” Jax steps out from around the corner and grumbles back a greeting, eyes still locked on Zooble as they leave. “Stop that.”

He finally looked away once Zooble was gone and looked down at you, crossing his arms loosely. “Didja mean what ya said?”

“Said?” You swallow nervously. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Sure it wasn’t the whole conversation but he definitely heard more than enough.

This wasn’t how you were hoping to pop the question, but at least you didn’t have an audience. “I… yeah I did. I was gonna bring up the topic at a later point but uh, now’s a good time I guess.”

“You’d really wanna marry me? Me?”

“Oh don’t sound too surprised.” Your eyes roll purely out of habit by this point. “I would, but uh..” His posture stiffens and you’re quick to continue, lest he get the wrong idea. “You’re younger than me… I don’t know what you got to experience before being stuck here. I don’t wanna feel like I’m… like I’m getting in the way of you having experiences before something like marriage.”

Jax let out a few awkward chuckles, right, he always forgot about the age gap. His worries weren’t on his experiences but more on how you seemed so casual about settling down with him of all people. You could do so much better—even if he hated to admit it, the thought of you with someone else made him upset.

“I don’t think experiences really matter—”

“They do though. If I’m the only person you’ve dated then how do you know you won’t come to tire of me or regret something as big as marriage? Isn’t there a quote that basically says most first relationships never last?”

Under normal circumstances watching you spiral would be fun, but this wasn’t fun watching you put yourself down. “Hey, since when do you believe in that junk?”

Okay, he’s got you there, you didn’t believe in that crap but still.

“I should be saying the same thing to you…” he started, ignoring the confused look you gave him. “You’ve got more experience but who’s to say you won’t get tired of me?” He let out a bitter laugh and gestured to himself. “Have ya seen me?” He’s a class-A asshole with little to no care about the other idiots trapped in here aside from you. Anyone could tell you he wasn’t husband material.

“Jax—”

“Nah, babe I’m being serious. I know those pretty lil eyes of yours see clear as day what kinda person I am. The others are sick and tired of me and want me gone, it’s only a matter of time before ya fuckin’ see I’m not whatever ya think I am.”

It hurt seeing him spiral, his voice shook despite the anger on his face, and if you looked close enough it looked like he was ready to cry any second. Before he could continue to berate himself, you grabbed the straps of his overalls and gave a firm yank bringing him to your height.

“Apologize.” Jax froze, anger and confusion clear as day. “Apologize to yourself, right now.”

“The fuck are ya talking about?”

“I said, apologize.” You repeated through gritted teeth. “Look I won’t lie and say you aren’t a handful—” Jax opened his mouth to retort but you pulled the straps of his overalls harder, not giving him the chance to interrupt. “But who isn’t a handful? Especially in a place like this, we’ve all got our baggage and you aren’t an exception.”

The scowl and anger never fell from his face as you spoke. “Out of all of us, you’re the third longest to be here—you’ve experienced so much and so little while being trapped in this shit hole. I would be surprisingly impressed if you didn’t have some sort of trauma-like response or body-eating anxiety.”

“I’m not trying to excuse your behaviour, because frankly, it can be very uncalled for in some cases—but I won’t pretend to know everything about you, or why you are the way that you are. But I’m willing to take the time and sit down, and try to understand you. We don’t have to get married now, heck we don’t have to get married ever. I am more than willing to just stay happily by your side with you.”

You finished your rant, panting, staring Jax straight in the eye as much as he tried to avoid yours. The look of anger had melted away, the scowl lessened but his brows furrowed, no doubt struggling to process your words.

“I’m not going to make you respond to that right now, because I know that was a lot and I know you’re struggling with your thoughts, feelings, and words. But we will talk about this later, okay? You will apologize to yourself.”

The grip on his clothing loosened, prompting him to slowly pull himself upright, eyes still avoiding yours. You knew him too well already, that after big or heavy topics it would take his brain what was the equivalence of three to five business days to work himself out, less he lashes out. He wanted to at least give you that level of courtesy compared to the others.

Jax nodded and you exhaled a breath of relief before gently taking his hand. “Good, now do you want me to lead you to your room so you can be alone a bit, or do you wanna go mess around? I heard Bubble was going to try and “bake” again, maybe we can mess around with him.”

Did he wanna be alone right now? Yes, there was a lot to process. But the temptation of fuckin with Bubble started to outweigh it. Eh, fuck it, he could process it later. Not every day he could fuck with Bubble.

He nodded, and without even needing a verbal answer you knew by the slow-growing smirk what option he picked.

“I would love to harass Bubble with my potentially one-day spouse.”

#tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader

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