#-> every day i wake up and go I LOVE SOCIAL WORK !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!then i trudge to the train station | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

equallyshaw · 2 years

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The Medicated Series: features OC's with medical issues such as depression, anxiety, physical disabilities such as MS or Rheumatoid Arthritis as well as any other autoimmune disease such as Crohn's, endometriosis, infertility, etc. (not an autoimmune but you get it).

I feel, as a person with a physical disability, that there is a lack of representation and have always wanted to see myself in y/n stories. Always have and always will.

In my writing, it will have inclusivity, not exclusivity.

Love you all, stay healthy and safe.

I'm starting off with rheumatoid arthritis since this is what I have, and have so much to say ! haha. Enjoy xx

Links for information regarding rheumatoid arthritis:

https://www.cdc.gov/arthritis/basics/rheumatoid-arthritis.html

https://www.arthritis.org/diseases/rheumatoid-arthritis

triggers/warnings: medications, disformity, and talks of depression/anxiety.

Cale Makar Medicated Series Master post:

Original Character: Eliza Nicole James, 23 years old. Brunette Hair, Blue Eyes, short and curvy.

Word count: 4k.

——

Today was like any normal day. My hands are stiff, my knees unable to properly move, probably shouldn't have had that Chinese food last night but alas, here we are. When I have something like Chinese, Mexican food, or pizza, my body goes into overdrive, and well, it wants to stop working even more so than it already does. I'll wake up with night sweats which is exactly what happened this morning, and now I am walking like a penguin trying to make coffee in my kitchen as well as some toast.

“Bad morning?” my best friend/godsend/caregiver Becca smiled from her computer in the little breakfast nook. I nodded, holding onto the counter with whatever strength I had. “Fuck.” I rasped, realizing I didn't grab my coffee creamer, “Here.” Becca said getting up and bringing me my coffee creamer and giving me a hug. Today was a rough one. My rheumatoid arthritis hasn't been this bad in a while. I go through periods where I'm up and then others are down and today I was down. I’ll need a shit ton of Tylenol to get through. Maybe the full 6 before 4 pm today when I get off of work.

It is currently 7:30 in the morning and i have to get to work by 10, since i have a physical disability, i am allowed to work 10-4 every day - most days. Some days I work less and others I can work a full 8 hours. But today might be only 6 if i can manage. But wait no, today we were having this hockey team come in and visit kids that had terminal illness’. I am a social worker working with kids who are like me or similar, where we will never get better. Never. Go figure.

Becca helped me back to my room to help me get started on my morning routine since she could see I was having a day.

“Okay pretty girl, what pants and shirt today?” she asked, looking in my closet as I sat down on my bed. I bit my cheek before responding, “anything that looks good. I don’t really have the energy or ability to decide right now.” I breathed , realizing that the brain fog was kicking in. When that happens, I tend to get dizzy, the inability to concentrate and sound a bit drunk due to my words slurring.

—

As soon as I walked in, I noticed a bunch of people with microphones and cameras and I groaned internally as I walked down the hall. Eric noticed me as soon as I walked past him and a huge group of guys, the hockey team I believe.

"Eliza!” Eric called after me, and I continued to trudge towards my office and once I walked in I noticed a Trenta iced coffee waiting for me and I smiled, I could cry happy tears right now. My body always could use so much caffeine at one time. I never did not have enough energy. Eric walked in and gave me a sad smile behind me, “Eliza, you should have told me how bad it was today. You didn't need to come in.” he said looking at my cane that i was sporting. I waved him off, taking a big gulp of my coffee as I sat down.

“Thankyou ric, i appreciate it so much.” I murmured and rested my eyes for a second. The energy to get from the outpatient pavilion doors to my office seemed like nothing to a ‘healthy’ person but for me, it was like climbing up mount everest sometimes. Eric sat down across from me, speaking into the walkie he sported sometimes for events. “We should be able to start in 15 minutes. Our star speaker should be ready then.” he said, talking about me and I groaned out loud. Eric took notice and leaned forward on his knees, inspecting me.

“I'll be fine, even if I stumble over a few of my words and they think I'm drunk.” I sipped some more coffee, preparing myself for the day ahead. eric gave me a hearty laugh, knowing full well the extent of my comments.

—

“Now, I would like to introduce you to our very own warrior, miss Eliza James.” Eric announced looking at me at the side of the stage and I smiled, handing him my cane as he met me. He gave me an inquisitive look and I shook my head, smiling. I began to walk towards the podium, walking almost perfectly now that the 3 Tylenol I popped in the car ride over were kicking in.

I looked out over the crowd that was filled with hockey players, media, doctors, therapists, and so many of the warriors themselves.

I smiled before speaking, “good morning and welcome to the Denver Medical Center, Hillside outpatient pavilion for our little warriors. Who, like me, face an uphill battle day in and day out. We are incredibly grateful for your support, especially during these trying times.” I paused, taking a shaky breath.

“I first came here when I was 12, not understanding what my body was going through. I remember the first day I woke up with the inability to move. I could not get out of bed for a month after that, barely functioning to be able to eat and sleep well. I did not know why my body was giving up on me, I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. How could a little girl who did everything right- be dealt this card in life? I went through many weeks not understanding what was happening until I came here, after a long few days of testing and blood work. It was the day after I turned 12 that the incredibly kind and understanding Dr. Hart - who is here today - told me what I had. And told me that I was not alone, that I'd never be alone. And she was right, after many months of fighting through pain and virtually relearning how to walk every morning again, how to hold a spoon, a pen or how to properly sleep, I came to this hospital and met people just like me. I met people like Martha, Phillip, James, and Piper who are all here today. Who I am so very fortunate to work with every day.” I paused, smiling at them in the crowd. “Without the help that I received many years ago, I wouldn't be standing here today. I wouldn’t be who I am, doing what I love. Without the many years of physical, occupational, and talk therapy that took up my youth.” I paused taking in a breath. “And finally, many people ask us, “how do we do it?” “How are you so resilient?” and I always respond, what other choice do we have? What other options do we have? And every day with the little warriors in front of us, people witness that being in pain and living with it is possible and maybe just maybe, we won’t have to be so resilient. Thank you.” I finished smiling a grateful smile.

What I didn't notice was how moved some of the hockey players were, and the tears that brimmed their eyes over the unimaginable. Yeah, it's unimaginable until you wake up one day with it.

I walked back towards Eric, with a smile on my face as he clapped happily for me. “You did so well!” he grinned before walking past me to finish the opening and then we could get around to the hockey players meeting the patients. As soon as he was finished, I walked over to the kiddos and said good morning to them.

Martha, my favorite little Irish dancer, jumped up and gave me a big hug, “How are we doing today M?” I asked bending over a little bit to face her and be on her level. “It's okay! I can bend my fingers more today than yesterday and my hand’s aren’t as puffy.” the 7-year-old beamed. “And oh my god that's makar!!!” she said in a smaller voice, and i peered over to look to see who she was looking at and not realizing who was who. I smiled, looked back at Martha and grinned, “Wanna go color?” I asked and she nodded excitedly as her mom laughed. “Always down to color anytime, any day.” she mused and I giggled understanding her excitement. I took her hand and began to walk with her towards the play area as well as the ‘playroom’ that was used for music therapy and art therapy. Which I help facilitate and run. Five minutes later the players all shuffled in and began to walk toward different kids and began to hang out with them. I was sitting at the coloring table with Martha rubbing circles on my deformed knee. Let’s just say it was bumpy and had no cartilage left, so I was literally joint on bone.

“Hi. is this seat taken?” a young voice asked to the side of me, Martha eyed me. That nervous little chick. I shook my head, “no not at all.” I said with a small smile, taking in the hazel-eyed dark blonde-haired boy. He smiled and sat down in between Martha and I. “So what are you drawing?” the hockey player asked. Martha didn't say anything. “She's a bit shy, give her some time.” I said getting a bit closer to the guy and he nodded looking back at me.

“My name is Cale, what’s yours?” he asked after a few minutes of coloring. cale. “Mar-martha.” the young girl said and Cale smiled. “You have a pretty name, Martha.” Cale mused and Martha blushed. So did cale. “And you are Eliza right?” Cale asked, facing me a bit and I nodded.

“Hey Shelley, I'll be back. I need to go speak to Dr.hart for a few minutes.” I said to Martha's mom and she nodded. Okay, you can do this. No falling now. I pushed back the chair a bit to give myself some room, hoisting myself up and putting my weight on the table. Cale and Martha eyed me, making sure I was ok.

I stood up, flexing my knees a bit and sighing. “You ok Eliza?” Cale asked concerned and I looked down at him for a second before nodding, “Just another day with these old knees.” I half-joked before turning on my heel and walking towards the hallway. Dr. Hart looked up from her desk, before getting up and meeting me halfway. “Bad day?” she asked and I nodded. She nodded, walking over to her desk and grabbing a doctor’s script. “10 mg prednisone. Now.'' She said handing me a doctor's order and I thanked her before heading down to the pharmacy, not without letting a social worker know and having them tell Martha that if I could - I'd be back.

It was a few hours later as I was sitting at my desk, going through some paperwork before I heard a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Cale and I motioned for him to come in.

“Hey- you forgot this.” he said moving the cane closer to me and my eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh! I will never go anywhere without this thing.” I said standing up to grab it. “Thankyou.” I said smiling as I reached for it and he nodded, “Here sit down.” I motioned toward the two seats in front of my desk. “How was Martha? Did she come out of her shell?” I asked and he nodded, grinning. “She's funny and spunky for a 7-year-old. She chirps like a pro.” he said and I laughed. “Oh yeah- keeps you on your toes.” I said and he laughed.

“But that's good. Things like this-” I said referencing the event, “make things sometimes less stressful. Even though when you grow up and don’t have the opportunity to do things like this, as a kid it’s what you look forward to. It takes your mind away from everything, even just for a little bit.” I said rambling before catching myself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to talk that much.” I said with my cheeks going red. He gave a smile, one that I couldn’t read. “All good, I like hearing you talk.” he said before catching himself, “I mean, I like hearing what you have to say. It’s eye-opening and raw. Which I think the dads in the group needed to hear. That things could change one morning and have it not be the same.” he said honestly and I nodded. “It still doesn’t get better, even 11 years later- my dad still gets upset and how he can’t help me in the way he wants to or ‘protect’ me.” I confessed. “13 years? Wow.” Cable said dumbfounded. “Yep, I'm still so young and it's daunting and honestly depressing thinking about the rest of my life. I never thought I'd get to 18 let alone 21. But here I am at 23.” I added and he took that in like a sponge. “Well I'm glad you’re here, it seems as though you are making an impact. And mean so much to these people. Is it true you helped start this wing of the hospital?” he asked very curiously. I nodded, “Yep, there was a room in the hospital next store where we would meet 2 times a week. Here, we meet every day if possible or we have rotating kids that come for therapy and to simply be a kid with others who are going through the exact same thing.” Cale nodded in awe.

Like yeah, it's one thing to be passionate, but it's another to feel the joy come after putting in the time and effort to help kids just like you. It’s more than rewarding.

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Ye-yeah, brain fog is bad today and I also got some steroids so I’m in a funk.” I laughed and he did too. “I hate to be forward- but could I possibly get your number? Take you to coffee or whatever you feel comfortable with?” Cale asked and I froze. I looked him in the eyes, not registering what he was saying. “Uh- wait what?” I asked before realizing what I had said. “Could I possibly get your number?” he asked, feeling nervous. “Um, hmmm. That's a first.'' I said, chuckling and closing my eyes as I leaned back in my chair. “Nobody has ever asked me for my number before.” I said, reopening my eyes. Cale was taken back by that. She was gorgeous, down to-earth, and friendly, how could somebody not like her? “Here.” I said handing him my card with my email and work cell number there. “I just want to let you know, there is a very real possibility that I will cancel like I could wake up one morning feeling fine- and then bam as soon as I’m heading out the door, I have to go back to sleep or stay in because of something. '' I said, hoping he’d understand.

“If you do, there will always be another day. I promise.” he smiled a genuine smile that made my bad knees crumble as I stood up. “That's a very sweet cale, but you might be thinking differently when the time comes.” I said hoping he’d understand and I wouldn’t have get my hopes up. “Again- they’ll be another day. Or if you feel comfortable, I could always bring food or coffee over and we can hang out that way. I just want you to feel comfortable.” he said, hoping she’d get the message that he wouldn’t leave or ignore her. I nodded, “thanks cale.” and smiled.

“Now, if you don't mind- I'm outta here for the day.” I said, grabbing my laptop bag and cane, and heading out the door. “Wait, do you want me to help you?” He asked me as he followed me out. I shook my head, “I might look like I’m fragile but I can do a lot by myself.'' I said confidently and he nodded sporting red cheeks. We came up to the pavilion doors, meeting some of the hockey players that were waiting around. As soon as Cale walked up, they noticed me and smiled.

“Thank you guys again for coming out today, I assure you the kiddos won’t stop talking about this for months. It made their year.” I said smiling and they nodded. “Of Course! We had a really good time, I believe we are coming back in a few weeks to do this again.” a tall blonde and beautiful man said. mental note: gabriel landeskog. I nodded, “We will see you guys then.” I said before walking out the electric sliding doors.

“Bye James! Please don’t fall!” Eric joked/yelled from the counter, as Becca pulled up. I opened the door, and waved back to Eric, chuckling a bit. “I’ll try my very best for you, Ric!” I mused before getting in the seat.

“You wouldn’t believe what just happened.” I said as I sat down in the car.

“Ouuu tell me!!!” Becca said as we pulled away. “A hockey player asked for my number.” I said shyly. “Wait!!!!” Becca said, looking over and screaming at me. “Oh my god oh my god!!!! This is the best news!!” Becca exclaimed, causing me to laugh.

“Uh huh, just wait until he sees how many issues I have and then he’ll start running for the hills.” I remarked and she gave me a frown. “No, don't think that. He talked to you after hearing what you had to say spoonie. (autoimmune nickname) Don’t doubt yourself. You don’t realize how much of an enigma you are sweetie.” she said, grabbing ahold of my hand.

“Yeah right.” I said starting to get even more defeated. My phone buzzed in my lap, and I looked down to see a text from an unknown number.

“Text me a time and place, and I'll be there. No rush, just let me know whenever :)” the text read.

“He even put on a smiley face!!” Becca pointed out making a turn at the light.

Maybe just maybe, cale was giving her the time of day, that she deserved so very much.

—

It was a month later, that the team and orginization were going to be highlighting and honoring the kiddos from the pavilion. It warmed my heart to see how much the team was getting out of these little kids. So when I got a call from Joe Sakic himself, I was floored. They personally wanted me to facilitate the evening in whatever fashion I wanted and they’d provide anything and everything for us.

Martha and I walked hand in hand into Ball Arena, it was two hours before puck drop and we were going to see the team before the game started. Well, they were- I was just there as moral support for Martha.

Martha beamed as we walked through the tunnels, rambling on about seeing Cale again. Her and cale had become thick of thieves the few times he had been around. Sometimes on his own without the team, to see Martha and ofcourse me. We had been talking for pretty much the whole month and even had made it to two dates outside of my apartment, the other two were in my sanctuary. Cale had been so sweet and understanding, but it was only a matter of time.

Martha noticed Cale from down the hall and pointed at him, and began to get even more excited.

Cale and a couple of the other players were playing soccer, getting into the zone for the game, and relaxing a bit. “Martha, he’s busy. We will see him in a bit, ok?” I said leaning down to Martha’s eyesight and she nodded with a bit of a pout. “Were gonna go meet Sakic ok?” I said and she nodded as we headed towards Joe Sakic’s office with the nine other kids that could make it tonight. We walked past the group of players, with me attempting to keep them all in line, making sure they got to the first destination. They were like any other kids, they were excited to see the players and had to be reigned in in order for them to not disturb the players. We walked towards the office and saw the king himself, waiting outside of his office talking to my manager- Eric who wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“Hi, guys!! How are you doing?” he asked the kids as we got closer. All ten of them began to shout, and go crazy. It was a sight to see. I watched from behind them, taking in their excitement, and laughed at the whole ordeal. This is why I got into social work, to see things like this happen. And Joe Sakic was taking it all in like a pro, kneeling down and commenting on their jerseys and hats, etc. He was also quite the jokester too. After a few minutes of watching from afar, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Cale. I smiled widely, taking in his presence. “Hi Cale, how are you?” I asked turning around to give him my full attention. “I'm good, how are you today? Any surprises? I see you don’t have your cane.” he asked and I shook my head. “No, thankfully. It’s a good day.” I mused. “Well I am glad. You excited for the game?” he asked and I nodded, “This is actually my first in person game ever, so Martha promised me she’d show me the ropes. Her family being season ticket holder and what not.” I joked causing him to grin. Speak of the devil. “Cale!!!!!” Martha screamed jogging past the rest of the kids and Joe Sakic, and Cale opened his arms and kneeled to her height. Oh, how it would be lovely to kneel again.

Awhile later, the kids were running around or tempting to run around the locker room greeting all the players and having them sign their jerseys. I stood in the doorway leading into the hallway, feeling somewhat overwhelmed but kept telling myself to deal with it because who knows when this would ever happen again. I looked towards Martha who was in front of Nathan Mackinnon giving him pointers on how to not fall so much since the last game, apparently he kept falling. Nathan was enjoying this very much and played along with it, taking her notes and corrections very seriously. Even another player, Erik Johnson joined in with his so-called notes. Martha was a gem, everybody could tell. “You alright? Ever since we walked in here, you’ve been quiet.” Cale asked me as I stepped out into the hall for a brief moment. I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and just wanted to find some coffee and a pretzel and call it an evening.

“Yeah-yeah I’m fine.” I said giving him a fake smile, which he didnt believe. “Im exhausted, I need to find some coffee and just chill. As much as I love all of this, it's overwhelming. Not gonna lie.” I confessed and he nodded. “Is there anything I can do?” cale asked, hoping he could ease some of the burden. “I’ll be fine, we will be heading to our seats shortly.” I said and he nodded. “Will I be able to see you tonight after the game?” he asked hopefully and I frowned. “Probably not Cale, I will be passed out as soon as the game is over. I know that’s not something you want to hear, but that’s me. I’m afraid.” I said and he shook his head, putting a hand on my arm. “How many times do I have to tell you, that whatever you can do is perfectly fine?” he said genuinely causing a chuckle to escape my lips. “Okay, ill text you though. No promises.” I said as the kids started to walk out.

“Pretzel time, Eliza!!!” Martha shouted causing Cale and I to laugh. “And coffee!” Shelley, Martha’s mom added and I pointed at her with a grin. “You know it!” I mused before turning back to cale. “Have a good game.” I said and he nodded and thanked me before heading back in the locker room.

“Have a good time, James!” I heard from behind me, seeing Bo Byram and I rolled my eyes laughing and waving him off.

“Now let’s see what all this hockey fuss is about, Martha.” I joked causing her to groan playfully and ramble about everything that had to do with hockey. It was time to make notes if I were to continue to see Cale.

What Eliza didn’t know was that she’d be seeing a lot more of Cale inside and outside of work in the coming months.

…

And I know cale wasn’t featured a lot here— but he will be :)

I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I can’t wait to dive more into there relationship.

Let me know!

Please like, repost, and if you want to - give me a follow to get many more stories like this and others :)

#hockey #nhl #calemakarimagine #coloardoavalanche #avalanche #autoimmunedisease #cale makar #colorado avalanche #romance #friendship #bo byram #Gabriel landeskog #fanfiction #Nathan mackinnon #erik johnson #cale makar m series

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clutterfield · 2 years

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GHOST BUSTERS

FratBoys! BTS x Comatose! Reader

Main mlist. Previous chapter

Synopsis

You get into a freak accident and wake up to your body surrounded by seven crying men. Or your unrequited love doesn’t seem so unrequited after all.

Chapter warnings

Angst, Horror

Chapter Rating: T (For Teen Audiences and Up)

Chapter 8: The Hen House part 1

A/N. Y'all. Have you seen airport Yoongi 2022? Also, wrote this while on the road so forgive me if it's sloppy. 🥹

FLASHBACK

Smoke filled your lungs, an endless circle of tobacco and the smell of fried eggs and grilling meat as you tried to push your sweaty hair to the side, the sun beating down on your bare fore arms, the prickling heat shoved at the forefront of your mind incessantly.

You just know you were going to get a tan in weird places with the way your shirt sleeves were haphazardly rolled up to your shoulders and the frayed edge tied to a side knot just above your hip bone.

If anything you looked like a poster girl for Rosie the Riveter minus the iconic red polka-dotted headband.

You had foregone wearing shorts, opting for jeans instead as you weren't really all that comfortable showing a good amount of skin below your stomach and so it was sweltering hot as you attempted with a mild grunt to carry the multitude of colored boxes for a new resident of the Hen House - you think you've read one labelled Toys and you weren't born yesterday to decipher what that had meant.

With a blush, you enter the comfortable air conditioned lobby of the home, the receptionist smiling behind the desk before going back to jot down something on her clipboard, and you trudge up the winding staircases down to the east wing.

The Hen House, built upon an old abandoned convent back in the day boasted a sprawling ten-acre enclave lined with all kinds of trees and greenery, a massive lake just behind the structure where you mostly loved to spend your time lounging by the docks whenever you didn't have anything to do, feeding whatever woodland creature graced you with it's presence so you tended to pocket an assortment of nuts and bits and pieces of bread whenever you visit.

It was actually one of the adopted social services program for Kyung Hee, the university you were attending, extending help to women (and men) who previously worked in the under hood of Korea's red light districts and were trying to turn over a new page in their battered, worn out books.

Initially you were hesitant, what with your swamped schedule but your professor had convinced you otherwise in exchange for raising your GPA so you had agreed without thinking too much of the consequences.

Passing through the hallways all while giving a wave or two to the relatively cheerful residents doing their own thing, you come to a stop in front of a wooden door.

Lightly nudging it open, you toddle through and gently place the boxes in a corner of the room out of harm's way.

"Thanks, sweet cheeks."

Startled, you almost smack the tall intruder in his handsome face. "Oh fuck, sorry!" You bow as he barely dodges from your hands before he chuckles, bringing your flailing to a stop.

Your eyes land on the love handles peeking through his white cropped shirt.

Like a fish out of water, you blatantly ogle the dude, only to curse under your breath- first house rule, never ever check out the residents (at least openly) for several reasons, one of them being a violation of their dignity and privacy after everything they went through to get to this point.

But you couldn't help it! He easily towered over you and he was huge, like he ate protein shakes for breakfast every morning.

Clearing your throat, you hold out a hand in greeting. "I'm LN YN."

The attractive stranger nods taking your hand in his for a brief shake. "Kim Matthew, but you may call me BM."

You give him a genuine, welcoming smile. "Well then, BM, I hope you like your new home. The people here can be a handful, and crazy, and sometimes pushes all your buttons and smoke like they're sixty-five but they're all caring on the inside." You state plainly only to flush when you realize you were babbling.

You give a hasty bow, "Also, I'll be in your care from now on."

He grins, white canines glinting, the tear drop earrings he sported shimmers in the mid afternoon light streaming through the curtains as he pats your head consolingly almost amused at your little display and you look up at him shyly. "Likewise, YN."

You have a strong feeling you and him would get along just fine.

BM, as it turns out, became your bosom buddy even if you hadn't known him for long.

He was very well likeable and was basically good at everything, from cooking to building that cat dream house one of the matrons had always wanted, and writing poems that could rival Namjoon's, you were starting to think all beautiful people were blessed by the gods themselves.

And BM was really good at writing. Like insanely good.

So it isn't a wonder when one day, as you were raking leaves in the garden, he comes running out thrusting sheafs of paper against your face, getting you cross eyed as you tentatively take them from his excited grasp.

"I got in, YN!" He screams with giddiness and you stare confused only for your creased brows to unfurl, a giant smile lighting up your haggard demeanor.

BM had been accepted to Kyung Hee as a Literature Major under a scholarship.

The best part was, he would be sponsored to go to an Ivy League school of his choice as long as he kept his grades up.

"Woah, this is awesome!" You tell him, proud at his accomplishments as he basically lifts you up and twirls you around like you weighed nothing.

Having been a former stripper for a BDSM club, your friend didn't have many options in his career, most regarding him with an underlying sort of disgust, a used commodity but it seems the Literature department of your university thought he had great potential ahead of him if they were willing to go so far as to let him finish a Master's Degree abroad.

Once back in your feet, your beefy friend hesitates. "But... I'll be moving into the dorms before the semester starts."

You snort and smack him lightly on the chest, the only part reachable for your five foot, two inches. "Don't worry about me, dummy. I go to the same university too. Dorm visitations are allowed on weekends. And it's not like you can't just text me to meet up or something. "

He chuckles, but then his sharp eyes stray to somewhere behind you as he subconsciously grips your fingers in his. "Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about." He whispers seriously and you shoot a look at the middle aged man tottering a few steps away towards the sidewalk, as if he had just been caught peering through the fence.

You freeze. Who was that? This was the third time in a row you've caught him staring at you.

Somehow, and you don't know why but that behavior reminded you of the Bogeyman when you were younger.

You shuddered.

BM does not let you get home alone that night as he steadfastly refuses to let you drive alone. "I'll just take a cab on the way back." He says, tone final and you don't argue.

Knowing your friend for over a year now, his instincts for bad things were usually a little too spot on, (like that time you showed him a photo of an apartment you were looking into leasing which thankfully you didn't as turns out it was a trap house) having been honed by dealing with seedy and unsavory clients for almost half of his street rat years.

Maybe you should report that incident to the police just in case.

You give him a farewell kiss on the cheek and watch him walk the driveway, past the security who open the gates for him, and back into the shadows, only for you to stop in your tracks as you feel someone watching your backside (surely it wasn't the gatekeeper) and not wasting any time, you run into the house almost colliding into one of the boys dogs.

"Woof!"

You heave a sigh of relief as the brown poodle clings to your leg, tail wagging. "Holly, you scared me! " You coo only for her owner to come stumbling out into the foyer sleepily.

"Oh, you're back." He then frowns checking the clock on the wall and is fairly surprised that it's around two in the morning. He pauses awkwardly by the foot of the stairs. "...Had a hot date?" Yoongi drawls albeit uncomfortably, though you can't tell with the way his lips break out into his usual smirk.

You don't know why that gets to you, it's just a question, but it does anyway and with how tired you were the entire goddamn day and the lingering fear still rooted in your bones, a bit of light leaves your irises. "Eh." You shrug neither denying or confirming and brush past him, leaving Holly yapping in the background and her owner stumped because it was the first time you acted like you he was a roommate and nothing more.

Not a member of your makeshift family.

Not the man who hung the moon and the stars.

Not the man who broke your heart countless of times as he and his brothers came home looking thoroughly fucked and sated.

Nothing.

Frantic footsteps follow you, "...are you hungry?"

You stop and he stops, his dog in tow, sitting her butt on the marbled floor. "I'm sleepy. Good night, Yoongi. " Your tone borders on a heavy sort of finality and you trudge up to your room without another word, not caring a shit what he thought about you at the moment.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

The next morning finds you buried bone deep in volunteer work.

It was Sunday, and with no boyfriend or social life outside of your boys you had offered to clean the old lake shed at the Hen House.

It was a dusty old shack if anything, filled with miscellaneous stuff old residents had left and some rusty machinery which could fetch a notable price at some obscure junkyard by the roadside.

If only you weren't alone (not discounting the receptionist and the cook who were always on duty) but the other staff had the day off and since most of the residents were capable of running the place anyway, they were left to their own devices.

You cough up a storm as the pile of books on the shelf topples, leaving you wheezing in a particle cloud of dust bunnies.

The shed may be grimy but it was pretty workable as it was small, big enough to fit at most four of you.

You huff, putting on a mask and hyping your spirits to do some shit cleaning because you were not going to leave this place without scrubbing every single inch, every nook and cranny until you were satisfied.

"Let's do this, YN."

It takes you approximately until seven into the evening to finish everything and you collapse in the now waxed and polished floor, muscles aching and moaning.

All things that could still be of use were boxed and taped up to be sent to the lost and found department just in case some of the residents wanted to 'dumpster dive'.

The stuff that were practically trash was going to be shipped off to the junkyard tomorrow. Recycle and all that shit.

With a tired whine, you allow yourself to partially doze off to slumber, only minutes later, something cold taps your ankle until long fingers are grasping them and you jump up, shrieking in shock.

The old man you had seen with BM last night was here. Inside the shed. With you.

Shit!

Before you can even run out to call for help, a force yanks you back and you land on the hardwood with a thump.

You refuse to look anywhere but at him, thinking this was the way you were going to die and you'd rather not hold the face of your murderer in the afterlife lest you never find peace, only for him to practically bend abnormally close down to your level.

You gasp when you are left staring at milky white orbs and yellowed rotten teeth, "Save me." The old man gasps and you scream.

END OF FLASHBACK

🔮

YOONGI POV

He hates you.

Well, he actually doesn't.

He was annoyed, irritated, with the fact that you were hugging a man twice the size of the Sigma leader.

And he was a fucking dwarf compared to the guy's bulging pectorals.

"YN?!"

He growls lowly, though the only people who heard were his brothers as you climb the big buffoon like he wanted you to climb his dick.

Something gnaws at his chest, straining, making his insides blaze with unbridled fury and bitterness as he witnesses how happy you looked, something he --they have never seen on you before.

And it hurts.

It fucking hurts.

"Guys, this is BM! He's a good friend of mine!" You wave them over, glowing and positively beautiful that the twinge grows deeper, like a knife stabbed him in his lungs.

A friend? He's never heard of this BM. Not until now. Dread fills his already fucked up emotional spectrum solely thanks to you.

Just how much of your life outside of them did they miss?

He glances at the others who mirror the same kind of trepidation as they all survey the gothic structure, the concrete seemingly intimidating even as they were used to grandeur.

There was something eerie about this place and if you had been working here for a long time right under their noses, he doesn't even want to imagine what kind of horrors you faced.

And as you pull them all in to meet curious faces, he swallows, hiding his disdain as he realizes just how far away you were from them.

Fuck.

They fucked up.

Next chapter

🔮

Chapter taglist

@potaetopic @yoongiigolden @missseoulite @reallysparklychaos

#bts army #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #polyamory #bts angst with a happy ending #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #namjoon x you #hoseok x reader #seokjin x you #jimin x reader #yoongi x you #hoseok x y/n #taehyung x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader

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svchengss · 3 years

Text

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years

Text

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

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chemistink · 2 years

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Happy New Year

This year [and last year honestly] have been weird for me. I remember being so hyped about my 2019. I accomplished a huge milestone by attending 19 concerts in the year. I got to see one of my favorite bands that next January. And then 2020 turned into this fever dream that I never thought I would wake up from. We managed though. The spouse bought his dream car, I got him a specialty plate for it... That's all I remember. 2021 had been about the same until one fateful day in the summer when I decided to finally bite the bullet and watch an anime from the early 2000s. I think I made it all the way through Second Stage of Initial D before I decided to rabbit hole on AO3 and Tumblr. But what a wonderful place to be, finding the fandom here and just... finding all of you. I consumed every bit of IniD fics out there, I even got into writing some [current count of drafts is 94 but they're not all exclusively IniD] and I found myself again. I wish this were like discord, where I could @ everyone and let you all know that I'm thinking about you guys.

But truthfully, @steakrogers @loonatic-moon @twilighthomunculus @dentixvoxel @fadefromthelight @bellygunnr @akaashiscupofwater @haikyuuublog @indigolily117 @gaysuke-takahashi @marferino-fd @fangcyclonelunaheat @toffiendfee @koushisawamura09 @aliens-took-my-iwa-chan

Seeing your names come across my notifs on my phone on the regular and getting to go through them when I'm at work makes the day better. I get to laugh, I get to show my coworkers, I even quote little things throughout the day [even though no one else gets it but it makes me laugh]

You guys have made the entire year of 2021 worth it by just being there for these last three months. You brought me back to myself, back to my writing, back to what I enjoy the most. I even gave up all the other social media to come back to the hellscape of Tumblr because why bother trudging through the nonsense of facebook when I could be here, having fun with you. I'm endlessly grateful for you and I hope that the new year finds you with the same wonderful gifts you guys have blessed me with. [But I've seen your art, your writings, your talent. You guys are absolutely phenomenal so I just hope the new year provides you with the strength and energy to continue doing what you do! That way I get to enjoy all of the wonderful content you create.]

HAPPY NEW YEAR! I LOVE YOU GUYS!

#i'm not crying you're crying #I am not gross sobbing #insert gross sobbing gif here #initial d #haikyuu #new years #just happy to be here #I'm not gonna say you guys saved me #but god this is the closest I've ever come to being saved before #just ignore me #I'll be over here being sentimental af

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myrulia · 3 years

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An Oiran's Sacrifice - Kokushibou x Oiran!Reader

Oiran

Oiran (花魁) was a specific category of high ranking courtesan in Japanese history. Divided into a number of ranks within this category, oiran were considered – both in social terms and in the entertainment they provided – to be above common prostitutes, known as yūjo (遊女, lit. 'woman of pleasure')

Warnings: Strong language, prostitution

Word count: 3758

Next chapter

`` Why must you do this to yourself? ``

`` For my family. ``

`` Family means nothing if you are working as a self degrading prostitute. ``

`` It is what I must do if I wish to live. ``

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It was yet another late evening, alone in your compact minka, yet it never was a bother, for this was how you usually spent your nights. Due to your poor living style, your father was driven to thievery. It was the only way to keep the two of you somewhat fed, clothes on your back, and a roof over your heads. Your living style has helped you become more grateful of any small blessing that came along your way. Even the smallest fortune would put a smile on your face because it ended the little sorrow in your heart at the realization of your poverty.

``[Y/N],`` You heard a voice beckon to you. The voice you knew all too well at this time of night that originated from the only person who would even dare leave do commit such crimes. `` Coming father. ``

Getting up slowly from your dimly candle lit chabudai, you scurried your way to the wooden door of your minka, letting inside the only other family member you had, your father. Watching how he takes slow strides inside the bleak, wooden-paneled small space of your home, you mentally cursed yourself for ever allowing yourself to come to terms with your reality. Deep down you hated how the man in front of you risked his life nearly every night just to make sure the two of you were fed, yet, it is not like you could do much to change your misfortune, for it is your depressing reality.

`` Miracles do happen [Y/N]. I promise you, with this, we can finally turn our life around, and leave this dreadful place. `` Being intrigued by your father's words, you eyed the gleaming object in his hands that you unfortunately recognized. `` Father, why? From the Suzuki family no less? They will have our heads if we are to be caught..! ``

Your worry was bothersome to your father. He knew just as much as you what the consequences are if he was ever to be caught. It wasn't easy for the male to successfully loot the expensive statue in hand, so you didn't doubt he'd do his best to hide any evidence of his caper. You couldn't help but worry of your future, because the Suzuki family was the most wealthiest family in your little mountain-side village. Known for being ruthless to anyone that disrupts their peace and fortune, the Suzukis will not tolerate such thievery inflicted upon them, which is why your worry only increased even more because you did love your father of course, and to see his head served on a silver platter was gut wrenching.

`` [Y/N], rest assured that we will not be caught. We will use this to escape this little village and live somewhere safer, maybe in the forest like your mother always wanted. We can live a peaceful life without relying on thievery. Please, my beautiful blessing of a daughter, place your trust into me. `` You merely sighed at your father's declaration. You knew he'd pull the mother card on you just to persuade your emotions even more to agree with his actions. Obviously you do not, because at the end of the day stealing is bad and punishable by death, so the constant worry always lingered in your heart.

`` I do not care if we are the lesser fortunate of our village, I just want to you to stop stealing. I already have a job- ``

`` That barely pays you enough. This is why I do what I must to keep us alive. I am ending this conversation here, I do not want to hear another word from you [Y/N]. Now, please get your much needed rest, you are developing eye bags. `` With those somewhat encouraging words to actually get some rest, you trudge your way to your comfortable futon, which wasn't too much of a distance because everything was set in the same confinded room of your one room house.

Your father blew out the warm colored candle before getting comfortable in the similar futon next to you, letting out a small groan as his muscles seemed to relax. Letting a small sigh escape your lips, you turned over so that you were laying on your side. Whilst closing your eyes, you finally allowed yourself to escape into a somewhat peaceful slumber, since you strongly believed you were in the clear from being beheaded in public since your father managed to get away unscathed.

Just as quickly as you fell asleep, you found yourself waking up to the bright light of the sunrise that glistened through the only window of your home. Yawning, you covered your mouth while slipping out of the warm fabrics of your futon, peeling open your eyes slowly. From how quickly you woke up, you felt as though it was going to be a rather long day. Truth be told you wish you had the urge to sleep longer, for you did not wish to face the day with a guilty conscience lingering over your head as a constant reminder of what your father does in the wake of the night.

`` Father, we have lots to do today, please wake up. `` Expecting to hear a soft groan in return, you turn your head to the now empty futon before you. Shock was all that was found on your face, because your usual routine was to wake up your father and start the day by finding any food to buy from the market place, but that is not the case today. Your father was gone.

`` Father? FATHER?! ``

Worry took over your emotions just as fast as your shock did. The man who was usually still in bed was no longer there so obviously you'd do your best to look all over for him. Getting out of your futon just as speedily as you woke up, you slipped on your geta shoes and bolted out of your living space and onto the busy street of your village. It was all too sickening when you tried to make sense of the situation, but only one solution came to mind. That solution only seemed to make more sense as you ran through the people-covered streets, pulling up your kimono just a bit so it'd be easier to run around until a loud boisterous voice was heard from the townsquare that confirmed every suspicion you had.

`` This pitiful man chose to steal from me! How sad that his life must end like this. It is only fair that death is his punishment for taking a precious family artifact right? `` The cheers of those in the audience caused a ringing in your ears. That was your father they were wishing death upon, and yet nobody seemed to care. As long as their own heads were on their shoulders, they were fine.

Pushing past the multiple men and women in front of you, you managed to escape from the crowd, yet to your disapproval, you were now directly in front of the cause of all the commotion, Suzuki Kenta. Your act of boldness triggered all eyes to be on you, but you could care less. You did not want to lose yet another family member in the arms of selfish people. So, bowing down quickly, you mustered up the confidence to beckon out to the head of the Suzuki family. `` Suzuki-san, as this pitiful mans daughter, I beseech of you to please, spare his life. He knew it was wrong yet it was only to save us both from the misfortune inflicted upon us!! Please, I beg of you..! ``

In your desperate plea, your eyes became bloodshot since tears were welling up on your bottom eyelid. Now looking up from your bowing stance, Suzuki Kenta had prominent veins on his face that showed his distasteful attitude towards your cry of desperation. It was obvious the angered male did not want an interruption, especially from a poor female no less, so obvious agitation was expected.

`` This woman.. really believes she can save this scum of a man... how cute. `` Kenta took slow strides to your smaller, still beneath him, form. You could practically feel him looming over you in utter disgust for ever believing you could persuade such a powerful man himself. Deep down you had a feeling that both your heads would be severed off, or hanged and humiliated publicly for your foolish actions. Who would believe this is how you unfortunately came to your end. Desperately trying to save your thieving father, knowing what he did was wrong? Bitter. The Bitter truth always hurts.

`` Look at me. ``

And as just as quick as he said his order, you gave in and risen your head from the ground, your cheeks being stained by hot tears rolling down your face, looking even more pathetic than what you had wished. Although if it was going to save your father's life, then so be it. If you were going to look like the dirt that everybody walked on, then that is what you will do. Sacrifices like these were common you, especially saving your own fathers life multiple times before this so this was nothing new.

`` You are just as pitiful as your father. You wish to save this low life man who had the audacity to steal from me? `` Kenta snarled in distaste. You had no choice but to stay silent, for there was a blade in the male's hand that he could use any second to take your life, and if you wanted to live, you needed to be careful and word your sentences just as carefully. `` I apologize on his behalf, I wish to make it up to you Sakimi-san. ``

`` Clever girl.. I have taken rather a liking to you. You are smart and you know your place, I will respect that. `` Letting out a relieved sigh, you eye the weapon in his hand before averting your gaze back to his twisted and still somewhat agrivated face. Kenta looked as if he was contemplating something in his head, all the while his bodyguards made your bloodied father watch everything unfold before him without a say in anything.

`` You do have quite the beautiful face, and a body that compliments you oh so well. I will give you two options Miss Fujisaki, you either return the stolen item and watch your father die here and now, or, you become an oiran for my lovely son. Pick wisely, and immediately. I expect an answer now. ``

Murmers were heard from the crowd who also stayed to watch the commotion unravel before them. Of course everyone knew all too well what the life of a low ranking oiran is, and knowing that the options given were supposed to be a punishment, you were going to be no more than a yujo, working as a sex slave for Sakimi's sex hungry son. But, if it meant saving your father's life, then so be it. `` I will accept the life as an oiran.. Sakimi-san.. ``

`` Perfect! I didn't want to get this perfectly good suit dirty so gentlemen, let the scum go. `` Just as quickly as Kenta snapped his fingers, the bodyguards let your father go. Seeing his bloodied and beaten to a pulp body ignited a fire in your heart as he tried his best to make his way over to you. `` Father please save your energy, we'll get you some help.. `` you addressed as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

`` Oh do not worry! My men will get him the help he needs in due time, for now please allow yourself to be escorted to my estate for further details of your new living space. ``

`` I thought I was an oiran, do I not have the decision of going back home. ``

`` My lotus, please do not talk ba- ``

`` You will be nothing more than a yujo. Your face is sweet but your tongue is bitter, and so as a punishment you will be completely submissive for my son. ``

Your eyes practically doubled in size. The fact that Kenta believes you are so willing to not at least have a shred of your dignity left is beyond anything you ever thought of. After being publicly humiliated, you'd at least expect for him to understand how you felt, but at the end of the day, selfish rich people know no boundaries. Sighing once more with your father in your arms, you slowly stand on both your dusty legs, all the while helping your father keep his balance. ''Fine then..'' was all you said.

You found yourself now following the Sakimi bodyguards, for they were escorting you to the one and only Sakimi estate. It was rather large and sat on an even larger hill, so the trail up the grand staircase was a bit of a hike for the beaten man that you loved so dearly. During the entire walk it truly allowed you to comprehend your reality for the rest of your life. You were going to be a oiran, the lowest ranking form of oiran no less. It had your blood boiling with how easily you are so willing to save your father from death time and time again.

Since the small little hike would end soon, you took the chance to take in your surroundings. It wasn't like your previous way of living in the village, but a more extravagant way of living. There were statues with small-scale ponds in front of them that had different colored koi fish inside. The afternoon brightness of the sun reflected upon the water, but that was not the only thing because you could catch a glimpse of your dirtier form from your bow of respect from earlier. Looking back you realize the man who you will be working for deserved now ounce of respect, for your body was yours, even if you were to be a yujo you'd still keep your dignity.

Other than that, in your barely noticeable reflection, even under all the small specs of dirt and filth, your face resembled your mother. You pretty much looked like a copy and paste version of the woman so it was no surprise that you had her beautiful features. Above all that it still saddened you that from above, she'd be watching her daughter become a self degrading prostitute if it meant saving her dear father from execution. A reality, that was so tart to even look at in the eyes of others.

`` Ahem.. Fujisaki, ``you heard a feminine voice call out to you. It was shocking so your head whipped to the side to whoever called out to you. To your misfortune, it was the head oiran of the Sakimi estate. Lowering your head out of respect, you partially gripped your father's shirt out of nervousness because it would be the start of a new chapter in your life that you never wanted to reach. `` Now that I have your attention, let me look at you. ``

Before you knew it your father was ripped from your arms by the same bodyguards who held him at knife point. Your face of worry was noticed by those around you, so to direct your attention the head oiran, who you had yet to introduce herself to you, held your face in her amazingly soft hands. `` Ignore them, they're going to patch him up and send him home. You, my beautiful underling, will be coming with me and my ladies. ``

Her boldness wasn't shocking, so following her didn't make you as uncomfortable as you perceived it would be. The beautiful woman who held your wrist as you finally entered the large minka, had started speaking so quickly that your mind took a bit to process. `` I am the head oiran known as the tayu and you are my precious little yujo. I'm Sakura, over there is Jade, that's Blossom, and there is Waterlily. You will address us by our oiran names only and the same goes for you. You will no longer be "Fujisaki," but rather a lovely name, Lotus. ``

The irony in that moment made you want to cringe. You only permitted your father to call you such a thing, but now that it is what others shall be addressing you, it caused an obvious look of discomfort to be plastered on your face. Just as suddenly as Sakura stopped talking, she just as suddenly dragged you to another, more secluded, area of the minka. Inside the room she pulled you in looked like an oversized closet, easily bigger than your one room home.

`` In here is where you shall prepare yourself to look proper, right now you look like actual filth, so please, make yourself look presentable for Master. ``

Before you could utter out a single word, Sakura left you, alone in a pretty large room without any guidance. During the time your mother was with you, the both of you would pass men with many different beautiful women surrounding him. Despite being too young to fully understand their jobs, your mother simply said, `` They are called oirans my dear, beautiful women for service. ``

With that in mind, you remembered how the others look and tried your best to copy their image. Grabbing a nearby hakuhodo, you dipped the end into the white power and began gently stroking your face, turning your fair skin milky white. It was a longer process than anticipated so once you were done you had to message your muscles because making sure the powerdy substance stayed on your face took the longest. You felt embarrassed to call for help, so you being you decided to do everything yourself. Grabbing what you perceived to be an eyeliner pencil, you tried to keep your hand steady as you basically used yourself as a canvas of art.

Unfortunately it was another long process because a few strokes were a bit wobbly, but finally perfecting the look made you feel a sense of pride that you could do such things yourself. Grabbing one more brush, you dabbed the end into a red power and brushed lightly where the end of your eye starts and stopped just about before your hair line. Moving onto the multiple shades of lipsticks, you grabbed a bright red and began applying the shade onto your lips. `` I look ridiculous, don't I mother? ``

Your tilted your head up to imagine her soft laughter at how content you are with your actions. You still felt pride in the fact that you were able to successfully look like a professional oiran without help from the tayu. Smiling gently to yourself, you got up from the plush chair to look for your new kimono that'd you'd be working in starting from that point on. When you came to no prevail, you sighed once more while scampering your way to the wooden sliding door. `` Sakura-san? ``

`` Yes my underling? `` Was all the beautiful woman said from a little ways away. Telling by the gentleness of her voice, she wasn't too busy at the moment so you scurried over to her as quickly as you could.

`` If you are not busy at the moment Sakura-san.. may you help me with my kimono?``

`` Of course not my little lotus, come with me. ``

Following behind her yet again, she leads the both of you into the dressing rooms where you originated from. Her movements were fluid and as gracefully as she could, pulled out each layer of kimono you'd be wearing for the one they called "master." Placing each layer onto a nearby chair, she faces you with a softer expression while holding your face in her hands once more, like earlier. `` For a fresh underling, your make-up is more professional than most. I must admit that I am proud of you my Lotus, so please hurry and get dressed so I can give you a proper tour of the Sakimi estate. ``

And with that, Sakura left, leaving you to your disposal of getting dressed. Unfortunately she hadn't told you the order of each layer, so it was more like a ball game to see if you actually got it correct. From your eyes, it seemed like everything was a test to see just how much you knew about an oirans job. In contrast, you were a clever one, so it wasn't too tough to memorize the oirans you passed as a child, remembering each layer and how they dress accordingly.

Yet again, another long process which you figured out all on your own.

Looking in the mirror, you no longer recognized your mothers features on your own face. In your eyes, you saw another person entirely, that was no longer you. To everyone else you'd be known as Lotus, not [Y/N] Fujisaki. It was the future you brought upon yourself, so keeping your chin raised high, you took slow strides out of the dressing room and looked for Sakura who was supposed to give you a proper tour, but to no avail, you did not see the woman from earlier.

And so, you took it upon yourself to look around until you found yourself on the engawa that wrapped around the entire minka. The evening breeze hitting your face as you looked down at the small forest beside, taking in the sunset cascading down upon you. You hadn't expected for the entire day to simply rush by. It felt like just yesterday you were waiting for your father to return from his capers almost every night, but no longer shall he steal, owing to the fact that you'd make money as a yujo.

This was your life, and you had no say in how it was to go for the rest of your days.

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`` Ohhh..~ She is a pretty one Kokushibou-dono~ I want her as my next meal. ``

Kokushibou, who wasn't listening to the Upper Moon Two, eyed a woman who had changed entirely since the last time he had seen her. His confusion didn't go unnoticed due to the Upper Moon One usually having a stoic expression. `` You seem to have taken a liking to her? How pitiful she is nothing but a prostitute n- ``

Before the demon could finish his sentence, one swift movement of Kokushibou's blade had his head off in seconds.

`` Silence, Douma. ``

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#kokushibou #kokushibo x reader #kokushibou fanfic #kokushibou smut #kny fanfic #kny kokushibou #kny x reader #kny imagines #kokushibou imagines

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saturnseighthringg · 3 years

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Day 4: Secrets

After an especially challenging hunt, Dean and Cas down a little bit of liquid courage, and share secrets about how they feel.

Rating: T || Word Count: 1078 || Alcohol involved

I gotta say, I was really stumped on what I could do with this prompt, but thankfully, this little scene came to me. Soft and sweet late night conversation.

Read on AO3

It hadn’t been a good day. Like, at all. Nothing had gone right with the case, the research took too long, too many people died, the weapon almost didn’t work, the monster just didn’t wanna die, they’d had to call Cas for backup. Yea, a shit day.

The only silver lining, if it could even be called that, was that the case had only been a couple hours from the bunker. So after dispatching the hell spawn and cleaning up their mess, Dean, Sam and Cas had headed home, with Dean’s foot heavy on the gas.

After everybody had showered, and had dinner, Dean found himself in the study area with Cas. Sam had fucked off to his room, presumably to FaceTime Eileen. Dean was giving Cas a run down of all the shit they’d dealt with before he’d shown up and deus ex-machina’d their asses.

“I gotta say, Cas, you really came in clutch back there.” Dean shakes his head in frustration and sighs, downing the glass of whiskey. He didn’t drink it often, beer was his poison, but after today… “I’m really, kinda… mad at myself for not calling you sooner. I should have made the call as soon as the research wasn’t making sense. People were already dyin’. My fuckin’ pride just got in the way.” He shakes his hand vaguely. “So, thank you. For showin’ up. Even though you didn’t have to.”

Cas downs his own glass, and Dean watches, reverent. There’s something to be said for someone who can down some of the strongest whiskey in one go and not wince in the slightest. Angels Dean thinks. Cas had a head start on Dean while he was in the shower. And it must have been impressive, because when Cas speaks, his timber is slightly off, indicating his tipsy-ness. It doesn’t alter the way Dean still feels when his best friend speaks.

“Dean, can I share something with you? A secret, if you will.” Dean’s breath pauses. This was clearly something Cas probably wouldn’t say without liquor loosening his tongue.

Dean nods, not trusting his voice.

“It doesn’t matter if we somehow haven’t spoken in weeks, or months or even years, I will always come when you call.” He levels his gaze with Dean’s and Dean is paralyzed to look away. “I don’t care if we’ve said we never want to see each other again, if you need me, I’ll be there. I’m but a prayer away from you. Always.”

The eye lock continues far past what would be deemed socially acceptable. But that was the norm for the two of them. Looking in Cas’ eyes, Dean could be lost to the world. And it wouldn’t matter, because as Cas had just said, he’d protect Dean from anything.

“Dean, do you understand? I need you to.”

The liquor clearly does something for Dean as well. He nods. “Can I share a secret with you too?” Cas’ gaze never breaks as Dean barely registers Cas’ own nod. Dean’s never said anything like this before. Never been this vulnerable. And he’s trusting Cas. Sure, they’re both a little fuzzy, but if Cas can share something, Dean can too. Wasn’t that what best friends were for?- in the middle of the night, downing whiskey together?

“I’ll always need you, Cas. Even when I act like I don’t, or… I- I push you away, I need you. Prolly more, when I do that. And not just to fight monsters. I just… need you. To stick around. To be here.” Dean blows out a breath. Even drunk, that took a lot to say.

Cas doesn’t hesitate. It’s like what Dean said, he’s been waiting to hear. “Then I’ll be here.” And he says it so resolutely, Dean believes him immediately. They have a spotty track record, but Cas has made it a point in the last few years, to not lie to Dean. That whole God stint is more or less behind them, and aside from it, Cas has never given Dean a reason not to trust him.

Dean’s reverie breaks when Cas blinks. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Dean doesn’t wanna sleep, he wants to stay up and be with Cas. But he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, his eyes had gotten heavy in the time they’d spent lost in each other. “You’re gonna be here, right?”

Cas smiles, a small and soft one. “Yes, Dean.” And with that, he gets to his feet, surprisingly well, despite being tipsy, and hauls Dean to his. Dean is not in as good as shape Cas is, and in a startling show of faith and trust, rests his weight against Cas, silently asking for help. Again.

Thankfully, he and Cas share a brain cell every now and then, and Cas not only gets the question, but obliges him, guiding him through the bunker to his room. Cas helps him remove his outer layer of flannel, leaving him in a t-shirt, and that’s as far as Dean is getting. He face plants in his bed, murmuring a muffled “Thanks, Cas.” before drifting off, feeling safe.

In the morning, he wakes with a start, the night before coming back to him. He may have been drunk, but he remembers. On his bedside table is two pills and a glass of water. Dean downs it gratefully before hauling himself out of bed and trudging to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

Sam is already there, sipping on something green, yuck, and Dean wastes no time, zipping over to the coffee maker. To his surprise, it’s already on and there’s fresh coffee in there. Huh? He looks to Sam ready to ask him, but at that moment, Cas walks in.

Sam looks up, slightly startled. “Cas? What are you doing here? Not that I’m not grateful to have you here.” Sam amends quickly, always the peacekeeper, always the nice guy.

Cas shrugs. “I spent the night.” He flicks his eyes to Dean quickly, before focusing back on Sam. “I think I’m gonna stay a while if that’s okay.”

Sam nods eagerly. “Yea man, we’d love to have you.” He glances to Dean who has poured himself a cup of steaming hot goodness. Dean nods and Sam goes back to his yuck.

“Yea, we would.” Dean says with a small smile on his face. And he and Cas share a secret glance before he sets back to cooking breakfast.

#suptober21 #destiel #deanandcas #deancas #ficlet

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edgeofmyniall · 3 years

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The Arrival: Part One

Poppy Horan knew two things: one, life sucks in the manner of doing taxes and avoiding death at all costs, and two, she would rather stick a dull, rusty spoon in her eye than to get out of the car.

Poppy sits in her car as the white crystals fade down on the steaming metal. Even though the heat was on high, she still feels the biting wind through her car. In reality, Poppy knew her heating system works perfectly fine , but it is the anxiety that makes her bones shiver under the many layers of clothes that she’s bundled in. The steering wheel seems to almost freeze under her gloved hand as she grips it tighter. With her elbow propped on the middle console, her other gloved hand taps her temple rhythmically as she awaits for the dreaded moment to appear. She couldn’t help to feel that her skin was ice.

She looks out the window when a pair of headlights pulls onto the snow covered street and without realization, her heart skips. The car slows as it passes her own and that sudden fleeting moment of hope or despair, Poppy didn’t know, went as quickly as it came.

It isn’t often that Poppy is able to sit and enjoy the weather, but as she reflects on her life and tries to convince herself to go inside where her friends are waiting for the rest of the party to join, she can’t help but to hate the position she’s in now.

Because if she got an invite, so did he.

That’s what happens when you marry inside the friend group. You get invited to places and events together even if the two parties are, in fact, divorced.

To give her friend’s the benefit of the doubt, Poppy knows that none of them have the slightest clue about the divorce. There were merely just rumors and claims floating around news articles and social media. None of them know about the constant fighting and the arguing that ensued all hours of the night when Niall would come home late smelling of perfume that Poppy would never dare wear. The crying turned into silent treatments that remained until they both signed their names on the piece of paper that quoted irreconcilable differences as the reason why the two should no longer be together.

Would Niall bring her? The woman he left Poppy for? He couldn’t be that naive to bring the absolute chaos to Justin’s wake, but it would be like Niall to pop the surprise on every one at a time that they least expected it. Poppy had thought about calling the closest hotel to book a room, but what if Niall had done the same thing? Would he bring the bottle of wine that made Poppy first question the health of their relationship?

Her finger taps on the window trigger, debating if she should at least step out for a quick smoke. She hated the thought of the musky smell lingering where his cologne still hung to the leather almost as if she was ruining the memory of Niall. The Niall that once loved her. Poppy sighs before shutting down the engine and steps out into the winter morning. The quiet suburban street watches Poppy as her car chirps at her. She leans her back on her passenger door and lights up a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine. Her body falls into an ease, letting the tense aches of her muscles to relax and her hand finds the two silver rings that hang around her neck. She keeps them on a low chain, a secret that only she knows about, not daring to let the world know of her failure and shame that she couldn’t make a love like the romance novels work. They had been picture perfect in almost every way before she gave up the fight. As her fingers play with the cool metal, her mind wanders into a place that is dangerous:

The past.

Five Years Ago

“And do you, Niall James Horan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest looks over to Niall who stands proud in his tuxedo as he looks his bride in the eyes before he answers the easiest question with a smile.

“Yes.”

“And do you, Penelope Jane Myers take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest turns to Penelope who is glowing from happiness as she looks at the man of her dreams. The world stops turning as she takes in this moment: the way the one curl of Niall’s hair won’t stay in place no matter the amount of gel he uses, the way his blue eyes are shining at her, the small croak of his voice when he read his vows of the crumpled, folded paper- a sure sign that he had rewritten everything he was trying to say. They had spent months planning the wedding: getting the invitations right, the seating charts, the ordering of decorations. Niall insisted that Poppy make the whole idea of the wedding a big deal, but over and over again she told Niall, “I could care less about what it looks like as long as I’m with you. Forever. That’s all that matters.”

In hindsight, she should have known better. She looked at Niall for the last time as a single man before saying, “I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Niall cupped Poppy’s cheeks and pulled her in swiftly for a kiss that would seal the promise they both made before the crowd and God.

When they finally reached the small room upstairs after walking out of the chapel, they breathed a sigh of relief. They were both nervous to start their lives as a married couple even though for them nothing changed except for the legal matters. Niall never asked Poppy to sign a prenup. She had helped Niall start his business up so he felt that she should get at least half of everything that he had because without her support and encouragement, they would not be where they are today.

“I’ll call Sam in the morning to get everything set up at the office. You just need to come by whenever to sign the papers,” Niall whispered as his hands rested on the crook of Poppy’s hips. Her heart fluttered as Niall caressed the falling brown tendril out of her face.

“I don’t need any of that. Just you is all I want,” Poppy breathes, her breath hitching as Niall kisses her fully, his tongue tasting of mint.

“I love you times infinity, my darling. Forever.”

Forever came sooner than intended. On the breath of an everlasting promise, the word forever suffocated and shattered all over the hands that tried to keep a marriage from falling apart.

“Jesus, Penelope, you’re still going at it with those things?” A sudden familiar voice pulls Penelope out of the dream she was reliving. Her hand clutches the rings as she throws out the half lit cigarette, her heart racing. “You’ll end up killing yourself with those.”

Niall stood in the snow just a few feet from her in a gray trench coat with snowflakes that had caught in his hair from the short distance he walked from across the street. The week old scruff and dark circles under his eyes were a given sign of no sleep. Stocks had fallen and the business hadn’t been doing so well in the past couple of months. There had been frantic emails that Poppy was still receiving about emergency meetings from the decline of sales. The board of directors, including Poppy, were called to meet in person to discuss options. Niall had always poured his heart and soul into his work so much so that two had become one, and now as he stands in front of his ex-wife, she witnesses the perfect example of an ill fated work marriage. His body seems to want to lunge forward, to wrap his arms around his once best friend, but he stops himself and looks at the woman with the permanent sad face. “How are you?”

“Been better,” Poppy, still clutching the rings in her hand, turns to her ex-husband. His hands were stuffed into the silk pockets as the cloud of breath left his body. He looked irritated at best, like coming to one of his best friend’s wake was an inconvenience to him, but that was no longer Poppy’s worry. “You look like shit.”

It was a lie, a false statement that she said aloud to convince herself to stop looking at him in the way she once did. He looks just as good as the day she met him.

Seven Years Ago

Poppy trudged against the rain, hoping to make it to her professor’s office on time. She had been running late due to the fact that she overslept after pulling an all nighter to finish the essay that was due only a few minutes from now. Pen and paper, the professor had said, he would not accept anything less than pen and paper. She had only five minutes to cross the muddy lawn and enter the building only to run up three flights of stairs to hand in the paper in person to either her professor or the aide. Her heart racing, she ran as fast as she could across the slippery grass that would only stain her sneakers that she had gotten from her mom on her past birthday. She hated running across the grime, but it was the fastest route to get to the gray stone building that lurked over her, awaiting for her to fail. Stepping inside the building, Poppy nearly slipped on the mat that was wrinkled on the newly polished floor. Her shoes squeaked as she began the trek upstairs taking one last look at the elevator in hopes that someone had fixed it after all the days it had been broken. The faded paper sign was still hanging on the metal doors as Poppy’s heart lurched forward. Three minutes left and the biggest grade she needed was about to be late.

A group of freshmen descended down the stairs in a form that could only be the walk of shame. They didn’t move over to let Poppy pass so she let them push past her. Her back arching into the railing as she watched the clock tick forward. It was as if time stood still in the final seconds of her deadline. Finally free, she ran as fast as she could, pushing past students and professors, unbeknownst to her she nearly pushed over her own, and left wet puddles on the floor when she reached the darkened office of her professor. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she slid down the wall facing the office. Bringing her knees to her chest, she dropped her head in the sanctuary of her ownself and began to cry softly. She hadn’t made it on time and surely now, she would fail the class she needed the most to graduate.

A small whistle came from around the corner. Poppy peered over her arms with blurry eyes to see the aide coming back to the office. He hadn’t noticed one of his students on the ground when he turned the key. As he turned the lights on in his small office, he quickly grabbed his jacket that he had come back for. It was when he was leaving that he saw the tear stained face of one Penelope Myers.

“Penelope, what are you doing here?” Niall squatted down in front of Poppy and offered a hand to help her up. His touch was gentle as Poppy stood and wiped her tears. “I’m too late, aren’t I? Now I’ll never graduate on time and I’ll have to repeat the class again and hope to God I’ll never oversleep again which is a big, fat lie to you, me and God himself.” Niall cupped Poppy’s arm and gently squeezed.

“Late?”

“The paper. The one that’s worth half my grade? I’m late.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked as he looked Poppy in her reddened eyes. “Why does it matter? It’s late. Professor Lawernce won’t approve of it. First rule of his stupid syllabus.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked again. His blue eyes seemed to flicker as a smile crept onto his face. Now was not the time to laugh at Poppy’s failure.

“Yes, but it’s probably wet from the stupid fucking rain.”

“Let me see it,” Niall smiled. Poppy’s brow furrowed in confusion, but bent down to retrieve the paper anyways. Only the corners seemed to have gotten wet and as she gave her essay to the man who comforted her, her heart raced. Tapping his watch with his finger, Niall says, “By the looks of my watch, it says you’re right on time.” He winked and turned to place Poppy’s essay in the mix of the other essays that had been turned in on time.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Poppy didn’t realize what she was doing until she had done it. She wrapped her arms around Niall and buried her face inside the crook of his neck, taking in the deep musk of his cologne. “You are a lifesaver Niall. I owe you big time.” Poppy pulled away suddenly and straightened her clothes as Niall’s gentle grasp lingered. She hadn’t wanted to let go.

“You can treat me to some drinks later on. My friends and I are going down to a local pub and you buy me a round and we’ll call it even.” Niall extended his hand so Poppy could shake on their business agreement.

“The name’s Poppy, by the way,” she said after shaking her newfound friend. A thought of what his lips taste like lingered in her brain. “Only my grandma calls me Penelope. It’s too old for me.”

Niall turns to lock his office door and smiles, “Old or not, I like it.”

“You might want to put those on,” Niall nods to Poppy’s closed hand. “Still gives the facade.” Poppy swallows the last bit of pride that she has left and nods. Her hands shake, not from the cold, but from the fact that it’s been almost a year since she last saw Niall. It was when he had the movers box all of his stuff and take it away in the moving truck that she saw him. He had gotten a tan from his vacation down in Cabo and he had thought Poppy wouldn’t be home.

“Thought you were gone to Amelia’s so I was going to leave this instead.” Niall handed her the note and walked to his car without another word. It was when he was pulling out of their driveway that she read the scratchy handwriting on the crumbled piece of white paper:

Poppy entered the house alone and was left with all of their belongings staring at her broken heart. She could hear them laughing at her failure and every vase, picture, and wall decoration dug deep into her soul watching her as she slid down the bare white wall of their living room as she cried with rage filling her body. She never wanted these things, but Niall gave them to her anyways. He always wanted her to have the nice things in life, but Niall had been so consumed with the warped accusations and thoughts that Poppy only loved Niall for the things he gave her that he overlooked the value of their friendship and relationship. Poppy grabbed the blue and yellow vase that Niall gave her for their first year anniversary after their wedding and threw it as hard as she could against the wall that held their wedding picture. The one where he cradled Poppy’s face so delicately that one would assume she was made of glass while he looked at her with life and love, all consuming and enduring, like she was the only person in the world.

It was never the same.

“Can you help me? I can’t seem to get it.”

Niall sighs and walks over to his ex-wife, snow crunching under each step. He could hear his heart roaring against its cage. He had locked his heart away when it came to Penelope, tortured it for still feeling the way he does for her- for her shallow love.

“Weather’s supposed to get bad. Heard on the news it might be a storm later on,” Poppy’s voice cracked under the slender touch of Niall’s. He’s trying to steady his breathing, to keep himself under control, but the smooth skin on the nape of Poppy’s neck brings back too many memories he thought he washed down with alcohol.

“Since when do you watch the news, Penelope?” he quirks, a small smile growing on his face. She’s trying to make an impression that she’s grown from the divorce- that she is independent, but Niall sees through the facade. She’s always been independent in her own way, and that was one of the many things that Niall loves about Poppy. Loved. He reminded himself. He loved her. He now loves Shelby.

“It was on the radio, meathead. I hope you know that people can change, Niall. They do it all the time.” The way his name hangs on her lips burns her- the taste of yesterday drowning in today. He unclasps the necklace when the front door of the blue townhome opens, letting the roaring laughter and music flood into the quiet snowy street.

“There’s the two love birds. Thought we might have missed you. Come inside before you both freeze,” the olive skinned woman that they both knew as Amelia shouted. Her shawl was wrapped around her body to hold off the harsh cold wind for the few moments her head had poked through the door. Niall’s smile vanishes as quickly as it came before Poppy turns to look at the dismal face of her ex-husband.

“Put them on quick. And put on a happy face; we’re the love birds, after all,” Niall growls as he picks up his luggage. Poppy pops the trunk open and Niall quickly takes a hold of her bag. They walk up the front stairs in silence, suitcases rolling, and before pushing the red front door that was left ajar, Niall places his hand on the crook of Poppy’s back and she swears that Niall’s eyes flickered with natural joy when she looked at him. Swallowing hard, Poppy feels as if this weekend is an endless cycle of boxing matches with the odds stacked against her, and with no one in her corner, she is about to step into the hardest round of her life.

taglist: @niallerlover, @yourpolaroid07

#niall horan #niall horan au #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan imagine #niall horan 1d #1dff

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morningfears · 3 years

Text

Hiking

Rating: PG-13 (Language, mostly)

Summary: College!Luke and hiking for the 10k celebration.

Word Count: 2.1k (...this was supposed to be a drabble, whoops)

“Tell me why we’re doing this again.”

You listened to the crunch of gravel beneath Luke’s feet, a signal that he was rounding the car to meet you at the trunk, and bit back a laugh as you reached for the extra water bottle you’d packed because you knew that he was going to forget his own. He’d been whining since you picked him up, a pout on his lips and sunglasses perched on his nose, and you knew that he’d stop the moment you truly got annoyed with him.

For now, though, you were enjoying making fun of him just as much as he was whining.

“It was my turn to pick our activity. I like to hike.” You pressed the bottle into his hands, a saccharine smile on your lips, before you closed the trunk and shrugged. “I also like to see you miserable.”

He turned his head toward you, bright blue eyes hidden by the sunglasses he’d snagged from you years ago, and scowled. “You owe me pancakes for this. It’s so early.”

“It’s nearly ten, Luke.” He waved a hand dismissively when you scoffed, unashamed of his status as the late riser in your friendship, and leaned against the car to take a sip of his water. “Don’t drink too much. If you puke on me, I will murder you. No one will find your body up here.”

Luke snorted at that, his hands moving to tighten the cap on his water bottle before he waved them at the nearly full parking area. “There are literally fifty other people on this trail right now. Someone would find me.”

“Shut up and start moving, yeah?”

Luke breathed an exaggerated sigh and made a show of dragging his feet, sending dust and rocks flying in his wake, but followed you toward the trail. He was joking - that much he made clear when he cracked a grin at your laughter - and you knew that he had no intentions of making the hike miserable for either of you. He was annoyed to be awake so early on his only day off but there was no one he’d rather spend the day with.

And, besides, it wasn’t the first time he’d gone hiking with you.

The first time Luke went hiking with you, you were both freshmen in college and equally shy. You were a friend of a friend of a friend - Ashton was dating your roommate’s older sister - and had somehow gotten roped into going hiking with the group of them. It was Ashton’s idea, to drag all of you out to the middle of nowhere right before fall break, and Luke had only tagged along because Calum and Michael dragged him.

While you weren’t exactly the most social of the bunch, it was clear that you and Ashton were the only ones who’d actually hiked before. Whereas everyone else showed up in black, wearing various old band t-shirts and, in Michael’s bad judgement and mildly hungover case, jeans, the two of you wore actual gym gear and appropriate shoes.

Luke quickly fell to the back of the pack, happy to be away from the chatter and the attention as he struggled up the mountain, and somewhere along the trip, you fell back with him. He knew that you were capable of beating them all up the mountain - and probably back down, if he had to wager a guess - but you kept pace with him and never even made a face at the sweat that made his t-shirt stick to his skin.

You were halfway up the mountain before either of you spoke - to everyone’s surprise, it was him; he complimented the All Time Low sticker on your water bottle - but it seemed as if neither of you knew how to shut up after that moment.

Your friendship formed quickly, bolstered by your commonalities and strengthened by your differences. If you weren’t in class or at work, you were at Luke’s. And if you weren’t there, the pair of you could usually be found elsewhere together.

When he moved into a frat house and you moved into an apartment, nothing changed. The brothers knew you, just as your roommates knew him, but your nearly nightly outings - to diners, to the movies, to the mall, to the park near campus - shifted to once a week activities that you took turns planning once you both delved deeper into your respective majors.

Luke was your best friend, just as you were his, and you were grateful for the strange hike that brought him into your life. That was, however, to everyone’s surprise, all that you were.

You had a small crush on Luke when you met - even drenched in sweat and struggling to keep himself upright, trudging up the side of a mountain he was cute - but the more you got to know him, the greater your crush grew. He was everything you’d always wanted, all wrapped in an adorable package, but you told yourself early on that you weren’t going to push; whatever happened with Luke, happened.

You knew, deep down, that Luke felt the same. You saw the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You saw the way he blushed when you complimented him or the way he grew flustered whenever anyone pointed out how cute the two of you would be together. Neither of you hid your feelings well but you were content to see where things went.

You always said that you’d rather have him in your life as just a friend than not at all.

Your line of thinking had recently undergone a bit of a shift. You were both approaching your senior year; two semesters away from the great unknown. Luke had plans to stay in the city and work for a record company. You were weighing your options to continue your education and considering leaving to give life elsewhere a shot.

It hurt, thinking that you’d be separated from Luke after so long of him being your only constant, but you knew that you either needed to make a move or move on.

“Alright, you haven’t said a word in almost a mile. Stop thinking, start talking.”

Luke’s words, said through huffs of air forced past his lips, broke you from your thoughts and you blinked when you noticed just how far down the trail you’d made it. You were glad you’d chosen one so familiar - the one you hiked the first time you met and found yourself returning to, time and time again - as you’d mostly relied on muscle memory to make it this far.

“Nothing to talk about. Just stressing over that Media Law final. Baker’s a dickhead and is going to make it unnecessarily difficult.” You knew that you should tell Luke the truth, spill your worries as you normally did, but you couldn’t force the words out.

It was easier this way, to continue on as you had for the past few years, and pretend that the heartache blossoming in your chest wasn’t real.

“Bullshit.” Luke stopped, nudged you to the side of the trail to let others pass, and met your eyes to search them. “That was your sad face. Baker gets the mad face. What’s up? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Of course I do, Luke.” The words fell past your lips readily, confident and clear, because you knew that. You knew that you could talk to Luke about absolutely anything and he would be there to listen. You knew that he’d never judge or laugh, not if it was a serious discussion, and that helped calm the raging sea of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

But nothing could quell the ache that settled in your bones when he looked at you the way he was.

He had a habit of looking at you like you were the one who hung the stars and moon. His eyes, usually unfocused as he zoned out, were clear and bright and shining with an admiration that rolled off him in waves. Whenever he looked at you like that, right in the eye, he always had a hand on you in some way. This time, he had one hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek.

“What happens next May?”

Luke blinked, confused by the question. “Next May? After graduation?” When you nodded, your eyes flicking between his own and the sand beneath your feet, he shifted his weight and nodded slowly. “I’m staying here and you… You’re going to do something amazing. You might stay here, you might move to fucking Siberia. But whatever you do, you’re going to do it well because that’s just the kind of person you are, honey. You can’t half-ass anything, even if you try.”

Luke grinned when that got a small laugh but it was quickly replaced with a frown when you shook your head. “That’s not what I meant.” You trailed off, almost embarrassed to ask, before the words escaped your lips in a near whisper. “What happens to us?”

That was a question Luke had long considered. He, too, wondered what would happen to you both as you moved into the working world and farther away from one another. He wondered what would happen if you left the city. He wondered how he would continue on without seeing you every day.

And he realized that he didn’t want that.

“We’ll still be us,” he answered finally, his voice just as quiet as yours had been. “We’ll see each other every minute we can and if you decide to go somewhere else, we’ll FaceTime so much that we might as well just livestream our lives to each other. If you leave, I’ll come visit whenever I can and you know you’ll always have a place to stay with me if you want to come back. Nothing will change for us after graduation because I love you and I won’t let it.”

Before you could speak, before you could ask him if he really believed that was possible, Luke continued speaking.

“You know that I mean that in every sense of the word. You’re my best friend and I love you but you know that I also love you with a capital ‘L’. Being friends with you is something I’d never change but I don’t want to spend our last guaranteed year together wondering what could be. I don’t want to just dream about kissing you, I want to actually kiss you. I want to wake up to you asking me to go hiking and kiss you to convince you to stay in bed. I want to hold your hand and wake up beside you every morning. I want to be the annoying couple everyone already thinks we are because it’s us. And it always has been.”

It felt as if a weight was lifted from your chest as Luke rambled, words spilling past his lips in a rush. He was passionate, certain, and braver than you ever could be. He took the first step, just when you were beginning to think neither of you would ever make it there, and the only way you could think to respond was with a kiss.

Pressing your lips to Luke’s didn’t send fireworks erupting across the sky nor did it feel as if the earth was going to shatter at your feet. It did, however, feel as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were wrapped in his arms, hands tangled in his curls, and nothing had ever felt more right.

You were upset that you’d wasted so much time, waiting for life to just happen. But, as you pulled away and rested your forehead against Luke’s, you decided that nothing else mattered anymore. The future, the one where you and Luke existed and everything else came as it would, was all that mattered.

Luke, with his bright grin and flushed cheeks, grabbed your hand and began tugging you back the way you’d come. With a laugh, you dug your heels into the ground and shook your head. “Nope. Finish hike first. Then, we go to my place and shower.”

“You’re going to make your boyfriend hike two more miles?”

“For every half mile you finish, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Make it every quarter and I get to touch your butt.”

“Shut up and start hiking, Hemmings.”

With another grin in your direction, Luke returned his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and kept his hand in yours as he tugged you along down the path. In the future, there would be more hikes and more kisses.

And neither of you could wait.

___________________________________

Author’s Note: ....there’s not as much hiking in this as I wanted but I got started and it, uh, had a mind of its own. Anyway, two fics in like a week? Who am I?

#luke hemmings imagine #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #luke hemmings imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #luke hemmings x reader #5sos x reader #mine

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shiberpostshere · 4 years

Text

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

38. Chapter Thirty Two: No, It’s Ryan Reynolds!✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part ✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 6.7K (Buckle up, its time for a ride)

This Chapter Contains: Giggle worthy chaos and tooth decaying fluff. (An Annoyed San too.)

It’s a regular Sunday. A quiet regular Sunday. An unusually quiet, regular Sunday that you don’t experience often as a college student.

An unusually quiet regular Sunday except for Yeri and Jongho’s loud, harmonious snores that vibrated through the lazy (almost) evening silence of the apartment while you had sneaked out like a thief bound with tinkling shackles out of the front door.

It was exactly five minutes before 5 O’clock and you knew what noise pollution would commence once the short hand stopped perfectly atop the number five.

The neighbour above starts angrily vacuuming to release their pent up frustration of the day or maybe to act as a thoughtful warning alarm to wake the other residents who might be napping above the universal napping time limit and the snarky middle aged lady beside, who begins banging pots and rattling spoons to prepare either her dinner or for a secret time travel battle she has to attend every single night to save the history for the sake of the present.

You have a generous set for neighbours.

Thankfully, you aren’t currently present in your apartment to experience the brutal murder of your ears.

Unfortunately, you’re sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung in the shared wide back seats of the bus, stuffed to the absolute brim with sweaty and jumpy people.

The serenity of the weekend ended when you willingly decided to step onto the Bus No. 7 for the following reasons:

Number One, You and Wooyoung don’t drive and San owns a motorcycle that cannot carry three people at once, not without getting an overloaded vehicle ticket by pulling a stunt like that,

Number two, you have nothing better to do on a Sunday evening other than watch Yeri and Jongho scream about the WIFI and college website because they couldn’t select the classes they wanted fast enough,

Number three, you were unable to escape from Wooyoung’s persistence but you had to get out and inhale some fresh air of the outside.

It is a secret that you had isolated yourself in the sweet ol’ bedroom (in the name of preparing for a workshop), to take a five minutes rest which gradually progressed into knotting up your bones by rolling on the bed 24/7 and temporarily disrupting the serotonin production while watching sad movies, and

Number four, San cashed out a favour from that one time he fetched a folder from your dorm and drove fifteen minutes to deliver it because your degree was on the line. Which is why, this particular evening you need to help him out with whatever he wants to do at this Garden plus Research Centre for Thesis purposes.

“The Thesis and Freebies Date”, term coined by Jung Wooyoung, free entertainment, food finder and a plus one, on Sunday 17th of May, 5:30 AM on the dot.

On top of all these reasons sat Seonghwa’s last text message like a cherry on top of a cupcake of complaints.

He sent you a picture of his americano that was loaded with ten pumps of syrup, “I’m drinking coffee😇”

What coffeeee????!!?!?!?

Everything has failed you today. The public transportation system, your emotional support boy and your unhealthy obsessive complex believing that anything above two pumps of syrup is not coffee because you cannot handle personal preferences.

“Why on earth is this bus full like it’s the last bus available to escape a fucking zombie aopcalypse. What is this ‘Bus to Busan’?” Your voice comes out with pure seething under your breath for only your friends to hear but you catch the old lady beside San narrowing her eyes at you with suspicion.

San, engrossed in scrolling through his twitter and sipping his (proper) americano is least interested about your discomfort.

“Oh I don’t know! I did suggest taking the subway instead but two idiotic people whined for five minutes straight to get on this bus.” His response is monotonous, attempting to contain himself from bursting.

The pinching statement is directed towards you and Wooyoung who grumbled about the group having to walk after getting off the subway when the bus seemed like a better option that stopped right on the street opposite of your destination.

Wooyoung’s frame shifts slightly onto your small seat as the hefty man beside him wiggles for space. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only I had had an epiphany about how crowded the bus was going to be before we board it.”

If only you had epiphanies.

The bus was mildly crowded when all of you had entered but became packed within the next ten minutes of collecting passengers at merely three stations.

Poor Wooyoung is scared for his life knowing he will be ironed flat by the man if the bus jumps over a speed breaker or God forbid, decides to halt abruptly. The fear is relatable because the boy standing in front will collapse right onto your already shaky lap under any abrupt movements made by the bus.

After five minutes of distracting himself, San shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans and leans into your space to jab a finger at two of you simultaneously. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only my lazy ass friends knew how to walk but they left their legs in the semester break.” He accuses.

He is absolutely right.

Every student, excluding the few exceptionally productive ones, collectively lost the ability to walk unless the end goal was acquiring food, money, grades and work experience.

Wooyoung throws his hands up out of exasperation, “And you’re hundred percent sure that the subway isn’t packed?”

You nod vigorously, supporting his argument because it doesn’t lead to admitting that you’re wrong and not once you’ll acknowledge the possibility of the missed subway having much more space than this body heat microwave of a bus that you two insisted on boarding until San gave in and agreed.

“Yeah. Also, we’re accompanying you for your work, San.” You chide in to transfer the blame like a ten year old child and nudge the grouchy boy away from the seat with your right arm.

San’s left brow twitches. He is definetly holding back a snarky retort.

“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He drawls on his reponse and turns his head away to ignore your presence entirely.

Apparently, it was not an unusually quiet, regular Sunday for the residents of Unit 8181 also known as the occupants of the apartment of Seonghwa and Friends who have been on the edge due to a mysterious late night incident that was not revealed to you no matter how many times you pried.

Mingi and Yeosang were sprawled together on the couch, hidden beneath a bunch of weighty duvets which did not look like it had two people sleeping underneath it until they started untangling themselves from each other.

Wooyoung was showering, apparently for almost an hour to scrub away his drowsiness as stated by San who has been extremely cranky and constantly keeping himself occupied with his phone and swishing and fixing his posh, sky blue cardigan (until you entered the kitchen and he dragged you out with him, suddenly all smiles).

Yunho was the only one who appeared somewhat himself, still in his pajamas, folding questionably large amount of laundry. He mentioned ‘monopoly game night’ but you didn’t buy that excuse.

They were engaged in constant back and forth, ‘Who Can Shut the Other Guys Up In The Most Creative Way’ contest.

Yeosang won after a house slipper flew out of his room, wheezed past your legs and landed right near the shoe rack as you stood there frozen. The aim was commendable but the action was concerning.

Other than sarcastic remarks, all of them shared swollen eyebags due to the lack of sleep.

A sleepy Mingi glared at you with his droopy eyes for thirty seconds, mumbled out, “Oh, it’s just you.”, trudged towards his room and slammed the door behind him.

The apartment floor was spotless, not one obvious clutter in sight.

Seonghwa will surely name everything he owns to them in his will once he returns in the coming week and sees the glistening state of the apartment.

It reminds you that you, too, need to take care of that one chair that holds the tower of toppling dirty clothes in your room before he sees them and gives you an earful of nagging.

A bead of cold sweat travels down the crevice of your neck.

“How much longer until we arrive?” You committ the mistake of directing the question to the volcanic mountain prepared to erupt any minute now.

The bus jostles with a screech, collectively swinging everyone forward with a painful jerk. Shared sighs and groans echo throughout the bus.

Staying put in your seat in this bus is more challenging than a one minute plank.

“I don’t know, he probably knows.” Wooyoung responds with a shrug, holding onto his dear life.

“Maybe you should walk through this sea of people and ask the bus driver himself.” San suggests with an imposed smile, causing your own lips to stretch into a false one.

“What a fantastic suggestion! I would love to use you as a human shield to push through this crowd and get to the front.” You answer, crossing your arms below your chest.

He offers you his entire irked attention.

Wooyoung’s forehead dives into the palm of his hand. He’d rather hide than let the passengers of the bus know that he is associated with the two of you.

The agitated boy rolls his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line before he launches his lecture. “Okay, you know what (y/n)---”

“Oh for goodness sake! Young man and young woman! Resume your couple’s banter at your place, don’t fight in public places.” The old lady whose patience was being tested this entire journey voices out her protest.

You’re stunned for a good moment before your heads snap towards the lady, wearing similar offended expressions.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is holding onto his bubbling laughter. His palms having slid down from his forehead to his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a maniac.

“We are not a couple!” You both answer in a hurried chorus.

After the frantic clarification, your eyes meet and the absurdity of the old lady’s comment wipes every single trace of the previous exchange.

Both of you break together into timed, soft giggles and the chain reaction pulls in Wooyoung who laughs into his hands to control the volume.

The lady shakes her head at your reaction. “Well, then, not a couple, don’t fight and let me ride to my book club meeting in peace.” She states her demand, expression indicating that she is cooking incorrect judgements about your group in her mind.

San and you offer her a quick sincere apology, suppressing the amusement derived from her assumption.

“You two in a romantic relationship? More like a disastorous pair of wannabe edgy emo and a pissed caffeinated fantasizer. Nah, totally incompatible.” Wooyoung mutters under his breath.

“He’d get rid of me in ten minutes.” You whisper your reasoning.

San feels the old lady’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head, his arm nudges yours gently, “Make that five. Okay now, zip up.” His eyes and voice both firmly plead.

“Yes sir.” You reply and shrink in your seat further to make room for Wooyoung to breathe.

They’re quite a handful duo, alright, but they’re your handful duo and they handle you as well.

After ten minutes of bumping, shoving and tossing around the entire bus like popcorns, the three of you miraculously step out in one piece.

You take a good five minutes to regain your normal pace of breathing again.

The relaxing wind carrying the gentle floral aroma from the garden calms your suffocated senses.

Ah, finally, freedom from people.

The bus was overdosed with CO2.

Your lips were zipped for most of the ride in order to avoid receiving another sneer from the old lady and making sure you don’t run out of the very last oxygen molecule present in the bus.

Wooyoung is stretching every limb of his body after being pressed in between the sandwich grill consisting of you and the giant man.

“You know what?” He pulls out a little black hair tie to control the little locks ruffling against his eyes. “Ditch me the next time I whine about not walking because that was literal hell. I am never stepping into another bus, ever again.” The determination present in his voice is almost convincing. Almost.

“You’re going to start whining when it’s time to return.” Adds San, after double checking every pocket present on his clothing.

An overwhelmingly tiring yawn falls through your lips.

“Yeah, dude, no false promises.” You inch closer towards San to show your support.

Wooyoung’s exhausted face transforms into an unamused one, “You’re shameless.”

Harsh but true.

“No, no, no, you last minute side switchers, get away from me. I am not claiming you.” Ignoring your presence, he simply walks towards the main entrance of the garden.

A sickeningly sweet smile appears on your lips. “Hey, wait, I promise, I won’t take Wooyoung’s side ever again!” You say in a singsong manner, taking wide steps to catch up by San’s side.

“Where do you think you are going?” The betrayed one gets a hold of your backpack and pulls you back with a forceful tug.

Your shoes brush harshly against the concrete pavement. He accomplishes the task of slowing you down and makes a run for San, wheezing loudly.

“Jung Wooyoung!” You cry out loud at his actions, your backpack flailing out of your arms.

He treads beside his unbothered friend, front facing you from a distance. “We need to meet the professor at the research centre anyway, keep yourself busy until then!” A wink and a cackle, then he grabs San by his shoulders and disappears inside at an astonishing speed.

Like a little kid whose ice cream has been snatched away, you stand there watching San’s waving hand and Wooyoung’s bouncy ponytail fading away.

A strong inhale and a gentle exhale, you try to calm the rapid heaving of your chest.

“Ah, whatever! They’ll text me once they’re done.” Uttering the assuring words to yourself, you fix the carelessly hanging backpack and set course to occupy yourself in the garden until they’re done with whatever they have to do at the research centre.

This is not the first time they have pulled this prank of abandoning you just for laughs and then frantically calling with the classic bait of “yo, come over at this food truck, we’re paying😏”

They throw the same bait under any circumstances and it works pure magic on any living being who lives for eating. Even Seonghwa caves in, and your willpower is -2 compared to Seonghwa’s 10+ patience.

Once you step inside the garden, you’re sure they have ditched you with good intentions as your eyes take in the lavish surroundings.

The green of nature is widespread throughout in the form of sturdy and lean trees, recently mowed grass and snipped shrubs peeking in between, all sprinkled with colourful little flowers like twinkling stars on a clear night sky. A gentle breeze whistles by within small intervals, rustling the leaves with the faintest crackling sound.

There are feeble chirps of birds, hiding in their nests to sleep for the night.

It is heaven on earth as the golden glow of the sun settles upon the scene.

The lulling fragrance of roses carried along with the wind urges you to roll on the blanket of the grass and maybe even take a nap after tiring yourself but you know you’ll be thrown out because there are watchful guards scattered around.

For once, you’re grateful that they left you behind.

You’d rather take a walk around the garden while listening to serene songs rather than awkwardly wait behind them as they converse with the said professor they’re here to meet.

I should explore a little before San gets into his Plant Geek Mode.

A major path from the main entrance splits in several small, stone tracks, like a maze to explore.

The region is vast, tranquil and maintained, no wonder a research centre lies somewhere in this arboretum.

You notice the informative display of the map, standing tall, indicating what lies in between and at the end of every track, piquing your explorer fantasy. There is a stack of small, handy maps for visitors to carry as well.

You grab one, deciding upon the center most lane with your earphones playing the enchanting tune of Like a Flowing Wind by Day6 in a low volume.

“The North Lane leads towards the green house and the research centre.” You murmur, studying the contents of the map with much concentration. “Wooyoung and San probably went that way.” You throw a quick glance behind before resuming your stroll.

The trail you’re currently walking on is the West Way, sheltered with tall towering trees and the Grand Elixir Fountain that lies at the end.

You neatly fold the brochure and tuck it safely inside your pocket, saving the next spots to visit together once you regroup.

Surprisingly, the garden doesn’t have an overflowing crowd.

There are quite a lot of people occupying the benches and seating areas, mostly couples. You notice quite a few students, assuming they are, with their laptops and notebooks, surveying or either sitting in a formation to share their findings.

Everyone is invested in themselves, in their own little world due to which the place feels quite private, snug and pleasant.

The greenery, the sounds of nature, the music and soft whispers creating one whole atmosphere of contentment.

It has been named Golden Blooms for a reason indeed. Except the Research Centre part, we’re going to ignore that for now.

Seonghwa would absolutely love this place. There is nothing not to love about this. You can sketch a million ways of spending time here together.

You don’t want to be a girlfriend like that but you’re to be a girlfriend like that.

A picnic after a long hectic week of continuous classes to unwind while spending quality time together, under a birch tree that casts a wide shadow beneath to watch the sunset while sharing the most mundane and silliest stories of your week and snacking on the collective bag you two usually pack before heading out for your Saturday Sunset Dates.

Maybe you’ll have to give up the spot due to its popular demand but it’ll be alright nonetheless. Instead, you’ll resort to taking every lane to check what lies at the end as Seonghwa’s personal playlist will be the perfect background music.

The day will end with a hearty dinner and crashing in either’s bedroom, cuddling together where he always insists on being the little spoon and you always give in.

Oh god, I went too far.

If just the thought has you feeling immensely giddy, how exhilarating would it feel to actually spend a day like that?

Back to present, (Y/N), back to present.

The uneven stone trail comes to an end as your shoes sink into the bed of the grass. Your next steps feel extremely light.

Walking on this grass is the closet one can experience how walking on a cloud feels like. You constrain yourself from removing your socks and shoes and running around on the grass like a madman--

Holy Shit.

The Grand Elixir Fountain is a masterpiece.

Rather than blindingly white, it is a comforting shade of evanesce beige. The sculptures surrounding the circumference are alluring rather than intimidating of mythical water creatures from numerous mythologies.

A water nymph settles at the heart of the fountain on a wave with water sprouting from the pot she’s embracing.

The gurgling water simmers down onto another platform shaped like a lotus, little droplets splashing on the people standing close by the edge and then gliding down from the platform into the bottom expanse to become a slow, rippling stream.

The Fountain is a high lord, you are a mere peasant. The Fountain is the moon and you’re a small star. The Fountain is queen bee and you’re a worker bee. The Fountain is a high quality gaming PC and you’re a laptop you had to buy with an acceptable graphic card because you’re a college student who is surviving.

Maybe you’re not the best with creative descriptions but it’s okay you’re a law student any way.

Creative writing is Yeosang’s forte and he worries about it plenty.

“Seonghwa can’t be here but I can send him some pictures.” Pulling out your phone, you scan the area.

An old couple are seated on a bench to the far right admiring the view, bunches of people pass by once a while either to leave or enter the area and a small group of friends are circled in a corner preoccupied within themselves.

“Okay, nothing to see here, just a college girl fangirling over a beautiful fountain.” You say it with the intent of addressing the people present but it is mostly directed towards yourself to not get embarrassed before you engage in a long photo session full of fascination over a fountain at an arboretum.

Okay, alright, let’s get this over with.

The cause of your dubiousness is Jongho.

He has pointed out several times that while taking photos you tend to get absorbed and switch into questionable positions just to score a worthy shot.

You somehow manage to capture moderate looking full shots without getting any uncanny looks from the visitors around with only one close up shot left.

The star of the fountain, the water nymph.

It’s alright. Hopefully nobody finds you getting on one knee to capture a decent picture of the fountain uncanny.

You’re just a harmless college girl who wants to text her boyfriend, excite him about your possible future dates and hunt for food while waiting for the two little devils to return and get working before it’s too late.

Gentle sprinkles splash onto your face as you move a little closer with careful steps to find the best spot. The water is enticing on this boiling day.

You hold your phone up, adjusting the angle to your liking. “Okay that’s good.”

Before you can press the capture button, a pair of hands lock around your waist, someone’s weight settling on your shoulder.

“No, shift it a little more to the right.” A voice, obscured by the earphones, speaks extremely close to your ear, sending a quivering sensation down your spine.

The first instinct is to freeze, your entire body numbs at the sudden action, heart beating at an alarming speed.

It is followed by a startling scream of having a stranger’s arms wrapped around your body. The scream pierces through the placidity of the garden, birds from the trees flying away to safety out of fright.

Finally, the adrenaline rush kicks in, your physical senses registering the situation and your reflexes activate.

The phone still connected with the earphones flies out of your hands and ears, elbows diving back to land double smacks on the intruder’s stomach to get him off your back.

The old couple look into your direction with a panicked expression and the entire group nearby jilts up and dashes towards you to investigate the source of the scream.

You turn around to inspect the trespasser who has landed flat on his butt, clutching onto his stomach as continuous groans and curses fall through his lips.

“(Y/N)! What the hell!” The obscurity long gone, you recognize the familiar voice and its owner.

Losing the energy in your legs, you fall down into a squatting position. “Seonghwa?” In a panicked state and a hesitant voice, you call his name.

“No, it’s Ryan Reynolds.” Mockingly, he whimpers, trying to regain his knocked out senses.

It is indeed your boyfriend who is currently supposed to be in Japan but is in pain because you landed two good elbow punches right on his stomach after his 4 hours of excitement at the airport and two hours of flight and it is definitely, hundred percent confirmed especially, after his eyes meet yours, full of pain and shooting imaginary daggers at you.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but two blows right on his abdomen.

“Park Seonghwa!” You exclaim.

“Nope, no, I am not Park Seonghwa anymore.” He states in a faltering tone.

“Miss, are you alright?” A boy from the far away friend circle interjects, stopping in front of you. “Is he bothering you?” His fingers wrap around your arms to pull you up.

His other two friends help Seonghwa but with a much constrained grab on his arms.

You look at your boyfriend being held by the two strangers and then at the boy, eyes performing a few puzzled double takes.

“Miss?” The boy reiterates his query.

You’re dumfounded, your thoughts hazy.

Collecting the remaining strength in your body, your hands fly in gestures of denial. “No, no, that’s my boyfriend.”

The boys appear skeptical. They exchange disbelieving glances.

“Are you sure? If he’s really bothering you, we can call the police right now.” One of the boys holding your boyfriend suggests with the intentions of your safety.

The frenzied senses simmer down second by second, your hand reaches out to free him from the strangers’ hold. “No, no. Thank you so much for your help but there has been an misunderstanding, that’s all.”

The boys release him and you replace their hold by linking his arm.

“He is really my boyfriend. I was just surprised.” You state with complete assurance.

“It’s also my fault for creeping up behind her. Thank you for watching out. We’re sorry for the disturbance.” Seonghwa takes the cue and bows down a little to offer a sincere apology.

His other hand rests atop your bound one. Your gaze stays taut on him, following his actions to apologize as well.

The boys notice your relaxed figure beside him. “Ah alright, so it was a misunderstanding.”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, it was. We’re sorry.” You say politely.

Calculating the situation, the boys exchange final greetings before trusting your relationship and leave you two with a, ‘Be careful with your surprises!’

The surroundings stop still until Seonghwa unlinks your arms to intertwine your fingers instead and bends down to pick up your phone.

“Should we sit somewhere and talk?” He suggests in a composed tone.

“Oh, right, yes.” You answer, mentally occupied collecting the dispersed bits of your comprehension grip.

You two settle on the broad bench, previously occupied by the old couple who left after the ruckus, facing each other.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You search for his eyes that meet yours in a span of millisecond after the raised enquiry.

Your fingers contract and expand with hesitancy near his abdomen where you, or more accurately, your reflexes stroke him a blow. Eyes fluctuate up and down, from his face to the injured area, teeth abusing the lower lip with worry.

His hands catch and close around your awkward ones, “It hurts but I am fine. It might be bruised but it’ll be gone with time.”

You look at him, face full of regret, “Seonghwa, I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, (Y/N).” He says with the most assuring look that there is in this world, “I mean it.”

You were worried that he might be mad about the commotion but him unlinking your arms in order to hold your hand was an indication enough that he wasn’t.

His anger is often intelligible. He needs the time to stay mad, cool down and talks only when he is ready. The time creates an emotional distance and that distance is unbearable until his heart is ready to resolve.

He doesn’t hold petty grudges. He certainly forgives but he doesn’t forget. Instead, he draws the line in the relationship to grow apart naturally.

You happened to experience it once when he was conversing with a senior who had given him a hard time and oh boy, the line he drew was fiery and bone chilling cold at the same time.

“So, that was definitely not what I expected after I decided to surprise you.” He confesses, his eyes mellow, “I should’ve listened to Hongjoong when he said that the idea is too sappy.”

While he speaks, you’re occupied with staring at him like a hawk with bulbous eyes.

“What happened?” He prompts you to speak, a fond smile on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?” His fingers fix the disheveled hair resting on your forehead.

His eyes hold such raw warmth while he merely tucks little strands behind your ears that you fail to realize you have tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Hey, why are you crying?” His expression shifts into a concerned one. “What happened?” He probes further.

Before you register your actions, your hand is flying to land a soft blow on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were returning today!”

Maybe the volcanic eruption that was swirling inside San somehow descended into you. The difference is, his was motivated by rage and yours might be motivated by mortification.

He retrieves his hand to hold the area you’re attacking, gaping as he rubs the sore spot.

“Why are you hitting me!” His expression is muddled.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you hitting him after he attempts to calm you down as his plan of surprise fails worse than the time he had failed history in sixth grade.

Your hand reaches out to land another gentle smack. “What are you! A freaking saint! Why didn’t you tell me!”

Even you are not aware why the outlet chosen by your feelings is hitting your loving and caring boyfriend who planned such a great surprise that you managed to ruin by knocking him straight into the abdomen with your pointy elbows.

“Wait, what--” Your words only further deepen his confusion.

The next smack or rather love tap, as per your definition, doesn’t get through as his hands are quick to catch yours by the wrists.

“Why are you hitting me babe?” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hitting me because I am nice?” He lifts his right brow. “What, a saint?” A playful smile lingers on his lips.

The audacity of this man to act coy with you when you are full of all sorts of emotions whirling within you like a raging tornado. The audacity of this perfectly, perfect man!

With your slightly puffy eyes and tears stained cheek, you profess. “I am embarrassed okay! I am really embarrassed, I screamed so----”

A tch sound comes from him, followed by a, “Idiot.”

He pulls you into him through the hold he has on your wrists, your chest colliding with his. His arms wrap around your waist in a secure manner, head resting sideways onto the comfort of your shoulder that he dearly missed.

You melt like an ice cream on a hot day under his touch, taking no time to find content in his embrace, face nestling into his warm neck.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He removes one hand from your waist to offer comforting caresses on the back of your head. “I don’t know what I expected your reaction to be. Honestly, this particular one didn’t even cross my mind.”

You lift your head from his neck but he quickly returns it down again.

“I didn’t expect you to appear in front of me a week before your actual arrival either.” You speak in a muffled voice.

He pauses his stroking for a second, “I knew you were clueless but I didn’t know you were this clueless.”

“Excuse me!” You shuffle in his hold but he has you latched onto him.

He nestles further into your hold, almost pulling you onto his lap out of habit.

“Seonghwa!” Palms pressing against his chest, you try to scuffle away and receive a disgruntled noise from him.

Having performed his action only halfway through, your right leg sits on top of his left thigh and you leave it there to dangle idly.

“Dude, we’re in a public place.” You remind him, placing a sneaky little peck on his neck.

It’s the courage after announcing you’re an idiot to the entire world.

He is astounded by your actions but definitely not as much as you are.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you mentioning that you’re in public and then proceeding to plant the softest kiss on his neck, not that he minds the latter.

“Wise words coming from you in a public place.” His thumbs trace circles on your collar bones, voice adding an extra emphasis to the ‘public’.

He squeezes you tightly and moves you in his hold like you’re his own personal teddy bear causing laughter to escape from your lips.

“Giving you a basic hug after you come back after almost a month and a half?” You declare like you have performed some high and mighty act, “No, that is not enough to express my excitement, I had to smash out my love on you, babe.”

His face dawns an unimpressed look. “Yup, I made a mistake coming home.”

Your own words cause your face to scrunch up with cringe. “Yeah, that was too much, don’t talk about this in front of anyone, ever again.”

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His long hair is intact, not a single strand has been snipped. He looks as stunning as you imagined him to be. His navy blue coat may have been washed with a different detergent than the one you are familiar with but the earthy smell of his regular perfume is present.

The only new additions on him that you can notice right away is the blinding glow on his sleep deprived face and the abstract patterned scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

“I missed you.” You wish to say it as softly as possible but you end up blurting out the words.

He smiles with twinkles in his eyes. “I know, idiot. I missed you too.”

You rest your palms on his cheeks and press them hard, lips protruding out in a pout. Pulling him in, you offer him a brief peck.

A long one is saved for later when in private.

The heat on his cheeks is an evidence that he is taken aback by your bold actions.

“First a kiss on the neck and now a long peck?” He smirks, eyebrows dancing up and down. “You’ve become quite gutsy within a month and a half huh?”

You fawn, “and you’re still carrying your mischievous habits with you! I was praying for you to leave them behind during your vacation. Did you achieve nothing?”

“Come here you!” His hand clasps behind your neck but this time he connects his lips to the side of your forehead to plant the deepest kiss.

You shriek as the prolonged peck soon transitions into pillowy lips peppering feathery kisses on every little endearing spot he discovers to shower his love.

Unable to suppress your delight, subdued giggles bubble out of you.

The delight of having him by your side again is indescribable. The current state of happiness you’re feeling is indescribable.

You feel his hovering lips expanding into a smile, foreheads faintly clashing together as you two laugh your heart out.

There are tears forming in your eyes but this time due to happiness rather than humiliation.

Your eyes catch the sun dipping below the horizon, shooting colourful rays as it bids goodbye for the day. “Seonghwa, look, the sunset, it’s so beautiful.” You note while he pulls you into him sideways.

He hums, turning around to admire the view, “Oh wow, that’s......beautiful.”

Time slows down just for the sun to submerge into the horizon with its glory. The orange, pink, purples and blues of the sky press mute on the world for the briefest interval.

He ruffles your hair, pulling you out of a trance, “And that’s our cue to leave.”

It takes special effort to abandon his comforting hold and get back up on your two feet.

The disappointment lasts a mere second as his fingers quickly interlace with yours. “Where to next?” He asks.

He takes slow steps. You stick close by, half of your body weight leaning into him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You consider your choices for a moment, the grin ever present on your lips, “How about we take a walk and then drive to the river side? I heard there will be star gazing event later at night.”

He looks at you impressively with a questioning smile. “Oh really, who told you that?” A gentle gleam of fondness floats in his eyes.

His heart is swelling with love, your presence is comfortable.

You channel your best know-it-all face, “Oh, you know, Wooyoung, San and I were planning to--”

The sentence stops midway as you remember, Wooyoung and San!

Your movements halt, “Wait, Wooyoung and San!”

He cracks up at your delayed realization.

“They’ll be fine.” His fingers offer a gentle flick on your forehead, attempting to tap some sense into it, “Unless, you know, you want them to continuously comment during our date about how my arrival disrupted their last night’s sleep.” He reaches out for his pocket to pull out his phone but you’re quick to prevent the said action.

“No, no, no, no.” Your reaction amuses him further. “That’s not what I meant. I am glad they ditched me, goodness, never been so glad that someone left me behind, swear to god.” The flurry of words scatter everywhere but the intended meaning has been received by him.

“And what else do you have planned for the night?” He asks, walking straight, exaggerating the breadth of his shoulders.

“My fantastic company, Seonghwa, what else do you need?” In a wounded voice, you question.

He shakes his head.

“No?”

“No.”

“Fine, tonight’s dinner is on me, no budget. What do you want to eat?” You present your best offer in the most sugar coated tone.

His jaw drops in a dramatic fashion you’ve never witnessed in your life, “That’s it? Woman, I flew in today to surprise you today and that’s it?”

You stand on your tiptoes to whisper a special spell in his ear. “Who said that would be it?”

The rasp in your voice has goosebumps rising on his skin.

“What do you mean?” He stares down, eyes wide.

“Hey, by the way, how did you know I was near the fountain?” You quickly change the subject, your thoughts running wild and heart ready to pounce out to run a hundred mile marathon.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, eager to receive an answer.

His innocent smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.

His constant questioning and hopeful gape has you regretting your previous words, causing warmth to spread on your face.

Flustered, you recite your question for the second time, “Tell me, how did you know?”

“It was a guess. I haven’t forgotten about your pigeon feeding adventures near the mall fountain” His answer is concise, to the point and hurried. “Now, tell me, what do you mean?”

He finishes the topic within a few seconds, arm nudging persistently against the side of your stomach.

This man. Oh god, this man.

“You have a great memory! You remember everything!” The fake enthusiasm and flustered laughter that is evident in your answer has him laughing. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You announce, feeling grateful once you spot the main exit getting closer with every step.

“What did you mean?” He takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his hand leaving yours.

“Seonghwa! Stop it, don’t get back on your teasing shenanigans so quickly, give it a day.” You say as casually as possible, stepping aside to continue on your way. “I’ve embarrassed myself and you quite enough for today.”

Seonghwa slings his arm around your shoulder from behind, “Yeah, alright, we’ll see about that later.” He mimics your casual tenure. “I guess.” He adds, hinting at your suggestive statement.

You nod in agreement, appearing calm and cool, “Yeah, I guess, we will.”

“You little tease.” His free hand gives your left cheek a little squeeze, leaving a light aching.

You stumble a little on your way out of the garden, “If I am a tease that makes you the devil that you truly are.”

“I agree, I am a beast.” He really, actually, dares to say that with his whole chest, out loud.

“Yeah, sure, little baby.” Your fingers mockingly stroke his chin with a pout

He chuckles, changing his position to properly stand by your side. “Enough of that now, let’s go, I am starving.”

“Yup, let’s go, tender beast.” You imitate his own words on him.

“No, seriously, stop that.” He declares sternly.

You do a motion of zipping your lips, holding your free hand up in surrender.

Oh, how the tables have been turning constantly today. You can now understand why Seonghwa never gets off your back and it looks like you will not be getting off his tonight.

Metaphorically and literally.

Meanwhile, Woosan

San, who has been talking with the professor for almost thirty minutes now: It was pleasure meeting up with you Sir

Wooyoung, releasing a sigh of relief beside his friend because he didn’t understand a single word that was exchanged, internally: Finally

Suddenly, San: Oh btw sir I had another question

Wooyoung, ready to create a rampage right there and then, grabbing a chair to smash it on the ground: OH MY FREAKING GOD DAMNIT CHOI SAN YOU---

🌸

A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS, I CAN FINALLY BREATHE EASY

I started writing this last Saturday and it went through so many drafts and versions, getting cut down to this one. It took me a week mostly due to other commitments. I edited this once and I am sure it still has teeny tiny mistakes but please look past that for now. I will correct it whenever time grants me.

Also, I would really love to know what you think about this chapter! Please let me know, I would really appreciate that 🥺🥺🥺💕

I know it has been a long time since the last update but I reposted the masterlist with the final update schedule and it will update and end accordingly as per that.

(Also the woosan scene is a little exaggeration, they had a rough night, as you will see in the bonus)

🌸 Taglist:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @jaeminbluee @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @yellow-wxve @uppiespuppy @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell @quicklystickystarlight @kunhye @nekee-lilac02 @peachyprincessminki @hidden-wildflowers @raysanshine @skzpleasestay @tearvantae

🌸 Unable to tag: @mingiibabiee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19 @retrofuture-ism @aratrikade

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim this work as yours.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez au #ateez sm #ateez social au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Birthday Wish

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s your birthday and all you want to do is spend a quiet day with Loki. Unfortunately, he’s decided to plan you a crazy party. Can you get your wish by the end of the night? Warnings: none A/N: It’s my birthday today (10/6), so I whipped up this quick little fic 🥳 I’ve been reflecting on everything like I usually do at this time of the year, and I just wanted to take a quick minute and say thank you to all the people who support me and read my stories. All the love I’ve been getting from you guys has made these past few months some of the best in my life! Please enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The blaring of your alarm clock woke you up for the third time that morning. You rolled over and hit the stop button this time, rather than the snooze, determined to get up. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you decided that you really ought to start going to bed at a reasonable hour. As your vision focused, you noticed a small box wrapped in white paper with multicolored happy birthday text printed on it. The neat green bow on top clued you in to who had left it before you even read the gift tag. You tore into the wrapping paper and opened the golden box inside, expecting a bracelet or some other piece of jewelry. Instead, you were greeted with a silver key.

“What are you up to, Loki,” you muttered, pinching the key between your thumb and forefinger.

Finding no clues on how to use your mysterious present, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. You eyed the shower for a minute, contemplating just splashing some water on yourself instead and calling it a day, before turning it on. You let the cold spray wake you up, turning your face towards the shower head. Once you felt alert enough, you changed the water to a more comfortable temperature. A part of you wanted to stay in here forever, or at least for the rest of the day, but that damned key had captured your interest. As you toweled off, you caught a whiff of your favorite shampoo, which you’d just lathered in your hair. Incidentally, it was Loki’s favorite too, and with any luck, he’d be smelling it later during some birthday snuggles.

After slipping on your coziest outfit, you walked out of your room and towards the kitchen. You could already smell the bacon sizzling and waffles being made. It caused an embarrassing grumble to sound from your stomach as you rounded the corner, but it was drowned out by your teammates shouting “happy birthday” in a boisterous cacophony.

“Happy Birthday, dove,” Loki whispered in your ear as he scooped you up in a hug, his godly strength making it easy to pick you up and spin you around.

“Thank you, Loki,” you giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You received hugs from the rest of the Avengers as someone slid a plate piled high with breakfast foods in front of you. This time last year you’d still just been an intern at SHIELD. It hadn’t taken long for Tony to notice your skills and offer you a job at Stark Industries, a position you’ve been glad to have gotten more and more every day. Now here you were, who knows how many field missions later, a part of the team and surrounded by a beautiful chosen family. Not to mention a very caring, raven-haired boyfriend who treated you like royalty.

“This is perfect, guys. Thank you,” you said, beaming at the group.

“This is nothing,” Tony responded. “Wait until your party later.”

“A party, huh?” you parroted, stuffing a forkful of fruit in your mouth so no one could see your frown. “Just us, right?”

“Nope,” Tony informed. “A bunch of your old coworkers from SHIELD, all the people who work in the Tower, owners of businesses we outsource to, and probably some other groups I’m missing. Don’t look so down, it’ll be fun. And the best part is Loki planned it,” he finished with a wink at the god.

“Oh?” you questioned, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be great then.”

You changed the topic before someone could comment on how shocked and disingenuous you sounded. Not only did that not seem like something Loki would do, it also meant he didn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You didn’t want to be ungrateful, but large parties just weren’t really your thing. You much preferred a quiet day with your friends. But if your boyfriend planned it, you were sure you would enjoy it. Maybe it was like a reverse surprise party or something, and they told you it would be a crazy party when it would actually just be a fun little movie night. Loki always has a trick up his sleeve, you knew, and you were sure that whatever it was, you’d enjoy it.

Sadly, your certainty was gone as you pulled on your jeans that evening. Giving yourself a once-over in the mirror, you decided that you looked ready for a party, though on the inside you were anything but. A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you went to open it, expecting Loki to be there to escort you. Instead, you were greeted with Wanda, Bucky, and Peter holding a plastic bag filled to the brim with neon props.

“Whatcha got there?” you asked your best friends, letting them into your room.

“Your accessories for the evening,” Wanda replied, placing a neon pink feather boa around your neck.

“You pick first!” Peter added, holding up two pairs of light-up shutter shades.

At least this part of your evening was fun. You’d been reduced to nothing but a laughing mess on the floor multiple times as you all figured out which accessories to wear. Finally, you ended up with the pink boa from Wanda, blue sunglasses Peter picked, a green fedora of your own choosing, and a bunch of glow stick bracelets that Bucky was amazed and obsessed with.

“We should probably get going,” you ventured, glancing at the clock. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Or we could just stay here,” Bucky offered. “I mean, do any of us really want to go?”

You all shifted your weight, seriously considering hiding in your room for the rest of the night. Deep down, you knew you would never actually do that, not after Loki put effort into planning it for you. Something about that still didn’t sit right with you, though.

“No. We should go.”

“Why? I mean, they invited so many random people that no one will notice if we’re not there.”

“Bucky,” Wanda hissed, throwing a pillow at his head. Sadly for her, his reflexes were too quick, and he caught it with a shrug of his shoulders. “People will notice if the guest of honor isn’t there.”

Before anyone could argue the point further, there was another knock, and this time it was Loki. He pecked your lips before taking in your goofy outfit.

“There you are, dove. I’ve been looking for you,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry, we were just on our way,” you told him, noticing a few glow bracelets on his wrist. You added it to your mental list of odd things to happen on your birthday. “Come on, guys.”

“Actually, if you do not want-”

“There you are,” Tony greeted as he appeared around the corner. “You’re missing the party of the century.”

“You didn’t need to send a whole committee,” Wanda said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out into the hall. “See, we’re halfway there already.”

Everyone crammed into the elevator, looking rather glum. Except for Tony, that is. He was blowing on a noisemaker as soon as the door opened. Not that you could hear it very well over the pounding music of the DJ.

“Uh, great party Mr. Loki,” Peter shouted over the noise, flashing a thumbs up before exiting the elevator with Wanda and Bucky.

“Yes, thank you spiderling,” Loki distractedly said, putting an arm out to stop you from leaving, too. “Dove, I’ve been trying to tell you all day-”

He was cut off once again by Tony, who was now at the front of the room and pointing towards you. There was a round of applause as he announced you as the special guest, and you awkwardly waved, feeling unsure of yourself in front of so many people. You were not exactly a social butterfly, and Loki knew that. You still couldn’t figure out why he had thrown you this party. And then there was the matter of that key from this morning. You patted the front pocket of your jeans to ensure it was still there. It was, but you had no idea how to use it. Maybe that’s what Loki’s been trying to tell you.

About half an hour later, he pulled you away, clearly too impatient to wait any longer to get his words out. You hadn’t even finished making the rounds, but then again you barely knew half the people there, anyway. They probably wouldn’t miss you, in that case. After all, it was more Tony’s party than yours. And that’s when it hit you.

“You didn’t actually plan that, did you?” you asked Loki as the elevator doors closed behind you.

“Took you long enough to figure it out, dove,” Loki said with a smirk. “But you are correct. It was Stark, not me.”

“But why did he give you the credit then?”

“He thought I did not know Midgardian birthday customs well enough,” Loki answered as his nose scrunched up in distaste. “ I suppose he thought he was doing me a favor. The one thing he forgot, though, is that I know you quite well.”

You exited onto the floor of the library and your boyfriend pulled you off to some hidden nook, proudly gesturing to a small key hole in the wall. You pulled out his present and looked at him inquisitively. One eager nod from Loki later, you were turning the key and greeted by a small clicking sound. A hidden door slid open and revealed a cozy room complete with your favorite foods, a couch laden with pillows and blankets, and a fire crackling in an ornate hearth.

“Loki!” you gasped, “It’s perfect, my love.”

“Only the best for you, dove.”

Then he brought you over to the cushions and, after making sure you were comfortable, began to hand feed you your favorite sweets. Once he was done with that, you snuggled into his side as he stroked your hair and placed a kiss to your temple. It was what you’d been longing for since you got out bed that morning.

“Happy Birthday,” he said to you later that evening after reading your favorite poems in that deep, melodic baritone of his voice.

“Thank you. This truly is everything I’ve ever wished for.”

“That is too bad. I have one more gift to give you, but if you are perfectly happy right now, perhaps you do not want it.”

“No,” you said, eyes wide with interest. “Now I have to know. Can I please have it, Loki?”

“Your wish is my command.”

Then he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, filled with passion and love that words would never be able to truly express. You melted in to him and reciprocated with just as much feeling. Now this, you thought, is one hell of a birthday gift. I really do have everything.

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serpentinesarang · 4 years

Text

Familiar

pairing: chan (bang chan) x gender-neutral reader

genre: no smut, married!au, emotionally heavy, lots of plot build-up/context description, slow burn, fluff at the end, second-person POV

word count: 2098

content warnings: themes of death, depression/grieving, lack of eating, swearing; this is a SERIOUS piece that may make you cry. please proceed with caution and take a mental breather after.

summary: your husband chan died a year ago, and life hasn’t been the same until you meet a peculiar stray dog whom you decide to keep.

a/n: partly inspired by the netflix anime film “a whisker away.” hint hint: australian dingo...

korean key:

⦿ sasaengpaen (사생팬) = crazy spy-like super fans, sasaeng for short; pronounced “sah-seng”

⦿ annyeong (안녕) = multipurpose word that translates to hi/bye and no; in this story, it’s used in the hi/bye sense. pronounced “on-yawng”

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Preface

It happened a year ago. The crash. The sasaengs. The coma. The stroke. The doctors’ denial of life support. The funeral.

Your husband Chan had died tragically after a catastrophic car accident outside the JYPE building in Seoul when a group of sasaengs tried to take control of an already chaotic situation on the street. Chan had been rushed to the hospital, so bloodied and so internally fractured that he immediately fell comatose and incidentally suffered a stroke due to the bodily trauma.

You’d begged with all your might for the doctors to put him on life support, but they refused, saying he’d be vegetative for the rest of your life. They even sent an insurance liason up to Chan’s ICU suite to speak with you about having to pay for his life support as long as you continued to live, and you were just so beaten down by all the hospital staff that you agreed to release his body to the funeral home his parents had flown in to coordinate with.

And you were destroyed.

Your employer had given you three months’ bereavement, but you still couldn’t bear to go to work for four more months. You slept 12 hours on Chan’s side of the bed every night and only wore his clothes during those four months of intermittent crying. After you used up the remaining sick days and paid time off you’d accrued over the years, your manager finally terminated you for missing too much. The next two months were spent on the couch with no appetite and inconsistent sleep, the good memories of Chan continually flooding back to you at random times.

This was when you’d decided it was time to get your shit together because the scale declared you 15 lbs [7 kg] lighter; the circles under your eyes scared you each time you dared to glance in a mirror; and your phone’s mailbox had filled to its limit with messages from anyone and everyone offering their condolences for your loss. So three months passed, and you were able to gain back most of your weight, sleep more consistently, and clean out your social media.

Those last three months were the cleansing your soul so desperately needed, and for the first time since the incident, you were starting to feel a level of normalcy again. You’d even pushed yourself to get back into the workforce, and thankfully, this new employer didn’t cause a scene about your 11-month gap in job history.

The dominoes were falling back into place. Sadly, you’d felt compelled at one point to ghost the rest of Stray Kids because it was just too painful for you to act like you could handle yourself around them. Out of worry and compassion, they all individually sent you messages here and there, but you told yourself maybe in the future. After all, your life had disintegrated to less than dust, so you were your priority moving forward.

Now

Your phone’s alarm wakes you to another dreary November day. It’s a snippet of an audio message he’d left you long, long ago when he was away for a tour. “Good morning to you, [Mr./Mrs.] Bang, my beautiful angel. I’m thinking of you as always. Text me when you get this. Love you, honey.”

November 25th, to be exact: the one-year anniversary of Chan’s death.

You sigh, whispering to the ceiling, “I love you too, baby.”

You pick yourself up, go through all the usual motions, and head to work in the morning snow, trying to keep your mind as numb as you’ve been recently feeling. Perhaps you’ll do a little something once you return home, you resolve.

The workday passes; the snow continues blanketing the city; and nothing really good or bad has happened in the meantime.

You step off the elevator onto your floor of the apartment building. You’re freezing from the windchill, mindlessly deleting spam email on your phone while trudging in your heavy boots to your door.

Once you reach your unit, something at the edge of your eyesight causes you to freeze. You take in the sight before you: a large, tan and white dog lying on your welcome mat with its front paws extended toward you. Its deep brown eyes stare right into yours, and you feel all the air in your lungs disappear.

“A-annyeong,” you murmur softly, pocketing your phone.

The dog blinks in response, not moving his gaze.

You crouch down in front of the dog slowly, trying not to spook it. “Are you lost, sweetie?”

The dog emits a barely audible whimper, and you can’t tell if it’s sad or relieved to have been found. It’s not wearing a collar, and its abundant fur looks clean, like an inside pet.

Feeling conflicted, you purse your lips. “You must be... I’ll tell you what: you be good and stay here for me, okay?”

The dog exhales sharply before closing its eyes.

Wow, well trained pupper, you think to yourself as you rise. You spend the next five minutes ringing the entire floor’s doorbells, even banging on the doors of the units that didn’t respond to the bell. Each and every neighbor of yours denies owning a dog that looks like a Shiba Inu, and they all claim to not know anyone else who might have one.

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath after the last person closes their door.

Returning back to your unit, you find the dog hasn’t moved an inch, but it must recognize your presence because its eyes fly open, and its head shoots up toward you.

“I guess you’re mine for now,” you address it. You enter your passcode and push the door open, pointing expectantly with an approving facial expression for the dog to understand it’s okay to go in.

And it happily trots inside, sniffing around the entryway while you shuck off your boots, parka, and other winter layers.

The dog seems to be waiting for you to finish because, once you turn toward it, it immediately turns around and saunters to the bedroom on the far end of the apartment. You keep up at its side and determine with a friendly visual inspection that this dog is a boy.

Approaching Chan’s old side of the mattress, he turns back to you and sits down in front of the nightstand, digging his eyes into yours once more.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together what’s happening. “What? What’s up, sweetie?”

The dog replies with a heartwrenching whimper, angling his snout forward as if asking for you.

You pad closer and sit on the backs of your legs. “Will you let me touch you?” you ask him softly, raising a hand for him to sniff.

Oddly, he straight up disregards your hand and leans forward to lick your chin.

“Awww,” you gush at his sudden affection. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” You stroke the top of his tan head, and again, the poor thing whimpers while leaning into your touch.

You scratch at the bases of his ears before cupping his jowls in your hands. “You’re such a sweet boy, you know that?”

The dog blinks rapidly, pushing forward again to gently lick at your unsuspecting lips this time.

Giggling and stroking his front shoulder areas, you say, “Ohh, thank you, thank you. I haven’t been kissed in a year, so I appreciate that, sweet boy.”

A moment passes, but you have to do a double-take when you notice the thick stream of fluid cascading from his shiny eyes.

You gasp. “Oh nooo, are you crying?” With your thumbs, you carefully wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry, sweetie. I did enough of that for nine months straight, and I can’t have you making me sad too,” you confide with the animal, stroking his head again.

He responds by standing on all fours and pressing the top of his head to your own forehead, and you go breathless again.

He’s so human-like... so emotional... you think, raising your arms over his body and hugging him. You stay there for a solid minute before he finally pulls back and sits again.

You sigh quietly, evaluating his expression. “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long day.” You nudge your chin up to the bed. “Wanna rest for a while?”

The dog ever so quietly barks with its snout closed, as if in acknowledgement, and he waits for you to move first. So you rise and position the pillows on Chan’s side against the wall for you to sit upright. You spread your legs in a butterfly position, and without you having to beckon or give permission, the dog hops to the corner of the bed and situates himself between your legs. You notice then that he’s eyeing something on the wall above the bed.

The professional landscape shot of Chan with his arms tightly curled around you under a peony-adorned gazebo near a lake, the day of your wedding. You were looking into each other’s eyes with the sincerest of smiles.

You turn to glance at the framed photo. “Yeah,” you sigh deeply, turning back to the dog. “That’s Channie, my husband.”

The dog picks up on your change of tone and scoots forward as close as he can get, resting his paws on your upper thighs and his snout on your stomach. His gleaming eyes practically compel you to go on.

Placing your hands on his soft back, you continue in a strained voice: “He was taken from me last year, on this day actually, November 25th. He was so badly hurt in the accident that he went into a coma and had a stroke a couple days later.”

You pause, and the dog whimpers on your stomach, his sad gaze making your throat constrict and your eyes water.

How can a dog be so in tune with me...?

You push that question away with a sigh and bring a hand to rest on his head. “I never left the hospital. The nurses had to kick me out of his room when he passed. And I cried my eyes out for almost a year.”

Your eyes drift off, glancing at the ceiling and the walls while remembering your grieving process. “So now I sleep on his side of the bed... I wear only his clothes at home... and I shower with the same things he always did. He’s always with me, even when I’m not wearing my ring.”

Tears have started falling onto your cheeks, and you look back down at the quiet dog to find him crying again as well, his glassy eyes still intently watching you.

An uncontrolled sob escapes your lips before you mash them together, trying to keep it together.

“I love him so much,” you throw your head back against the wall. “I love him so, so fucking much,” you whisper, the hot tears falling faster now.

You hear the dog whine rather loudly, so you focus on him again as he raises his head. “He was my person, and now I have no one,” you blubber, using your hands to angrily wipe away the tears.

The dog replies with a seemingly uncharacteristic growl, its eyes still very soft in contrast.

“Okay, okay, now I have you,” you concede, catching your breath. “I don’t know where your parents are, and I’ve been alone for too long.” You pause, almost unwilling to continue. “Will you stay with me, sweet boy?”

He barks out a high-pitched yelp, spastically moving his paws against you so they’re digging into your abdomen now.

Cheered up by the dog’s responsive expressions of emotion, you burst into a brief laugh and scratch the underside of his snout. “You remind me of him, you know. Soft hair, gorgeous brown eyes, super caring.”

Again, he whimpers, very quietly this time. You tenderly kiss his moist nose. “I’ll call you Chris... because only I was allowed to call him that.”

Chris responds by licking your lips again.

Your random gasp makes him jump a little. “Oh my gosh, I bet you’re hungry or thirsty!” You try shifting on the bed, but Chris’s weight holds you firmly. “Do you want food?”

Chris lowers his snout, resting it on your chest now. He doesn’t make any noises, but you can guess what he means by this.

“Okay, Chris, I gotcha. We’ll stay here and eat when you’re ready,” you promise as you smooth his pointed ears backward.

...

I found them... if only they knew it’s me... I’m Channie, and I’m still yours, honey.

#bang chan #stray kids #channie #chan skz #chan stray kids #bang chan stray kids #bangchan #bang chan imagines #bang chan fiction #fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #kpop fanfic #skz #skz imagines #skz fiction #stayverse #bang chan fluff

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firemblem-fics · 4 years

Text

Running With the Wolves [1]

preview | >>

-> Yuri Leclarc x Fem!Reader

-> Modern!Au | Gang!Au | Enemies to Lovers

-> Word Count: ~3.3k

-> Warnings: Violence, Blood, Cursing, Weapons

-> Summary: You were just a normal college student, trying to find her way in a new place. You didn’t mean to get caught up in the wrong crowd. You just wanted coffee, but now you’re running with the wolves.

-> A/N: SURPRISE I POSTED IT EARLY ! thanks to my lovely beta readers for helping me revise and edit this chapter to make it better! i’m still in a writing mental block but i think this is one step closer to getting out of it! so, please enjoy (again)! also, all characters are aged up (21+)! also y’all should reblog this so it gets out more 🥺

send me an ask if you’d like to be on the taglist!

"Fuck- She's losing too much blood, Boss, she's not gonna make it!"

"No, no. She's going to make it- I'll make sure of it. Stay alive!"

Your vision was dark and blurry- you couldn't quite see anything. You could only make out a few silhouettes hovering above you, each one rushing around and yelling frantically. You couldn't count how many were there. Your vision kept doubling and it was hard to discern one person from three. Focusing just caused things to get worse.

"Someone put pressure on the damn wound! She certainly won't make it if you all keep messing around."

It was only now that you noticed a sharp pain radiating from your chest, right below your ribs. You gasped loudly and coughed. It hurt worse than the throbbing that already coursed through your head. Your body burned.

Trying to look down, you saw a rag soaked in blood. Hands with bright nails pressed down on your wound to slow the flow, but it didn't seem to be helping. You started feeling dizzy and laid back again, clenching your eyes tight as nausea engulfed you.

"No, keep your eyes open, Y/N, dammit! Wake up!"

Slowly, the pain began fading, as did your view of the people above you and their voices. You could still barely hear the voice crying, sobbing out your name. Whoever they were, they were crushed.

"Wake up!"

Was that voice finally fading away too?

"Wake up!"

No- it was getting louder.

"Wake up!"

"Ellie, what the fuck do you want?" You groaned, rolling over on your bed.

Your roommate bounced on her knees, making your bed creak loudly. "What do you mean? It's like 10am, your class is at 11. Don’t talk to me with that tone of voice."

"Fuck me."

"Absolutely not, baby." Ellie smacked a pillow beside you and got up. "Get ready!" She went to her own room, leaving you to your own devices.

When you applied for an apartment roommate, Ellie was certainly not the one you were expecting. You would've preferred a chill, laid-back, person. Instead, Eleonora Yumizuru walked into your life (and apartment) and practically made herself at home. She didn't judge you from transferring so far away from your old home for your last year of college, claiming that "home roots don't mean shit when it comes to making it in the real world".

She had the right to say such a thing, having moved to Fodlan from another country in her youth. She was able to understand the occasional homesickness and help you cope as you adjusted to Fodlan life. She understood you like the back of her hand from the moment you met and you did the same for her.

Really, you had to let her move in. She’d probably have stayed even if you rejected her.

She was the complete opposite of what you were looking for- overconfident, stubborn, loud- but she grew on you and easily became your best friend. There was just something about the bubbly, blue-eyed, blonde-bobbed bitch that hooked you.

She had certainly hooked other people as well, but thank God her bedroom is on the other side of the apartment. Her social skills and magnetic personality worked for platonic friends and acquaintances as well. Ellie was constantly bringing over friends, allowing you to expand your own circle. She was heaven-sent for a newbie like you.

You sat up from your bed, yawning and stretching. Trudging to your bathroom, you rolled your eyes as the infamous Taylor Swift blared through Ellie's speakers, "Shake it Off" shaking the entire apartment. Nothing against T. Swift, but sometimes she was not the first thing you want to hear when you wake up. At least not at max volume. Ignoring the song switching to "You Belong With Me" -another banger from Swift herself, but really "Teardrops on My Guitar” was your favorite- you finished getting ready and lazed into Ellie's room.

"I've got class 'till late today." You sat on her bed. "Do you want me to pick up dinner? It’ll let me explore the area."

"Oh, please do. You need to get out more. But where?"

You shrugged. "There's really only like two good food places here. Golden Pizza and Blue Lion Buffet. Your choice."

Ellie thought for a moment. "I went to the buffet with my little friend Touma the other day... so pizza! I just can't choose a side in their little spat."

"Spat?" You tilted your head.

"Goodness, Y/N! I know you're a little new here, but you haven't even heard of the shit that goes on between those restaurant owners?"

Shaking your head, you stayed silent for her to continue.

"The owners of Blue Lion Buffet, Eagle's Freezery, and Golden Pizza are all huge rivals. I heard they were all close, but went their separate ways. All the owners' kids are our age, too. They go to Fodlan Uni, but I don't know who they are." She smiled. "I am an esteemed woman with an upcoming high status. Who would I be to take sides? I prefer to cater to them all."

You could only nod, hiding a smirk at Ellie’s infatuation of fame. A huge restaurant rivalry. How funny. "What about that little cafe on the corner? What's it called? Café des Loups?"

"They're pretty neutral, just some college dropouts trying to make some money. I think they’re gonna get involved eventually- every restaurant’s been dragged into their drama at least once."

You nodded, standing up and messing with your apartment keys. "I'll keep that in mind. Bye, Ellie!"

"Bye! I better see some pizza later!" She called as you made your way out of the apartment, now playing "I Knew You Were Trouble".

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

College was honestly a scam.

You sat in the classes for two hours at a time, for what? You were paying thousands of dollars to be talked at by old dusty men who made you fall asleep faster than trying to read their overpriced textbooks. You paid thousands to nap at a desk.

Unfortunately for you, though, your thousand dollar desk nap was interrupted by a tapping on the surface. You huffed and looked up, coming face to face with a pair of soft, orange eyes. They radiated kindness and just looking into them seemed to lift your mood immediately.

"Hey, you need to wake up for this part. The professor said there's gonna be a quiz on this section tomorrow."

You shot up, looking back at your professor. Blushing embarrassedly, you smiled at the boy. "Thank you..."

"Ferdinand." He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth, as if to conceal his smile, before giving up and returning yours just as brightly.

As you faced forward to Professor Hanneman, as you were pretty sure his name was- or was it Ham Man? You didn’t care enough to know- you were now struggling with two distractions. One, the weight of your eyelids as they threatened to pull you back into dreamland. Two, Ferdinand.

You kept glancing at him, taking in his complexion. He must have come to class late, since you didn't see him before. Or maybe he was on time- you did fall asleep quite early into the lecture.

You were eyeing his carefully sculpted jawline, dotted with subtle stubble that connected to sideburns and led up to clean, silky, orange hair. You wished to run your fingers through it-

"Y/N, this is the second time I've seen you not paying attention." You jumped nearly three feet in the air. "Next time, I'll have to ask you to leave my class since you are obviously taking it as a joke."

"I-I'm not joking! Sorry!" You stuttered, finally finding a reason to keep your attention on the lecture. You did look away once, just to glare at Ferdinand, who only winked and chuckled at your misfortune.

Class was eventually over and you sighed, finally loosening up from forcing yourself to pay attention. You packed your notebook and laptop and swung your backpack on, getting ready to leave the room before a voice called to you.

You turned back. "Ferdinand?"

"I was simply wondering where your next class was. I can walk you to it, if you'd like." Said boy walked quickly towards you, holding himself with a nearly-perfect posture. You felt anxious- he was trying to make himself seem like a gentleman, but you still felt a little unnerved.

"Oh, um, sure! It's not for another fifteen minutes, but it is across campus."

Ferdinand's grin seemed to get larger, making his eyes crinkle at the edges. "How wonderful! That little café is down there and I've been meaning to check it out anyways. It works out perfectly."

"Uh, yeah." You laughed nervously. This was the first time a boy had taken interest in you- or was he really interested? Maybe he's just being nice-

"Also, before I forget. May I get your number? I'd like to talk to such a gorgeous woman like you a little more."

Oh, he was so interested. You had to make yourself breathe again as you handed him your phone to let him put his number in. He gave it back to you and you noticed a heart and a smiley face emoticon next to his contact name. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the emojis and you felt your cheeks heat up a bit. Ferdinand gave you a sweet smile before holding the door open for you, letting you lead the way to your next class.

On the way to the building, Ferdinand spent the time asking you questions and getting to know you better. He had scratched basically the entire surface of you, save for the secrets that new people shouldn't know, and the same could be said for you. Ferdinand was definitely a polished and refined man. He made quite the impression on you.

"What are you doing after classes?" You asked, hoping to invite him for pizza at your apartment.

"Ah, I've got work!" He smiled sheepishly. He definitely caught onto your hopes...

"Really? Where? Maybe after, you could stop by for some Golden Pizza-"

"Actually, I work at the Eagles Freezery." He was tense, suddenly. "So I really shouldn't. Rivalry and all of that, you know?"

You were a little confused, actually. "Why would that prevent you from hanging out for a bit? You didn't buy it, I did. Plus I thought the rivalry was only between the buffet and the pizza place?”

"It's- it's a loyalty thing. It’s between all three of us.”

"It's a restaurant. How loyal could you possibly be to a dumb little ice cream parlor-"

"It's more than that!" Ferdinand snapped his mouth closed, suddenly making himself quiet after his angry outburst. "Listen, I cannot and will not eat there, look at it, talk about it, or do literally anything about it. Please, just understand that."

"Uh, yeah." You nervously readjusted your backpack on your shoulder. "I- I should get to class now. I'll see you later, Ferdinand."

"Goodbye, I'll message you after work!" With that, he sent you a wink and a smile and turned, going about his own day with the most carefree pep in his step. As if nothing ever happened. You, on the other hand, could not have been more confused. Ferdinand seemed unpredictable when it came to his moods. He was comforting and kind, yet was so… upset when you insulted the parlor. It was a restaurant. Why did he get so worked up about it? Maybe Ellie was right about it being such a big deal.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I just ordered! Go, go, I’m starving!”

Not even five minutes after you got out of your last class, Ellie was calling to remind you about dinner. You were still slightly unnerved from your encounter with Ferdinand, but you agreed to pick it up and would never hear the end of it if you didn’t do something as simple as takeout.

Golden Pizza was only about two blocks away and you stayed on the phone with your roommate the entire time, only saying goodbye as you walked in the establishment. The restaurant was very nice, the honey yellow walls and the glow of the wood-fired oven making the ambience warm and welcoming. You didn’t wait long in the line, soon coming up to meet a boy about your age with a glimmering emerald gaze and a smile just as bright at the front counter.

“Hi!” The boy- Claude, according to his nametag- greeted, “How can I help you?”

“I’m just picking up an order for Eleonora Yumizuru.”

Claude nodded and typed a few things into a computer at the counter. “I know Ellie! She and I had Stats together before she dropped out to pursue her acting career. She’s certainly something.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m her roommate.” Speaking of the devil, your phone vibrated in your pocket. It was a message from her. “She actually just messaged me. Wants me to bring her a dumb little lemonade from that cafe.”

Claude laughed, “You can go and get it now, if you’d like. Your pizza will be a few more minutes. Ellie set the time for your pickup for later, so you’re actually ten minutes early.”

You thanked him and left, walking to the cafe. You took your time, observing the shops around you. Across the street from Golden Pizza stood the Blue Lion Buffet. You smiled to yourself- what a cliche to have rivals across from each other. Beside the pizza parlor was another food shop, the Eagles Freezery. You thought about Ferdinand- he said he was working today. Maybe you could drop by and- No. No, Y/N. Go get your lemonade and go.

A soft bell chimed as you opened the door. You saw four people in cafe uniforms, going about their day as you approached the register.

“Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Constance, that’s only used for a home.”

You shyly waved at the so-called Constance and the pink-haired girl who corrected her. Cafe des Loups- or Cafe of Wolves- was a quaint place, quiet and not crowded, kind of like an off-brand Starbucks. Dim lights adorned the high black ceiling, illuminating the shop just enough for a comforting ambience. There was a mural of a rainforest painted on the wall to the opposite of the counter with comfortable tables and lounging areas. If you could, you’d probably waste the day away lounging around. It was the perfect environment for an introvert like you.

At this shop, a large dark-haired man controlled the register instead of Claude. As you approached the register, you noticed that he wasn’t wearing a nametag, but you had a small urge to call him Bigfoot.

“Hey! What can I get ‘cha?”

You scoured the menu. “Just two pink lemonades is fine-”

“Oh! Good choice!” Constance interrupted you, coming to stand beside the man. “Yuri-bird over there makes the best sweet lemonades!”

You followed her gaze over to a man who was sitting on a stool, slouched down and leaning his head on his hand. He stretched and stood up. “Thank God, we haven’t had many customers all day. I was starting to think we lost our appeal.”

“Of course we have not!” Constance replied. She turned to you, but you couldn’t tell whether she was still talking to Yuri or you. Maybe it was neither. “Not when someone as handsome as Yuri is making the drinks and my attractive self is greeting the customers!”

“Hey! I’m just as much of a visual as the boss-man.” The taller man joined in after taking your money. “We’re all pretty nice looking. Especially this little lady ordering~”

You blushed a bit. “Oh, please, I’m nothing special-”

“Nothing special?” Constance laid her hand against her chest. “You’re wonderful! Almost on the same level as me. Isn’t that right, Yuri-birdie?”

Yuri looked up from making your drinks, his analytical eyes seemingly boring holes into you. You shuddered, feeling like he could tell your deepest and darkest secrets from just looking at you. He shrugged, going back to the lemonades.

“She’s alright, I suppose.”

“You suppose? Yuri, that’s rude-”

Hapi was midway through lecturing the purple-haired man when the door to the shop chimed open and a rather large group came in. Yuri looked up and suddenly stood alert, as did the other three workers. In the group, you saw a familiar head of orange hair and orange eyes met yours. Your face screwed up into confusion.

“Ferdinand?”

“Don’t say anything.” The leader of the group, a short, white-haired girl snarled. “Are you a new… worker here?”

“Wh- you just told me not to say anything.”

Slowly, Yuri and the other three came up beside you, standing slightly in front. Your heart nearly stopped- you were in the middle of something you definitely weren’t supposed to be in and your sass had gotten on their bad side already. The white-haired girl scrutinized the five of you, her lavender eyes piercing holes through whatever facade of confidence you had tried to put up. You could feel yourself literally wither under her gaze, even more than you did when Yuri looked at you.

“What do you want, Edelgard?” Yuri put his hands on his hip, one fiddling with something under his shirt.

“I want your loyalty.”

Yuri snorted. “You aren’t in charge.”

“I’m not? Hm. Tell that to my father after he stepped down. I’m the leader now- the emperor, if you will.” Edelgard sighed heavily. “I have no time for more conversation if you won’t comply. Hubert, deal with them.”

The terrifying man who you assumed was Hubert suddenly reached in his coat and pulled out a handgun, aiming it at the five of you. Yuri quickly retaliated and pulled one of his own, throwing it at Constance before grabbing your wrist and running to the back. A loud gunshot rang through the air as you and Yuri continued to run. You both dodged around coffee shop equipment and he dragged you through a labyrinth that they considered the back of the store.

As you were running, Yuri pulled you to a sharp right turn and your arm scraped against a metal machine in your way. You hissed in pain and looked down at it, seeing a large wound going down your shoulder to your elbow. It was starting to bleed rather quickly, but you had no time to worry about it. You’d have time to tend to it if you survived.

“What’s happening?”

“No time to explain. Quick, hide!”

Yuri pushed you against the wall in between two larger cabinets and stood in front, grabbing yet another gun from his other hip. He cocked it, listening for the ruckus of the fight in the main room to make its way towards your location. You were shaking like a leaf, grabbing tightly onto your wounded arm and smearing blood all over your fingers and your clothes. You breathed heavily, trying to calm yourself at least a little- was this why Ferdinand had been so defensive over the Eagles Freezery? What kind of restaurant rivalry would constitute attempted murder? And wasn’t this cafe uninvolved anyways? You didn't have time to ponder any more questions as a loud crash echoed through the room. Yuri lifted his gun and began to speak lowly, not taking his eyes off of the door.

“When I say run, go out the back door and get in the black car back there. Don’t go home- one of them will find you.”

A gunshot rang through the air and Constance, Balthus, and Hapi burst through the doors, running towards you all. Yuri turned to you as the three of them caught up to him, pulling out their own weapons again as Edelgard began yelling.

“Run!”

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taglist: @fairyblue-alchemist @emperor-pizza @flavoredmilktea @fe3h-random-writing-and-stuff @mifuyuyu @blviddyd @laurexlance @atomicchocolatecookie @mapesandoval @local-goth-lilz

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surlybobbies · 4 years

Text

The Noises of Routine (deancas 3.7k)

Excerpt:

Cas’s apartment has always been quiet, but now he’s even more thankful for it because he can hear Dean everywhere: the creak of his footsteps on the floorboards, the running water of the shower, the music that sometimes drifts from behind his closed door into the living room.

Cas wants the sounds even closer. He wants Dean’s footsteps in his bedroom, Dean’s murmur from the pillow next to his, Dean’s music from the nightstand while he gets ready for bed. He wants the noises of a lifetime of routine, the noise of a life with Dean in it.

(quarantine fic. Dean and Cas stay in Cas's apartment.)

Rating: T Tags: Quarantine fic, friends to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending, roommates

Notes: A fic written for the “Quarantine and Chill” round of gift exchange on the Profound Bond discord. My giftee is @zigostia! I’m glad they enjoyed it, and I’m glad to be able to share it with you all too!

You can read it on ao3 here or

When the news breaks, Dean and Cas’s eyes connect over Cas’s tiny kitchen island. Dean is standing over a pot of chili. There’s an empty bowl in his hand. Cas is perched on his secondhand stool with a chili stain on his collar.

They stare at each other while the broadcast continues from the TV behind Cas. He can see the light shifting on Dean’s throat when he swallows.

“With the confirmation of the first case of covid-19, the governor has issued a statewide stay-at-home order effective midnight Monday. We can expect to hear about how long this order may last during her press conference in a few minutes.”

Dean puts the bowl down. He doesn’t break eye contact with Cas, though it’s obvious his mind is miles away. “That’s… not good.”

Cas opens his mouth but he can’t find anything to say. He had known this moment would come eventually, his eyes having been glued to the TV now for weeks, but here in the moment he can’t quite comprehend it.

Dean’s hand skates over his eyes. “Fuck.”

“We’ll be fine,” Cas says, startled out of his shock by Dean’s distress. “Let’s make a trip tomorrow to Costco - “

But Dean is shaking his head.

Then Cas remembers. “Your lease is up next month.”

“In three weeks.” Dean gestures toward the TV. “This isn’t going to be over in three weeks.” He walks to the couch in front of the TV and sinks down into it. “How the hell am I going to find a new place in quarantine?”

“Surely your landlord won’t kick you out - “ Cas shuts his trap when Dean sends him a look because they both know his landlord’s reputation. At a loss, Cas wanders over and stands behind the couch. For a while they watch the news. The governor is late to his press conference and the anchor is repeating the talking points of the breaking news. Cas’s eyes slide to Dean, sitting on the right side of the couch. Cas knows there’s a permanent divot in the cushion from all the time he’s spent there. Struck by a sudden idea, Cas says, “If you don’t find a place, you can take my couch for as long as you need.”

Dean’s head sinks slowly into his hands. “Thanks,” he mumbles to his lap.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Cas stares at the back of Dean’s head, trying to figure out the reason behind his behavior. Then it hits him. “But before that you have three weeks stuck in your apartment.”

“With my neighbors stuck in their apartment.”

“Their dog,” Cas remembers.

“Their dog,” Dean groans.

A silence falls between them, though meanwhile the governor has finally made his way onto the TV screen. “Looking at the data, if we all do our part by staying home or otherwise practicing social distancing, we can expect to emerge from this situation in about four weeks.”

Dean, his head still in his hands, says some very choice words about his opinion.

“Stay with me, then,” Cas says.

Four beats. Quiet. Then, “Say again?”

“I’ve got a spare bedroom. You’ve got clothes here already. Pack your things and stay with me for four weeks.”

Dean lifts his hand and twists around to stare incredulously at Cas. “Pack my things? Cas, that’s a whole fucking apartment’s worth of shit - you want me to get it here in three days?”

“So you’re thinking about it.”

“I’m not thinking about it.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “The dog.”

Dean’s face falls suddenly. “The dog,” he sighs in defeat. “Fuck.”

So he moves in. Cas’s apartment is suddenly full of beat-up boxes, most shoved under tables and stashed in corners, ready to be moved again for when Dean finds a place of his own. Dean takes a few of the boxes into Cas’s spare bedroom.

Within a few days there’s evidence of Dean’s presence all over the apartment: his jacket in a pile with Cas’s near the door, his toothbrush in a separate cup near Cas’s, his shoes by his bedroom door, a spare sock in the dryer. It makes Cas feel warm in a way he doesn’t dwell on, even when he notices the way Dean smiles at him without fail every morning when he finally emerges from his blanket cocoon in the spare bedroom.

It’s hurtfully easy to live with Dean, but every time Cas wakes up looking forward to spending his day within Dean’s orbit, he walks into the living room and catches sight of the boxes under the coffee table and remembers why Dean’s there, why Cas is there, and why the streets outside are empty. Their days are simple and easy, yes, but there’s always an undercurrent of anxiety that Cas can’t seem to shake.

The first time they go grocery-shopping during the stay-at-home order, they go together, and only because neither wanted the other one to go, but neither could no one go, and so their stubbornness resulted in this:

Dean, driving. Cas handing him a disposable face mask before they get out of the car. Worried frowns hidden behind cotton and elastic. Without speaking, they quickly understand their roles: Dean handles the cart and Cas handles the groceries. They watch each other - what they touch and what they don’t. Cas watches as Dean weaves through the shoppers, his mouth a thin line every time someone gets too close to him.

He doesn’t say anything, but once they get into the car and wipe down their hands with antibacterial wipes, Cas heaves a huge sigh. Dean looks at him, and his eyes are gentle. They don’t speak on the ride home and eventually Cas’s heart begins to calm.

In the apartment, they take 45 minutes to wipe down their groceries. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Dean sighs, after stashing the milk in the fridge.

Cas has spent the last 45 minutes watching Dean’s hands under the guise of health and hygiene. “I’m getting used to it,” he says.

Their routine takes shape over time and ends up looking a little like this:

Cas wakes up first. He makes the coffee. Then he skims through the news on his phone while he waits for Dean to wake up and start breakfast. They didn’t plan the arrangement: it came about only because Cas never ate breakfast and Dean figured out very quickly that if he wanted food in the morning he’d have to make it himself.

Eventually Cas starts joining him for breakfast, but Dean is still without fail the one standing at the stove every morning with a spatula in his hand.

They sit near the window to eat for the most part. They chat about the pains of working from home, all while watching the eerily empty streets outside and carefully avoiding the topic that dominates the news.

They go through bacon at an alarming rate, and one day when they run out Dean sulks the whole day.

“Threw me off,” he complains at the end of the day, sprawled across the couch with an arm over his eyes. “Accidentally left my meeting when I wanted to mute myself.”

Cas cooks dinner to give Dean a break. Cas is not a great cook but Dean always clears his plate with relish and claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder before clearing up and starting on the dishes. Cas lets him handle the dishes to avoid the judgmental look Dean had cast on him the first time he saw Cas washing up. “You’re using too much water,” he’d said, wincing.

Cas had blinked at him. “You’re welcome to do them yourself.”

“Honestly, I’d prefer that.”

So Dean handles the dishes and Cas wipes up the table and waits for Dean on the couch where they channel surf for a few hours.

When Dean starts to nod off, Cas will shut off the TV and nudge Dean until he trudges toward the bathroom to brush his teeth.

At the end of each night they end up behind different doors.

The stay-at-home order continues. The four weeks that the governor’s data had projected at the beginning passes as cases have not shown a decline. Quarantine edges into months. Cas’s hair gets long and Dean laughs every time he catches sight of him. Then one day he runs his hands through it in passing, and neither of them laugh. Dean just quirks a smile and takes his coffee and goes into his room to start work, and Cas collapses into an armchair because he’s in love with his best friend and can’t stand it.

The next day Cas lets Dean take clippers to his hair. It’s gotten out of hand, he says, but mostly he wants to feel Dean’s hands again. Dean turns on the clippers and Cas watches him in the mirror.

“You don’t need to look so worried,” Dean says, grinning.

“I’m not” is all Cas says.

Their eyes connect in the mirror. Dean’s grin falls a little, replaced by something soft and surprised and thoughtful. He’s silent through the rest of the haircut, and Cas lets his eyelids fall shut with every pass of Dean’s hand through his hair.

When they’re done Cas nods his approval at his reflection, turning his head left and right. “Who needs a barber when you have Dean Winchester?”

He catches Dean’s eye. Dean has been staring.

“Dean?”

Dean grins suddenly and begins packing up the clippers, winding the wire around his fingers. He won’t look at Cas. “Not bad, eh?”

The TV says the state will reopen in phases beginning in a week. The chyron across the screen confirms what Cas thinks he’s hearing, but it’s difficult to believe after so long in one place. Cas tries to catch Dean’s eye, but is unsurprised not to succeed. In recent days Dean is either staring into Cas’s soul or looking away completely and it’s more often the latter than the former.

“I still don’t think it’s safe,” Cas ventures, a little hesitant because Dean’s staring out the window again at the empty streets.

“It’s not,” Dean says. There’s a trace of anger in his voice, but Cas knows it’s not directed toward him.

“Will you stay a little longer then?”

Dean looks at him finally. He looks sad. “Yeah, probably. Sorry.” He clears Cas’s plate from in front of him and walks it to the sink.

They spend the first few weeks after the reopening of the state in much the same way as they did in quarantine. Cas’s apartment has always been quiet, but now he’s even more thankful for it because he can hear Dean everywhere: the creak of his footsteps on the floorboards, the running water of the shower, the music that sometimes drifts from behind his closed door into the living room.

The want is not new. What is new is the sour feeling in his gut knowing that everything he wants is only just out of reach. If he could stretch out his fingers just a little bit more, he’d be able to pull Dean closer and keep him from leaving. Every day the boxes in his living room greet Cas and remind him that despite whatever routine they’ve established, Cas’s apartment is destined to return to its silence.

One day Cas finishes work early and wanders into the living room to see Dean sitting on the couch scrolling through pictures on his phone with a frown.

“Finished up?” Cas prods cautiously as he reaches for a glass in his cupboard.

Dean barely looks up. “Nah,” he said. “Took the day off so I could concentrate on looking for an apartment.”

Cas’s stomach sinks. He thinks of his next words carefully as he turns on the tap and fills his glass. “How’s it going?”

“There’s a few options. I might take a look at one of them later on today.”

Cas doesn’t respond. He’s staring at his glass of water.

“Wanna come with?”

Cas suddenly realizes how much he’s missed sitting in the passenger seat of Dean’s car. The trips they’ve taken recently have only been fraught with worry and tension, and Cas desperately wants to correct that. “If you’ll have me,” he replies.

Cas can hear the smile in Dean’s answer: “You know I will, Cas.”

The apartment building is nice but painfully far from Cas’s. After almost three months of living with Dean, the concept of having him almost an hour away makes Cas feel sick.

“You okay?” Dean asks, as they make their way to the building door. “You’re squinting again.”

Cas scowls, but Dean can’t see it behind the mask. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Dean says, in the tone he’s reserved for when he doesn’t want to bother with Cas’s attitude. He presses a buzzer. A few seconds later, they’re being ushered up a set of stairs by a sweet old lady with curlers in her hair who coos over them and chatters about the possibility of having another wonderful tenant. She opens up the apartment and lingers at the door while Dean and Cas wander.

“At least it’s furnished,” Cas comments. The furniture is mismatched and a little beaten, but it will do.

Dean just shrugs. He’s been quiet since entering the apartment.

They make their way to the single bedroom. In it is a queen-sized bed and nothing else. They stand at the door and look at it for a long moment. Cas bites his tongue and digs his fingernails into his palm, trying not to think about who Dean might share it with. “It’s a decent size,” he manages to say. It might be the mask covering his mouth, but to his ears his voice sounds distant.

Dean looks at him with raised eyebrows.

“The place, not the bed,” Cas corrects.

It’s difficult to read Dean’s facial expression through the mask when he says, “I wish there were another bedroom for you.”

“That’s very kind,” Cas replies, a little taken aback. “But don’t let me influence your decision. It’s your apartment.”

Dean just shrugs and turns away.

In the end they leave only with words of thanks for the old lady and reassurances that Dean will get back to her.

When they return to Cas’s apartment, Dean throws his keys onto the table near the door and then takes off his shoes. His jacket goes on top of Cas’s on the door hook. He takes off his disposable mask and holds out a hand silently for Cas’s. When he gets it, he throws both into the trash and washes his hands.

He looks like he’s headed toward the fridge when he notices Cas watching him from his spot by the door.

“What?” he asks as he reaches for the fridge handle.

Cas takes a long breath. “Stay here.”

Dean freezes just as he opens the fridge. He blinks at Cas. “What?”

Cas has just watched Dean move through the apartment like it was his own, and it makes Cas desperate to be understood. “You’ve been here for two months already. Your clothes keep getting mixed up with mine, and you’ve taken over the fridge. We haven’t killed each other. You might as well just stay.”

Dean grabs a beer from the fridge. He looks at it, looks into the fridge, then looks at Cas. Cas knows from years of experience that Dean’s going to crack a joke, and he does: “Is that your only requirement for a roommate? ‘Must not murder me’?”

Cas still hasn’t moved from his spot near the apartment door. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Dean says. He closes the fridge and then pops the top off of his beer to take a long swig. When he’s done, he just looks at Cas and blinks.

“That’s not a yes,” Cas points out after an uncomfortable few seconds of silence.

Dean leans against the counter and stares at his socks. “I gotta think about it.”

Anxiety worms its way under Cas’s skin, but he’s determined to quash it. He moves toward the sink near Dean to start dinner. He had plans to make a pot of chili again, but for the life of him he can’t remember where to start. After washing his hands, he opens the cupboard and grabs a few spices that sound familiar. Dean is still leaning against the counter a few feet away.

Cas puts the spices down and stares at them, hands on hips. He must looked stumped because Dean clears his throat and says, “Onion.”

Cas doesn’t acknowledge it but he turns to get the onion anyhow. He can feel Dean’s eyes on him as he reaches for the bowl behind Dean. Cas is close enough to smell Dean’s aftershave and almost crazy enough to lean in closer. He doesn’t, though he desperately wants to. Cas can feel a blush blooming on his cheeks but he avoids Dean’s eyes and turns away, onion in hand.

Cas begins to dice the onion. He’s never been great with a knife but this time, with Dean’s eyes on the back of his neck, he’s somehow even worse. It takes forever, and by the time forever has passed, Cas’s eyes are irritated from slicing the onion. Dean snorts at him when Cas turns around, eyes squinted, to wash his hands and rinse out his eyes.

“Every single time,” Dean says. Cas’s eyes are barely open so he can’t see Dean’s expression, but he can hear the traces of affection in his voice. “Go faster next time.”

“You’re hired the next time I need to cut onions,” Cas says as he washes his hands.

Dean’s quiet. Cas hears him take another swig of his beer as he leans down to try to rinse out his eyes. When he straightens, he feels Dean pushing a towel into his hand.

“Thanks,” Cas mumbles as he wipes his face. When he’s finished blinking away the moisture in his eyes, Cas is finally able to focus on Dean, who’s watching him intently.

The apartment is silent save for the whir of the fridge and the swing of the ceiling fan. If Cas listened really closely he might be able to hear the murmur of conversation from his neighbors, but right now he’s focused in on Dean, who’s living and breathing in front of him, a testament to the wonders of the universe.

In this moment it’s almost as if Dean is thinking the same thing about Cas. His eyes dance between Cas’s. His throat bobs. Cas is about to ask what’s wrong, but the words die on his tongue when Dean suddenly puts his bottle down and then lifts a hand to fit around Cas’s jaw. His hand is cold and slightly wet from the condensation. A shaky thumb grazes Cas’s mouth.

“I do want to stay, Cas,” he says quietly. “But you need to know what that means for me.”

Cas’s heart is in his throat. He opens his mouth to speak, and Dean’s thumb follows his bottom lip. He forgets his words.

Dean waits for a response. When he doesn’t get one, he gives Cas a pretend scowl. “You gotta say something.”

“P-please clarify,” Cas stammers. His cheeks are on fire, and his eyes are welling up again.

Dean kisses him. It’s just a touch of his lips against Cas’s, small enough to argue that it was barely anything at all, but Cas knows it for what it is: a question he has to answer.

“Clear enough?” Dean asks softly, staring at his socks again. He’s dropped his hands and linked them together in front of him. He’s still leaning against the counter. Cas would be angry with him for looking so goddamn cool but he’s too busy trying to process the fact that Dean has just kissed him.

Cas swallows. The towel in his hand is crushed by his nervous fist. “My offer still stands,” he says. “My home is always open to you.”

Dean looks up at him through his eyelashes with a slightly exasperated look. “Where I’m gonna live is not really the most important issue at hand right now.” His eyes dip down to Cas’s lips then back up to Cas’s eyes. It’s an invitation if Cas ever saw one.

Cas steps forward and kisses Dean. It’s a proper one this time, one that involves Dean’s hands on Cas’s ribs and Cas’s hands in Dean’s hair. Cas feels like there’s a current of electricity running through him, up to his ears and down to his toes, running through Dean everywhere their skin touches. It’s only when Dean makes an eager noise low in his throat that Cas pulls away (not without an effort), making Dean scowl.

“Dinner,” Cas says, his vocabulary greatly reduced. He wants to wrap himself up in Dean but knows there has to be a long talk beforehand, and they can’t do that when Dean’s hands are trying to inch down Cas’s waistband.

Dean closes his eyes. “Fine,” he mumbles.

Cas steps away and Dean’s hands drop. “But I take it you’re staying.”

Dean’s mouth twitches upward, though his eyes remain closed. “You couldn’t pay me to leave after that, Cas.”

Cas indulges in a pleased smile because he knows Dean can’t see it. He returns to the cupboard. By the time he’s gotten the ingredients gathered, Dean has gotten the bowls and cutlery, the pot and the stirring spoon. He arranges them on the kitchen island, then steps away.

Cas watches as Dean drags a box from underneath the coffee table and opens it. The sound of the cardboard is comforting in the silence.

“Hey,” Dean says, looking toward Cas. “Where should I put my mom’s picture?”

#kc fic #deancas #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel #quarantine fic #friends to lovers #spn #au #roommates #i know i have a tag list somewhere but pls forgive me i'm not quite in my head these days

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