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brokenjere · 2 years

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seventeen going under (j.f) (ch. 15)

seventeen going under (j.f)

A/N: so this is unedited and it's.......long haha i will probably edit it eventually but i wanted to get it out and i was happy with it so lmk what you think and if you wanna be added to the tag list :)

synopsis: deb ball volleyball tournament and a love confession

catch up here

I told Susannah I didn’t want to play in the volleyball tournament. She was sad, of course. She begged me practically on her hands and knees, pleading with me that “all the debutantes are doing it” and “it would be good to give back” and “don’t you want people to remember you?”

And honestly, no. I didn’t want anyone to remember this night except Susannah. If I could, I’d have dressed up just as nice and put Jeremiah on my arm and waltzed around the living room while she drank wine and clapped like we were little kids again rehearsing for our school musical. If I could, I’d burn this memory out of everyone’s heads.

The volleyball tournament was where I drew the line. I will not be putting on baseball tees that were printed from some shady website with my name on it and I will not be making Jeremiah wear a matching one. I also am not the most athletic of the bunch but that was one of my last excuses. Jeremiah was, of course. I’m sure he would kill a volleyball tournament enough for the both of us but I could not, and would not, risk sand in my mouth in the name of Susannah Fisher. It didn’t matter that it was raising money for good causes. The good cause was saving my knees.

She pouted for a while, asking me over late brunch again and again if I had changed my mind. I kept telling her no until eventually, my mom had to tell her to stop asking. “If you don’t be quiet, she’ll back out of the ball completely,” she threatened one day while we all stood around the kitchen island. I hadn’t threatened that, of course, but at the time Jeremiah hadn’t agreed to be my date so the thought was more than tempting.

After that, Susannah stopped asking. She flaunted Belly’s neon green shirts that read TEAM BELLY on them and Shayla’s highlighter yellow one that read TEAM SHAYLA. Just because Steven had to wear it, didn’t mean I did. I smiled and nodded at her while she showed them off and then I disappeared in the backyard.

I wondered if maybe I should be making more of an effort. Maybe I should have signed up for the tournament and wore an ugly shade of yellow too or maybe I should be spending more time with her while she baked in the kitchen instead of sticking my finger in the wet batter and licking it off like an animal. Despite knowing Susannah is nearing her end, it hasn’t quite hit me the way I think it should have. I think I’ll be living in denial as long as Jeremiah is in the dark. His ignorance is my ignorance.

Despite not participating in the event, I still dragged Jeremiah along with me to watch. He was going to go anyway, to cheer on Belly, but we drove together and grabbed lemonades the size of our heads and sat down on the sidelines. Susannah made an announcement, telling everyone how to donate and the excitement in her voice panged me with guilt and regret.

“She loves these things,” Jeremiah said as he leaned into my shoulder. His mom was beaming on the court. Not even the giant microphone in her face could hide her smile. It was infectious and I’m sure, the reason every event every year was a success.

“Did Conrad have to do this last year?” Jeremiah laughed and nodded his head, remembering. “I wish I had stayed to see it.”

“It wasn’t that eventful. The only reason Mom made him escort Nicole was because her date dropped out last minute and he already knew the waltz.”

Susannah stepped off the court and announced the first team. It was a normal bracket style tournament. Two teams faced off and whoever won moved to the next round. So on and so forth until there were only two teams left. The teams lined up against the fence, watching each game as if they were studying the players. It reminded me of when Conrsd would play chess. How focused he would get on whatever move his opponent would make next.

Jeremiah would stare off aimlessly into the distance, not paying attention to what Conrad or I did and then ask, “what happened?” But Conrad would stare. He’d plot. He’d stick his tongue out in pure concentration.

“I hate sports,” I said out loud, making Jeremiah laugh.

“I know you do.” “I’m just so bad at them. I have zero hand-eye coordination.”

“You throw a pretty mean punch,” he added, throwing a smirk in my direction. I can’t help but turn a shade of crimson. When we were kids, I’d beat on Jeremiah relentlessly. Like a little kid on the playground being mean to their crush. I don’t know if I had a crush on him then but he often stole my cereal in the mornings or the candy out of my lunch box and made me chase him around for it until eventually I’d land a punch on his bicep.

When we were fifteen, I actually punched him. It was an accident but it left a bruised eye on his perfect face. He was hiding behind my bedroom door, presumably waiting for me to come upstairs and scare me. He jumped out so violently and screamed so loud, my only reflex was to punch. Unfortunately for my hand and Jeremiah’s face, my punch landed exactly on his right eye.

I scrambled to collect him off the floor, throwing out apologies as fast as I could. He was just laughing. “Holy shit, Yn. I didn’t know you could hit like that.”

“You scared me!” I defended, holding him up as I walked him to my bed. He cradled his face in his hands and I pried them away so I could see the damage. It wasn’t much now, but it was bright red. The next day it was black and blue and Jeremiah told everyone he ran into a door. “Let me get you some ice,” I offered. Mom didn’t ask any questions as I collected a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and wrapped them in a dish towel. She just eyed me suspiciously as I moved through the kitchen. Upstairs, Jeremiah was still holding his eye.

He let me press the peas to his face but took over the compress once it was comfortable. “I am so sorry,” I repeated.

“Kinda hot,” he teased, bumping his shoulder to mine. How could he be so nonchalant? How could he be acting like I didn’t just assault him in my bedroom? “You could kiss it better?“ He offered when he noticed my face wasn’t relaxing. If I worried for him any harder, I’d develop worry lines at the age of fifteen.

I scowled at his suggestion and he gestured toward my hand. “Let me see it,” he said. I gave him my hand and he inspected my knuckles for signs of bruising. “My face is pretty hard, you know. It’s the Fisher jawline.”

“I didn’t hit you in the jaw,” I reminded him. He shrugged like it was all the same. “You’re gonna have a black eye.”

“You’re gonna have bruised knuckles.”

We stared at each other. Peas held to his face with one hand and my hand in his other. I started to cry and he laughed. He audibly laughed and then because I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh too. The tears dried up almost as soon as they’d arrived and then we were both cracking up on my bed.

“Don’t remind me of that,” I said to him now. He smiled as if it was a fond memory. One he’d kept forever in the confines of his mind. Like a favorite beach trip or school field trip.

“Just saying, don’t count yourself out so soon.”

“Maybe I should take up boxing?” I asked, holding up my fists as if I was going to start fighting him. I shook them around in front of my face and Jeremiah used the palm of his hand to lower my weapons.

“More like MMA. Could knock a sucker out with those.” I smiled, proudly. “Belly and Cam are up,” Jeremiah said, pointing toward the court. I actually paid attention now. Not that I really knew the rules to volleyball, but it was Belly after all and I should at least pretend to know what was going on.

She and Cam move across the court with ease. They speak with their eyes, Belly telling him where to go and he does it automatically. They won. They won again and again until they didn’t.

The fourth game down, after a winning streak that didn’t even break a sweat, the other team was kicking their ass. Cameron was fumbling over his own feet, barely scraping the ball with his knuckles. I was pretty sure he had a mouthful of sand at one point. “What the hell is going on?” Jeremiah asked, I think mostly to himself because it came out as more of a mumble than anything.

“I don’t know.” I felt bad for the kid. Belly was competitive. Especially when she got in the zone like she was now. I could see it in the way her eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks puffed out when she breathed. She was fully prepared to do whatever she could to win.

Across the court, on the other side of all the players, was Conrad and Nicole. They leaned against the rail, both a cup in their hands. They weren’t speaking, just watching the game unfold intently. Belly said something to Cam, pointing to a bench off to the side and then she was waving Conrad over. “What the fuck?” I asked.

“What did she just say?” Jeremiah asked, sitting up further in his seat like he was watching a scary movie that was keeping him on his toes. They were talking to each other. She was pointing and she looked mad but I couldn’t decipher what was being said. Cam took off his neon green t-shirt and gave it to Conrad, who stripped off his own shirt and put on the TEAM BELLY one. Conrad. Always team Belly. “What is going on,” I mumbled.

“Belly is about to win the damn thing,” Jeremiah boasted. He was happy. He was excited. He was proud. “Conrad is going to kick all these kids' asses.”

“He’s not even her escort, is that allowed?” I huffed. I crossed my arms over my chest. It was a defensive move, shielding me from whatever feelings were attacking my chest and whatever questions I was sure were to come.

“Why wouldn’t it be allowed? It’s not an Olympic tournament. It’s for charity,” he said, playfulness in his voice. He was leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and I could see the sweat that was dripping down his neck and under his shirt. I could see his biceps protruding from his sleeves like the shirt was way too small for him.

“I’m just saying, kind of cheating to switch partners halfway through the game.” He turned around to look at me now and I recoiled into the bench. I hid my face with the cup of lemonade and averted my eyes to the court. They were killing it which just made me more mad.

“What’s your problem? Don’t you want her to win?”

“Yeah but why does he need to be a part of it? Poor Cam was just pushed to the side.” I decided to focus on that. Cam. “He’s her boyfriend for crying out loud. I'd never do that to you.”

“Well, I’m not your boyfriend,” he pointed out. He wasn’t even watching the game at this point. I had his full attention. He looked amused, like me picking on Belly was funny. It wasn’t funny and I felt bad even as I was saying it but I was trying to place my angered feelings and I was placing them in the wrong spot. I was mad that Conrad was on Team Belly and not Team Me and I didn’t know why. He wasn’t even who I wanted.

I was selfish. I knew that. It was a trait of mine I had been forced to come to terms with when I was younger and my mom would make me share with other kids on the playground and I would tell them the toys were covered in mold or dead bugs so they’d want to play with someone else’s stuff. I think it stemmed from being an only child. I never had to share or be selfless. I had whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. I knew it when Jeremiah got his first girlfriend and I was so jealous, I wanted to break them up even though he was perfectly respectful when I was dating Elijah. I wanted all of it to myself. Both boys.

“You could be,” I replied with a knowing smirk. Jeremiah let out a huge laugh. One that threw his body backward and forced his hand to his chest. “What’s so funny?” I asked, offended he would think this was funny.

“Just a few weeks ago you were begging me to stop flirting with you. You said you needed space. And now you’re saying you want to be my girlfriend?” His eyes were shining with admiration, even as he called me out for my inconsistency.

“I didn’t say I wanted to be your girlfriend, I just said you could be my boyfriend,” I clarified. I kicked my feet in the sand a little bit and watched as it covered my toes. “You know, if you wanted.”

“If I wanted?” He was staring at me. I looked up.

“If you wanted.”

Everything went silent. I thought I went deaf for a minute. Lost all ability to hear or feel anything in the outside world except the heat from his knees on mine and the weight of his longing gaze on my face. I didn’t even hear the crowd cheering for Belly and Conrad as they won the game. I didn’t hear them announce the next team. All I heard is Jeremiah saying, “well what if I want to?”

I thought about my response. I could just word vomit everything I was thinking: then you’re my boyfriend. I love you. It’s a done deal, don’t ever leave. Or I could tease him like I usually do but that'd be cruel and unfair. So instead I said: “then we’ll talk later. In private.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. He sat back on the bench, our arms touching and he inched his hand toward mine. He wanted to hold it and I let him. He laced our fingers together and even though it was hot and our fingers were getting sweaty, we kept holding them the entire time.

The sun was starting to set by the time the last few games were being played. Belly and Conrad had done it - they were in the final bracket. My lemonade was gone, a ring of condensation was stained into the bench only to be dried up by the sun and then arrive again a few moments later. I thought about getting a refill or some water or something to replenish the hydration that was leaving my body with each drop of sweat. Even the shade of the awning that we were sitting under didn’t shield us from the heat but I had gotten up to pee more times than I can count while we waited for this dreaded tournament to be over so I decided against it. But now that the sun was going away, it was getting cooler.

There was an orange hue to the world around us now. A soft glow illuminated Jeremiah’s face as he watched the game intently, smiling to himself as he watched his brother play. I had known these boys my entire life. Since we all in diapers, playing in the same sand box and then cleaning up in the same bath tub. It was strange to see them now, all grown it. It was strange to love both of them with every fiber of my being. It was strange to feel this strongly about the one sitting next to me now. But what’s stranger, was how their relationship developed over the years. From being tight as thieves as kids to now, what seems to me, almost utter strangers.

There was no doubting the jealousy in Jeremiah’s eyes as he watched Conrad play. He couldn’t hide his jealousy from a hundred miles away since the moment he turned fifteen and they were no longer little kids, but young adults waiting to become Adam’s little robots. Since the minute Adam picked Conrad as the golden child, no matter how hard Jeremiah tried. And he tried. And that’s what hurt the most. Watching Conrad get everything Jeremiah wanted so badly: his dad’s approval, football super stardom, and throw it all away.

I reached over and squeezed his hand. He sent me an appreciative grin and I gave it right back, but I could feel the sadness creeping up behind it so I looked away before it could show it’s ugly face. I wanted him, I knew I did, but I also knew that I had to tell him about Susannah before I could be with him. It was only right and seeing how he watched his brother now, with contempt and wistfulness, it pained me to know I was keeping a secret that could bond them again. They needed each other and if Conrad was going to be too stubborn to tell him, I had to.

While the last game raged on, Jeremiah and I eagerly waited by the railing overlooking the court. I leaned into his arm and he welcomed me like a warm blanket. The up and down of his steady breathing kept me sane as I watched the same ball going back and forth and back and forth for the hundredth time today. He looked down at me and said, “it’s almost over. You’re so impatient.”

“I’m just bored,” I said, letting out a groan. I turned over so my back was leaning on the railing and I was giving Jeremiah my full attention. “Besides,” I drag, “we need to talk. Remember?” Jeremiah’s eyes lit up.

“I remember,” he whispered. He leaned forward, his hand on one side of me and his chest dipping almost too close to mine. “Wanna dip early?” A smirk curled up on one side of his mouth and the suggestion was tempting, but I shook my head.

“It’s almost over, remember?”

“I think whatever we’re gonna talk about it is more exciting.” The twinge of amusement and flirtation was undeniable and I wanted to kiss him right then and there. Put my hands on either side of his face, pull him as close as possible and kiss him until I could no longer breathe. Instead, I put my hand on his chest and push him backward slightly.

“Your brother is about to win a volleyball tournament, don’t you wanna watch?” I asked. Cheering exploded from behind me but it had been ongoing all afternoon, so I didn’t bother to even look.

Jeremiah did look. He glanced up over my shoulders and onto the court and mumbled in disbelief, “looks like he just did.”

I whipped around to see Conrad snatch Belly up in his arms and twirl her around. His smile was so big it could eat up the sun. I hadn’t seen him smile that big in months. Susannah made her way down the court, meeting them halfway with the trophy in hand. Jeremiah grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the sand. It kicked up as I walked quickly, trying to keep up with Jeremiah’s big strides. He hugged his brother and Belly was hugging Steven and I stood there, alone. Watching.

It was warm in Jeremiah’s room, despite the dropping temperature outside. I laid on his bed, my feet kicked up on the headboard as Jeremiah rifiled through his drawers. I didn’t even know what he was looking for, only that he had been looking since the second we got back to the house. We had not brought up our conversation from earlier yet. It was like a big balloon in the room that sucked all of the air out of it and neither one of us wanted to pop it and the air any more muggy than it already was.

“What could you possibly be looking for?” I finally asked. He was digging around a bottom drawer now, and groaned as he slammed it shut.

“Something.”

“Obviously.” Jeremiah moved to the closet now and ignored my sarcastic comment. I watched him upside down contently. I watched as his body moved, a perfect specimen waiting for his feathers to be ruffled. He threw out dirty clothes from the floor to the closet to the floor of the bedroom until finally, he dug something out.

“Ah-ha!” He said in victory, rolling back on his heels.

“What is it?” I asked. He stood up and when he turned around, he had a pink stuffed pig in his hands and a smile plastered to his face. I shot up, the world turning right side up. “Is that Porky?” Jeremiah nodded enthusiastically as he threw himself on the bed next to me. I grabbed the stuffed pig from his hands and admired it on my lap. “You still have this?”

When I was a baby, my dad gave me a stuffed pig that I slept with in my crib. When I moved to my toddler bed, so did Porky. I carried him around with me everywhere. He dragged on the floor behind me, trailing along collecting dirt and germs but I didn’t care. He must have went through the wash at least three times a week. So much so, he lost an eye when I was six. I loved Porky more than anything. He was my best friend before Jeremiah was my best friend, really. I told Porky everything. When Mom made me so mad because she said I had to eat my vegetables and how frustrated I was that I couldn’t write my Q’s the right away. I told Porky everything until, eventually, I trusted Jeremiah enough to tell him instead.

When I was ten, I gave Porky to Jeremiah. I set him on this exact bed, almost seven years ago. He was disheveled, even then, with a missing eye and a chunk missing out of his ear and his light pink snot stained a dirty brown color. He was sitting poised in front of the pillows and when Jeremiah saw him he asked me, “what’s he doing here?”

“I want to give him to you,” I told him. “I don’t need him anymore.” Jeremiah gave me a questioning look, like he was unsure what exactly I meant or what he should do with the information given so I explained further, “I already trust you best.”

“What am I going to do with this ratty thing?” He asked, picking up Porky by his chewed up ear with his fingertips.

“As a token of my friendship,” I said to him then. Now, as I looked down at it, I realized it wasn’t just a token of my friendship with Jeremiah, nor was it the beginning of our real, true, best everythingship, it’s the first sign that I loved him. At the age of ten, it wasn’t anything more than platonic but if I gave it to him now, it would have my heart in it.

“As a token of my friendship,” he mimicked my words from all those years ago into my ear. I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Of course I still have it.”

I held Porky’s hands and made him dance a little on my lap. “I almost forgot about this thing.”

“How could you?” Jeremiah asked, appalled at my confession. I laughed and set him down on the bed beside me. I turned to face Jeremiah now, his body was leaned into mine and he was watching me, his blue eyes staring into my soul. He was no longer smiling, not really anyway. He just looked happy. “Do you still trust me best?”

I nodded and asked, “do you trust me best?”

Jeremiah nodded in reply. He put his hand on my cheek, caressing the side of my face. His thumb felt warm. My entire body felt warm. Wherever his skin touched, mine tingled like he was leaving a million little kisses everywhere. There were stars in my blood. Closer, closer. He was inching closer and I knew what I wanted: him. I knew it with every fiber of my being and instead of following my gut and telling him the truth, I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything that I had in me. His hands grabbed at me like he had been searching for me his entire life and now that he found me, he refused to let go. My hands were in his hair and his hands found their way up the back of my shirt, leaving a warm trail on my skin. I let him lean me back on the bed and he stopped kissing me, only for a moment, to look at me. His eyes were questioning, a quiet question if he should continue or not. “I love you, Jeremiah. I’m in love with you and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it,” I confessed.

His eyes searched mine frantically. The blue in his eyes were bluer. His eyelashes looked longer. His skin looked smoother. “Finally,” he said and then he kissed me again and this time, he didn’t stop other than to catch his breath or place kisses down my neck. He started with my cheek and then my jawline. I pulled at his shirt, wanting it off in a frantic wanting sort of way. I wanted to be closer to him. As close as possible.

He sucked on my neck gently, making a moan escape from my lips. I pushed him off of me just long enough to take off my shirt and he mirrored my movements without question and when we collided back together, every inch of my skin felt alive.

We were a tornado of emotion, a frenzy of every almost confession, secret emotion, and suppressed feeling either of us have ever had. I put every I love you I have ever thought since I was fifteen years old into kissing him. I let each word linger behind my lips. I wanted to explore his entire body. I knew what he looked like, for the most part. I knew how his muscles moved when he walked, ran, and swam. I could tell you exactly where his birthmark was on his lower back but I wanted to learn it in a new way, in this exciting way.

He wanted to learn mine, first, it seemed. My lips felt swollen when he stopped kissing them but then they were on my collarbone and my chest and between my breast. The bra suddenly felt like an unwelcome barrier between us. One that needed to be removed, immediately. Jeremiah didn’t remove it, though. He moved his hands over my breasts and then to my back, lifting me closer to him.

After his lips met every part of my upper body, he made his way back to my lips but he kissed me slowly this time. Sweetly, like he was savoring every minute of it. Like he was scared it would never happen again. The neediness of only a few seconds ago was replaced with a tenderness that I didn’t know I wanted. His hands moved slower as if he was trying to memorize the way I felt and his kisses were gentler.

He didn’t attempt to take off my pants until I asked him to. I wrapped my hand around his wrist and guided it toward my shorts but he did the rest himself. He unbuttoned them with ease and it made me wonder if he had done this before and with who but that thought quickly evaporated as my shorts hit the floor.

Everything about this felt right. His hands, his lips, the way he was looking at me, and the way that our bodies fit together like a puzzle. It all felt perfect. There was not a single thing about this moment I would change. Not the fact that Porky was digging into my back or the fact that everyone we knew was in this house just below us. All that mattered was Jeremiah, my Jeremiah. And my Jeremiah he would be - forever.

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#jere x reader #tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher fan fic #conrad fisher imagine #belly conklin #jenny han #reader insert #gavin casalegno #chris briney

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localfandomweirdo · 4 months

Text

William realizes...-FNaF-

TW: Child abuse, Child neglect, Swearing, Nightmares, Blood, Death, Hurt/Comfort(Kinda), Fluff, Heavy angst, Angst with kinda open ending?, William realizes that he's a shitty father-

-Afton Siblings,oldest to youngest: Terrance, Michael, Evan, Elizabeth-

-Clara is Mrs. Afton-

-After a nightmare, William realizes that he's a shitty excuse for a father to Michael-

-Not any of my AUs-

'William glanced up from his paperwork when he heard his office door creek open,his son,Michael,stood in the door way.

"Michael?What the hell do you want?" He growled,

"Just wanted to know when we're going home..." Mike said under his breath,shuffling from foot to foot.

"Not yet,that's all you need to know,brat,now get out."

Michael left without a word.

---------------

Michael walked down the cold and empty hallway, the right wall had two doors on it,one to Ballora Gallery,and the other, Funtime Foxy Auditorium,as he walked he tried to keep his tears at bay,why should he cry over the treatment he was so used to?

In fact,that was NICE for Mr. Afton,as William always forced Mike to call him.

He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of metal hitting the floor,looking up,he say the door to Funtime Foxy Auditorium was slightly cracked open.

As he approached the door, the sound grew faint,and once he reached it, there was silence.

He KNEW he shouldn't go in the back-stage area,his father always ordered Evan and Elizabeth to stay FAR away from the animatronics,but Evan and Elizabeth were dead.

So why listen to the rules William only assigned them?

He pulled the door open,it was pitch black inside,cautiously stepping as he made his way through the darkness.

Then he heard the door shut far behind him,he whipped around to see SOMETHING blocking the light from the circular window in the door.

Something tall....and white....and pink.

Something that was getting closer, and closer.

Then it was right in front of him.

He looked up,and the last thing he saw,

Was Funtime Foxy's jaws snapping shut.

----------------

"Michael?Michael, where are you?" William called,adjusting his hat as he stomped down the hall, "Michael Terrance Afton!Where the fuck are you?"

Then he noticed something.

The red liquid leaking from under the back-stage door to Funtime Foxy Auditorium.

His heart splashed into his stomach,his head became unsteady as he fumbled to open the door.

Finally,opening it,he saw Foxy first.

Standing there,jaws and front covered in blood.

Then he saw Michael, laying there on the floor, bloody,motionless.

Dead.

His head and hoodie soaked in blood,his jeans starting to turn an unsettling color from the liquid.

William snapped out of his daze as he fell to his knees on the floor beside his second eldest,pulling him close.No longer caring for the animatronic that took his son's life.

He'd get that thing hauled to the scrap yard later.

"M-michael?Michael answer me!Mike,please...PLEASE,I can't loose you too." He pleaded, resting a hand on the side of Michael's head,snapping it back when the cold wetness seep through his glove.

But no matter how hard he pleaded, the fact still stood.

Michael was long gone.

Forever.

And the last thing William had said to him was to get out. The last thing he'd called his son was 'brat'.

Thousands of memories came rushing back, he'd remembered all the times he'd felt Michael's blood on his hands.

All the times HE drew it.All the times HE hurt Michael. All the times HE physically and verbally abused and neglected Michael.

All the times he said HE'D take Michael out of the world.

"P-please,Mike,c-come back, I need you...pl-please..." He whispered helplessly as tears fell from his eyes.

"MICHAEL, come back,I promise I'll be better!I promise I'll be the father you deserve! Michael,Michael, Michael, come back..."

Then he realized something... He couldn't grasp a memory of the kid smiling, or laughing...or looking even remotely happy.

God,what kind of father was he?

Yet the 16 year old's body remained limp,eyes lifeless.Dark hair damp from the blood.His blood.His mouth slightly agar, the red liquid trickling down his face.

And William realized, he was truly alone.

He stroked a strand if the damp hair from Michael's face,kissed his forehead, (an act that shouldn't have felt as foreign as it did),and started humming the soft tune he'd often overheard Terrance humming when Michael was young, and when Terrance was still alive.

But Terrance was gone,Clara was gone,Evan was gone, Elizabeth was gone.

And now Michael was gone.

-----------------

William startled awake in a cold sweat,tears rolling down his face.

He looked around, he wasn't in the dark back-stage area,but in his own room. And he was no longer in his uniform,but a t-shirt and and sweatpants.

He threw back the covers, swinging his door open speed walking through the kitchen and living room,and upstairs, down the hall and slamming the door to Michael's room open.

And no words could describe how relieved he felt to see Michael sitting on his bed,reading,but he looked terrified.

"M-mr. Afton?I-i'm s-sorry...I won't do it again!" He begged hands trembling. A

"Michael... Thank the Lord..." He breathed as was beside Michael's bed in a flash,and holding the teen close.

"M-mr. Aft-" William cut him off.

"Call me father...please..."

"Y-yes,sir..."

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments.

"M-michael, we need to talk...I-i'm s-so sorry...I-i-i know that won't even c-come close to fixing an-anything I've done to you, b-but..my God,thank ever-ything you're still here..." He struggled through the sob that stung his throat.

"I-"

"Shhh,don't speak..okay?Just let me have this." He sighed as he held Michael close.

Michale nodded against Will's shoulder.

William knew he could never fix what he'd broken.

But he could try to be the father Michael deserved.

-End-

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Sorry about the shitty ending.I had multiple motivation swings while writing this.

Bye,bye! ✨Jazz hands✨

👁👄👁

#fnaf fanfic #fanfic #fnaf fandom #fnaf #fnaf william afton #william afton #fnaf michael afton #fnaf micheal #hurt/comfort #angst #heavy angst #fnaf afton #afton family #fnaf funtime foxy #Funtime Foxy

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bbysamu · 3 years

Note

Helloooo!! I know you most probably have a list of your upcoming works, but can you do another part of the HQ boys losing you in the mall?? 🥺👉👈 this time With daichi, kei, tobio, and wakatoshi?? Thanj you!! 💟

Haikyuu boys losing you at the mall // pt.3

featuring:: SAWAMURA Daichi, TSUKISHIMA Kei, KAGEYAMA Tobio, USHIJIMA Wakatoshi

genre:: slice of life / fluff

warning:: none!

⤷ Part 1 | Part 2

a/n:: thanks for the request! I always have so much fun writing this series. Pls lemme know if you have any other characters you wanna see!

❥ SAWAMURA Daichi

Daichi seldom loses you because 1) he’s very careful and 2) the two of you are almost always touching in some way. Which is all the more reasons why he’s was surprise to feel himself grabbing onto empty air. “Y/N?” He looks around, trying to spot you in the crowd of people. “Y/n?” He shouts louder this time and catches the attention of the nearby security guard. “excuse me, sir, but are you looking for your child?” “no, my wife.” “well, she’s a grown adult so there’s no need for you to be shouting in a public area like this.” Daichi feels his cheeks get red and quickly mumbles an apology. Right on cue, you come running towards him with two ice creams in hand. “babe, look what I got for us!” Daichi quickly nods his thanks and drags you away as the guard looks on in disapproval. “Princess! where’d you run off to? I was shouting for you and got scolded by the guard.” You look at him curiously, “I said I was getting ice cream for us remember?” Daichi thinks back and vaguely remembers a distant memory. “right, but next time bring me along okay? I don’t ever want to experience a scolding from a guard again.”

❥ TSUKISHIMA Kei

All it took was him taking off his glasses to clean them and you’re gone. Tsukishima sighs and pulls out his phone, shooting a quick text to you, “where’d you run off to this time? I’ll be waiting by the fountain.” Ten minute passes and still no reply from you. He quickly loses his patience, this was the third time this month you’ve run off while he was cleaning his glasses. Was it so hard to wait thirty seconds for him? He walks over to customer services giving the lady at the desk his sweetest smile. “hi, I seemed to have lost my wife, is it okay if I borrow your broadcasting system to make an announcement?” “uh...it’s not normally protocol for customers to make broadcasting announcements themselves, but since you’re asking so nicely...” Tsukishima smiles as the lady hands over the microphone. “Y/n, Y/n, please come to the customer service desk or I'll let this entire mall know how many times you fart in a day and--” Your husband gets cut off “sir! that is not appropriate!” You giggle as you quickly make your way over to customer services, not doubting your husbands threat for a second.

❥ KAGEYAMA Tobio

“babe, I gotta run to Sephora real quick, meet me in about 10 minutes at our usual spot okay?” “wait, where’s our usual-?” Kageyama looks on helplessly as you get swallowed by the crowd. He looks down at his phone only to find it conveniently out of battery. The tall man stands in place, wrecking his brain for usual spots. About ten minutes later, Kageyama waits outside Panda Express. When you don’t show up, he moves to the next possible usual spot, the bench outside Victoria Secrets. When you still don’t show up, Kageyama starts to get worry, the way his brows furrowed and his fists clenched tightly drew the attention of the nearby sales. “um..sir? are you okay?” Kageyama looks up slightly embarrassed, “yeah I'm fine, I'm supposed to be waiting for my wife at our usual spot, except I don’t know where that is.” “oh um...would you like to use our intercom broadcasting system?” “oh sure, that’d be helpful.” He watches as the lady press the broadcast button, “Y/n, Y/n! Your husband is currently outside Victoria Secrets waiting for you. Please come here at your earliest-” Kageyama unable to contain his anger, interrupts with a “BOKE! HURRY UP AND MEET ME HERE!” “sir!---” Hearing your husband’s outburst on the intercom had you laughing and running at the same time, making a mental note to never leave him by himself at the mall again.

❥ USHIJIMA Wakatoshi

He lost you because he got distracted by a flyer about some discount on bags of rice and you lost him because you got distracted by an announcement of a Dean fan-meet at the mall. By the time he realizes, you’re already on the other side of the mall, waiting in line to get your high-touch. Ushijima tries the first logical thing, to call you, but reception was terrible and all he could make out was the screams in the background and you going, “m so excited--”. For a few minutes, Ushijima simply stands in front of the map of the mall. His big, intimidating presence scaring other costumers, who dare to only hover a few feet away, trying to catch a glimpse of the map. He sighs and starts to wander, hoping he’ll eventually find you. And he does. Ushijima literally finds you in the food court, looking down excitedly at your hand. “Y/n! where did you go? and why are you just looking down at your hand like this?” He tries to hold your hand, only for you to slap it away. “don’t touch this hand right now, I just high-fived Dean.” “who?” You don’t answer him, smiling down at your hand instead. “whatever, next time bring me along to see this “dean”. I don’t want to lose you again.”

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#ceci.writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #daichi x you #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x reader #ushijima x you #hq hcs #Haikyuu hcs

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shangsclaws · 3 years

Text

Away

MADE THIS FOR ELLA (@earthrealmclown) BC SHE DREW MY OC FOR ME TWICE (here and here) AND I’M SO GRATEFUL THAT SHE DID!! if u somehow don't know about her, pls pls pls check out her blog. she's a blessing to this fandom!!!!

Summary: In order to keep themselves occupied in the void, Fujin, Nightwolf and Shang Tsung often find themselves talking (or rather bickering) about everything and nothing at all. Today's discussion? Romantic partners. More specifically, Nightwolf's beloved.

Includes: Nightwolf x 'reader', plus some Fujin and Shang Tsung :)

Warnings: slight angst

"I'm curious Fujin," the old sorcerer began, motioning his chin to the wind god, "as an immortal, you must have romanced quite a few Earthrealmers in your time. Care to enlighten us, demi god?"

Nightwolf rolled his eyes. "Is this what we're on about now?"

The sorcerer chuckled smugly, side-eying the Matokan. "Apologies, Nightwolf. I wasn't aware this was a sensitive subject."

"Sensitive?"

"I take it you've never delighted in multiple partners before? You must be envious," the sorcerer added lowly; "and inexperienced."

"Enough." The wind god practically barked.

There was no day or night in the void. Counting the days would have only carved away at their collective sanity, although it helped the three to know whenever 'night' would come. They counted on their occasional periods of rest to silence their usually insufferable conversation, coming few and far between their search of a way out of the void. Shang Tsung insisted upon a lengthy discussion of anything at all — from their favourite ways to kill to even fond memories of childhood days — before 'bed'.

The timely conversation was like an unpleasant bedtime story.

"So, Fujin? Any stories before we rest?" The snake insisted.

Raiden's brother shook his head, irritated. "I don't meddle with Earthrealmers like you, Shang Tsung. What I'd say would hardly interest you."

"Nonsense. Besides, I don't believe Nightwolf has even a word to share."

That was not true. The shaman felt his heart revolt at the remark, his lover immediately coming to his tired mind. How long had it been in the void?

"I do, actually." The Matokan snapped.

"Oh? Then I retract my statement. Go on, Grey Cloud."

Nightwolf despised the way the snake would use his name so casually, and at any other time he would have bit back at the man. But, too tired and impassioned to care, the shaman thought nothing of it.

"Well, for one," he began, voice teeming with fondness, much to Shang Tsung's amusement, "they're very kind. And understanding. They've done just about everything to become close with my people. With me...”

Failing to stifle a grin, Nightwolf practically sighed. "They're quite beautiful as well...”

The sorcerer hummed, intrigued both by the potential image of Nightwolf's beloved and the lovesick eyes he bore then. "You wouldn’t mind describing them would you?" He inquired.

Fujin’s brows tied into an uneasy knot.

“Nightwolf, don’t-“

“Of course,” said the shaman, not hearing Fujin’s interruption, “I’d love to.”

The wind god knew where this was going. But, seeing the faint flush in the Matokan’s cheeks, who was he to stop him?

Grey Cloud began with their eyes, oh their eyes, and how they often shone like the stars at home. “One look,” he said, “and that was all I needed.” It was a funny thing, to see the Matokan grin so widely. It was even funnier, the fact that these two peculiar men were perhaps the only few who’d seen him like this.

And he didn’t seem to notice how lovestruck he looked then.

“They have a certain way of speaking. It’s like purring...or singing...” Grey Cloud struggled, and happily at that, to find the proper words. Shrugging, as if to surrender to the overwhelming thoughts of his lover, the shaman instead settled to mutter a mere “it’s just very nice.”

Fujin looked on in admiration as Nightwolf continued to ramble, delighting in the tender contortions of his lips as he spoke. Earthrealmers, he thought, were such vulnerable and affectionate things. He was glad to be their protector of not only their safety, but of the love they so ardently shared. Nightwolf’s depictions were perhaps the closest the god could get to romance, being too busy with his duties to even attempt looking in a certain person's direction, and while he thought it a complete shame, he was happy to at least feel a part of something.

The snake, on the other hand, felt his delight in very different things.

“And anything else, shaman?” The sorcerer asked, his interest in the topic sounding oddly genuine.

Nightwolf paused, opening his mouth briefly to say something, before closing it with a grin and shaking his head. “No. I believe I’ve said enough.”

“Enough?” Shang Tsung prodded, “there’s surely more?”

“We’ll be resting after this, no? I realize I might go on for hours,” the Matokan chuckled shyly.

“Then so be it. I see they make you happy. Even I would hate to stop you.”

Nightwolf had finally sensed Shang Tsung’s odd behaviour then. But only for a fraction of a second. The permission to continue his ramblings was frankly more important to his mood than Shang Tsung’s actions, and so he did as he was told with the greatest pleasure. Fujin was just as pleased.

By the time he was done, and it had really taken hours for him to finish, Nightwolf had reduced himself to a smiling mess. The shaman would turn his head so shyly to the side, knowing full well he was red and mumbling.

Fujin’s heart only grew warmer at the sight of him, grinning from attentive ear to ear. He could have listened for longer if Nightwolf could bear to continue.

It was then when the footsteps behind the wind god had suddenly changed, sounding less like the brisk pace of the sorcerer and more of an unfamiliar individual. Fujin, as Nightwolf was too lovestruck to even acknowledge the change, darted his head to the sound.

“Elder gods...”

Nightwolf heard the awe, or perhaps dread, in Fujin’s voice, enough to shake him from his thoughts. Turning his head to face Fujin, a terrifyingly familiar face came into view instead.

“How do I look?” The face where Shang Tsung’s should have been asked.

It was y/n.

“Sorcerer! Change back! This is ridiculous! Nightwolf’s beloved doesn’t-“

The shaman placed a gentle hand on Fujin’s, each man stopping in their tracks. Fujin turned to look at his fellow Matokan, whose eyes were wide with an odd concoction of longing and shock. Pushing gently on his arm now, Nightwolf walked slowly past Raiden’s brother to draw closer to y/n, or at least Shang Tsung’s y/n, and get a better look at them.

He blinked.

“Y/n?”

“...yes?”

“That’s not...you’re not...”

Fujin made his way next to Nightwolf, placing an arm on his shoulder out of pity and frustration. “You don’t need to ask that sorcerer anything,” he told him lowly, “I’ll be sure he changes back as soon as possible, Nightwolf.”

“No,” the shaman replied, standing eerily still as he looked on at his ‘beloved’, “let me have this.”

How long had they been in the void? How long had they been that even Shang Tsung’s attempt at mockery made his heart flutter instead? Nightwolf took a step closer, seeing now the inconsistencies in their facial features and the dull eyes that did not shine like the stars. Still, feeling beyond impressed at the sorcerer’s skill, there was a comfort in his heart that he hadn’t felt in ages. It was them. Or at least a version of them.

Nightwolf very nearly wrapped his arms around them then.

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#BEHOLD the reason why i had such bad writer's block #mortal kombat #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #nightwolf #nightwolf x reader #shang tsung #fujin #mortal kombat x reader

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moviesstoriesandbooks · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on Not me episode 4

1) i think i saw few people being very uninterested in the series , complaining that the progression is slow , the main couple is boring etc etc etc. Stop watching , or maybe stop whining out loud.

2) the gas cannister. It brought back memories when the entire world was fighting the pandemic and thai people were out protesting for their freedom. Of course they had to be prepared.

3) gram really is the coolest character. He strutting up to law school with platinum blonde hair (?) with best mate who's kinda the head of the biker vigilante gang that he's part of, cracking jokes with his trans ex gf who he broke up coz he's in love with another man , prefers when men make effort with their looks like hair and likes his men to smell nice and always willing to help out his buddies and... He didn't assault black. Nop. I refuse to jump into assumptions.

4) is the truck driver sean's dad? Is that what the nightmare is about? His dad isn't the drug dealer it's tawi?

5) white. I know you're preoccupied with a gazillion problems but wake up and smell the jacuzzi. Todd is literally the posterchild of the opposite team .

6) that's👊🏽 literally🤛🏽your🤜🏽 brother's 🤜🏽ex. STOP🤦🏾‍♀️KISSING🤦🏽‍♀️HER🤦🏾‍♀️!!!! I get that choices were limited. Atleast he tried to get her to stop by getting her drunk. 🥲 I can't believe this is what I've become.

7) i thought he'd use facial recognition to unlock the phone and read the entire text

8)" the media won't act as our mouthpiece" war flashbacks to certain ✨tings✨🤓☺️

9) gumpa keep training them I'd like to see more of offgun training together pls

10) yok is in ❤️lurvvvvv❤️

11) i can't believe that he drew yok in his artwork , waited there till yok came running, then RAN AWAYYYY when he actually saw him. Their fics are gonna have so much 'idiots in love' tags , coz of course , they don't even realise that they're in love. From the previews it looks like my boi yok is gonna kiss dan when the building behind them might be going up in flames.

12) the dance? The lecture? The crocodile round table conference? 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽

13) also i thought even in last episode there were dom/sub undertones but this time it's like it's intentional. Also throws light on how different white is as a person from black.

14) also I'm a say this here and then shut up. All we know about black is how he fights for equality and justice in the society but that does NOT make him a good person to be romantically involved with. What if gram and eugene met up to discuss how black played with both of them? What if black and gram were already a thing before black got injured? What if the reason gram isn't bringing it up is because he thinks black disappeared for days coz of him ? that black doesn't want whatever it was there between them to continue but didn't have ways to tell his feeling out loud, so gram just decided to be the grown up and just shut up about their "mistake"? It's purely a headcanon and that's just what i think. Maybe i should write a fic(I won't)

15) so when he isn't drunk , he's rough? And white is gentle even when he isn't drunk? What are supposed to do with this information?

Every Sunday I'm scared that I'll wake up to the news that they won't air the show again. Please God let it air without any sort of hiccups . I sometimes think the people who look down on bls might just throw haughty looks on not me for it's ambition and it's strong political stances. But that's all the more reason i want the show to succeed , atleast fully air. 🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽

#thai bl series #not me series #thai boys love series #thai drama #thailand #offgun #gun attaphan #off jumpol #mond tanutchai #sing #danyok #fluke gawin #gmmtv series #gmmtv #not me the series #seanwhite

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay skznta event, written for @stayndays !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it! ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”.

“Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them.

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock.

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.”

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose.

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date.

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too.

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter.

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it.

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion?

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own?

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it.

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long.

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now.

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch.

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across.

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all.

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.”

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned.

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon. You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door.

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod.

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up.

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days.

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly.

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it.

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly.

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.”

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?”

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.”

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don��t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course.

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz @stayverse @districtninewriters @kpopscape @skzwritersclub + @sunoo-luvs @sleepylixie @rae-blogging @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah @p2q3r4 @baby-innie (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

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literallythebiggestfuckingsimp · 4 years

Text

Our Little Secret

description: you and rudy have been sneaking around for a while now, what happens when you get caught in front of thousands of fans?😳😳

warnings: making out?? ooo and swearing oops (as a british person i can’t just NOT swear)

Rudy’s lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily as his arms snaked around your waist. You gasped, arms moving to hook around his neck as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You had to be on set in five, and you were just passing the time with your good friend Rudy in his trailer.

Between the two of you, neither of you were quite sure what you were. So far, all you guys had done was purely physical. Of course, there had been lingering touches, longing stares, stolen smiles. But you hadn’t talked about it.

It had started with flirty jokes, and then, boom! It just kinda happened, if you were being honest.

Not breaking the kiss, the two of you stumbled backwards until you bumped into the table. You jumped up and he took his pace between your legs, detaching his lips from yours and turning his attention to the skin on your neck. You moaned, heading rolling back to give him more access.

“Hey, Rudy? You in there?” Your eyes widen at the voice outside the trailer door, freezing both yours and Rudy’s movements.

“Uh, yeah?” Rudy says, clearing his throat.

“Why’s the door locked, toot?” You could practically see the suggestive smirk on Chase’s face.

“Cause I’m about to take a shit and I didn’t want anyone to come in here and smell that,” Rudy replies, looking at you with a grin on his face. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, pressing your face up to it to suppress your laughter.

Chase laughs. “Alright, then, but have you seen Y/N? I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Nah, sorry bro,” Rudy calls out when you shake your head at him. “I’ve gotta take this shit or I’ll explode. See you in a sec.”

“It’s good, bro,” Chase replies. “She’s gotta be on set now, though. I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. Probably went off to craft services or something.”

You glare at the door where Chase is stood on the other end, but your eyes widen wen you realise you’re gonna be late to set.

“Cya, man,” Rudy says, helping you down from the counter as you pat down your hair. Chase mumbles a “bye”.

You two wait until it’s clear, giving Rudy a quick peck as you subtlety sneak out the trailer door once you’re sure Chase is gone.

As you walk - more like jog - away, you look back. Through the window you salute to Rudy, and he salutes back with a maniacal grin on his perfect face.

♡

You’ve just finished shooting for the day, and straight away, you headed over to see Rudy. He’d slid you a note earlier in the day to meet him at his trailer once you were done.

Arriving, you were immediately pulled into a kiss by by the blond headed bimbo who’d stolen your heart. You smiled against his lips, happily thinking about the fact that you could finally call him yours.

Around two weeks ago now you two had finally sorted through your shit and admitted your feelings for each other. However, you’d both decided it would be better if you kept your newfound relationship to yourselves. You didn’t want to make things awkward if it didn’t work out, and, besides, sneaking around was fun. “Think of it as our little secret,” you had said.

You pulled away from the kiss and he pouted. Laughing, you pecked him on the cheek and watched as a smile took over on his lips. Rudy’s arms situated themselves around your waist as he laid the two of you down on the makeshift sofa in his trailer.

Rudy was lying on your lap as you played with his hair, occasionally kissing him as some stupid ass movie played on the TV. It was a nice breather from all the crazy scenes you’d been filming and you couldn’t feel more relaxed.

Well, that was until there was a knock at the door. You wasted no time in rushing into the bathroom, hiding as Rudy went to answer the door.

“Yo, dude,” you hear JD greet and you mentally cuss him out.

“Uh, hey, JD, Maddie,” Rudy says. “What’s up?”

“Why’re you being so weird?” Maddie questions, confused as to why Rudy seemed hesitant about letting them in.

“Me?” Rudy asks, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not being weird.”

“Whatever,” Madison huffs. You hear her and JD walk in and mutter profanities under your breath. Thank god you had picked up your phone from the sofa or you would be toast. “We wanted to watch a movie and you have the comfiest couch.”

“What’re we watchin?” Rudy asks, bouncing on his heels. Madison shares a look with JD, confused as to what the hell was up with him.

“I dunno,” JD shrugs. “I gotta take a tinker in your bathroom, though. I’ll be right back.” He says, and your eyes widen.

“No!” Rudy calls out, and you search frantically for an escape route. There’s a window, but it’s kinda small, you’re not sure if you’d fit. Fuck it, you think as you hear JD and Mads confront Rudy about being weird.

“I just mean ... it’s kinda rank in there,” Rudy says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Disgusting,” Madison mutters.

“I’ll just block out the smell,” JD shrugs. “I’m desperate, bro.”

Rudy silently prays to himself as you fumble about the bathroom, climbing on top of the seat. You put one leg through the window as the footsteps land right outside the door, and try to slyly maneuver yourself out with your phone in one hand. Your plan fails miserable and you tumble to the ground, landing in a bush.

“Fuck,” you mutter, sitting up and pulling leaves out your hair.

The door to the bathroom swings open and you run as fast as you can back to your own trailer. You ignore the confused looks of the crew members, and Drew calling your name as he sees you run past with twigs in your hair.

As soon as you get back to your trailer, you shoot Rudy a quick text.

I jumped out the window ;)

Jesus, Y/N. You good?

Yeah, just thank god for my super rad spy skills.

Sure, baby. Sure.

♡

You giggle as Rudy pushes you down on your bed, peppering your skin with kisses, making you laugh more.

Filming had ended and you were currently quarantined with the cast, stuck in yours and Madelyn’s apartment. After the release of the show, you had gained quite a big fan base and your time had been occupied with online interviews and live streams. You’ve barely had the chance to sneak around with Rudy, not wanting to raise any suspicions since fans had already started shipping the two of you, pointing out the way he looks and interacts with you, and vice versa.

You didn’t want to let your friends catch on. Not yet.

Swiftly, you flip you and Rudy over, straddling him as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You must not have heard the footsteps creeping up to your room, or the door swing open as you kissed your boyfriend.

A quick shriek alerted you of someone’s presence. You scrambled away from Rudy, cheeks red and eyes wide. It was Madelyn, stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Clumsily, she dropped her phone, the object clattering to the floor

“Fuck,” Rudy mutters, pulling on his shirt as you put your hands over your face in attempt to hide you embarrassment.

Madelyn stands dead still, frozen to the spot. “Oh my god, guys, I am so so so sorry! I didn’t know you two were-”

By now, you had alerted the attention of Chase and Drew, who came running over at the sound of a scream. It didn’t take them long to connect the dots, between your rosy cheeks and swollen lips and Rudy’s messy hair and flustered appearance.

“Oh, shit,” Drew swore, eyes wide.

“Uh, guys ...” Madelyn spoke up, chuckling nervously. “I was on live and they saw ...” she motions between the two of you with her hands, “that.”

Honestly, you think you could’ve died, right then and there. You scramble to grab Maddie’s phone from the floor, seeing the comments screaming about what they had just accidentally witnessed and quickly end the live.

“I’m so sorry!” Maddie squeals, cheeks tinging red. “I was planning on scaring Y/N and I didn’t think Rudy would be in here, let alone that you two would be-”

You quickly cut her off, scratching the back of your neck and biting your lip. “It’s fine, Maddie. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Rudy clears his throat. “You couldn't have known.”

“Uh, well,” Drew chuckles. “This is awkward.”

“Honestly, I’m gonna need a good few shots to erase the embarrassment of this moment from my memory,” you state, walking through the door and towards the kitchen where a bottle of vodka awaits you.

“I second that,” Rudy says, following you and lazily placing an arm around your waist.

Chase grins, watching the two off you. “So ... “ he trails off, gesturing between the two of you with his hand. “Are you two, yanno, together?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You nod and Rudy smiles. “Yeah, we have been for a while now.”

“God, it’s about time!” Chase exclaims.

“You guys were pretty bad at hiding it,” Drew states, a grin of his own on his lips.

You mock fake offence, gasping as you poor the vodka into your shot glass. “We’ve been dating for four months, so, obviously not.”

Madelyn’s mouth hangs open. “Four months?!” she yells. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Rudy shrugs, kissing your cheek fondly. “Eh, it was pretty fun sneaking around.”

“Agreed,” you say, smiling up at him. He meets your gaze, pecking you on the lips.

“Ew, you guys,” Chase groans. “Just because you’re together now doesn’t mean you can be all openly affectionate.”

Madelyn whacks his arm, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, they’re cute.”

“Nah, they’re gross,” Drew jokes, laughing. “Anyway, I made Mama Starkey’s casserole. Who wants some?”

“Me!” you exclaim, grinning excitedly. If there was one thing you loved it was Mama Starkey’s chicken casserole. Also, eating and drinking would be a good way to get your mind off the fact that practically the entire world saw you on top of a shirtless Rudy, making out with him.

A/N: AHAHAH THE WAY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS SHDJSHJDH also pls excuse the crappy writing this was made at 4am last night😳

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who-ever-said-i-was-nice · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can I ask an ikevamp request where the boys find MC's sketchbook and is filled with drawings and doodles of them? If all of the suitors is to much, then just do for Jean, Will, Theo, Mozart, Leo and Comte. Have a nice day! ^^

Bruh this is a genius idea @jeanstan . First of all thanks so much for this request and second of all of coarse I will do all the suitors. Why? Because I’m awesome. No I’m kidding, I’m literally the most clumsy, airheaded person on this planet. Think brain fried Kaminari energy. Also I’m really sorry this took this long. Anywhooo let’s get into it shall we. Tags: @nad-zeta

Ilevamp suitors finding mc’s sketchbook

Comte

you where just chilling in his armchair and doodling him when sleep over took you and fell asleep

being the gentleman he is he picked you up and set you down on his bed tucking you in nicely

then he noticed your sketchbook on the armchair

not even mr. Perfect-guy can resist tacking a little peek at it

so he just looked at the page that was already open

an there he saw a pretty good drawing of him

Comte to his brain: take a peek you said. it will be fine you said. why are you looking through it. you said.

yup he ended up going through your entire sketchbook

he then wrote a little thank you next to your most recent drawing and set it next to you.

when you saw his little note you blushed, but at least he liked it

Leonardo da sleepy

you where both just sitting in the library

you got a bit hungry so you left to get a snack but you accidentally left your notebook there

you know this guy has a thirst for knowledge and that includes figuring out what’s in your notebook

he will pick it up and flip it open expecting to see notes or random drawings

nope nope he sees a bunch of drawings of him with notes like * damn that smile owns my heart* or * UUUUUUH why is he so annoyingly adorable*

This guy has the biggest smirk plastered on his face. when you come back into the room

“ I didn’t know I was annoyingly adorable Cara mia”

cue you turning tomato red

Napoleon

you where sparring ( or where watching the boys spar whatever fits)

after a few rounds you decided to get a drink and offered to bring drinks for the boys too

Jean excused himself and went to the bathroom and Leon was left alone

now your sketchbook was already just on the ground next to your hoodie

he didn’t touch it ‘cause he’s nice, but now..

he decided to take a peek

and he saw a sketch of him sparring

he flipped through it and found more pictures

him sleeping, him laughing, him teaching the kids the best thing that would describe him in this moment that meme: mha heart mah soul

and you catch him with the notebook in his hands

he just walks up to you and hugs you

Isaac

little bean

he stumbles across it by accident, literally stumbles

you dropped it and he tripped on it

he’s like the f is this?

he picks it up and opens it

oh my Lord

he’s as red as an apple ( pun intended😏)

there are a bunch of doodles of him some where he’s holding Harry, some where it’s only him looking through his telescope or just off into the distance

you: Hey Isaac have you seen my...

Isaac: no I haven’t seen the notebook, idk about a notebook, what is a notebook even

poor boy

you just hug him and reassure him you’re not mad, when he mumbles an apology

Jean

precious bean yes Isaac, Jean and Vincent are all beans. COME @ ME

so you carried that notebook around everywhere you went and while he is not as attentive as Arthur he still noticed

so when you left your notebook in his bedroom after bringing him breakfast he couldn’t resist the urge to take a peek

when he sees a bunch of drawing of him he’s..torn

on one hand he’s moved and is actually happy that you drew him on the other he doesn’t understand why you would want to draw someone as impure as him akgkgakgskgfau LOVE HIM PLS

when you come back into the room you panic a little ‘cause he’s staring at it with a blank expression

but then he apologizes and your panic melt away

he ask you why you drew him and you if play the “because I love you” card he will be shocked and happy and confused and surprised...( the list is so long A decided it would be best to just ad an etc. over here)

you hug him and reassure him he is important and you love him

Arthur

ok so he knew that the sketchbook was important to you right of the bat

being the annoying sweet person he is he decides to pester you more then ever

“ Whatcha got there Luv?” “It’s my notebook” “Can I see what’s inside” *flashes a severely annoyed look* “Arthur this is the 7th time today and i have the same answer. No.” “ Oh come on doll it’s just a peak” “It is closed for a REASON!”

Yeah you might have snapped at him a little but his ho guy ain’t giving up

so of coarse when you leave your notebook in his room he will act like he didn’t notice until you leave and then he will scramble out of his chair and nab the notebook

he opens it expecting a diary or just a bunch of notes only to come face to face with a bunch of pictures of him

he’ll raise an eyebrow and keep looking until he finds a very beautiful and realistic drawing of him sleeping with Vic and he looses his shit

he’ll run to you and pull you back into the room to cuddle and tell you how much he loves you no he’s definitely not crying

you don’t get what’s happening until he tells you he saw your drawing and you will turn slightly pink but honestly you just can’t be mad

Mozart

ok so we all know that when he finds this notebook he’ll be stone-faced

you ain’t getting no type of emotion out of this tsuntsun

that is until he’s in public

once he’s in his room oh boy

at first it’s just a hint of a smile, but it gets bigger and bigger until he’s smiling like a dork as he inspects your drawings

he’ll never admit it but the fact that you drew him really warmed his icy heart

he even finds one where he’s by a Christmas tree smiling and a little note next to it saying “I’ll make him smile like this one day”

he closes the book and puts on his stone face again and leaves his room

in the corridor he runs into you

“ Hey, Wolf?” “What do you want.” “Isn’t that my notebook?” “Yes it is.” “So why do you have it?” “....Inspiration.”

yup now he has that notebook with him on the piano and only let’s you get it back if you want to doddle in it some more

Theo

you where cooking in the kitchen, whipping up some pancakes for the brothers

Theo came in to complain that there wasn’t enough syrup on his pancake and you flashed him a death glare and told him to get some from the cupboard

as he grumbles to himself h notices your sketchbook on the counter

and he proceeds to open it and go through it

he sees a bunch of pretty decent drawings of him and he’s surprised

he’ll act all tough but he’s really happy

“ Oi, Hondjie! What is this?” he shows you your most recent sketch. The one where he’s walking King with a faint smile on his lips.

you instantly go bright red

“ Put that down! You where not supposed to see that! There not good just put it down”

he’ll sigh and pull you into a hug

“ I like it”

Vincent

smol bean

you left it in his room and he just wanted to take a peek

and he opened it up and saw a punch of sketches of him

they even had notes like “uhh stop moving you hand” or “how can someone be this pure”

he’s moved

will go and find you and apologize for looking in your notebook and will tell you how cute your drawings are

all in all he’s a sweet little angel but like who expected anything else

Dazai

funny how he can’t remember your name but can remember exactly were you hide the sketchbook when you can’t take it with you

yup this guy just went and took it

he has no shame

he flicked trough it and smiled to himself

the drawings where adorable and funny and he loved it

you strait up walk in on him with the sketchbook and he just smiled at you

you turn pink trying to explain why you drew them

buuuut he just twirls you around and pules you into his lap smiling and you go over the drawing together recalling happy memories

Sebastian

did somebody say Sebastian appreciation hours

You can’t really hide anything from Sebas can you

you went out to get groceries and he was cleaning up around the mansion

you had left your notebook tucked behind one of the library shelves and as he was dusting he found it

he opened it not knowing it was your notebook

he realized soon enough though

he just starred at the pages full of drawings of him

you waked in and he just calmly put the notebook down

he asks why you drew him and you turn pink

as you try to formulate a coherent response he sighs and makes his way to you

he gently flicks your forehead and smiles

“I never said I didn’t like them”

Will

ok so lets talk about our dear yandere boy Will

you hang out a lot at his villa

usually you are accompanied by Vincent

but today he remembered he had a painting to finish and left

you offered to walk him to the gate and he gladly accepted

however you forgot your sketchbook on the dining table

William instantly noticed this and couldn’t help but take a peek

he’s shooketh

the drawing are so cute he really likes them

you come in and he smiles at you

your kind of embarrassed because 1 you didn’t want him to see that and 2 he asked you if you could draw in front of him

“ The way thou hand moves across this paper mesmerizes me”

you turn bright red but your happy he likes it

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woozisnoots · 3 years

Text

losing you | yoon jeonghan

° pairing: jeonghan x f!reader, jun x f!reader ° genre: soulmate!au, bittersweet angst ° summary: losing me is better than losing you. ° word count: 1.5k ° warnings: implied death but details aren’t explicit! i promise the fic itself isn’t bad >< ° a/n: TEEHEE @vibecheckvernon SURPRISE I’M UR TCT SECRET SANTA !!!! 😌 posted this a little later for prime angst reading times :D I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT CHRISTMAS!!! p.s. pls don’t sue me i love you <3

inspired by: @95boysbe ‘s fic, ‘when you love someone’ (tysm for all of you for helping me find this again! 💓 pls go check out their work as well!) + wonho’s song ‘losing you’

masterlist!

jeonghan has no intentions of going to his family’s christmas party. at least not this early. looking into his appearance in the mirror, he wraps the red checkered scarf around his neck so the ends nicely drape over his white long sleeve shirt tucked under his matching sweater vest. a festive look to hide away his disinterest buried in his “enthusiasm”.

“daddy, are you not coming with us?” jeonghan jolts by the sudden tugging of his sweater from his side, looking over, forcing his eyes to meet with his daughter’s watery orbs.

he crouches down to one knee so he’s completely eye level, tucking in the loose strands of hair behind her ear. “not yet sweetheart. daddy’s gotta pick up a few things for the party.” he opens his arms wide for the tiny human to bury herself in a bear-like embrace.

“stay by mommy’s side at all times, okay?” the little girl steps back to face her father, her hands gripping onto jeonghan’s index finger. “promise?” he continues to persist until she sniffles a series of nods. a small melancholy smile creeps onto jeonghan’s face as he wiggles himself out of her powerful grasp and cups her cheeks, creating small circles on her soft cheekbones with his thumbs.

“good girl. i’ll be back before you notice i’m gone.”

the walk there is shorter than jeonghan was expecting and it almost makes him sick to his stomach. he wants the anticipation to subside by the time he gets there, yet at this rate, he would arrive with nothing but the swell of guilt weighing down inside of him.

the winter chill makes him shiver, hiding his balled fists in his pockets. the farther he walks, this once familiar street slowly turns into the abyss as the fog erases his footsteps along with the glimmery lights surrounding him. but jeonghan is only focused on the dark pathway ahead of him. weeks after hearing the news, and an additional few months of “recovery”, his imagination has conditioned him for far worser environments than some cold weather.

the field of clean cut grass beside him is now closed off, barred by a wired fence painted white indicating he was getting close. it was a foolish thing really. this entire time, from the moment jeonghan left the house until now, he’s been trying to find the right words to say to you. what he would say to you if you were willing to hear him out. question he desperately wants answered. jeonghan lowers his head, scoffing under his breath knowing you probably would have. even though he knew himself that he didn’t deserve it. and neither did you.

he comes to a pause at the entrance, reaching out to maneuver the chains that lock the gateway. taking a slow deep breath in, jeonghan looks up before entering the place of the dead, only to see that you already had company.

the hint of discomfort causes jeonghan’s body to stiffen - the sight of an tall, unfamiliar man here with you triggering his fight or flight response, his instincts urging for the first rather than late. why would he be at a place like this? and on christmas no doubt.

jeonghan takes his time walking towards you both, eyeing his physique up and down from afar. as he got closer, he examines the man’s notable facial features. the longer he stares, the more confused jeonghan gets causing him to crease his eyebrows. neither of you know him. jeonghan shakes the thought away- no, he doesn’t know him. maybe within the time you were away, the two might have met. jeonghan keeps his mind neutral, accepting all the possibilities.

the mysterious man dressed down in this cold december, notices jeonghan walking this way before he could stop in his tracks to presenting himself in front of you. chuckling at the grimace look on jeonghan’s face.

as respectful as he could possibly mutter, jeonghan opens his mouth to speak, “who-”

“so you must be yoon jeonghan,” he’s quick to cut him off, knowing exactly what might be running through his mind right now. he nods his head towards him, acknowledging the new, delighted presence that fills the air. “my name’s jun.” he watches as the imaginary fumes streaming from the top of jeonghan’s head start to dissipate. “a friend of hers back in america,” he lied, not that jeonghan would ever know anyways. “she talked a lot about you. it almost got annoying.

just like how jeonghan did, jun studies him in his entirety. a smirk forming on his lips finding that he looked exactly how you described. as well as his own description: a good for nothing low life with faltering loyalty. jun scowls at the ring wrapped around jeonghan’s finger. “talk about that red string of fate, huh,” his words protrude the thick musk that wavers around them, finally breaking jeonghan’s walls. “don’t mind me though. i’m just here to pay my respects as a friend,”jun says, his words laced with sarcasm.

jeonghan freezes in his spot, feeling only a tingling sensation in his fingers and toes as the flood of memories of the two of you replay in the back of his mind. the entirety of your childhood, including your teenage and what was there for your college years. until the dreaded day you decided to leave. “so, you knew?” he whispers more so for his curiosity rather than looking for an actual answer.

and from the look on jeonghan’s face, jun could tell. “yeah,” he says just enough for jeonghan to hear. “i knew a lot.” he averts his eyes away from the soft hearted gaze that now appears on jeonghan’s face.

jun may not have known you the same amount of time as jeonghan did. but the way you wore your heart on your sleeve despite being so vulnerable even after the fact, jun can pluck out things even jeonghan probably never noticed. how jeonghan could ever leave his soulmate for someone else, jun will never fathom at the thought.

but jun knew your side of the story, how you felt watching your soulmate drew you guys apart. no, he wasn’t your friend per say, not in his official title anyway. when you were admitted into the hospital, jun was only there as a volunteer. he had a responsibility to look after all his assigned patients as comfort companions through their clinical care, including you.

you were the hospital’s one exception. at the point of your critical condition, doctors truly didn’t know when the time would pass. knowing no one else in the states aside from your family, jun soon became your side by side as hospital bed buddies. and hated every moment of it.

he hated the way you smiled so brightly for him every day despite how sick you were. but stare blankly at your food whenever it came to you and end up not eating. he hated how you easily created friendships with the nurses and other caretakers at hospital, including himself. but refused to take your medication. he hated how fondly you talked about love when you weren’t feeling it. he hated hearing the sniffles that came from your room every morning after he clocked in. he hated it so much that you still smiled saying your soulmate's name even though he was doing the same thing for someone else. in the end, jun was too late to tell you all that.

fate, being the sick bastard that it is, has jun meeting the one person he actually came to hate. and he’ll do one better. just like how jeonghan never got to know about your true feelings and conditions, jun will never tell him how much he truly cared for you. how he was entirely convinced he, a person who wasn’t even destined to have a soulmate, could fill the void that jeonghan had left.

the longer jun stands there, the small pit of anger quietly begins to boil and that was his cue to leave. he avoids eye contact as he stirs away from the flowers he left you and tries to make his exits, stopping at his tracks when jeonghan speaks once again.

“then can i ask you something? your opinion as her friend. since you know,” he hiccups, the words coming out a beat too late. his voice also shaky, not knowing if it was due to the cold or the rise of his nerves.

jun leans on one leg, stuffing his hands in the side pockets of his leathered coat. he almost says no. he wants to say no. “shoot,” sounding unbothered.

“do you think she’d still want to be my soulmate in a different life?”

jeonghan’s heart churns at his own question, as does jun’s. he could have asked any other question, but out of the hundreds he accumulated in the mile walk here, jeonghan figured this was the one that jun could at least give some thought.

jun takes a sharp inhale in, his nails forming small crescent moons into his palm. with a heavy sigh, he turns back around and scoffs at the sight of jeonghan tearing up in front of you. and with gritted teeth, he responds.

“of course she would.”

#seventeen #yoon jeonghan #caratwritersclub #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst #wen junhui #junhui angst #seventeen scenario #jeonghan scenario #junhui scenario #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #junhui x reader

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faerienextdoor · 3 years

Text

general relationship hcs with (some) pastas

Fair warning, I'm using and hinting at mine and my friends’ writing for these creeps :) enjoy also as soon as i figure out how to open an ask box, I’ll be accepting requests

Brian:

- oh where to start with this absolute himbo

- he melts around you. like he's your bitch, and you're his.

- he's the type of boyfriend that takes you out in the snow and shoves a handful down the back of your jacket, and laughs until you shove snow in his face

- it is snow war

- it ends with you cuddling him, wrapped in a blanket and content in front of the burning fire he got started just for you <3

- but he also has some weird... habits.

- drinks pickle juice.

- gets his hand stuck in the jar.

- looks at you like 🥺 until you sigh and help him. for the fifteenth time.

- he can cook some basic breakfast foods, and happily breaks out a cookbook to prepare you something as a surprise or to learn something with you!!

- baking with him would be a mess. he forgets flour goes everywhere and now you both look like you took a bath in cocaine

- but the cupcakes are mediocre at best. they aren't absolute garbage, so... cupcake points!

- he worries about how hoodie treats you. he doesn't remember anything when he regains control, but you've reassured him hoodie is just fine.

- and he is

(hoodie)

- hoodie is like a rottweiler or a doberman.

- protective. intimidating. energetic.

- but also a giant fucking baby.

- this large ass man lumbers over and drops to his knees. places his chin on your lap and stares at you from the fabric of his mask until you stop what you're doing and stroke his head awkwardly

- you could swear he does those happy grumbled a rottie does.

- hoodie is silent but shows he loves you just as much as brian does. He strokes your hair silently, even places a kiss to the crown of your head as you sink into his beefy arms.

- he smells nice too. surprisingly.

- but that raises the question: if hoodie showers, does he shower with that damn thing on?

- you won't get an answer if you were to ask.

- brian introduces you to his grandma julia. and she dotes on you.

- the immortal old lady remarks that you’re the best s/o brian has brought to her yet.

Tim:

- a lumberjack man with biceps like a fucking tree trunk

- how'd you land him? give me your secrets (/j)

- he's such a love bug. a tired stressed love bug.

- he finds /every/ excuse to have physical contact with you. it's like a little touch from you reassures him that you're real. you're like a dream to him.

- he's the best for cuddles. He holds you to his chest

- and you get special access to his moobs

- and he gently strokes your head, traces shapes into your back, etc. it's a special intimate moment each time.

- my man's is italian-american but can't cook to save his fucken life

- he always gets your favorite microwave meals though!! he never forgets.

- not feeling good? dw baby he's making it for you <33 shitty low tier bean and cheese burrito coming up

- slowly he learns the basics and surprises you with lunch or even dinner if you're lucky!!

- he loves you so much. and wants you to feel it and know it. all the time.

(masky)

- god where to start with this bitch

- he's not jeff levels of bad ofc, but he's silent and... weird. creepy, some may say. he doesn't mean to be.

- and he's a hard ass. far more strict than tim.

- he follows you around like a giant fucken puppy and will spook you by grabbing you abruptly and holding you tightly

- you can't escape him. he really utilizes his physical strength

- he loves lifting you up and just... holding you. or carrying you off.

- protective and overbearing.

- but tim keeps him under control.

(angst)

- he wouldn't want to lose you like he lost his last wife.

- you find pictures of a woman laying around and a small girl that bears a striking resemblance to her and tim.

- tim goes quiet and questioned but eventually caves and tells you about his family

- or what he used to have

- his wife died and his daughter disappeared.

- it broke him and you're all he has left now

- constantly needs your affection in return to his own

- pls love him

jeff:

- why the fuck would you date him

- he's the absolute worst in so many aspects. But he genuinely tries for you.

- even if his gifts are shitty, it's nice to know he thoughts of you, right? even if it's a half dead flower or a rib torn from a deer caraccas.

- but you get the butt end of his shithead antics. ranch bath, specifically. he smelt like spoiled milk for a week after and you had to cuddle that fucker.

- and don't get me started on mayo bath

- but he still loves finding himself in your arms. or finding you in his. he's demanding affection wise, and will yank you into him for some cuddles. whether you like it or not.

- he isn't one for a lot of pet names, but calls you curse words or "sweetheart" in polish.

- and you get to see the side of him that only shows when he breaks down.

(bit of angst)

- he misses his family and the life he used to have. he'll reminisce what it was like in poland with his mom and family with you, and you sometimes swear you can see his brown eyes gloss over at the memory of her.

- he never talks about his dad, you've noticed.

- don't ask.

- he brushes off heavy conversations with some dumb quip ("wanna see my renegade?")

- he sucks at cooking. god awful at it. but he really tries for you. manages a bowl of oat meal that's edible.

- but he overloads it with sugar and for some reason, salt.

- he's confused. he thinks that's normal (it isn't)

- his idea of a date is napping with you. or rather, forcing you into nap time.

- I mean it when I say this man is strong in a weird fucken way. latches onto you with that iron grip and you won't be able to leave for at least a few hours.

jane:

- ethereal wlw woman.

- could break you with her heels. or a flutter of what eyelashes she has.

- you're lucky to have her, and she's just as lucky to have you!

- she's sweet and charming. very smooth and takes good care of you.

- her love language is a mix of physical touch and acts of service.

- she'll cuddle you all night, and then make you breakfast in the morning.

- she loves showering with you when she's comfy enough around you! it's super intimate and she washes your hair.

- massages the soap into your hair, suds spilling down your neck and back as her fingers scrub circles into your scalp.

- it's heaven on earth. such a domestic life.

- it'll take a while for her to settle enough in the relationship for you to see her without her mask

- you make her feel so loved and wanted

- secure, even.

- she's protective but not controlling or overbearing. shes that type of girlfriend that's just a worrywart and relaxes as soon as you're curled up in her arms. you fit there perfectly, too. like you belong there.

- which you do. at least in her mind

- she has such a gentle touch and hold on you. like she's afraid you'll combust in her arms if she holds you too tightly.

- she loves stroking your hair and having you nap

- using her tiddies as a pillow 👌

(angst)

- she needs affirmation from you when it comes to her scars.

- she thinks that jeff ruined her. permanently marking her once spotless body.

- and she thinks you'll hate her or find her disgusting.

- that's why she freezes if/when you gently slip off her mask.

- she stares at you with those teary green eyes. then leans in and kisses you

- you make all of her worries disappear.

- she's also financially comfortable, but not really rich (on that topic: eat the rich)

- she spoils you every chance she gets. gifts, a nice dinner date, you name it

- she almost spoils you as much as she does her cat Emory

- little shit has the sparkliest fucken collar and acts like he's the shit

- he's your fur baby too now

Helen:

- oh my god this disaster of an art boi

- he's convinced he's the luckiest man in the world (and he might as well be!!)

- he obviously wouldn't have been the one to confess. but it was really obvious by how he painted and drew you constantly, that some feeling for you was lodged into his beating heart.

- he treats you like the finest china. with the most care a man can manage.

- he's the definition of clingy and affectionate from the very start.

- he curls around your sleeping form perfectly when y'all cuddle.

- his hand dances in your hair, soothing you into a dreamless sleep each night without fail.

- he has a magic touch and a gentle voice.

- and he cherishes you so fucken much. (like a simp /j)

- he shies away from kisses at first, but will hold your hand and melts if you hold his face in them!!!

- he's greek, and often speaks sweet things to you in it. he's so comfortable around you that he speaks in his native language to you. that's an accomplishment.

- he loves when you baby him. helen loves being cradled and loved.

- taking a nap with his head on your chest also hits different. he's so in love with you

(angst)

- he's afraid of losing you. who wouldn't be? you're amazing and you love /him/ of all people

- he thinks very negatively of himself. please scold him for self deprecating.

- he always worries he'll wake up and you'll be gone.

- so he holds you extra close at night. and follows you around when you leave for any reason. Trails behind you like a lost puppy in need of a gentle kiss.

- which, is what he essentially is

- and also: pls steal his sweater and wear it. he'll cry over how cute you are.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #cp headcanons #jeff the killer #brian thomas #marble hornets #timothy wright #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #cp x reader #scenarios #creepypasta scenarios #jane the killer #jane arkensaw #helen otis #bloody painter

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starrywhump · 3 years

Text

Ok whump idea with a little comfort mixed in, hope y’all enjoy!

CW: consensual nsfw(making out that is quickly over), swearing.

The whumpee rolled over in their bed, throwing their blanket down to their feet.

It was too hot, sweat stuck to their hair and face.

They reached out, blindly grabbing for their phone on their bed side table. The bright light from their device made the whumpee squint. It was only 10:17.

A few text notifications shone on the screen, the whumpee ignored them, just as they had every text they had got over the last week.

They were all the same, some variant of:

Hey how are you doing?

Are you doing ok?

I’m here if you need to talk.

Every single one a reminder of everything the whumpee did not want to think of right now.

They dropped their phone, nothing on there was going to make them feel any better.

With a groan they pushed themself off their bed, their body was sore. They were still dressed from the day before, jeans and and a grey sweatshirt.

The whumpee’s head swam as they stood, they ignored it, walking out into the hall, leaning against the wall to make their way to the living room.

They stumbled over to their couch, collapsing down onto the soft seat. Next to them lay a half finished bottle of whisky, just where they left it earlier that evening. It was about 6, they thought, when they had put it down. The nice calm it had brought them earlier had faded. Painful memories started to edge back into their mind.

“What a pretty little thing you are.”

“n-no pl-lease...”

“Oh little thing-”

“NO!” The whumpee yelled, shooting up from the couch. They panted softly, having to convince themselves they were just in their living room.

Reaching back they grabbed the whisky and opened it quickly. They took a long drink, relishing the warm burn that radiated through their chest.

Their head was still too loud. It was too quiet in their apartment to drown it out. They had to get out.

**********

“What can I get you?”

“Anything, you chose. Just make it strong,”

The whumpee had never been much of a drinker, not until recently that is.

The bartender nodded, turning to make the whumpee’s drink.

The whumpee frowned, trying to focus on the clinking of glasses, the music in the bar, anything that could occupy the space in their mind.

The whumpee’s drink was in front of them, they didn’t remember the bartender setting it there.

They took it and drank it quickly, barely even testing whatever it was.

“That was fast, can I get your next one?” A handsome stranger settled in the seat next to the whumpee.

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, they didn’t really want to talk, but a distraction would be nice, “I won’t say no to a free drink.”

The stranger waved to the bartender and another bourbon was placed in front of the whumpee. The whumpee didn’t drink it yet, their head was already feeling pretty cloudy.

“So what brings you here?”

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, “well it’s a bar so alcohol I guess,” The whumpee glossed over the true meaning for their outing.

The stranger smiled, the whumpee couldn’t help but joining them. They had a warm air about them that drew the whumpee in.

“So you’re a smart ass?” The stranger teased.

The whumpee smirked, “On occasion.”

They felt a rush they had almost forgotten about. A normal feeling, normal people get. Just flirting with someone in a bar, not talking about their feelings, not dealing with the shit they have been through. It was intoxicating.

The stranger went to introduce themselves, “I’m-”

“Wait,” the whumpee paused downing their bourbon, “I don’t want to know. Tell me if I’m misreading here but what if instead of small talk,” they turned to look at the stranger, meeting their eyes for the first time, “we went back to your place.”

The stranger’s confident air broke for a moment, a blush colored their face. They nodded, “sounds good to me.”

**********

A part of the whumpee knew this was a bad idea. They doubted that sleeping with someone you found in a bar was high up on the list of recommended strategies to cope with trauma.

But it was hard to care while they were pushed up against the back of a front door, enlocked in a passionate kiss with their handsome stranger.

Being extremely drunk helped to ease any remaining doubts.

The stranger’s hands roamed the whumpee’s body, skimming under their shirt.

“Can I take this off?”

The whumpee barely registered the question before they were nodding.

There shirt went up over their head, lips moved down to their neck, hands moved over their stomach.

The whumpee gazed forward, letting things be done to them as their newest acquaintance wanted to.

It didn’t feel as nice as the whumpee remembered, but it was a distraction, and that was good.

At least it was a normal thing to do, where no one was going to handle them like a child, asking them if they were ok every other minute.

“Hey are you ok?”

Scratch that last bit.

The whumpee perked up taking a breath, they realized they had basically gone limp in the other’s arms, “yes! Yes, I’m good,” the whumpee leaned their head forward to capture the strangers lips in another kiss, “keep going.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, really,” they looked concerned.

That was the last thing the whumpee wanted, they didn’t need anyone else to pity them.

“I want to, really, keep going.”

The stranger smiled, they head moved back down to the whumpee’s neck.

The world seemed to blur a bit, it looked darker than before.

A hand trailed down the whumpee’s arm, the skin felt rougher than before, the hand closed around the whumpee’s wrist. Their wrist was moved up above their head and pinned there.

Their heart skipped a beat. The whumpee told themself that it was in a good way, the way the heart of a normal person would normally skip a beat in this kind of situation.

It was hard to try and excuse away the dread in their stomach as butterflies.

Their breath was heavy because of the beautiful person currently locked onto their body, that’s what they told themselves.

“You’re crying.”

The movement had stopped, how long their stranger had just been staring at them the whumpee didn’t know.

Worry was etched into the others face.

“S-sorry,” the whumpee whispered breathlessly.

“No, hey don’t be sorry it’s ok.”

Those kind words hurt more than any ones meant to inflict pain. Tears flowed faster down the whumpee’s cheeks. They couldn’t catch their breath. They felt trapped.

Their blurred vision turned to complete darkness.

The whumpee tried to blink it away.

Hands moved over them, restraining them in their arms. Their eyes cleared to see the whumper in front of them, grinning, holding them close.

“NO!”

“Are- hey it’s ok, it’s ok,” a soothing voice cut through the darkness.

The whumpee blinked hard, panting as they tried to understand what was real and what was their brain pulling tricks on them.

When they opened their eyes again the whumper was mercifully gone. But the panic wasn’t.

Humiliation washed over them as they met the eyes of their attempted one-night stand.

“You fell down, fainted or- something. Are- are you ok? I thought it was ok, I’m so sorry if I- if I did something wrong.”

The whumpee tried to listen to their kind words, it was hard to take it in, they couldn’t breathe.

The hands on them felt suffocating, one on each shoulder. Their intent was probably just to keep them from collapsing fully to the ground but they were just added on to their trapped feeling.

“Do- do you want some tea? Or something? Water?”

The whumpee didn’t care about tea, just wanted them to stop touching them. But since they weren’t really sure how to make their voice work right now, they gave a jerky nod, hoping the stranger would leave to get it.

“Ok- uh I’ll up just get you both, uh stay here, just a sec.”

The hands finally left the whumpee, they felt like they could breathe a little easier.

Footsteps faded off in a different direction.

The whumpee took deep breaths, trying to convince themselves they were ok.

In.

Out.

In.

Out

In...

The whumpee’s vision cleared up a bit, they looked around the room they were in. Focusing on the green flower vase in the corner, the brown door, white walls, they began to calm down.

As soon as the initial panic of the moment had subsided the whumpee was hit with another massive wave of humiliation.

“Jesus Christ...” they muttered to themselves.

This was a complete stranger and they just completely freaked out on them. This was meant to be their first day of normalcy and they had gone and fucked it up, just another reminder that they were never going to be normal. Couldn’t just enjoy a simple fucking one night stand, no they had to have a full on panic attack.

“Can you do one fucking thing right,” the whumpee scowled, angry at themselves.

Tears pricked at the side of their eyes, threatening to fall again. The whumpee quickly wiped them away, there was no way they were crying again no matter how embarrassed they were.

They looked longingly towards the door, thinking of maybe making a quick exit to try and preserve what little dignity they had left.

“You wanna come, uh... sit on the couch?” their was the whumpee’s stranger, holding a mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

The whumpee stood up shakily.

“I... I think I’m just gonna head home, I uh, sorry. So sorry about uh, all that.”

“No there’s no need to apologize! I’m the one who should be sorry, I really didn’t mean to do anything that would-”

“You didn’t really, it’s just uh, my own shit. So um I’m just gonna go-”

The stranger placed their handful of beverages down on the side table by the green vase the whumpee had been paying too much attention to earlier.

“Aren’t you uh, drunk, and... I mean, are you sure that’s the safest idea?”

“I’m fine, I don’t live too far and I’m not gonna drive. I walked to the bar, I can get back to my house,” it was going to be a pretty long walk but the whumpee couldn’t spend a second longer here.

“Can I at least call you an uber?” That worried look was back on the stranger’s face.

“Oh no really it’s-”

“Please, I insist, call it my apology for tonight. Besides I put all this work into this cup of tea, it would be a shame to waste it.”

The whumpee didn’t respond, honestly they would love to be driven home, they were tired and, very drunk.

“Please?” The stranger smiled.

“O-ok, thank you.”

“It’s no problem really! Want that tea now?”

#whump #comfort #panic attack #flashback #fear #one night stand #whumpee #caretaking #accidental caretaker #caretaker #drunk #not sfw #kissing

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finnyboywolfhard · 3 years

Text

‘Tis the Damn Season

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: based roughly on ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. Reader comes home for the holidays after two years of being away.

warnings: cursing, angst, fluff

a/n: literally less than a minute into me hearing the song for the first time, I knew I needed to write this so pls enjoy ❤️

word count: 2.2k

Y/N loved going to school away from Hawkins. Getting to experience a life away from the small town that sucked the life from her and drained her happiness after a while. It had been almost two years since she had made the journey from her state school in California back to Indiana. It wasn’t like she didn’t miss her family, but it was just easier, and in all honesty better for her to stay there all year round. There was inevitably downfalls to that, having to work a full time job and also go to school, most holidays were spent alone and she had no idea what was happening in the lives of her old friends or her family for that matter. They would come visit every so often and there was frequent phone calls but it was never enough.

“Knock, knock!” Y/N said as she opened the door, her mom flying from the kitchen to wrap her daughter in her arms.

“Oh how I’ve missed squeezing you!” Her mom said through a squished face. The girl started laughing at her mother’s reaction. The two exchanged small talk while they waltzed from the front door back to the kitchen.

“So what’s new in the world of Hawkins?” Y/N said pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting at her kitchen table, glancing to her mom every few movements.

“Same old, same old, not much happens and not much changes. Mrs. Click retired last year, I know how much you loved her class.” The girls mind was flooded with memories of him. Steve Harrington, her first and maybe only love. She thought of all the times he would arrive to class late and then sloppily eat his bagel while Mrs.Click was trying her best to pull nearly every girls attention away from him. Maybe that’s why Y/N attracted him, she never stared the same way every girl did.

“Maybe I’ll send her a letter or call her to see if she’d want to chat sometime. Anything else? Any new couples?:

“That Robin Buckley came home last Christmas with a girlfriend.”

“Wait she finally came out to her parents?”

“You knew?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known since the whole mall fiasco.” Her mother stayed silent as she continued to move with ease around the ever so familiar kitchen.

“Do you want to settle back in or would you want to come to the store with me?”

“I can go with you, let me go change into something else, I’ve been in these clothes since I left LA.’’ The girl ran up to her old bedroom, grabbing the suitcases from the bottom of the steps were she had left them. As she entered the room, she was hit with a wave of memories. Pictures of Y/N and Steve covered her walls, she let out a sigh.

I won't ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

“Y/N, stop, you’re being over dramatic.”

“Steve! No I’m not! I got into my dream school, where I’ve wanted to go for practically my entire life. You’re not supporting me!”

“It’s not that i don’t support you, I don’t want you to leave!”

“We can do the distance! We can call and i will come back for breaks, we can write letters! We can make it work, I don’t want to chose between you or my dream.”

“Well I want you to.”

“Steve…”

“Y/N chose.”

“Then leave Steve.”

Sure, Y/N could pretend that the reason she didn’t come home was because she would see Steve and become overwhelmed by everything that happened between them. Sure she could pretend that she doesn’t still think of him every single day. Sure she could pretend that if Steve asked she would do anything for him. But she wouldn’t let herself. She did what was going to be best for her future. He didn’t matter if he didn’t support that. Her mind snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing.

“Shit.” She mumbled to herself as she realized how long she must have been zoned out for. She got dressed and ran downstairs. Her mom was standing at the door, placing items into her purse.

“You ready?” She glanced at her daughter who was pantin from how quickly she tried to get down the stairs.

“Yup!” The two piled into the car and began driving through town. Y/N shivered, no longer being acquainted with the colder weather that seemed permanent in Hawkins.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass, But I felt it when i passed you, There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

Y/N attention was brought back to reality as they drove past the Family Video and he was outside getting into his car. The two made eye contact as the car moved past, the eye contact remaining unbroken until they physically could not see each other anymore. She felt a tension in her chest, he looked so good, but he also looked hurt. He didn’t have that same spark that drew her to him in the first place. And it shattered her to know that it was her fault.

“Taking in the sights?“

“Mom!” Y/N yelled out of embarrassment

“Oh please,. Rumor has it he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you left. He’s apparently turned down every girl that’s asked him out.”

“I mean, i haven't dated anyone since I've left either. I’ve gone on dates but nothing but flings.’

“Maybe you should reach out.’

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes and her mom changed the conversation to something about her dad. For the rest of the night, she just spent as much time as she could attached to every member of her family’s hip. These moments were making her regret not coming back sooner a little more.

Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

She found her way back to her bedroom and found a photo of her and Steve that one of the kids took.

“Steve!” The girl giggled out as the boy pulled her tightly to his body, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek. Through her fit of giggles, his smile still shone brighter than her own. To Y/N, anything he did was brighter than hers and she was more than alright with that. Everything he did was perfect, he was the dream boyfriend. She loved each and every inch of him, no matter how often he annoyed her or how often he would say something that made little to no sense, it didn’t matter. If it was Steve, it was perfect.

“What? You don’t want my kisses?” He faked a pout. She rolled her eyes and turned her face to look at him and touch her lips to his own. His eyes gleefully filled up with joy and he overdramatically said “you want my kisses!’

‘I’ll always want your kisses.” She said smiling, and he smiled back making pristine eye contact, only a flash tore their attention away from one another.

She pulled her eyes away from the photo in her hand, setting it down where she had just picked it up. She put her pajamas on and got comfy in her old bed.

When she woke up the next morning, for some reason something was calling her to just go for a drive.

I parkеd my car right between the Methodist And thе school that used to be ours

She drove around the town observing all of the vaguely familiar settings, remembering each moment she had connected to the setting. As she parked her car a little down from the high school, she focused on her breathing for the first time in a while. She got out of her drivers seat and out of the car, grabbed a book from her backseat and went to sit on the lawn sprawled beside her. As she walked down the hill, she noticed a figure. As she approached, the figure became clearer and clearer. Steve.

“Hey.” She called out to him, his head snapped up to look at her standing over him.

“Hey Y/N, long time no see.”

“Two years.” She said, she waved her hand a bit to ask if she could sit next to him and he nodded his head yes before he continued.

“How have you been?’

“Good! Busy as hell, but good. What about you Stevie?” The nickname slipped out without much thought at all.

“I’ve been doing my best. I am now manager at Family Video, Keith left.”

“Damn, for real?’ He nodded his head yes and she shook hers in disbelief. “I heard about Rob’s girlfriend. Well, I heard that she had one.’

“Oh! Yeah! Her name is Marie and she’s really nice. They’re a good match, she’s just as smart as Robin, I can barely keep up with them.”

“Who could realistically ever keep up with Robin, let alone Robin and someone just like her.” The two let out dry laughs, which helped to relax some of the weird tension between the two.

“How long are you here?”

“Just for the holidays, I’m only staying with my parents until the second week of January.”

“Ahh.” The tone of his voice switched to one much sadder. The air hung still, neither of their voices filling the space anymore. She spoke before she could think.

“Would you wanna drive around later? Look at lights? For old times sake?” She looked at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. He looked back at her, searching her face to make sure it wasn’t a joke.

“Uhh, yeah. I mean...I’m meeting Robin and Marie at like 9 to hang out for a little bit, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

“I don’t want to intrude.’

“You’re not intruding if I’m inviting you Y/N/N.” For a moment, it felt like the past. It was as if they teleported back to when things weren’t like they were now. But what’s stopping them from letting things be like the past while she’s home? The only heart that would be breaking even more would be hers.

We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend, ‘tis the damn season

He rang the doorbell a little after eight, and she rushed to her door before any of her family. She yelled out a goodbye and they walked out the door and over to his car.

‘So, school? How is that?”

“It’s hell, but what else was to be expected.”

“And you’re still a film major? Nothing has changed?”

“Yes sir, still a film major.’

“You’d be impressed, I am starting to actually remember the names of movies!’

“That’s a big step for you, consider me proud.”

“Thanks babe.” It slipped out of his mouth without a thought. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that it just kinda came out.” She let her hand reach out and rest on his thigh.

“It’s okay, we call each other babe for the time being, no big deal.”

��Tis the damn season.” Steve let out in a huffed breath. The two kept chatting and the car got more and more comfortable, they fell into their old rhythm. It felt like the road she chose to go down, didn’t ruin everything. He pulled up to the diner they were meeting Robin and her girlfriend at and sat patiently in Steve’s car. Their heads were leaning back against the head rests and they were looking into each other’s eyes. He reaches over and grazes her face. She pulls in a breath as he shows her the eyelash now sitting atop his finger.

‘Make your wish.” He said gently, she closed her eyes to think for a second and blew the eyelash from his finger softly. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled. The neon lights shone down from the sign through his windshield and grazed his face, framing it and shaping it with a red hue. He looked angelic.

‘What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked quietly, not entirely sure why he was being so quiet.

“Nothing.” She said, trying to push past the feelings building inside her. She fakes a smile.

“Don’t do that, you know I can tell when you’re lying. What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how beautiful you look and how much i want to kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you should.” He reaches his hand over to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek as her leans closer. Their lips meet in the middle, colliding with a gentle passion that filled Y/N with relief. Although the pain of the past hung around like old perfume, it seemed to be patched by this kiss. His lips were plump and soft, his hands against her skin were rough but tender. He fit with her perfectly, and there was no one on earth who she likes kissing more. As they pulled apart, their eyes never lost contact.

It didn’t matter in that moment that she was leaving again in a month, or the fact that Robin had gotten there in the middle. Nothing mattered in that minute. Because all of those moments where they missed one another were mended right now. And somehow, even though she chose a different path, it still led her to her hometown. It led her to Steve.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

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binch-i-might-be · 3 years

Text

The More You Know

This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.

Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao

also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)

POV first person, wordcount 3.1k

The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.

I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.

I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.

»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.

»Yes. Or something.«

He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.

She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.

Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«

»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.

He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«

I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«

»What?«

»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«

He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.

»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.

»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.

»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«

»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.

»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.

We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.

»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.

»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.

I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.

»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.

»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.«

I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.

»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.

»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«

»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.

»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.

»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.

Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.

I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.

In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.

To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.

Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.

When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.

Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.

Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.

Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.

»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«

»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«

At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«

»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«

I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«

Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.

I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.

»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«

He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«

I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«

He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«

I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«

He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«

Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«

Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«

For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?

»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«

He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.

I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.

»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.

»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.

»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«

And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.

»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.

He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«

His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«

»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.

»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«

He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe.

»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«

Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.

»Probably,« I answered, grinning.

Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.

Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.

»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.

The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.

I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«

»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«

»Yep.«

He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«

I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.

»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«

Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.

Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.

Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.

»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.

I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«

At that, he only looked offended.

»No offence, Alex,« I said.

»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«

»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«

»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«

I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare.

»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«

»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«

Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«

I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.

»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«

»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«

I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.

Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.

»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.

He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.

»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.

»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.

#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this #ray was really going through it #short story #unfinished #i really stopped writing this mid dialogue #very iconic of me #rayrambles

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