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lovelybrooke · 7 months

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Darling, Let us Love you (Yandere Ouran High School Host Club) Chapter 2.

Series Masterlist--Regular Masterlist

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You were kind of embarrassed to admit that you wanted to see Haruhi again. After yesterday's ordeal, you didn't want to see or hear anything regrading the Host Club again, but Haruhi was an exception. He was nice, and seemed genuinely sorry for the way his club mates behaved, even texting you afterwords again to apologize.

You haven't seen him all today, which made sense. You weren't in the same class, so you didn't cross paths often. You debated texting him and asking if he'd like to eat lunch with you, but you decided not to as to not seem desperate. Either way, he was probably going to spend time with his club mates, not someone he met a few days ago.

"(Y/n)! Are you listening?" You were broken out of your trance by a shrill sound coming from your phone. It was your coworker, how you couldn't remember the name of even if you tried. "I need you to cover my shift for the next few weeks! Please!" They begged you as you winced away from the phone.

"Yeah, okay, sure." You respond, which gets a relieved sigh from your coworker. They thank you furiously before hanging up, leaving you alone in one of the many gardens of the school.

You started coming out here when your art teacher said you were spending too much time in his classroom. It hurt a bit to be called out like that, but hey, it's his classroom, so you really can't complain. The peacefulness of the garden was nice. There wasn't many people there often, except for the few garden club members, which didn't take much mind to you.

That peacefulness however, was broken by the what could only be described as the loud, excited gasp of a child. Though, when you looked towards the sound, you were only met with Honey. He was sitting on the shoulders of a much taller, much more stoic student, his eyes brimming with excitement, which was a stark contrast to your clear confusion.

"(Y/N)-chan! Hi~" He giggled, waving at you from his high position "What are you doing here?"

You stare dumbly at your phone as you attempt to recover from your shock. "I-uh...had to take a call from my coworker." You mumble, motioning to your phone a bit. He nods, a smile still on his face as whispers something to the one holding him, before he's promptly placed down on his side.

"(Y/n)-chan, have you had lunch yet?" You shake your head no. The upperclassman gasps, taking your hand with overwhelming energy. "You should come have lunch at the Host Club, Haru-chan would love to see you!" You feel yourself growing embarrassed at the statement. Haruhi was thinking of you? Before you could look anymore stupid, you shake your head slightly, peering down at the boy.

"Are you sure, I mean--isn't there club stuff going on during lunch?" Honey shakes his head a bit.

"There is, but it's not that big of a deal, come on!" Before you could even protest, you were being pulled out of the garden at impressive speed by the upperclassman. You try your best to avoid the gaze of the people around you, all looking in either jealously or confusion. Behind you, there was Honey's friend, who you heard referred to as Mori-senpai in passing. It doesn't take you long to remember that he was in the host club too, and that you just never got his name. That must've been why you didn't recognize him earlier.

"Honey-senpai, why were you and Mori at the garden anyway?" You ask when you finally calm down. You hear Honey giggle, and you notice that you're no longer being pulled by him. You're at the host club, and Honey is looking up at you with admittedly cute eyes.

"Me and Mori were going to get lunch when we saw you." He explains. "I thought it be nice to eat lunch together, right?" He giggles, but strangely waits for you to respond.

"Yeah--I guess." You hoped you sounded convincing, you really didn't want to upset an upperclassman. Honestly, you'd rather be anywhere other than the host club right now, but it wasn't like Honey really gave you any choice, any the thought of seeing Haruhi did seem nice.

Honey lets out yet another adorable giggle, before opening the doors to the club. You feel your breath hitch when you step into the room. It was so bright, and the smell of tea, coffee, and cake waft through the air. A part of you felt comforted, until you heard the squeals of girls as they talk to the host and then you're brought back to reality.

You look around the room a bit, and of course, you were met with the sight of the hosts doing their best to romance the girls around them. You weren't one to judge, especially when it came to money, but honesty, is this really what rich people spend their money on?

"Oh-(Y/n), welcome in." It was him again, Kyoya, the scary one with glasses. You don't waste time looking over at him. He, like always, was smiling, but you really couldn't tell the true meaning behind it. "What brought you here today, I'm positive you couldn't afford anything." He mumbled the last part, but you heard him loud and clear.

Before you could offer him offer him a smart reply, Honey butted it. "We're going to eat lunch together, right (Y/n)-chan?" Honey grips your hand, tight. It made you look down at him, but he was already looking at you. Unlike earlier, you weren't moved by his gaze, but instead, slightly afraid. You feel as though you have no choice but to nod. Instantly, his face light up, and he was back to being the adorable boy you knew him as.

You were pulled away from Kyoya and placed on a fancy looking couch. In front of you was an assortment of cakes and teas, all which looked mouth watering. Honey and Mori both sit down at a couch across from you, Honey looking ten times more excited than Honey, who still appeared ridged and aloof. "Go on, take one, they're super yummy." Honey says when he notices your hesitance. You wait a moment, like if you took a bite someone would run up and swat it out of your hand. After a while, and much insistence by Honey, you take a bite of chocolate cake, and it was amazing. It melted in your mouth and had so much delicious flavor. You wanted to keep eating it forever and ever, until you realized it was gone.

"Did you like it?!" Honey looks at you expectingly, his smile widening when you nod. He pushes a few more plates of cake to you and you happily take them.

"Hey~What are you doing here?" You look over to your side, your mouth filled with cake and your eyes wide. Of course, Hikaru was on your right, and it wasn't too much to assume that Kaoru was on your left. At this point, the twins were no longer that much of a surprise to you. You slowly swallow your cake before acknowledging the two.

"Oh--hey."

"...Thats all you have to say?" You hear Hikaru ask. You shrug, moving to grab another slice of cake, much to Honey's happiness.

"They're eating cake with me! I would offer some to you both, but it looks like we're all out." The table was devoid of any food, plates and crumbs being the only thing left. Did you seriously eat that much already, you swear you only had like three slice. Honey must've ate a bunch while you were in cake heaven.

"That's no big deal Honey, that's not why we're here." Kaoru says, tilting his head towards you. "We wanted to ask (Y/n) here to our party next week." A dramatic gasp leaves Honey's mouth, diverting your attention from the orange haired brothers to him. His eyes were wide, just like his smile.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Honey gasps, making you confused.

"What party?" You question.

"The Host Club is hosting a party for the end of the semester." Kyoya, who suddenly appeared behind the couch you and the twins were sitting on, said. "It's a great way to wish farewell to our wonderful customers before winter break." What he really means is to make some extra money before his entire clientele leaves. You nod along with his words, not really caring about what he was saying.

"Sorry, I'm not really the party type, y'know?" You attempt to let the twins down, but they persist.

"C'mon--it's not like we're asking you on a date. We just want to see you out of your shell, you're so quiet all the time." Okay, ouch. You did think they were asking you on a date, but Hikaru didn't have to be so mean about it. Kaoru from his spot on your left reaches behind the couch to smack his brother on the shoulder, sending him a glare.

"What my brother meant to say," Kaoru puts a hand on your arm, it was a comforting presence in comparison to his brother. "Is that we think you'd have fun, we know we would if you were there." Kaoru whispers to you. You feel your throat tighten up at the close proximity, making you so nervous you stand right up, placing your plate down awkwardly on the table in front of you.

Attempting to calm yourself down, you wipe your hands on your pants, eyes darting from the twins to the floor in a panic. You had to come up with something, or else you'd be stuck he fumbling around forever. "I--uh--can't. Have to cover my coworkers shift for the next few weeks, I'll be packed."

"We haven't even told you what date the dance would be though." You can hear the subtle teasing behind Kyoya's words, the smirk seemingly never ending. It made your stomach flip, and you questioned just running out of the room entirely before the glorious sound of the school bell rung in your ears.

"I-I'm sorry, I just can't...thank you for the invite though. Bye." You awkwardly bow before rushing out of the room.

"Hika-chan! Why'd you have to go and make them nervous." Honey chides the boy. Hikaru doesn't respond, neither does his brother, both of them staring at the door you left out of.

---

You swear, embarrassment is a curse.

You couldn't stop thinking about the twins, their sharp smiles and annoying giggles. The way they embarrassed you in the Host Club and wouldn't leave you alone. It's tiring, and it makes you nervous for how Haruhi thinks. You wonder if Haruhi thinks you're a mess now, if he's embarrassed of you and that's why he hasn't talked to you since that day in the club room.

Unknown Number: Hey!

The buzzing of your phone interrupts your nervous thinking.

(Y/n) (L/n): I'm sorry, who's this.

Unknown Number: It's Kaoru. I got your number from Haruhi.

You nod to yourself, typing in Kaoru's name in your contacts.

Kaoru: I just wanted to apologize for Hikaru, I know what he said was mean, but we genuinely meant it. We would really like for you to come to the party, it would make it way more fun.

You sigh. It was impossible to stay mad at Kaoru. He was a sweet boy, and you couldn't deny how nice he made you feel. Was it weird to feel this way towards someone you just met, probably. But he was kind to you, so it wasn't terrible.

(Y/n) (L/n): I understand, don't worry. I wish I could go, but I really am busy.

Kaoru takes a while to respond, bubbles popping up and disappearing over and over before finally replying.

Kaoru: That's fine! Though, if you reconsider, I'd love to take you, like as a date, not just to hang out.

Two times today did Kaoru nearly make your heart stop, it was hammering so hard in your chest that you were sure it was going to break out. You kept staring at the message until somehow you worked up the courage to respond.

(Y/n) (L/n): I'll think about it, not promises though.

Kaoru: Okay, okay. I'll take to you later. Bye, bye <3

Ugh, these twins were going to be the death of you.

"Hey, there you are." You look away from your phone, staring up at Haruhi. It was almost surprising to see him there, somehow your conversation with Kaoru nearly made you forget about Haruhi, as bad as that sounds.

Haruhi takes a quick glance at your phone, eying the contact before you're able to shut it off. "Oh, I was going to tell you know, but I guess Kaoru texted you first." He rubs the back of his head awkwardly, blushing a bit. "Yeah, he said he had something important to ask you, so I gave it to him. Hope you're not mad at me." He takes a seat next to you as you shake your head.

"Oh, it's no big deal. It wasn't that important anyway." Haruhi nods his head, silence falling over you two. It was awkward, especially when you could tell that Haruhi was taking small glances towards you every once in a while.

"Um--we're you looking for me or..." You whisper, looking at Haruhi. his face was red and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. He was stiff as you look over to him, back straight and fist clenched tight.

"Uh--yeah." You hear him gulp before staring at you. It was intense, and you swear his anxiety was radiating onto you. "I wanted to see if you'd like to go to the Host Club party with me." He whispered.

You couldn't believe it, was Haruhi actually asking you? Today felt like some strange dream, and this was just the cherry on the cake. "L-like a date?" You ask, feeling your heart hammer away again.

Haruhi's blush darkens, adverting his gaze from you to the floor. "I mean, if you want it to be that then..."

You didn't know where your confidence came from, but you took Haruhi's hand in yours. You were so nervous your hand was shaking, but you're sure Haruhi's was also shaking, which somehow calmed you a bit.

"I'd really like that, Haruhi."

Haruhi calms, relaxing a bit, and smiling at you.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere ohshc #ohshc x reader #yandere ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x reader #ouran host club #ouran high school host club

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dazedandconfused-15 · 4 days

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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

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It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved.

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making you feel strange. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park.

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.”

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back.

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.”

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne.

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red.

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.”

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from.

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.”

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.”

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…”

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes.

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?”

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?”

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California.

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home.

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart."

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?”

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver.

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively.

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently.

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters.

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent?

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you.

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.”

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul.

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard.

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?”

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.

“I mean…” "I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you.

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up.

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face.

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.”

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.”

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x oc #dacre montgomery #stranger things smut #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #dacryphilia #slow burn #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #smut #80s

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heyhihellosworld · 1 year

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𝗛𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀

Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Trent isn't very good at keeping your relationship a secret, especially not around his noisy teammates.

Warnings: Just fluff and a small hint of angst but not really

Notes: Trent is literally my favorite person to write for x

The training was finally done and all Trent wanted to do now was go home and snuggle up to you. He was tired and wet, the cloudy day not lifting his mood in any way.

He threw his phone down on the bench not caring that it went past his bag before going to the showers.

He was the quickest getting ready, throwing his clothes down and drying off his hair before lacing his shoes, ready to go when Henderson stopped him.

"Hey, don't forget your ph-" he cut himself off as the screen lit up "Hey who is this?" he questioned, turning the phone up to study it for real. Andy who was next to Henderson leaned over to look for himself while Trent stood frozen.

"Hey let me see" Virgil cut in, and soon everybody was passing the phone around, everyone staring at Trent who looked around the room, his tongue poking out from the side.

"Wait, is that-is that y/n?!" Virgil exclaimed as he got the phone again, studying it really close causing Henderson and Ox to throw themselves over the phone again to study the picture closer "It is! Trent you have some explaining to do!" Henderson called.

"Okay, fuck just give me my phone back you idiots" Trent groaned, snatching it back and turning it off. Closing the picture he had as a background. He had just switched it yesterday, the picture taken of the two of you at Trent's parents house last weekend, you were sitting on the couch together, smiling at each other as he is kissing your temple. He loved that photo and thought it was a cute background but now he remembered why he had a simple background before, you kept your relationship low-key.

Trent threw the phone down in the bag, wanting to leave but there was no reason to even try with the way everyone looked at him.

Everybody knew who you were as you were friends with many of the team, you knew Klopp and was therefore often watching training and matches. Sometimes assisting the trainers out and just being around.

That was how you'd met Trent. After a late training he had stayed a bit longer on the pitch where you had been, the two of you had begun talking and then he'd driven you home with the promise of meeting you again. He had kept his promise and after that you'd met up frequently, slowly fallen in love with the right-back defender.

After you became official you decided to keep it on the low, both for media and for everyone in the team, just wanting to be you for a little while.

"Explain!" Virgil demanded, sitting relaxed on the bench, legs wide spread and a small smirk on his face.

"Well.. we're dating okay!" Trent explained, groaning at the collective gasps from his teammates "Since when! And why haven't you told us?!"

"Since two months back and because we decided not to, at least not yet"

"You've hid your relationship for two months, what!" Ox close to gasped which made Trent groan out a chuckle "Come on guys, it's no big deal, we wanted to keep it easy and not pressure it before we knew anything for real"

"Man, you've gotta take her to guys night soon" Ox grinned, cutting the tension slightly "Yeah yeah, maybe, anyway can I go now?" he asked sarcastically making the guys boo at him "Sure" Robby grinned, Trent rolled his eyes annoyed by them and their stupid grins.

"Have you fucked her yet?" "Are you married?" "Do you have secret kids?"

"Shut up and don't talk about her like that" Trent grunted before exiting the changing room feeling even more bitter than before.

You were laying on the couch when Trent entered the apartment. You had been working from home, sorting all types of documents and numbers for your boss and now you were just finishing up in front of the tv.

"Hey love" you grinned as you saw his face in the door opening. "Hey" he muttered back, making you frown as he flopped down on the couch, face in your lap

"Hey, what's wrong" you asked softly, scratching his neck gently. "The boys found out about the two of us" he muttered after a second, not wanting to meet your eyes "What" you huffed, making him look up at you with a worried look.

"They saw my phone-background and put one and one together, everybody knows" You sat quite for a little while, processing the news but you didn't notice it made Trent anxious as he waited for you to say something, anything.

"Are you mad?" he said lowly meeting your eyes carefully "What, no no no, I were just-...thinking about what we will do, who we will be open to and if we should become official" you hummed, slowly threading your fingers through his hair to reassure him it was fine.

You were not mad, not at all. You both knew you wouldn't be able to keep it hidden forever and it was never really about hiding it either but more about being just you, getting to know each other and your relationship. But now multiple months had passed and you knew him and your relationship well by now and it felt like your relationship could survive the publicity.

Plus it was only his teammates, the guys you knew well and were sure they wouldn't tell it to the media. It was actually pretty nice that they knew so you would no longer have to hide and sneak around them with your relationship.

"Do you want to become official?" Trent asked, his eyes holding a little shocked glance. "I don't know" you hummed sweetly, kissing his forehead. "I think it would be possible to go official" you thought out loud "What do you mean?" "Like, the reason why we kept it to us where because we wanted to be sure and do it in our time but now I guess or relationship is strong enough to hold that kinda thing and we've already figured us out and I don't think it would destroy us as it could've before." Trent hummed, nodding a little "that's true but do you want that? Do you want to deal with all the media?" his voice was cold and almost dismissive, like what you said was stupid.

You frowned slightly, retreating your hands from his head which made him react, looking at you with an equal frown.

"Do you not want to be official with me?" you asked, slightly offended and hurt.

When he didn't answer you scoffed, pushing his head from you and standing up, ignoring his call of your name as you walked to the kitchen, roughly taking out a coffee mug from the cupboard.

"Babe" Trent sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist but you shrugged him off, really annoyed. "Babe I didn't mean it like that don't be sour" he pleaded but you already where. Pouring up the coffee you'd made earlier and slamming it into the microwave.

"I just.. I've just been thinking" he said carefully, not wanting to upset you anymore. "What" you barked "what the fuck have you been thinking off"

"I just.. can we please just sit down and talk about this" he sighed

"Sure" you huffed, taking out your cup and walking back into the living room, sitting down in the love-seat this time.

Trent sighed, knowing he had talked to fast.

He squatted down in front of you, not liking the annoyed look you had. "I didn't mean it like that"

"I-I guess- I'm just scared to be official" he finally spit. "I really love what we have and I don't want that to be messed up. I think you're right that we could survive it but I can't even think about it not working out. What if all the publicity makes you want to back out or if it causes trouble for us. I couldn't stand it" he sighed out, making your tense body soften and relax.

"It's not that I don't want to be official with you it's just that I don't want to loose you, I don't wanna loose what we have. I feel fine with the boys and all but I'm scared of social media"

He sighed out the words like it had been a hard burden for a long time making you feel slightly bad. Your hand made it's way to his face again, stroking his chin before you lean down to kiss him, sweetly and lovingly.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and I get what you mean" you said softly, loving the small sweet smile that tilted the corner of his mouth upwards.

"I'm sorry too, I didn't word it correctly and it came out wrong"

You nodded smiling at him before beginning your pondering again.

"I get what you mean, I do but we really only have one choice now and that's either we go out with our relationship publicly by ourself or we wait until we are exposed"

You said the words easily, simply just stating facts and Trent knew that you would never pressure him, it was the reality of things right now.

"You're right" he sighed, resting his forehead against your thigh. "What do you think?"

You bent down and dragged him up from the floor, settling in the couch instead so you could both sit.

"I don't know" you hummed

"Me neither" Trent sighed, drawing you into his side.

"What if we just let it be for a second, process it and keep it on the low, adjust to be us in front of the boys and then we will talk about it in a couple of weeks?"

Trent didn't answer, he just took a hold of your chin and kissed you needily. "I love that idea and I love you"

You giggled against his lips before letting them melt together again. "Then that's what we do"

#trent alexander arnold #football imagine #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent x reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent #footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #liverpool #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold angst

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factual-fantasy · 6 months

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26 askss!! ✨💖🐻💖✨

@milk-powrit

XD actually, Bibi never minded being the shortest. Because Jangles and I never made fun of him for it. But he's probably happy that there's now 2 people short enough to give him proper hugs 🥺

And to be honest, I haven't thought too much out about character facts :0 other than Cici is a smarty pants and can be a lil sassy at times XD But in a harmless/charming way.

Also oh yeah, Gerald loves puns. XDD Although he hasn't had any cake before.. so idk what his favorite could be. What ever is the funniest flavor I suppose XDD

@luckyglasses

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD Happy holidays!! :}}

@deadly-skeleton123

Oh you're new to Tumblr? Ahhh word of advice then- If I may? It might be a good idea to change your profile picture. Tumblr has a big bot problem. And a lot of the bots have default profile pictures just like yours. A lot of people might see your account in their feed and just block/report on sight. Not fun.. also I suggest you do the same though, if someone with default profile picture, banner, no bio, no posts follows you... that's probaaaaably a bot and should be blocked--

ANYWAYS! So for the Captain Barnacles/Crab comic. I don't plan on finishing it. And the reason why I abandoned it was because the way I had written the comic had everyone acting out of character. The blood was over the top, it was too dramatic,, ugh.. I got tired of my own comic half way through making it. <XD

The comic was gonna end with the rest of the crew showing up, they take the Captain to the octopod, and Peso cries because "I was too scared to help the Captain.." Which is just stupid <XD

Peso would not cower in fear in this situation. Even if Captain Barnacles turned like that and became very scary. Peso has had an extended history of getting it together and braving through anything to help creatures in need. And if his own Captain/friend was hurt? Nothing would stop him. Nothing could scare him away.

In the perfect re-write, Peso would ace this situation. He would approach Barnacles perfectly and calm him down. He would patch the wound, guide him to the gups. Guide him into the octopod and into the med-bay. Expertly deal with the wound and clean up all the blood.

Sure maybe after everything was done he would cry a bit out of the stress of it all. But originally everyone else did everything for Peso because he was too scared to help the scARy CapTAIN OOOO!!

Nah, that dumb. Peso is way stronger than that. #justiceforpeso

I made one yeeeaaarrs ago when I was into Sonic. But it centered around a Sonic OC of mine. <XD I don't tend to do much insert OC stuff anymore..

I imagine Bonnie would just sigh and try to get through it on his own. And not go to Foxy for help.. Worse case scenario he gets overwhelmed and shuts down on stage and ruins the show. Which is fine by him. He'd think, "Serves them right for puttin me on that stage. Faz-bear entertainment deserves to have their show flop for how they've treated me.. for how they've treated us."

XDD Hey! That's Veggietales isn't it?

@elegysonnet

XD That's what I was thinkin! That, and they were basically fully fleshed out characters but their bodies just didn't exist yet. Since their future existence was so set in stone Jangles was able to connect to their minds..?? XD I guess??

Thank you so much!! :DD Also CAPTAIN BARNACALES FTWWW!! ✨💖🐻💖✨

@taizarack

XD New friend indeed! Cici is technically an old friend, she's existed longer than Jangles and Gerald! XD

@manybrokenquills

JOKES ON YOU I'M ALL OF THOSE THINGS XDD

Also thank you! I'm glad you've stuck around and like what you see! :DDD

@wildwitchofthewest

AAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDDD

@smallangryartist

1: AAAA I'm glad it fooled you! When I drew it in I knew that anyone with a different Tumblr theme wouldn't be fooled.. but I'm glad I got at least 2 people! XDD

2: Also aww.. even if they were happy tears, sorry for making you cry! <XD

ALSO WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD Also also don't worry, I'm taking a nap and drinking water at the same time as we speak! XD

(Also also also that heart shattering might come sooner than you think..👀)

Nahh, my gnome is built different. All he needs to thrive is a steady supply of pepperoni pizza and a very large 3 inch deep puddle XD

@beryl-shade

Maybe! :0 At the very least I imagine they'd get along. My Seam is soft spoken, polite, mellow.. he's probably a nice person to share a cup of tea with! :}

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

@coolkoaladeer @thesweetishfish

@boringa55binch

Its hard to say, I didn't ever like.. try to replicate an art style and draw something unrelated. Like- if I was drawing in the gravity falls art style, I was drawing gravity falls stuff. I wouldn't draw in the gravity falls art style and draw random ocs and stuff. If that makes sense-

But maybe one style was easier to draw hands in than another. So I.. might have adopted some stuff..?? I guess??

I guess that would mean my art style developed off of the different franchises I made fanart from? If that's the case it was likely Gravity Falls, Sonic x, and Steven Universe..? Mostly?? XD Sorry this answer is all over the place-

Many actually! Its just unfortunate because all of them are giant comic ideas but I'm too wiped out from my 20k celebration to really draw any of themmmm... 😩sighhhh

@funtimespringscare101

XDDD I'm glad you like them! And I can imagine that they might be shy to hug new people- but Gerald probably wouldn't mind! XD

@ayoshivader

Since that statement I have re-written the timeline.. So who's to say any of that still stuck and what her motives were/are now..? 👀

<XD I've never played the paper mario games so that's why I've never drawn them.. it sounds really cute though! :D

Taking the quilt off does nothing, the quilt doesn't bring them to life either! Remember that Bibi could talk when he was a still picture and was brought to "life" without the use of a quilt or even any glowy effects. Also Jangles had a quilt as a drawing and was "brought to life" using a pen!

The point I'm getting at is, Pen? Quilt? It doesn't matter. None of these methods actually give the characters life. I do. All these fancy ways I seem to bring them to life are just for show <XD

@housome

XD The first thing that came to mind was Freddy telling Fredbear about Gregory.

Freddy: "I'm keeping a child hidden in the basement.."

Fredbear: "...you're keeping a CHILD in the BASEMENT??"

Freddy: "LISTEN ITS TO PROTECT HIM--"

Also thank you! :DD

Naahhh he'll be fine 😉

And yay! Cici and Gerald!!! XDD

To put it simply, fanart makes me feel bad. And Comments make me feel good. So I prefer comments to fanart. 👌

To complicate it a bit, when I post artwork I'm just sitting there all giddy waiting for the first "AKSJKASAU WAAAAA 😭😭😭" comment to pop up. When I get fanart I immediately get frustrated and uncomfortable. Fanart feels like stealing and usually invokes a negative reaction from me. So if people want to show their appreciation for my work, leaving comments is 100% more effective and preferred. 👍

Also thank you! :DD

@scp-16217

XD These are great match ups!

#my response #factual fam #fnaf security breach #octonauts #undertale #deltarune #the amazing digital circus

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thetopichot · 6 months

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•°♧ Charlie Fluff Alphabet ♧°•

4/7 of the boys. We're at the halfway mark, folks. I'm using my big boy brain to make these before my friend's birthday hits. They enjoy a yuurivoice character that I haven't started writing yet. Anyway, enjoy!

A = Abundance Of Love (Are they a loud lover that loves to express their love in many ways or are they a quiet lover that loves those quiet intimate moments?)

To be honest, Charlie is just simply Charlieing. He's not much of a loud lover, nor is he a quiet one. He's just a silly guy who loves ya. Whether that be dancing in your old school or just skating at the skate park. He's just having a time of his life with you.

B = Brave (Were they the first to confess? If so, how did the confession go?)

You were the first to confess. Actually, you wanted to confess to him fucking YEARS ago in highschool but apparently you never got a chance to. You put a love note in the music cassette that you made for him, but he never gotten. Which ultimately led to the confession that should've happened years ago. It went well despite the fact that CHARLIE lost it. GODDAMN IT, CHARLIE.

C = Control (Do they take the wheel of the relationship or do they let someone else do the driving?)

He could take the wheel but you started head first, so there's that. You take care of him, buy him things, & treat him like a sugar baby. However, that doesn't mean that he won't take care of you. He always makes things up to up to you even though it isn't really much. If he had a nickel for every time that someone rich took care of him, he would have 10 cents. It isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice, right? Not that he's complaining, either.

D = Dreamboat (What do they find attractive in their partner(s)?)

Everything. You've changed so fucking much the last time he saw you. Now, you're hot & you still skate. There's nothing that he doesn't find attractive. Just looking at you makes him weak to the knees.

E = Empathetic (If their partner(s) was in a not so good mood, how would they cheer them up?)

He isn't really good at cheering people up, but that doesn't mean he isn't willing to try. He's ya boyfriend. His way of comfort is by complimenting you. He talks about like how cool you are & that you're nicest person that he's ever met or that you're extremely talented in whatever ya do. You're amazing in his eyes & he sure as hell is gonna make you feel like that.

F = Forgiving (If they had a fight with their partner(s), how would they apologize? Or would they be petty about it?)

He fucking hates getting into fights with you. I feel that's something that breaks his heart completely when it happens. Of course, he would apologize but isn't really sure how because he feels like he might say something really fucking stupid & just make things worst. So, he might go to people he trusts on how to deal with this situation. He gets dropped like a hint or two & finally feels comfortable enough to apologize. You guys are awkward losers, so you both apologize at the same time. You guys sit down on the couch & have a long ass conversation about why you guys were angry at each other. You guys figure out how you both can improve & yeah, things go well from there.

G = General (Random Fluff Headcanon)

Charlie is the type of guy that would suggest watching a horror movie just to see you scared & hold you in his arms. However, in reality, you're the one who's holding him.

H = Home (How would they feel living with their partner(s)?)

He wouldn't mind living with you even though he does have a place of his own. You insist he should live with you & you treat him right, so how could he refuse such an amazing offer? He can wake up with you every morning & ya little raccoon baby. He can wake up to the sound of food sizzling when you're off & just feels a whole new sense of safety.

I = Idealistic (What's their personal preference in a special someone?)

Well, his first crush ever was you. He doesn't have a preference since he always had his eyes for you.

J = Jealousy (Do they get protective of their partner(s) when someone flirts with them?)

I'm gonna be honest with you. You're the one who gets protective, BUT HUGEEE BUT. Hehe, huge butt. That doesn't mean he's gonna let that shit slide. He's not gonna be like, "Yeah, I will kick your ass" since he's gotten his ass beaten SEVERAL TIMES. He knows when to keep his mouth shut. He will comfort you afterwards & apologizes for not saying anything sooner.

K = Key To The Heart (What is something that will make them fall in love instantly?)

He's a simple man. He genuinely enjoys how fucking cool you are. He hasn't seen you in forever & seeing you again, but way hotter makes him fall in love all over again.

L = Luxurious (Do they spoil their partner(s) rotten? If they do, how do they spoil them?)

He doesn't because technically, he's the one who's being spoiled rotten by you. He's not really good at spoiling you rotten since he's not really good at cooking meals other than pizza & he can't really buy expensive gifts, so he resorts by just simply keeping you company.

M = Marriage (How would they feel about getting married?)

Scared outta his mind. It's not like he doesn't really want to marry you, but you choosing him? Of all people??? It gives him a huge sense of worry. He's not really ready for marriage because he's not really sure if he would make a good husband. You take care of him & he low-key feels like he's taking you for granted. Just give him some more time. Maybe he might have a change of heart.

N = Nobility (How honest are they to their partner(s)? Do they hide anything?)

He is very honest, but he hides things because of an NDA he signed a while back & trust me he doesn't fuck with lawyers of the NDA. Especially his old boss.

O = Overwhelmed (If they were in a not so good mood, how can their partner(s) help them out?)

Playing with his hair. The feel of your touch playing with his hair is truly intoxicating. It makes him sleepy, too! It lets him feel all of his bad thoughts. He also might rant about his feelings because there is just so much he wants to get off his chest. When he does, all of the tension is released.

P = Passionate (What is something to them that means a lot to them that only their partner(s) knows about it?)

Your little raccoon baby. You never expected him to care so much about animals. To be fair, you never see him with animals. However, he cares so very much about this baby in his arms. I guess he has a soft spot for animals. Let's just hope that this baby doesn't have rabies. The little guy said so, too!

Q = Quirky (Something silly that they do.)

Honestly, anything Charlie does is very silly. The one thing that stands out is that he's always talks about how nervous he is. It could be like the most intimate moment & he just goes like:

"Jeez, Cas.. My hands are really sweaty."

You just giggle at his nervous comment & that makes you want to kiss him even more.

R = Romantic (What is their love language?)

Quality Time! He lost so much time with you when you moved away & he completely cut contact with you. Now that you're back in the city, he wants to make sure that every second counts.

S = Sublime (What is the best gift that their partner(s) can give them?)

You & your little raccoon baby are the best gifts that he can ask for. You come back into his life & now you guys got yourselves a baby, which is a raccoon. Bless the found family trope for it never fails us.

T = Touching (How do they feel about PDA?)

Charlie enjoys it! You can kiss him, hug him, hold his hand, & whisper uh things into his ear as you watch his face become red. He enjoys every single second of it & it makes him extremely flustered.

U = Undeniable (Did everyone know about their crush on their partner(s)?)

I'm not sure who would know, but I guess Pete would notice Charlie making goo goo eyes at you every time he catches you pass by Sweet Pete's. He doesn't say anything besides getting mad at Charlie for getting distracted from his job & tells him to get back to work. Maybe Auron if Charlie decided to call him but probably for advice.

V = Visionary (What do they want their future to look like with their partner(s)?)

Charlie isn't sure about his future, but he kinda has a few clues on what he sees. Maybe he might get a better job than whatever the hell Sweet Pete's got going on. You suggested to him that he could take care of animals because of how much he cares about your little raccoon baby. What he does know is that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. You guys grew up together (sorta) & you mean so much to him. He may not know much about the future, but he does know how much he loves you.

W = Wacky (General Fluff Headcanon. Again.)

Charlie got mad at the little raccoon baby & he put the baby in air jail. The raccoon baby stole his slice of pizza while he was going to the bathroom & now the baby is in air jail.

X = Xaroncharoo (Yes, that's a word. Look it up. In a domestic sense, what are they exceptional at in the home?)

He's not really good at cleaning & he doesn't know how to cook anything else besides slinging pizzas at his job. So babysitting it is. He's really good at watching your raccoon baby while you're away & straight up treats the raccoon like it's his own baby because it is a baby.

Y = Yearning (If their partner(s) went out to get something without them/went off to work, how would they feel about it?)

He would be fine. He's gonna miss you, sure, but he has his little raccoon baby to keep him company. He's just chilling at home & probably takes a nap all day with the baby. He probably might make you something when you come back like a homemade pizza.

Z = Zonked (How do they cuddle?)

He sleeps in your lap. Your thighs are the most comfortable place since they are like a heated pillow but in a good way. You could also hug him from behind since he is the little spoon.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - Okay, I've made pretty good progress this month! Now, all who is left is Faust, Finn, & Seth.

I feel very accomplished on what I've done for this month. I'm also setting up my blog for the month of December, so expect to see some lovely shade of pastel blue up in this biatch!

#the cat speaks #yuurivoice #yuurivoice charlie #charlie yuurivoice #writing #writing prompt #fluff alphabet #4 down #3 to go #We are in the homestrech #Im also working as fast as I can too #i have no regrets

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silkendandelion · 5 months

Text

My Own, Distant Home (Completed), A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout fanfiction

Chapter 2 (END), ao3 link

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 16.6k Genre: Horror, humor, smut

"Jack thinks him a good guy, Connor, despite what others probably thought. He wasn’t particularly friendly, a bit of a short fuse, but he took his job seriously, and didn’t forget to wish Jack well, even among his rush for a solution. Some people would call that dedication. Jack decided, as he tied his boot laces, that it was endearing."

A romantic, creepy, canon-compliant retelling of the game's narrative where Jack and Connor are more fleshed out characters, and not immune to the emotional threads that form when your only friend is a voice on the radio—until he isn't.

Rated Explicit for sexual content, strong language, horror elements, frightening imagery and descriptions of violence.

Cross-posted to ao3, same username, here.

Cheers to rarepairs, and to all the people who had a crush on Connor during the game: I have heard you. If you like Firewatch, or Do You Copy, check out fears to fathom, you could play the entire series in a day but I liked Ironbark the best. Even if you haven't played the game, I'm sure this can be read alone for people who like horror and making love in a thunderstorm 💙

Chapter 1 (Below)

It was only a transfer.

Not usually a big deal, this other park needed to fill a lookout position urgently, and Jack was probably the best suited for it. Not only because his coworkers spoke highly of him, but because he had the RV, and relocating was as easy as driving down the road. When you’re this free, no wife, no friends, no obligations, 2 hours is nothing to go to the next job.

Yeah, he thought as his eyes wandered off the road to the side mirror, the endless blacktop behind him, the empty road in front of him. No obligations. Free.

So why did driving up to the trail-head make his stomach ache?

He blamed it on his last meal in civilization for the time being: a perfectly greasy, buttery cheeseburger, no doubt made by a certified home-cooked chef with hairy arms. He wasn’t used to eating out, eating so much, and in hindsight, the large coke was a bit of an Icarus move.

Just a bit of indigestion, nothing to worry about.

Not at all related to his walk to the gas station next door for cigarettes that was interrupted by a creepy local. The one leaning against his car and mouth-harassing his own hamburger, gossiping cryptically about big foot and missing kids like he was a Stephen King minor character. Real “you wanna watch out for that road” stuff.

The same missing kids on the poster across from the gate office. Gone without a trace, with no more search parties willing to keep looking after they lost some of their own people to what witnesses called “strange whistling in the dark”. Anyone saner, smarter, might have gotten back in their RV and not looked back. But Jack loved nature, and liked his job. Until he heard this strange whistling for himself, he had bills to pay and a guy named Billy to see for check-in.

The light to the guard shack was on, the door unlocked as he turns the handle. Worn out and road-fatigued, his brain hardly lends him the advice he should have probably called out to see if anyone was inside. His eagerness earns him a twin-barrel to the face, and a rightfully earned yell from both of them.

“You scared the piss out of me!” The ranger scolded him, and Jack fired back—

“Do you shove a gun in the face of everyone who sneaks up on you? What if I was a camper?”

“You can’t be too careful out here. There’s bobcats, bears and—wait, you say you’re not a camper? What are you doing barging in here anyway?”

“I’m Jack Nelson… Your new hire? Tower 11?”

“Well,” the mustached man regarded him with suspicion beneath his black cowboy hat. “Tower 11 is empty, but I didn’t hear about any new hire. Give me a second.”

“Oh,” Jack refrains from saying anything nasty, regardless of his fatigue, and puts up a patient, half smile. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

He wandered out of the shack, back to the billboard with the missing poster, only half-reading the posted copy of the trail map he already owned when Billy came back out.

“You’ve been vetted. Sorry about all that, I don’t check my email as often as I should. You must be tired from driving, I’ll just take a copy of your ID and get the gate open so you can start the hike up to the tower.”

Billy was gone for only a minute before he came back, enough time for Jack to get his duffel and lock the RV. He handed back his ID, and pushed open one of the arms of the gate.

“… Hey.” He called before Jack could get passed him.

“Tower 12 is your closest neighbor, call him if you need anything. And don’t—I mean, do NOT go out further than maybe a 1/4 mile north of your tower on foot. Got it?”

“Uh, sure?” Jack gapes at him, unprepared. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous out that way. You’ve got bears, bobcats, all sorts of stuff.”

“Right… Thanks again, Billy. Goodnight.” He waved, eager to make some distance between him and this newest creepy local, and start wearing down the trail to his tower.

Did everyone in this town take etiquette lessons from a paperback horror novels? They were at least in the same book club, which actually wouldn’t be weird for such a small, quiet place.

The walk to the tower is easy, if a little cold by the time he crosses the creek. Tower 11 sits up against a nearby radio spire, lit up red and guiding him to the foot of his home for the foreseeable future. He knows to gas up the generator and crank it before he starts up the long flights of stairs to the top, and the tower cabin, small but not cramped, is a welcome sight.

The sheets on the bed are clean, free of holes and smelling of cheap detergent (ocean breeze something, he guessed), and the good burn of a wood fire seems to be baked into the panel walls and secondhand furniture. All his needed tools are haphazardly scattered but identifiable at a glance, and the fridge, beginning to kick on, is filled with old, freezer burned food.

Not rotted, there’s no unpleasant smell besides stale, and the room is otherwise well-kept, but he can’t help feel that the last occupant left in a hurry. Beside the bed lay a pair of abandoned wool slippers, and those go in the trash too.

All he needs to do is lay out his blanket and pillow to call himself moved in, and getting a fire going is even faster. He’s tying off the trash, waiting for the microwave to finish heating up a cup of coffee, when his radio, boxy and cumbersome on the little desk, clicks to life.

Static greets him before another male voice, deeper than his own.

‘I saw the lights go on. You copy, new guy?’

“Yeah, hey. I’m Jack.” He squeezes the receiver on and off as he sits in the old, steel chair in front of the desk, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

‘Connor, Tower 12. Your new neighbor, I guess.’

A beat of silence, and then a click. “Billy mentioned you, just not by name. Nice to meet you.”

He hears Connor hum into the receiver, distantly wondering if it was a sound of irritation at him or something Jack couldn’t see. ‘Well, you got a fire started, that’s good. It’s good to see Tower 11 alive again.’

With a pause, his voice was friendly again, like whatever he was worried about suddenly resolved itself. ‘Anyway, don’t let me keep you. Oh, and don’t forget to submit your report before you go to bed.’

Jack suppresses his yawn with a wince—half headache, half ready for bed, and clicks the receiver. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

‘Get some rest, new guy, don’t let the bed bugs bite. Over and out.’

“Over and out.”

The radio dims with no open connection, and Jack forgets his coffee in the microwave when he can’t manage to avoid dozing off in the chair.

A few hours pass, midnight rolls upon the park and an unintelligible static rouses him from his sleep. He wants to investigate, his instincts whispering to him that something was wrong, something lurking in the forest beyond his tower, but an ache in his lumbar and the pressure in his bladder leaves no room for anything except the urgency to get comfortable quick. He stretches until his back gives a satisfying crack, and with a quick leak off the railing of the tower, he falls into bed without another thought.

NIGHT 2

On nights like this, Jack can imagine being a lookout forever, nipped by the last throes of winter on a chilly wind yet cradled safely between the warmth bleeding out of his tower and the hot coffee in his hands. Perched up high, nearly brushing against the clouds, the sunset seems brighter than down on the trail, all melted pinks and oranges that don’t begin to betray how in less than an hour the forest will be all but black.

The static of his radio breaks the silence.

‘New guy, this is Connor from Tower 12. Do you copy?’

He drops his empty mug among the dirty dishes from dinner when Connor speaks again. ‘Tower 11, do you copy?’

“Tower 11, I copy. What’s up, Connor?” Jack answers before he eases himself into the desk chair.

‘Son of a bitch! Nobody bothers to get a camping permit anymore. Do you have eyes on the smoke north of your position? Looks like it’s off the Lacey Trail.’

“Give me a second, I’ll check.”

He grabs his binoculars, is almost out the door when Connor’s opening the line again. ‘I need you to confirm.’

“You can hang on, it won’t kill you,” says Jack to himself while peering off the railing. Exactly as Connor described it, north of his tower, and near enough to likely be off the Lacey trail—a closed area—he spies the telltale white smoke of a campfire.

‘Do you see that smoke up north?’, comes the radio again and Jack answers with what he hopes passes for patience.

“I see it.”

‘Shit. People like that don’t clean up after themselves either, and fire risks are high this season. Do you mind checking it out?’

“I’ll head up there, and report back anything I find.” He rises to get his coat and boots.

‘Stay safe out there, new guy. Don’t forget to carry your bear spray. Over and out.’

Jack thinks him a good guy, Connor, despite what others probably thought. He wasn’t particularly friendly, a bit of a short fuse, but he took his job seriously, and didn’t forget to wish Jack well, even among his rush for a solution. Some people would call that dedication. Jack decided, as he tied his boot laces, that it was endearing.

Lacey Trail was several miles away on foot, no matter how close the smoke had seemed in the binoculars, and he pocketed both his bear mace and his flashlight before leaving the tower.

~*~

Unseasonably cold air nips through his fleece jacket, fingers already red around the knuckles as he fumbles to zip himself up. The beam of the flashlight bobs about over the dark trail, “3.2 miles” the optimistic sign had declared back near his tower. Only, the longer he walked, surrounded only by the icy wind biting on his ears and a deafening chorus of insects, the more it felt like “ETA unknown”.

A campfire lights the path around a bend in the trail, a match flame at the end of the path.

Whatever he wanted to call out, “hello”, or “get lost”, was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a man’s scream.

He makes no attempt to call back, taking off in a sprint towards the glowing campsite. The campfire in the center of a couple picnic tables and a tent illuminates the entire clearing between the trees, fresh wood popping, what must have been tossed in only minutes ago. But the campsite is empty. The tent’s open flap reveals a rumpled sleeping bag, the tables are crowded with an oil lantern, a battery-powered radio, and heaps of fresh food—but completely empty.

“Hello? Where are you?” He shouts into the dark with no answer. On the side of the clearing closest to the creek, a closed gate and red sign read ‘No camping allowed’.

“Are you hurt? Where—oh!” Jack coughs out a startled grunt, nearly tripping into the dirt over what he discovers is an abandoned flashlight.

His blood chills, colder than the unseasonable weather. Beyond the cautionary signs, where the darkness swallows the unkempt trail, drifts up the sound of a whistle. A human whistle, devoid of any recognizable melody.

It’s all he can do to stagger back, swipe an empty dinner pot from the picnic table and douse the fire with cold water from the creek. He tosses an unseeing glance over his shoulder, and is hoofing it out of the campsite and up the trail before the campfire has even stopped sizzling.

The cold air stings his lungs as he runs most of the trail back, hot blood thrumming into his ears and all but drowning out the insects. Were he less panicked, he would have heard over the sound of his own breathing that the insects had actually stopped, startled to silence by the looming shape in the treeline.

~*~

The glow of his tower beckons him home, and he scrambles his faculties to remember to grab firewood before climbing the steps, as well as relieve himself in the portable toilet beside the stairs. With what he witnessed, too vivid to not want to trust his own eyes but too strange to possibly be real, he wasn’t sure he would have the nerve to walk back down before dawn.

His radio flashes with an open channel, presumably Tower 12, and he sits heavy down in the metal chair. “Tower 12, do you copy?”

Beats of silence remind him his blood has yet to warm up.

‘Loud and clear, new guy. Sorry for delay, I was just cooking up some hot—’ Connor pauses, too much like Jack did when he thought he was being boring.

‘Nevermind that. What did you find out there?’

“The campsite was abandoned. Not a soul around,” Jack said, pushing down his nausea and the phantom sound of an eerie whistle.

‘Are you—’ A loud clang in the receiver, like a fork dropped in a bowl. ‘Kidding me? Son of a bitch. People like them are part of the problem, and on top of everything they run off.’

Jack fingers the sleeve on his jacket, realizing suddenly he had been too worked up to shrug off his fleece or his boots when he came inside. “I put out the fire, but there’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

‘No no, I get it… Thanks for checking it out, Jack. Tomorrow morning, I’ll report it to the authorities and they can take care of it.’

The words are out of Jack’s mouth before he can scold himself for being frightened in front of someone else. “I heard a scream. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for not sticking around to look harder.”

‘A scream? Probably just a red fox, they sound almost like a screaming lady when the rest of the forest is buzzing.’

Jack clamps down on a protest that it was a man’s scream, clearly no fox, then Connor is speaking again.

‘This is the third time this month. Ever since those kid’s went missing, there’s all sorts of rumors about the area being haunted, and we just can’t keep people out. Well, maybe I could, but not from this tower. I’ve got a job to do.’

The whistle is back in his mind, as vivid as Connor’s voice over the radio but, again, Jack keeps that to himself.

‘Well.’ Connor breaks him from his thoughts. ‘I’ll let you get to dinner, or whatever it is you do after you log off. Goodnight. Over and out.’

“Goodnight, Connor.”

2:27AM

He can’t explain what wakes him.

Nothing immediately seems wrong but he can’t begin to trust his senses, not with the greasy film that smudged his eyes no matter how hard he blinked, the heaviness of his limbs, and a sluggish mind at the helm, ripped from the deepest parts of his sleep cycle.

But even blind, dumb, and lame—he knew he was being watched.

Weak hands scrubbed at his face, trying to clear the sleep, until the room came into some kind of focus. Moonlight drifted in the one open panel behind his computer desk, casting the upright shadow of a—

His heart all but stopped. He squinted, unbelieving, blinking more at the peculiar silhouette painted across his front door. Unclear if it was man or beast, the sloped shoulders suggested humanoid but the shape of the head, wide with points that could be horns or ears in the dark made him unable to do anything more than stare.

Struck by a sudden wave of courage, he leapt up from the bed, throwing the blanket aside without certainty his legs would support him, and dashed to the light switch.

The shadow vanished with the incandescent bulb over head, banished by the light but lending no evidence as to whether it was some paranormal, hungry entity vulnerable to light, or something more secular afraid to be caught. Jack didn’t know which was worse, and standing alone in the center of his floor, he could finally hear how fast his heart was racing.

Whether by insanity or curiosity, though they hardly seemed different from where he stood, one of his shaking hands grabbed his bear mace while the other went for the door. The abrupt quietness of the night lent him courage where it shouldn’t, and upon venturing outside he was horrified to realize he was truly, tragically alone.

Or he was now.

Against the railing, and almost disturbed by the bear mace that clattered to the ground, was a skull.

Goat, from what limited knowledge he had, flanked by a few, worn, lit candles, and smeared across the ivory forehead with a red symbol he refused to get closer to identify either it’s shape or composition. He resigned to shove the door shut, slamming the lock’s hammer in place with no regard for the bear mace he abandoned.

“Tower 12, come in.” He tries the radio receiver, met with static. “Tower 12, can you hear me?”

More static and another beat of silence makes his stomach ache. “Connor, I need you to wake up.”

He’s never been so happy to hear the quiet click of another radio opening the line.

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

“This is an emergency.”

‘Are you okay? What’s happened?’ Connor immediately sounds more awake, like he’s sat up straight.

“Someone’s been on my tower, I woke to—I heard footsteps, it woke me up.”

‘Are you kidding me?’ Less composed now, angry but not nearly as when he vented about the campers earlier that evening. Though it was easily explained by the remnants of sleep clinging to him.

“I think they’re gone now.”

‘Did you see what they looked like?’

Jack’s mind raced back to the shadow, the beastly silhouette, and the footsteps that seemed to vanish when they passed by his door.

“N-No, but they left a skull on my doorstep. An animal skull, goat or—something, with candles, what looked like blood. Sick shit, Connor, I don’t—know—”

‘Take a deep breath, new guy. Let’s think about this rationally. You went and investigated a fire tonight, right?’

“… Yeah.”

‘So we know there’s unregistered campers in the area who don’t care about rules or regulations, probably bratty kids or college students. Suppose they wanted to get back at the fire watcher who doused their evening, it wouldn’t be that far of a walk. It’s just kids, Jack, don’t let it bother you.’

“You—” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You’re right.”

‘Did you happen to get a photo of the thing?’

“I didn’t think about it.”

‘No shame in that. It’s all right to be riled up, but it’s not okay to panic. Lock your door, try to get some rest. Take a photo in the morning, and we can file a report with the authorities.’

But no sooner was Jack beginning to calm down, the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, his stomach tightening with the idea that Connor was only coming to the conclusion of what limited information he had.

“Connor?”

Sleepier now, the other man’s voice came back a bothered rumble. ‘Yeah, Jack?’

“What if it’s related to the disappearances? At the campsite tonight, sure, it was empty but I heard… I heard whistling beyond the barriers for the closed trails. It’s a heck of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

For all his neighbor’s frustration at being woken so suddenly, there was no doubt that he was fully awake now, deliberately staying quiet on the other end of the line as Jack waited for any kind of answer.

‘New guy… You don’t believe all those rumors, do you?’

Behind his ribs, Jack’s heart is back to hammering. “Nah. No, I mean. You’re right, it’s gotta be kids.”

Connor didn’t seem convinced, even for a disembodied voice. ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll send someone to check on you tomorrow. For now, try to get some sleep, new guy. There’s nothing we can do in the dark.’

“Yeah… Thanks. Of course.” He rakes his hand through his hair like if it might knock his anxiety loose. “Goodnight, Connor.”

‘Goodnight, Jack.’

~*~

The skull was gone when he awoke the next morning. Nothing ever came of the report, and for a short time, the forest was quiet.

He’s gotten quite used to this little routine: submit his report, have dinner, say goodnight to Connor, bed.

Check the weather, put dinner in the oven, submit his report while talking to Connor, bed.

So they continued for days, falling into the comfort of predictability and looking forward to their goodnight radio checks.

‘Honestly, I envy you a little bit,’ said Connor one night while Jack posted himself up beside the radio, blanket around his shoulders and holding a hot mug of coffee. Probably not the best idea before lights out, but the warmth in his core more than made up for what his little wood stove lacked in power.

“Envy me? Why?” Jack sipped quietly.

‘You’ve got the RV, you can literally just pick up and go wherever you want. Hell, you did it once already when you relocated out here.’

“It’s… lonelier than I like to admit.”

Down in his cup, Jack could see the undissolved granules of his coffee lying along the bottom. With a quick swish, they’re gone and Connor speaks again.

‘While Tower 11 was empty, I forgot how nice it was to have someone to talk to.’

“You must really be desperate if you’re enjoying my company that much.” Jack found himself smiling, a bittersweet thing.

‘I should be the one saying that to you. Every day I call you to vent about these fucking campers, leaving their trash and shit. And you answer for me every time.’

He chuckled, unaware Connor was also smiling on the other line. “It’s kind of my job.”

‘Ouch.’ They laughed together this time. ‘You’re not supposed to agree with me.’

“Then maybe you should be nicer to yourself.”

‘You first, Jack.’

A comfortable silence falls over both sides of the radio transmission, twin smiles and the warmth of more than quick and dirty coffee between them.

‘You still with me? Sounds like you’re about to go any minute now.’ Connor said, soft and slow. If Jack kept his eyes closed, he could have imagined he said those words beside his ear.

“I think that’s all I’ve got, Connor.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “You get some rest too. Goodnight.”

‘Night, Jack.’

BETWEEN 2 AND 3 AM

A hand over Jack’s mouth bolts him awake, his entire body tensing as he grabs at the arm that holds him.

“Shh! Shh, Jack. It’s me… Its Connor.” He hears a familiar voice somewhere above him, and the blonde man comes into focus as Jack blinks away the last of the sleep. Moonlight shines through the open paneling, illuminating the side of his handsome, worried face, the width of his broad shoulders in a thin t-shirt.

“There’s something outside.” He looks briefly to the window. “Scoot over, Jack.”

He hardly has time to obey, let alone time for rational thoughts like What’s outside? and How is us both getting under the blanket supposed to help? before the other man is climbing into the single bed and pressing against him from the shoulder down.

“What are you doing?” Jack half demands, half pleads.

“Shh.” Connor hushes him, and he wants to relent—almost does—under such dark eyes, close enough to see they were brown in the dim light. “We have to be quiet, or they’ll hear us.”

“Who will hear us? Connor? What’s happ—mmf! M-mm,” Jack moans, startled, when their lips meet, smooth and wet like Connor had licked them before he leaned in.

His belly twinges, toes curling from only a kiss, and he might have been embarrassed if it weren’t for the hot outline of an erection digging into his hip. Connor’s tongue tastes of instant coffee, no doubt he himself tastes like cigarettes, but Connor doesn’t seem bothered. Not with how hard he is and the firm grip of his palm on Jack’s ribs through his old shirt, the way his thumb flicks at his nipple with little regard for how it makes him shake.

Teeth rake his bottom lip when their kiss turns deeper, hungry, panting hot into each other’s mouths as they work together to yank their sleep pants down to their thighs. A whimper jumps up between them as Connor’s hand clasps around them both, and Jack realizes it must have been him because when his thumb slips in the pre leaking from his tip—he makes it again.

The hand retreats long enough for Connor to lick his palm, but Jack knows he’s getting wet enough for the both them, so long as those capable hands keep pulling needy noises from his lips, pulling on his cock like that. Just like that, just how he likes.

“They’re gonna hear you, baby, you gotta be—quiet,” Connor pants against his wet lips. Jack wants to kiss him back, needs it, but he can do little more than leave fervid little moans against his tongue, joined by the spit-slick sound of Connor’s hand, warm and tight around them.

“I’m—s-sorry, Connor,” Jack fusses when the tightness in his belly finds the next gear, and for all his warnings, Connor is doing nothing to help him make less noise when he leans down to suckle at the side of his neck.

“Come on, baby, you’re almost there. Say it again,” he whispers warmly into his shirt collar. The rumble of him speaks to control, all whiskey and smoke, but Jack can feel how the rhythm of his forearm waivers, how the leg he has threaded under Jack’s begins to shake.

“C-Connor, get something to—Connor—”

Jack’s eyes throw themselves open on a gasp when he wakes, startled from the dream by the warm wetness seeping into the front of his underwear. He tries to sit up as best he can but his stomach quivers, heart thumping, as wave after wave of pleasant ache widens the stain on his sleep pants and steals his breath.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs, letting his body flop back to the bed when the feeling in his hands returns.

Awareness follows right behind his mess, and he flips the blanket away to hopefully spare himself the further embarrassment of taking the damned thing to the laundromat. But, even that was better than doing a spot wash in the sink, and having to tell Connor it was an Italian food incident when he sees it draped over the railing to dry.

First his waking hours, now his dreams. Connor filled his mind with thoughts of normalcy, the lingering ache of loneliness, and the insane idea of enjoying another person’s company. Such a luxury eluded him most days, a comfort he hardly believed could be found in these ominous woods.

Between distracting daydreams, some salacious, some sweet, and his immersion in his work, he almost forgot to be afraid.

~*~

The days that follow are easy but hardly quiet, not with Jack’s brain torn and oscillating between the paranoia of the encroaching forest—and his growing crush on his neighbor. His heart struggled under the stress of peering over his shoulder in the dark woods at every broken twig, just to be riled again by his nightly check-in. He began to sympathize with the rabbit his sister had when they were kids, perfectly still for all their fervent affection, until their veterinarian explained it’s early health problems were stress-related: poor creature was unable to distinguish their childish, heavy-handed petting from the musings of a predator biding it’s time to feast.

People had already disappeared. How long did he have until he was eaten too? Swallowed by the woods until all that remained were the tenets of skeptics and a ghostly whistle.

He busied himself with maintaining the tower, hammering down loose boards and checking the horizon repeatedly until the sun was long gone and the eerie quiet had settled it’s blanket across the forest.

“24.4 knots…” He murmured to fill the silence, as a flare lights up the north. Before he can go for his binoculars, the radio flicks on with an unfamiliar man’s voice.

‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

“This is Tower 11.”

‘Oh! Oh, thank god.’ The voice, a young man, shaking and unsure, comes over the line. ‘I’m lost and—I’m really starting to freak out.’

“Take a deep breath,” said Jack, his free hand opening the trail map on his computer. “Can you tell me where you are?”

‘I don’t even know where to start. I went out exploring and lost track of time. Everything looks different at night. The uh, the last trail marker I saw was by a stream, but I couldn’t read it from where I was. I’m walking west because I remember walking east to get here but… I’m definitely lost.’

“What equipment do you have?”

The hiker ignored his question, excited to finally be somewhere familiar. ‘Oh, man. I found the fork in the trail. But, I don’t remember if I’m supposed to go right or left to get back to the trail-head.’

“I have a map, let me take a look.”

‘Thank you.’ He says, but only lets Jack look for a few seconds before trying again. ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

“One more second, it’s all right.”

‘Oh. Oh, I see you!’

Jack looks to the radio, shocked to silence while phantoms of a predator’s fingers slip up the back of his neck, loosing shivers in his warm tower.

“What? What do you see?”

‘I hear you. You’re whistling to me. I’m right here!’ The hiker shouts, surely waving his hands above his head to welcome the unknown danger, and Jack’s thumb nearly cracks the receiver.

“Hey, HEY! That’s not me, I’m—”

‘What do you mean? You’re starting to freak me out—’ The transmission ends early, no crackling, no screams. Only silence, save for Jack’s breathing, his pounding heart.

Fuck.

He shoves the desk chair away, jumping up to grab his flashlight, and was two hastened footsteps from the door when a knock startles him almost to shout. Whatever possessed him to wrench open the door without a second thought, he hoped a well-aimed flashlight is enough to take them down.

“The hell are you doing in there? I’ve been out here knocking for awhile.”

His heart jerks, relieved, having never thought Billy would be the cause. “S-sorry. Was helping a lost hiker.”

“At this hour? Lord have mercy,” he drawled, his perpetually rumpled mustache shifting across his troubled frown. “Anyway—here’s your supplies. Just the essentials.”

“Thanks.” Jack turned away to set the box on the counter, when Billy spoke again. “I hear you been a little stressed lately. Everything all right?”

He never considered himself a liar, but Jack liked to think he knew how to pretend well enough to avoid suspicion about most things. Especially in regards to his own well-being. The smile that slips over his face is practiced, appropriately tired for the time of night. “It’s taken me a little longer to adjust to the new environment than I thought, but I’m getting there. Thanks for asking.”

Address the question logically, formulate a response from a half-truth. Acknowledge their concern. Easy.

Billy is so willing to not push the subject, it’s almost too easy. “That’s the spirit. Well, I won’t keep you. Get some sleep, Jack. Don’t forget to submit your report.”

He leaves as fast as he can without falling down the stairs, and Jack is happy to clap the door shut behind him. In the back of his mind, routine called to him, rubbing on his shoulders and offering him a cigarette after an exhausting day.

“Firewood, dinner, Connor in bed—THEN bed. Firewood, dinner, talk to Connor, respectfully, professionally, finish my report. Then bed.” He waved the flashlight back and forth anxiously as he wandered down the stairs, single-handedly determined to not have anything scary happen for the rest of the night.

If only he hadn’t gone for firewood.

The pile in the shack isn’t dwindling as fast as he anticipated with the weather warming up, and he makes a mental note to skip chopping more wood tomorrow. He balances the wood under one arm, flashlight tottering in the other as he leaves the shack—straight into another man.

“AH—damn! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he pants when the bald man in clean coveralls doesn’t immediately move to disembowel him.

“No need to be afraid, son… I’m a worker, here for some routine maintenance on the radio tower over there.” The man’s flat, almost drowsy cadence is anything but comforting, too close to Jack’s liking of what he imagined a wax figure or mannequin to sound like, speaking slowly and quietly to not arouse suspicion of their sentience.

“Thought I would say hi to the new guy everyone’s been talking about.”

“… What’s your name?” Jack said as his hands flexed on the firewood, itching to run.

“Names can be deceiving. Call me Silas.”

“Do you always work so late?”

“Every Sunday.” A strange thing to admit, rather than lie about being up on the mountain so late for something so menial. “Just trying to keep the communication lines open. We must ensure the right messages meet the right people, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Right,” Jack said without hesitation, though he doubted he and Silas were talking with the same subject in mind.

“Absolutely. You watch for fires, but some fires are meant to burn. And no amount of prevention can stop them.”

His fingernails ache from holding the firewood throughout their conversation, and he can feel his heart beginning to thump against his ribs. “… It’s late. I should be going back. Goodnight, Silas.”

“Nature has plans,” he called after him, the intonation of his voice carrying without having to shout: an orator’s calm, suffocating inflection. “Ones even you can’t control. It will be cleansed.”

Upstairs, Jack shoved the firewood into the stove, both to relieve his stinging arms and to burn away the creeping dread that prickles at the back of his skull. Something is wrong with these woods, wrong with the people, from the supervisor who seems to have had his tongue stapled to the roof of his mouth, to the radio repairmen who spouted doctrine with the affect of a puppeteered corpse.

When had the woods he found such comfort in become so grim, promising only death to those who didn’t know when to run?

‘I can see the smoke coming from your tower. Don’t tell me you’re not in there?’ Connor’s voice, unbothered and probably craving his evening small talk, laid a calm over the quickly warming cabin.

‘Jack? Come in, new guy.’

“Here, Connor.” He lowered himself into the metal chair, pulling his jacket over chilled fingers.

‘Finally. Where you been?’ If Jack concentrated hard enough, perhaps he could sponge his blissful ignorance, or at least pretend to take refuge in the wrap of his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he hugged anyone besides his sister, and most recently was still months before he left for the middle of nowhere.

“I went downstairs for some firewood and ran into Silas.”

‘Who?’ He says, half-muffled like he’s sat at the radio with his dinner.

“The guy who maintains the radio tower. Creepy as hell, spoke in riddles—I don’t think I actually saw him blink.”

The silence over the channel lasts long enough Jack reaches to flip the receiver on and off, hands skimming the metal casing for any sign the call had been disconnected, then Connor scoffs with some one-sided realization.

‘Is this about the other night? Tryin’ to yank my chain?’

Jack has to bite down on his lip next to bleeding to not fire back “I am not nearly funny enough to yank anyone’s chain, and if I was going to pull on anything of yours it would be your—”

‘That radio tower’s been out of service for ages now.’

His heart drops into his stomach. When he doesn’t answer, Connor continues to explain as if Jack wasn’t reeling, two seconds from puking into the receiver. ‘It was closed down right after I got here because a lightning strike fried it’s systems. Mitch said he would get it fixed next time there was room in the budget, but—well, you know how that’s going.’

“Then who did I just talk to?!” Jack shouts, too frightened to be embarrassed for his volume, and only hoping it didn’t hurt Connor’s ears or break their speaker.

‘Easy, Jack,’ replies Connor, too cool for the pounding in his ears. ‘Hey, you’re okay. Listen to me. This isn’t our first run-in with pranksters, is it? They got you again, but that’s all they can do. They’re not gonna hurt you.’

“He called me Jack.”

‘He knew your name? Do you think he’s been listening?’

“I don’t know, maybe?” He ran his hands through his hair, hoping to dispel some of the compounding anxiety of an imminent death.

‘Either way, we need to report this. Next time you see him, get a photo or his ID and anything else we can use to identify him. We’ll figure it out, Jack. Don’t worry.’

“Thanks, Connor.” His hands scrub down his face, he can not keep up this pace of being frightened and then having to convince himself nothing’s wrong just to keep from running into the woods and not stopping until he sees the road.

‘Call me if you have a nightmare, all right? I’ll put you back to sleep.’

“You asshole.” He can’t help the chuckle that sputters from his suddenly warm chest, hearing Connor’s smile through his cheeky tone.

‘Got you to laugh, didn’t I?’

Jack’s face is hot, he knows he’s blushing hard, and he summons the strength to not say anything too embarrassing (like “come over”) with a shuddering sigh. “Goodnight, Connor. Thank you… for everything.”

‘So sentimental. I like that. Night, Jack.’

The line clicks closed before Jack can chase him through the line, demanding to know what he meant, why his voice had to drop into the register that made his stomach flutter before disappearing from the face of his very, very small world. His suffering sigh rattles from his chest.

“I need to go to sleep.”

2 DAYS LATER

If it rains any more, his tower might flood.

All day, all evening, Jack had spent the majority of the day watching the shower soak the forest, ignoring the chores he tended to avoid anyway, and drinking far too much instant coffee because it was his only alternative to water. Although, he did get the spray duster out from under the counter, just to say he did.

“Maybe I’ll ask Billy to put some teabags in my next resupply,” he said, pouring out the last of his cup into the sink and picking up his cigarettes to take with him outside.

The forest below should look half-drowned after drinking all day, but it only sways elegantly in the gentle wind, not strong enough to push rainwater over the railing where it might disturb his smoke break. Tower 12 stands in the distance over the treeline, the soft, golden lights in the window suggesting Connor was taking a lazy day too.

Was he reading a well-loved, dog-eared novel? Cooking something warm and spicy? Maybe he fell asleep, belly full of warm food and blanket curled around his legs as the novel slips forgotten to the floor. Down into a deep sleep, the kind of rest what leaves him too warm when he wakes, hair rumpled and shirt risen over his middle to bear birthmarks or a secret tattoo.

“Jack, come back to bed.”

“Ah,” he grunted, sudden static from the radio ripping him out of his daydream. He presses out his cigarette, kicking over the ash tray as he hurries to his feet.

“This is Tower 11.” Silently, he congratulated himself for sounding perfectly professional and not guilty in the slightest.

‘This—does it—damn.’ Connor’s voice over the radio is smothered with screeching electronic snow, laced with intermittent words of increasing urgency.

‘Can’t—need h—Jack—can you hear—’

He whipped around to the window. The lights of Tower 12 hadn’t dimmed, but the persistent static and ominous, disconnected message chilled his blood. He gave no further thought to logical explanations, common sense could hike up the mountain with him if it really cared that much—and ran from the tower without changing his jacket to something waterproof and only his flashlight to protect them.

Above him, the rain pounds down harder, deafening as it pushed through the treeline to soak him, splattering over his trousers with every puddle he stomped across to get to Tower 12 as soon as he was physically capable, or sooner, even if it wounded him.

He reached the bottom of the tower not long after nightfall, expecting to be met with some sign of a struggle, but found nothing. Apart from the generator flashing a yellow warning light and the stack of firewood down nearly to nothing, there was no ripped grass, no gashes in the mud to suggest there had been anything unsavory in the woods that night. He tore up the metal steps anyway, two at a time, not convinced and not bothering to knock before he threw open the door—

And found Connor at the sink, half-dressed, the last dregs of shaving cream on his cheeks in thin stripes, steaming rag in hand.

He just stared at him.

Jack stared back.

“Can I help you?” Connor broke the silence, wiping his face clean and grabbing the henley draped over the back of his chair.

“You’re alive.”

“Jack?” He gaped at him, blonde head popping from his shirt’s neck hole to piece together the voice he knew with the grainy, black and white photo he had glimpsed on the staff directory website.

“Yeah that’s… that’s me.” Jack’s voice muddled down to a tiny murmur as the embarrassment threatened to melt him into two humiliated puddles inside his boots.

He really ran here, never-mind the several miles, ran here in the rain, dragging in water and mud like he was going to self-promote from fire lookout to ghost-buster with just a flashlight and some home-grown, grass-fed nerve. Death would have been kinder, he thought.

“God, you’re soaked. Here.” The towel that flies across the room to slap gently against his face smells like their cheap, provided laundry soap, with a thin vein of cologne, sharp and clean, a smell Jack suspected was baked into most everything fabric Connor owned.

“Sorry about your floor.”

“If I actually cared, I’d make you clean it,” Connor smirked at him, rummaging through his open duffel on the counter to hand over a sweater, boxers, and a pair of sweatpants of the same brand as the ones he wore himself. “Put these on, I’ll hang up your clothes by the stove.”

Jack changed obediently, careful not to spread his mess any further than his little corner by the door, and sheepishly offered his wet clothes for Connor to thread over hangers.

“You’re a mess.”

He thought to protest, finding he could only continue to rub the towel over his hair, a little like a nervous tick. “Feels like it.”

“So. You gonna tell me why you tore across the mountainside and threw yourself into my lap half-drowned?” Connor said as he leaned against the counter, arms—nice arms—focus Jack—crossed over his chest. But, for all his posture and words that spoke to some degree of scolding, he could only find warmth in his gaze, patient enough to hear every word of his reply with grace and an open mind.

“The radio…”

“The radio?” Connor went to flip it on, demonstrate how it crackled and sputtered before coming online, green light ready.

“My generator started giving me crap a couple hours ago, I thought the power surge might have killed it so I tried to call you. You didn’t answer, I thought you just couldn’t hear me.”

The embarrassment releases him in an instant, he’s suddenly back where he had been an hour ago, disoriented and tearing down the trail. “It was terrifying, you sounded like—you weren’t making sense from the words that did get through. I didn’t know if you were being murdered up here and calling for help.”

He scoffs, then turns away from him, towards the window. “Is this about the missing campers again? Because I’m not willing to entertain all of your theories right now, all right—”

“I was worried, Connor. Scared the shit out of me.” His words left him in a rush, hanging between them, the only sound among the hum of the fridge against the wall.

“… You came all the way up here—in a storm—because you were worried?”

Jack couldn’t bear to look up to see the extent of the confusion he heard in his voice. “It’s—just a shower, really. It’ll stop soon and I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Weatherman says it’s gonna get bad. You should stay.”

The timber of his voice, softer, almost nervous, had Jack raising his head to meet his eyes.

“I’d like you to stay.” He offered, and the nervousness turned out to be more uncertainty, testing a boundary he wasn’t sure would welcome him on the other side. “I’ll feed you. There’s soup, a couple beers left in my stash. What do you say?”

Jack’s hands tightened in the damp towel, suddenly he struggled to breathe.

“I’d like that.”

Chapter 2 (END)

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lluvllimoo · 1 month

Text

Apart from you

English isn’t my first language so there might be mistakes.

Lee!Hyunjin

Ler!Felix

Words:1944

TW: bondage

Its angst first then tickles 🤭 (i die for angst something is definitely wrong with me.)

@itzsana-kiddingmenow 😉

Skz was at the Makneas dorm watching the new Skz Code episode. Everyone seemed to be having fun except Hyunjin, who was zoned out. He was way too far gone. Until he felt someone shaking him back to reality.

"Hyunjin-ah, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just tired."

"I think I'm going to go to my dorm and get some sleep."

"Okay."

Hyunjin got up to leave. He walked out of the door and started walking down the streets. The fresh hair really woke him up. It was cold, and there were gray clouds.

"It is probably going to rain soon."

"A little rain won't hurt anyone anyway."

Don't get him wrong. He actually loved the rain so much. I mean, how could anyone hate the rain? Every time it rained, he jumped in joy and wanted to go out, but he was quickly stopped by the leader, Bang Chan.

He was walking toward God knows what. He was just having a deep thought. He wasn't really thinking about where he was going or what he was doing. Now you may be asking, What is he thinking about?

While others were watching Skz Code, he was focused on one thing. Felix. Felix is the person he adores the most. He loves him, but because of some "stays" that started giving them death threats, the staff had to separate them for their safety. He appreciated that they were looking out for them, but he missed his little sunshine, where he could hug him on camera. And hugging was a pretty big deal for Hyunjin since he doesn't like skin ships. Felix was the only person he accepted to hug. I mean, how could he say no to that cute ball of sunshine? Well, he didn't have to say no now since he couldn't even talk to him on camera. It hurts him deeply to know this will likely last for a while. As he was walking, he watched old clips of them when everything was okay and they had so much fun together on set. He didn't even realize the tears that were coming. It was all too much for him. So he just cried and cried and cried. When he looked around, everything was blurry because of the tears in his eyes. With his blurry vision, he sat on a bench that was facing the Han River. If he hadn't found a place to sit in time, I think his legs would have given up on him. As he looked around again, he realized. When did he get here? It doesn't matter anyway. Soon, it started to rain. He couldn't care less; he put on his earphones, opened a sad song, and kept on crying. He missed his best friend. Why couldn't they understand that there isn't anything going on between them? Why?

"I want him back so badly."

He said it with a shaky voice. His nose was running because of the crying and the cold. But suddenly, his music stopped. He looked at his phone for the cause and saw Bang Chan calling him.

"Shit."

He looked at the time. 1:36 a.m., he wipped his tears in an instant and answered the call.

"Hyunjin, where the heck are you?"

"Sorry, I wanted to get some fresh air."

"At this time, and while it's raining?"

"Yeah"

"You better come home right this instant."

"Okay, Hyung, I'm sorry."

He hung up the phone. He got up from the bench and started walking back. He tried not to cry again because he didn't want them to know that he had been crying for hours. He opened a happy song to get his mind off it. Soon, he arrived at the dorm. He slipped in the key and quietly opened the door, trying not to make any sound. But, to his luck, there was an angry leader on the other side waiting for him.

"Hyunjin, you're sooked.

"Come here."

Chan opened his arms to Hyunjin, waiting for a hug. Hyunjin hesitated a bit. Hyunjin thought he would be furious at him. How can he be mad at his children when he loves them deeply? He slowly hugged back.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep, I haven't been this sure."

He assured him with a smile.

"Well, you better take a shower if you get sick; I'll beat your ass."

Hyunjin giggled. His giggle was precious and so cute.

"Okay, okay, I'll take a shower now, and you should go to bed, Chan Hyung."

"Ill try."

"IlL tRY"

He mocked Bang Chan.

"Ya! I'll kill you."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Hyunjin walked towards the bathroom. At least he could keep crying there, right?

Hyunjin took a long shower. He thought about Felix a lot and cried while listening to the sound of water dropping. It made him relax more.

After what seemed like ages, he got out of the shower and dressed up in his pajamas. He should at least get some sleep. So he was going to bed, but not his; he was going to Bang Chans bed. As he entered, he saw Chan looking through his phone.

"Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer his question and went straight next to him and cuddled him. Well, that's a first.

"woah!"

"Are you sure you're good?"

"Mhm."

Chan put his phone on the night table and cuddled Hyunjin back. With Hyunjin's warmth, he could fall asleep. That's also a first. It must be the magic of Hyunjin's hug. When they woke up, they looked at the time: 1:38 p.m. They had never slept that much. So they got up and went to the kitchen to see Han and Changbin talking.

"good morning."

"It's not even morning, idiot. You guys slept a lot."

"Then why didn't you wake us up?" Chan said.

"Well, how often do we get to see you sleep?"

"You guys were too cute." Changbin said as he waved his phone in front of them.

Changbin had taken a picture of them.

"Heyyy."

"That's not very nice." (ifykyk;)

"Just eat so we can go to the Makneas dorm," Han said.

They ate and started getting ready to meet the other members. When everyone was ready, they hopped into the car and started driving to the other dorm. Five minutes later, they had arrived at the dorm. They got off the car and went into the dorms. They had been greeted by none other than their little sunshine, Felix. Everyone was sitting in the living room talking about stuff. Suddenly, Hyunjin got up and went towards Lee Knows room.

"Hyunjin-ah, where are you going?"

"Im tired; im going to sleep."

It was true that he was so tired, both emotionally and physically. After Hyunjin went to sleep, the others started to talk about him.

"Did you guys notice Hyunjin's behavior?" Jeongin pointed it out.

"He is acting weird these days," Lee Know said.

"Yesterday, he got back home at 2 a.m. He was sooking wet, and he looked very sad, and while he was showering, I heard him cry. I didn't want to talk about it since he looked like he didn't either."

Felix couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could he not know his own best friend was struggling? He felt angry that he couldn't be next to him while he cried. He wanted to be there with him. He felt so bad for him.

"Guys, I think I'm going to talk to Hyunjin a bit." Felix said.

"Okay, tell us if something happens."

He got up and went to Hyunjin, who was sleeping. He looked closer to his face. There were tear marks on his flushed red cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"I'm sorry; I didn't know you were having a hard time. If I knew, I would have been there for you."

"I feel very bad."

Felix laid next to Hyunjin and hugged him from behind.

"It's okay, Felix." Hyunjin whispered.

"Hyunjin!" Felix jumped when he heard his voice. He thought he was sleeping.

"Look at me." Felix demanded.

Felix sat up and looked at Hyunjin, who was also getting up. When their eyes met, Felix saw for the first time that Hyunjin's eyes looked tired.

"Oh, my sweet baby, I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"Please tell me."

With that, Hyunjin couldn't stop his tears and started to cry about everything. But he refused to tell him what he was crying about.

"Hyunjin, please, what happened?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, do you at least want a hug?"

"That would be good." He said it with a shakey voice.

As he hugged him, Felix's finger slipped to his sides and started to tickle him softly.

"Felihihixx."

"Stohohpp ihim nohot in thehe mohohod."

He giggles to himself, and Felix won't stop.

"No, you've been sad for so long. It's time to cheer you up."

He tackled Hyunjin and sat on top of him. Hyunjin was giggling in anticipation.

"Awww, already giggling for me, cuteee."

Hyunjin got embarrassed, so he covered his face.

"Nah-ah, do you think you can hide from me?"

Felix pulled his hands from his face and tied his hands to the head board.

"So will you tell me whats wrong, or should I tickle it out of you?

"Felix, please don't do this."

"Wrong choice, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin."

As he said, he lifted his shirt and tickled his ribs at a fast pace.

"OMGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH."

Hyunjin tried to squirm away from the tingly feeling, but he couldn't escape anywhere. Felix got a feather and was circling around his navel.

"NO." Hyunjin screamed. He knew what was about to come was going to be torture.

"Yes."

Felix finally went in, and the scream Hyunjin produced. You could hear it from the other side of the country.

"FELELEELIIHIHIHHIXX IIHIHIHI-IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANTTT."

"IHIHIHTHTSS TOHOHOHI MUHUHUHUCHH."

Hyunjin saw stars, and he thought this would be his end. That's how bad it was.

"So are you ready to let me know, or would you like me to continue?

"I can't tell you.

"All I can tell is..."

"It's about us."

"What's up with us?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay, Hyunjin, you're getting it."

Felix kneaded his armpits with one hand and tickled his navel with the other. And Hyunjin went ballistic; he was arching his back, which only made it worse; he was screaming; there were tears coming out of his eyes. The worst part was that he was immobilized. He screamed so much that he ran out of breath. Felix stopped to give him a break. He didn't want to kill him.

"So will you be telling me?" Felix wiggled his fingers towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin started giggling like crazy.

"fehehehelihihixx."

"Didn't know you were air ticklish?"

"nohohohohoo."

Felix's fingers got dangerously close to his sides and belly, so he gave up; he knew it would only keep getting worse.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you."

"Finally."

"You know we can't stay close to each other on camera, right?

"yeah."

"It hurt me every time I looked at you. It wasn't fair to me. You could touch anyone except me; it hurt. It hurt so much. I can't stay away from you, Felix. He whimpered this time, and sad tears came out.

"Hyunjin..."

"Nothing is more important than you."

"We'll talk to JYP about it, and I'm sure he will gladly accept helping us out."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Now, will you stop crying, or should I help you out?"

"No, no, I'm done."

"Hmmmm, well, I'm not done with you yet."

"wait what?"

This was going to be a long day for Hyunjin. Let's all pray for him to make it out alive. And I assure you, the other members also joined Felix.

So i originally gave this idea to @itzsana-kiddingmenow her fics name was “closer to you” but back then i didn’t write fics but since i now do i decided to write my own version.

#straykids #angst #tickle #hyunlix

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