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Disappearance of Frances Tuccitto
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Frances Tuccito circa 1953
Frances Tucitto
Physical Description
Full Name: Frances L. Tuccitto
Date of Birth: Unknown
Race/Ethnicity: White/Caucasian
Sex: Female
Height: 5′2″ (62 inches) (157.48 cm)
Weight: 100 lbs - 105 lbs (45.35kg - 47.63 kg)
Hair Color: Brown, graying
Eye Color: Blue
Distinguishing Characteristics
Missing a part of one of her fingers while working at the Russell Manufacturing Company in Middletown, CT.
Her maiden name is Macklin
Family
Husband: Joseph V. Tucitto
Five children
Misc. Info
Lived on the 10 block of Commerce Drive in Portland, Connecticut
Case Information
Age at Disappearance: 45
Missing Since: June 1, 1953 (Missing for 69 years as of May 3,2023)
Last Location Seen: Portland, Middlesex County, Connecticut, USA
Last Location Seen on Google Maps: https://www.google.com/maps/place/41%C2%B034'21.4%22N+72%C2%B038'26.9%22W/@41.5726111,-72.6408056,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m4!3m3!8m2!3d41.5726111!4d-72.6408056
Classification: Missing
Dentals: Unknown
Fingerpints: Unknown
DNA: Unknown
Clothing & Personal Effects
No official description known
Circumstances of Disappearance
Frances last seen at her home and she never been heard since. Few details are available in her case.
Unidentified Person Exclusions (NamUs)
https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/6279
https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/6796
https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/6661
https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/12683
https://www.namus.gov/UnidentifiedPersons/Case#/5556
Contact Information/Contact Agencies/Investigating Agencies
Portal Police Department
Agency Case Number: 12-1430
Agency Contact Personal: Scott Cunningham, Sergeant
Agency Phone Number: 860-342-6780
Milwaukee Police Department
Agency Phone Number: 414-935-7405
RTI Internation
Agency Contact Personal: Regional Program Specialist Lori Bruski
Agency Phone Number: 817-718-7904
Agency Email Address: [email protected]
NamUs
Agency Case Number: #MP14289
Agency Contact Personal: Regional Program Specialist Brian Nisbet
Agency Phone Number: 518-713-8438
Agency Email Address: [email protected]
Sources/Further Information/Places of Interest
https://charleyproject.org/case/frances-l-tuccitto
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/14289/details
https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/4317dfct.html
https://whereaboutsstillunknown.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/frances-tuccitto/
https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/ct-frances-tuccitto-45-portland-1-june-1953.391905/
7 notes · View notes
edenesth · 3 months
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In Pursuit of Serendipity
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Pairing: best friend!Hyunjin x fem!reader
AU: high school au
Word Count: 14.8k
Summary: Your friendship is tested when Hyunjin starts crushing on his new classmate. What you didn't expect was that your own emotions would come into play. Denying your feelings, you decide to be the ultimate wingwoman, helping him while battling your own heartache in silence. Will the pursuit of love lead to happiness or heartbreak?
A/N: Lowkey inspired by the Mixtape: On Track music video, still one of my favourite MVs from SKZ.
MAIN MASTERLIST
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The busy hallways of your high school were alive with the energy of students rushing to their next classes.
Amidst the sea of students, you made your way through the crowded corridors with an excitement that bubbled within you. The reason for your enthusiasm swung in your hand—a gaming magazine had just revealed the release date of the highly anticipated video game you'd been eagerly awaiting.
Hyunjin and Felix, your partners in crime since kindergarten, were waiting for you.
As you neared your usual meeting spot, a sudden obstacle appeared in the form of an unnoticed puddle. Before you could react, your foot lost its grip, sending you careening toward an embarrassing collision with the cold, tiled floor. In a split second, strong arms wrapped around you, breaking your fall.
"Whoa there! Quick reflexes, Hyunjin style." Hyunjin exclaimed, his grin showcasing his pride at the successful save.
Felix laughed heartily, "Nice dive! You should consider joining the school's gymnastics team, though I hear their routine doesn't involve slipping in the hallways."
You shot him a playful glare as he approached to make sure you were unharmed, "Thanks, Jinnie. And you," You said, turning to Felix, "Can save your sarcasm for someone else."
Felix chuckled, brushing off imaginary dirt from your shoulder, "Just making sure you're in one piece. You know, you should work on your gracefulness. It's not very lady-like to trip and fall."
Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "Oh, please. Who needs grace when you've got Hyunjin's superhero reflexes? And besides, I'm not planning to win any 'Miss Graceful' contests."
Hyunjin grinned, leaning against the row of lockers, "True that. But you might want to consider it. You'll never find a boyfriend if you keep stumbling around like a bull in a china shop."
You scoffed, the idea of conforming to societal expectations not even registering on your radar, "Who said I'm looking for a boyfriend anyway? I'm perfectly content with my PS5 and the upcoming release of Assassin's Creed. Relationships can wait."
Felix raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Hyunjin, "Famous last words. We'll see how long that sentiment lasts."
You brushed off their teasing with a nonchalant wave, determined to keep your priorities in check. As the three of you continued down the hallway, you couldn't help smiling at the thought of the virtual adventures awaiting you in the upcoming game—an escape from the typical high school drama and the perfect reminder that, for now, you were content marching to the beat of your own, unapologetically clumsy, drum.
After grabbing a light breakfast together from the school cafeteria, you, Hyunjin, and Felix made your way through the bustling hallways, weaving through the student traffic. Despite being part of different classes, your morning ritual of meeting up for breakfast had become a comforting constant.
As you reached the fork in the hallway leading to your respective classrooms, Felix grinned, "See you guys at lunch. Don't trip over your own feet without me around to catch you!"
You playfully nudged him, "I'll try my best, Captain Obvious."
Felix waved, disappearing into his classroom, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue down the corridor. Although your class was situated at the far end of the school, you were used to the daily trek. Hyunjin, however, insisted on walking you there, despite the inconvenience it posed for him.
"Why do you bother walking me all the way to my class, Jinnie?" You asked, your voice tinged with amusement as you walked side by side.
He shot you a teasing grin, "Well, for one, I don't trust your coordination skills without Felix or me around. And secondly, what if there's a stampede, or a meteor falls from the sky? I need to be sure you make it to class in one piece."
You scoffed, "A stampede? Really?"
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, adopting a mock-serious tone, "You never know. High school can be a dangerous place."
You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your lips. It was moments like these that reminded you of the unique bond you shared with your friends. Despite the exaggeration, there was a genuine concern in his eyes that touched your heart.
Nearing the entrance of your classroom, you stopped, "You really don't have to do this every day, you know. I can handle walking to class without tripping."
Hyunjin leaned against the wall, his expression softening, "I know you can, but I want to. Call it my daily act of heroism."
You chuckled, shaking your head, "Fine, you overprotective hero. Thanks for the escort to class."
He grinned, walking you right up to the door, "Anytime, damsel in distress. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"
You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the genuine care your friends showered upon you, "Okay. Don't save too many people on your way to class."
With a playful salute, Hyunjin turned to make his way to his own classroom. You watched him go, appreciating the small gestures that defined your friendship. As the classroom door closes behind you, you feel a sense of gratitude for the protective duo that made your high school journey more adventurous and, most importantly, full of genuine companionship.
Later that day, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos as you approached your designated spot between Hyunjin and Felix, your tray already waiting for you. Your heart warmed at the sight, and you skipped over with an infectious beam.
Felix, always quick with banter, smirked at you, "Look who decided to grace us with her presence. You missed the riveting conversation about Hyunjin's newfound muse."
Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, whose cheeks sported a subtle shade of pink. Felix couldn't resist the opportunity to tease, "He wouldn't shut up about her just before you arrived."
You slid into your seat, the playful glint in Felix's eyes not escaping you, "Oh, really? What did I miss?"
Felix leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Our dear friend Hyunjin here has developed a massive crush on the new girl in his class. Couldn't stop talking about her smile, her laugh, you know, the works."
Hyunjin shot Felix a mock glare, but his eyes twinkled with an undeniable excitement, "Felix is exaggerating, as usual. I just mentioned her once or twice."
The three of you were engrossed in the conversation when, like clockwork, the cafeteria doors swung open. Hyunjin's head snapped up, his gaze fixating on a girl who entered with an effortless grace. She was undeniably beautiful—Lia, the new girl who had captured your friend's attention.
"There she is." Hyunjin whispered, as if afraid the mere mention of her name would make her disappear. Lia glided through the cafeteria, a radiant presence that drew the attention of many. You couldn't deny the allure; she had an undeniable charm that seemed to captivate everyone in her vicinity.
While Felix seemed excited for Hyunjin, you couldn't shake off the inexplicable discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach. You smiled, or at least you tried to, but it felt forced.
As Lia joined a group of students at a nearby table, laughter and animated conversations surrounding her, you couldn't help but wonder why the idea of Hyunjin being enamoured by her left you feeling strangely uneasy.
Oblivious to the atmosphere shift, Felix continued to prod Hyunjin about Lia. But as your eyes met Hyunjin's, you sensed a vulnerability beneath his excitement—a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. The unspoken truth lingered in the air, and you couldn't escape the realisation that your heart seemed to protest against the prospect of him falling for someone else for reasons you couldn't quite comprehend.
In the following days, you found yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. You tried to rationalise the unease that had settled within you, convincing yourself that it was merely a consequence of your friends growing up. After all, it was only natural for them to develop romantic interests outside your tight-knit trio.
You repeated the logic like a mantra, assuring yourself that this discomfort was nothing more than an adjustment period.
"It's just new," You told yourself, stirring your food absentmindedly during lunch. Felix continued his good-natured teasing about Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia, blissfully unaware of the internal struggle you were facing, "They're growing up, finding other people. It's normal. You'll get used to it."
Yet, as days turned into weeks, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You grappled with the notion that the dynamics of your friendship were shifting, and it wasn't centred solely around the three of you anymore. The idea of someone else occupying Hyunjin's thoughts in a way you hadn't witnessed before tugged at a thread of discomfort deep within you.
"It's just silly jealousy," You scolded yourself in the quiet moments of introspection, "He's my friend, and I should be happy for him."
Deep down, you couldn't ignore the hope that Hyunjin's crush was just a passing phase—a temporary diversion that would fade with time. You yearned for the days when your trio's world revolved around shared laughter and inside jokes, not about some new girl that caught your friend's attention.
One day, as you all gathered for lunch as usual, Felix couldn't resist poking at Hyunjin once again, "Come on, Jinnie, just admit it. You're head over heels for Lia."
Hyunjin sighed, his cheeks tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and genuine affection, "Fine. I like her, okay? Happy now?"
Felix's victorious grin was matched only by the subtle tightening of your chest. You forced a smile, attempting to mask the twinge of disappointment.
As the conversation continued, Hyunjin's genuine excitement about Lia became increasingly evident. Felix's teasing took on a more playful tone, but every word seemed to emphasise the growing reality that your friend was genuinely interested in someone beyond the confines of your trio.
Each day that passed, Hyunjin's interest in Lia became a constant presence in your lives. While he physically joined you and Felix for breakfast and lunch, his mind seemed to linger elsewhere. Conversations that were once filled with silly jokes now revolved around Lia—her interests, her quirks, and every mundane detail that seemed to captivate Hyunjin's attention.
The unintentional distance you felt from Hyunjin left you perplexed and, admittedly, frustrated. Despite your attempts to rationalise these emotions, a growing sense of unease settled within you. It was as if the equilibrium of your friendship had been disrupted, leaving you feeling somewhat adrift.
One day, after Hyunjin had passionately detailed yet another encounter with Lia during lunch, you found yourself unable to contain the frustration any longer.
In the quiet corner of the school courtyard, away from prying eyes and curious ears, you decided to confide in Felix. As you sat on the familiar park bench, the one where countless secrets had been shared among the three of you, you hesitated before finally breaking the silence.
"Lix, I don't know what's going on. I mean, I should be happy for Hyunjin, right? But every time he talks about Lia, it's like... I don't know, something's off. It's like he's here with us physically, but his mind is somewhere else."
Felix regarded you with a knowing gaze, the crinkles in his eyes softened with understanding, "Feelings are complicated. It's okay to feel the way you do. Maybe it's just an adjustment period. Things will settle down."
You sighed, grateful for his calm demeanour, "I've tried telling myself that, but it doesn't seem to be getting any better. It's just frustrating. I miss the way things used to be."
Felix leaned in, his tone gentle, "Change is hard, especially when it comes to friendships. But maybe Hyunjin needs this. Maybe it's his time to explore something beyond our trio. And who knows, it might just be a phase. People get caught up in new crushes, but that doesn't mean they forget their old friends."
You nodded, appreciating his perspective, "I just wish I could understand why I feel this way. It's like... I'm happy for him, but there's this nagging discomfort that won't go away."
Felix placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. Sometimes, feelings need time to catch up with logic. And in the meantime, know that I'm here for you, no matter what."
In the days that followed, you made a conscious effort to follow Felix's advice. You reminded yourself that Hyunjin's sudden obsession with Lia was his first experience with romantic feelings, and it was only natural for him to be caught up in the excitement of it all.
Trying to be understanding, you even forced a smile when he recounted every interaction with Lia, assuring yourself that this phase would pass.
But just as you began to convince yourself that you had your emotions in check, things took an unexpected turn. Hyunjin, who had always insisted on walking you to class, suddenly approached you with an apologetic expression.
"Hey, listen, I'm sorry, but I can't walk you to class anymore." He admitted, avoiding eye contact.
The unexpected blow left you momentarily speechless, "What? Why?"
Hyunjin sighed, looking genuinely conflicted, "It's just... I don't want Lia to misunderstand our relationship. I mean, she might think there's something more between us, you know?"
Your initial shock gave way to a slow-burning frustration. While you wanted to be supportive of his budding romance, the abrupt change felt like a direct hit to the heart. The walks to class, once a cherished routine, now seemed like a relic of a time when your friendship hadn't been overshadowed by romantic entanglements.
Forcing a tight smile, you responded, "Sure, Hyunjin. Do whatever makes you comfortable."
As he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, you felt a sense of abandonment. The once-predictable rhythms of your friendship were now distorted, and the realisation that you were no longer a priority stung more than you cared to admit.
Felix, perceptive as ever, noticed the change in your demeanour. As he joined you in the hallway, he raised an eyebrow, "What's up with Hyunjin? I thought he was going to walk you to class."
You sighed, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy on your shoulders, "He said he can't anymore. Doesn't want Lia to get the wrong idea about us."
Felix's expression shifted from curiosity to a mixture of understanding and concern, "I know this is tough, but maybe he's just caught up in the excitement of his first crush. It doesn't mean he values your friendship any less."
You nodded, acknowledging his attempt to console you, "I get that, but it still hurts, you know? It's like our friendship is being redefined, and I don't know where I fit in anymore."
Felix offered a sympathetic smile, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. I'm sure things will settle down eventually. And in the meantime, you've got me. We'll figure it out together."
As Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia intensified, you found yourself grappling with the remnants of the once-familiar routine that now seemed like a distant memory.
One afternoon, as the final school bell echoed through the hallways, you made your way to the usual meeting spot where you and Hyunjin would walk home together. However, your anticipation gave way to disappointment as you saw him engrossed in conversation with Lia, the two of them making plans to spend time together after school.
Felix, who had been watching your expression closely, slung an arm around your shoulder, "Hey, don't let it get to you. You know, it's okay to feel upset."
"I'm not upset." You retorted, but the hurt in your eyes betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.
Felix raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "You can't fool me, idiot. It's written all over your face. You miss your walks home with him, don't you?"
You sighed, giving in to the acknowledgement of your feelings, "Yeah, I guess I do. It's stupid, though. Friends hang out with other people. It's not a big deal."
Felix squeezed your shoulder gently, "It's okay to feel this way, you know. And there's nothing 'stupid' about it. You're allowed to miss your friend."
As you walked home with Felix that day, the silence between you spoke volumes. The absence of Hyunjin, once a comforting presence by your side, left a void that seemed to echo with the uncertainty of changing friendships.
The following days only deepened the ache.
Your attempts to be the supportive friend, cheering Hyunjin on as he pursued Lia, felt increasingly like a façade. The more you tried to suppress your feelings, the more they seemed to claw at the edges of your consciousness.
It was during one of your late-night conversations with Felix, the dim glow of streetlights casting shadows on your faces, that he broached the subject with a keen intuition that caught you off guard.
"You know," Felix said, his gaze fixed on the stars above, "It's possible you're jealous because you have feelings for Hyunjin."
Your immediate reaction was a vehement denial. How could you harbour romantic feelings for your childhood friend, especially when you had always prided yourself on being the voice of reason within the trio?
Oh hell nah, ain't no freaking way.
But as Felix turned to look at you, his eyes filled with understanding, you felt a sudden vulnerability. Despite your initial resistance, you couldn't escape the possibility that he was right. Your feelings for Hyunjin might indeed transcend the boundaries of friendship.
"What? Are you hearing yourself, Lix? That's insane!" You laughed incredulously, dismissing his implication with a wave of your hand. The idea of having romantic feelings for Hyunjin seemed preposterous to you, and you were determined to push aside any inkling of such emotions.
Felix, however, frowned at your attempt to brush off the subject. He could sense the unease beneath your laughter, the subtle deflection in your words, "I know you better than you think. You can't deny what you're feeling."
You scoffed, refusing to let his words penetrate your resolve, "Me? Having feelings for Hwang Hyunjin? Did you hit your head or something?" You chuckled, playing off the notion as absurd.
But as you met Felix's serious expression, you recognised the gravity of the situation. He was about to talk some sense into you, to unravel the emotions you had been desperately trying to suppress. But before he could utter a word, you beat him to it.
"Just watch me, Lix. I'll prove you wrong." Your tone carried a determined edge, a promise to yourself that you could navigate these confusing emotions without succumbing to what seemed like an inconvenient truth.
Felix sighed heavily, realising that there was little he could do if you were determined to turn a blind eye to your own feelings. He knew that sometimes, facing the truth required a vulnerability that not everyone was ready to embrace.
As you gathered for your breakfast routine one morning, Hyunjin began his usual recounting of Lia's latest escapades, and you found yourself unable to bear it any longer.
"Hyunjin," You interrupted, the words escaping before you could reconsider, "I'm sick of seeing you pine after Lia. It's distracting, and I can't focus on anything else. So, I've decided to help you win her heart."
Ecstasy washed over his face, "Really? You'd help me?"
You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Yeah, I mean, why not? You deserve to be happy, right?"
Hyunjin's eyes lit up, and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, "Thank you! You're the best! I'll buy you the next Assassin's Creed game when Lia agrees to be my girlfriend!"
As he cheered, Felix observed the scene with a mixture of disbelief and realisation. It dawned on him that your seemingly selfless act of playing matchmaker wasn't entirely altruistic. A smirk played on his lips as he shook his head, understanding the true motive behind your plan.
"So, this was your way of proving me wrong, huh?" Felix remarked, his voice carrying a note of amusement.
You avoided his gaze, the charade now exposed, "I just want him to be happy. That's all."
Felix chuckled, seeing through the act, "Sure. Just remember, you can't run from your feelings forever."
Later that evening, you walked home with Hyunjin for the first time in what felt like ages. But the reason behind his company left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn't because he missed your walks or longed for the friendship you once shared. No, the only reason was to strategise about his mission to win Lia's heart.
As you strolled down the sidewalk, Hyunjin excitedly started talking about his plan, "So, I was thinking maybe I should join some clubs or events that she's interested in. What do you think?"
You pushed all unnecessary thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. We need to figure out what she likes and find a way for you to connect with her."
The mention of 'we' felt strangely out of place, a reminder of the changed dynamics between you and Hyunjin. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings aside, determined to help your friend succeed in his pursuit of happiness.
Felix, who had been watching the interaction with an amused smirk, couldn't resist commenting, "Look at you two, planning Hyunjin's love story. Who would've thought?"
You shot him a glare, not appreciating the smugness in his tone, "This is for Hyunjin, Lix, not for your amusement."
Felix raised his hands defensively, "Alright, alright. I'm just enjoying the show."
As you neared your doorstep, you took a deep breath, ready to lay out a rough plan for Hyunjin, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. First, we need to find out more about Lia's hobbies and interests. Once we have that information, we can create opportunities for you to interact with her in a more meaningful way."
Hyunjin nodded eagerly, trusting you with the details of his mission, "Leave it all to you. You're the best."
As you arrived at your doorstep, Hyunjin gave you a thankful hug before skipping off to his home just a few blocks away. Sighing deeply, you feel a twinge of emptiness. The hug felt different, less like a shared moment between friends and more like a transaction—gratitude for a service rendered.
With renewed determination, you wasted no time. The moment you stepped inside your room, you pulled out your phone and began stalking all of Lia's social media accounts. Your mission was clear: decipher her likes, dislikes, and everything in between.
Little did you know that this quest, seemingly straightforward, would lead you down a path of self-discovery and unexpected twists, challenging the boundaries of friendship and forcing you to confront emotions you had long been trying to ignore.
As the days unfolded, you immersed yourself in the role of the ultimate wingman. Your efforts to assist Hyunjin in winning Lia's heart were meticulous, each action carefully calculated to showcase his best qualities. Despite the outward display of support, a quiet turmoil brewed within you, a storm of conflicting emotions that threatened to break through the carefully constructed façade.
In your quest to prove Felix wrong, you inadvertently delved deeper into the complexities of your own heart. The more you tried to suppress the whispers of your own feelings, the more they seemed to echo in the quiet moments of self-reflection.
As Felix watched you navigate this internal struggle, he wished you would just confront the truth instead of burying it beneath the guise of friendship.
With your careful planning and Hyunjin's sincere efforts, you watched as he began to get things right. He made it a point to learn about Lia's favourite snacks and beverages, surprising her with thoughtful treats that garnered appreciative smiles. Conversations shifted from superficial exchanges to discussions about her favourite pastime activities, creating a connection that seemed to grow with every shared moment.
You watched from afar as he transformed himself, aligning with the qualities he knew she admired. He became more attentive, more considerate, and tailored his actions to better appeal to the type of guys she was attracted to.
While the genuine nature of his intentions was evident, each successful move felt like another layer of separation between the Hyunjin you knew and the person he was becoming for Lia.
Then came the pivotal moment.
Fueled by newfound confidence, he approached Lia and managed to ask her out on a date. From the way he pumped his fists in the air in victory, it was clear that she said yes. As he turned around to look for you, a beaming smile on his face, he spotted you observing the scene. With a thumbs up and eyes filled with excitement, he acknowledged your silent support.
Despite the clenching in your heart, you smiled back and clapped, showing him that you were genuinely happy for his success. The internal conflict between your desire to see your friend happy and the undeniable twinge of discomfort lingered in the background.
It was a bittersweet moment, a celebration of his triumph in love, overshadowed by the realisation that the dynamics of your friendship had undergone a significant shift.
During lunch, the three of you gathered as usual, but the atmosphere was tinged with an unspoken tension. As you sat with your tray, Felix shot you a look, his expression a mix of disapproval and concern. You avoided his eyes, focusing on your food and pretending not to notice his silent judgment.
The news of Hyunjin and Lia's upcoming first date buzzed around the table, and despite the apparent excitement, Felix's gaze lingered on you. He wished you knew that he was only trying to protect you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. Deep down, he feared that all this effort might lead to you getting hurt in the end.
As the conversation flowed, Felix couldn't contain his disapproval any longer, "So, playing matchmaker seems to be working well for you and Hyunjin." He remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
You glanced up, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before averting your gaze, "Yeah, I guess it is."
Felix sighed, the concern etched on his face, "I hope you know what you're doing. Playing with emotions is a risky game."
You could sense the genuine worry in his words, but a stubborn determination held you captive. You knew there was a risk involved, but you've already come this far. It was as if a self-imposed obligation drove you to see this through until the end, no matter the consequences.
As the lunch bell rang, signalling the end of the break, Felix shot you one last look—a mix of caution and understanding. The unspoken conversation between you two lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the uncertainties that lay ahead.
With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The journey you embarked upon had no clear destination, but one thing was certain: you're committed to helping Hyunjin until the end.
As the final bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, you gathered your belongings, preparing to head home. Just as you were about to make your way through the crowded hallway, Hyunjin rushed up to you, grabbing your wrist in his haste. Startled, he twisted you around, and for a brief moment, your eyes rounded at the close proximity between your faces.
His eyes widened in realisation, and he immediately stepped back, stammering, "S-sorry, I was just—"
You shook your head, feigning nonchalance despite the racing of your heart, "It's fine, what is it?"
Hyunjin beamed at your question, his initial awkwardness dissipating, "I need your help in picking an outfit for my date this weekend."
You ignored the sharp stab you felt in your heart at the cruel reminder. Suppressing your emotions, you nodded, "Of course, I'll send you some ideas tonight."
But he shook his head, a hopeful glint in his eyes, "No, I was hoping you could come over before the date and help me put together something nice...?"
You blinked, surprised by the unexpected request, "Why not get Felix to help you with that?"
Hyunjin pouted, swinging your arm around playfully, "Oh, come on, you're the one who promised to help me until the end, right?"
Sighing, you realised he was right. It was your commitment, not Felix's. Relenting, you nodded, "Alright, fine. Sheesh. I'll see you then."
Hyunjin cheered, thanking you profusely before running off, presumably heading to spend time with Lia. As he disappeared into the crowd, you couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort that settled in your chest.
Hang in there, you can do this.
Standing in front of the mirror, you scrutinised yourself for the umpteenth time before questioning your actions. Why did it matter how you looked to Hyunjin? After all, you'd literally grown up together, and he'd seen you at your best and worst. The reflection staring back at you seemed to mock the unnecessary anxiety that had settled in.
The sound of your phone's notifications going off snapped you out of your thoughts. Unlocking the device, you found texts from both Hyunjin and Felix. Hyunjin's message was playful, urging you to hurry over, 'Bestie, get your ass over here already!!!😭'
Felix's text, however, carried a different tone, one of understanding and support, 'Hyunjin told me you're going over to help him. I know nothing I say can change your mind, but I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll be here for you.'
Reading Felix's words nearly brought tears to your eyes. It was a reminder of the loneliness that came with keeping these feelings to yourself. In that moment, you realise the weight of the emotions you've chosen to carry alone. But there was no one else to blame; you made the choice yourself, and now it was time to finish what you started.
With a deep breath, you locked your phone and shook off the lingering self-doubt. Adjusting your outfit one final time, you muttered a quiet affirmation to yourself and headed towards Hyunjin's house.
Upon arriving, you were greeted by his infectious excitement, "Finally, you're here! I need your expert fashion advice."
Suppressing the internal turmoil, you forced a smile, "Alright, let's get this over with."
As you entered his room, surrounded by the familiar scent of his space, you felt a twinge of nostalgia. The memories of your friendship flooded back, but now, they were tainted with a layer of complexity.
The process of picking an outfit began, with you providing suggestions and Hyunjin trying on various combinations. Looking at him more closely now, you hated that you suddenly found him so attractive.
You watched as he struggled with some of the buttons on his shirt before looking up at you with a pout, "Some help would be nice?"
His request cut through the air, and you couldn't hide the inward sigh. The situation was already complicated enough, and now he was making things even more difficult. Rolling your eyes in a feigned display of annoyance, you walked up to him, determined to maintain a facade of indifference.
As you carefully worked through the buttons, your concentration remained fixed on the task at hand. Hyunjin, however, couldn't help but let his gaze remain on you. His eyes naturally drifted downward, taking in the familiar sight of you deep in focus. At that moment, he found you adorable, with your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips and a small frown between your eyes.
Huh, guess not much has changed.
Standing up close, he began to notice details he hadn't paid attention to before. Your eyelashes were surprisingly long, framing expressive eyes that held a history of shared laughter and secrets. The baby fat in your cheeks had disappeared after the braces, leaving behind a more defined and mature look. He also noticed how pink and soft your lips appeared.
The realisation hit him like a wave—have you always looked this pretty? The question lingered in his mind, surprising even himself with the depth of observation he was suddenly making. It wasn't that he hadn't considered your attractiveness before, but in this moment, with the proximity and the shared history, it became more pronounced.
Finished with the last button, you stepped back, offering a casual comment, "There. All set."
Your best friend, however, remained silent for a moment, his thoughts still lingering on the newfound awareness of your features. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, unspoken sentiments hanging between you two.
Standing at his doorstep, Hyunjin, ready to go on his date with Lia, smiled down at you, "Thank you for your time and effort," You shook your head, "No worries, good luck and have fun." But as you turned to leave, a peculiar sense of unease settled in him; it didn't feel right watching you go by yourself.
Before you could take more than a few steps, you were surprised to find him beside you, matching your pace, "What are you doing? You'll be late if you don't go now."
He shrugged, unable to fully grasp his own actions but feeling the need to do this, "It's fine, Lia can wait a bit. I'll walk you home. You came all this way to help me. It's the least I could do."
Your heart skipped a beat at that gesture. For the first time since Lia entered your lives, he was putting you first, prioritising you over her. But the conflicting emotions only intensified; it wasn't making things any easier for you.
Reaching your home, you shooed him with a teasing smile, "Alright, I'm home safe. Now, hurry and go get your dream girl."
He smiled back but didn't move from his spot. You shook your head and playfully pushed him, "Go, you idiot. What are you—"
Suddenly, he pulled you into his arms for a hug, his lips close to your ear, "She may be my dream girl right now, but you'll always be my number one."
Your breath hitched at those unexpected words. Before you could react, he pulled away and ran off, leaving you standing there, a mix of confusion and warmth swirling within.
Stop doing this to me, Hwang Hyunjin.
The restaurant was adorned with soft lights and a pleasant ambience, the perfect setting for a romantic evening.
But Hyunjin was struggling to enjoy his first date with Lia as much as he had anticipated. Despite having dreamed of dating her for so long, his mind seemed to be preoccupied with thoughts that he couldn't fully understand.
As Lia spoke, sharing stories and laughter, he felt a subtle distraction, his mind involuntarily drifting back to you. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and he found himself unknowingly comparing his date to you. Of course, Lia was undeniably beautiful, a fact that anyone with functioning eyes could see. But she just wasn't... you? He didn't know about anyone else, but to him, you were prettier.
Realising the direction of his thoughts, Hyunjin mentally slapped himself for disrespecting Lia in such a way. Determined to salvage the date, he forced himself to focus on what she was saying, pushing away the distracting comparisons.
However, as the evening unfolded, he couldn't shake off the subtle feeling that the date wasn't going as well as he'd expected. He blamed himself for the disconnect, fully aware that he was the one responsible for the disarray of his own emotions.
Attempting to be present in the moment, he engaged in conversation, trying to enjoy the company of the girl he had dreamt of for so long. But the shadow of conflicting thoughts persisted, casting a pall over what should have been a joyful and momentous occasion.
As the night progressed, Hyunjin found himself immersed in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Despite his efforts to be present on his dream date with Lia, a growing sense of unease crept in. The realisation dawned on him like a quiet storm—he wasn't being entirely honest with her, and perhaps, more importantly, he wasn't being true to himself.
The version of himself that Lia had come to like was a meticulously crafted persona, tailored to fit her preferences. They engaged in activities she enjoyed, ate food she liked, and talked about subjects that captivated her. He even dressed in a way that he believed appealed to her tastes. In the process, he wondered if Lia liked him for who he truly was or merely for the version of himself he had presented to win her over.
If he were to be himself, would Lia have liked him at all? The sincerity of their interactions seemed to be overshadowed by the facade he constructed. It made him question the authenticity of their connection.
Aside from that, a more profound doubt surfaced—he questioned whether he genuinely liked Lia for who she was or if he was just infatuated with the idea of her. Was he captivated by the fantasy he created in his mind, rather than the reality of the person sitting across from him?
That night, the weight of the evening's revelations lingered as he collapsed onto his bed after sending Lia home.
Sighing heavily, he thought about the missed opportunity. He hadn't kissed her goodbye like he used to imagine. Instead, all he managed was a simple 'goodnight, see you at school next week' before leaving her doorstep. It wasn't the romantic farewell he envisioned, but the weight of his internal conflicts restrained him.
In the solitude of his room, he decided that it was time for a change. He acknowledged that the version of himself he'd presented to Lia wasn't sustainable, nor was it fair to either of them. With a newfound resolve, he made a decision—he would give her another chance, but this time, he wanted to be genuine, to be himself.
Perhaps, if he allowed Lia to see the real him, and if he took the time to genuinely understand her, there might be a chance for something more authentic to blossom between them.
With this resolve in mind, Hyunjin closed his eyes, attempting to push all thoughts of you out of his mind. You were his best friend, and he had to remind himself of that fact. As sleep claimed him, he envisioned a future where the real him and the real Lia could find common ground, unburdened by the illusions that initially clouded their connection.
The following week at school, you and Felix were surprised by Hyunjin's demeanour. He didn't exhibit the expected excitement that typically followed a successful first date. Instead, he seemed to have reverted to his previous self, the Hyunjin you knew before the Lia obsession took centre stage.
Your surprise was evident when, out of the blue, Hyunjin began walking you to class again. His laughter rang out as he snickered at the puzzled expression on your face, and without warning, he playfully ruffled your hair, "Stop looking at me like that." He teased.
In response, you whined and swatted his hand away, "Not the hair, you jerk!"
His laughter continued, a sound you've missed, and he couldn't hide his happiness at seeing this side of you again. Deep down, he knew he pushed you away with his previous behaviour. Slipping an arm around your shoulder, he spoke, "Look, I'm sorry for the way I behaved previously. I know you must've been hurt. I promise to make it up to you."
Before you could inquire about the details of his date with Lia and the sudden change in his attitude, you arrived at your class. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before leaving, "See you at lunch."
You nodded, still slightly confused but undeniably happy. Maybe the date didn't go as well as he'd hoped? The possibility filled you with hope, and you couldn't shake the optimism that bubbled within. You found yourself looking forward to lunchtime, eager to uncover the mysteries behind his change of heart.
The lunchtime rendezvous brought an air of anticipation as the three of you gathered at your usual spot. Despite Hyunjin's seemingly improved attitude, a sense of unease lingered in the air.
As you exchanged casual banter, he finally broached the subject, "Guys, there's something I want to talk to you about." His tone carried a weight that immediately caught your attention.
"I've been thinking," Hyunjin continued, his gaze shifting between you and Felix, "About Lia. I want to take a different approach with her. I've decided to be myself, the real me, around her. I want her to like me for who I truly am."
Your heart sank at his words, a sinking feeling of déjà vu washing over you. The hope that had briefly ignited was swiftly extinguished. It became clear that Hyunjin's newfound determination was geared toward pursuing a more genuine connection with Lia. While on the surface, it seemed like a positive step, the implications were disheartening.
Felix, however, expressed his support, "That's a great decision, Jinnie. Be yourself, and if she likes you for who you are, that's even better."
While Felix's words were encouraging, his eyes betrayed a different sentiment. They shifted to you, a subtle expression of concern. He understood the implications of Hyunjin's decision, knowing how you probably felt at that moment.
Another week passed, and Hyunjin, beaming with pride, announced to you and Felix that he was going on a second date with Lia. While you feigned happiness for him, Felix saw through the facade. The strain of suppressing your true feelings became apparent, and Felix, unable to watch you suffer in silence, decided it was time to intervene.
On the night of Hyunjin's second date, Felix took it upon himself to keep you company and distract you from your thoughts. Together, you baked brownies and indulged in a fun movie night. As the credits rolled on the screen and the room dimmed, he turned to see you staring numbly ahead, clearly lost in your own thoughts.
Sighing, he reached across and placed his hands over yours, "Talk to me, please. I want to be there for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? What are you trying so hard to prove, hm?"
The concerned look in your best friend's eyes finally broke through the walls you'd built around your emotions. With a heavy exhale, you crumbled, unable to hold back the feelings that had been festering within.
"It's just... I don't understand why I'm doing this to myself," You admitted, "I keep pretending to be okay, to be happy for him, but every time he talks about Lia, it just hurts. I don't know why I'm trying so hard to prove something. Maybe I'm just scared of losing him, of things changing between us."
Felix listened attentively, his grip on your hands offering both support and reassurance, "You don't have to go through this alone, you know?" He said softly, "It's okay to feel the way you do, and it's okay to talk about it."
With those words, the floodgates opened, and you poured out the conflicting emotions that had been plaguing you, "You were right... I guess I do have feelings for him."
Felix listened with a soft, understanding smile, his eyes reflecting a sense of calm assurance. He wasn't at all surprised by the revelation, having sensed the undercurrents of your emotions for some time.
"I don't even know when it started or why I feel this way," You confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability, "Hyunjin has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and suddenly everything feels so complicated."
Felix squeezed your hand, "It's okay, you know. Feelings can be messy, and they don't always follow a logical timeline. What matters is that you're opening up about it now. You don't have to do this alone, and I'm here for you, no matter what."
He smiled softly, a reassuring warmth in his gaze. Felix didn't have all the answers, and he knew that unravelling the complexities of emotions wasn't a straightforward task. But he was determined to be the support you needed, offering a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, and a friend who understood.
Meanwhile, on his date with Lia, Hyunjin couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.
Lia was a nice girl, but as the evening went on, he began to realise that she might not be exactly his type at all. It wasn't something he consciously thought about before, but as he spent time with her, he couldn't help comparing her to you again.
You, with your unladylike antics that he always teased you about but secretly cherished. Lia, in contrast, seemed different, and the more he pondered on it, the more he realised that different wasn't necessarily what he was looking for. He missed the easy banter and shared interests he had with you and Felix.
During their conversation, he noticed how Lia appeared bored or uninterested whenever he brought up stories about you and Felix. It struck him that, unlike your friendship, their discussions seemed one-sided, revolving mostly around Lia and her interests.
As she excused herself to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to check his phone.
Scrolling through Instagram, he stumbled upon Felix's story. The images and captions painted a vivid picture of a cosy evening filled with laughter—something he found himself envious of. At that moment, he realised that he wanted to be there with you.
As Lia returned from the bathroom, he felt that something was missing, and for the first time, he questioned whether pursuing a relationship with her was the right path for him.
Determined to move on from your feelings for Hyunjin, you decided to refocus on the things that once brought you joy – your love for gaming. Despite Hyunjin's announcement of giving up on Lia, a part of you understood that he was and would always be nothing more than your best friend.
Regardless of how things worked out with Lia, your feelings for Hyunjin would remain unrequited.
Returning to the library's gaming section, you immersed yourself in the digital worlds that always provided comfort. It was there that you met Seungmin, a fellow gamer who shared your passion for virtual adventures. The two of you quickly bonded over your favourite games, strategies, and the thrill of defeating virtual foes together.
Felix noticed the positive change in your demeanour and was relieved to see you returning to your usual self again. The laughter and excitement you shared with Seungmin during gaming sessions became a refreshing break from the emotional complexities that had weighed on you.
However, Hyunjin struggled to come to terms with the shift. Every mention of Seungmin stirred an unsettling feeling within him. He found it hard to reconcile the fact that you were forming a connection with someone else, and it left him grappling with emotions he hadn't anticipated.
Despite the internal turmoil, he understood that your happiness was most important. He tried to be supportive, but the subtle twinge of discomfort lingered whenever Seungmin's name came up.
After school, you excitedly ran up to Hyunjin and Felix, who were waiting for you by the school gates, "Hey, losers, sorry I can't walk home with you guys today. Go on without me; I'll see y'all tomorrow!"
Before you could dash off, Hyunjin's brows furrowed, and he reached for your wrist. Twisting you around, the moment felt like déjà vu from the day you helped him with his outfit. Both your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and Felix cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.
Hyunjin blinked rapidly before sputtering, "Wh-where do you think you're going, young lady? Your parents will be worried if you don't go home now."
You pulled away from him, rolling your eyes to feign nonchalance, "Jinnie, please. Do you think I'm you? My parents already know I'll be out after school today," Felix chortled to help lighten the atmosphere, "Hate to admit it, but she's right, bro."
Hyunjin scoffed, "Well, I'm just worried. You know how clumsy you can get," Before you could respond, Seungmin called your name from behind, and you beamed, "Don't worry, Seungmin will take care of me." He didn't like the sound of that one bit.
Just as he tried to stop you from going to Seungmin, Felix grabbed his arm and shook his head.
"Let her go."
Hyunjin didn't understand why it felt like those three words held a deeper meaning. He watched as you joined Seungmin, the two of you walking away, laughter floating back towards them. Felix turned to Hyunjin, his expression unreadable.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
Hyunjin couldn't shake the unease that settled within him as he continued to watch your retreating figures. It was a feeling he couldn't quite define, and for the first time, he wondered if his worry for you went beyond the bounds of friendship.
As the two boys walked home, Hyunjin couldn't shake the lingering discomfort. The unease prompted him to turn to Felix, needing some clarity on the matter.
"Hey, what do you think about Seungmin?" Hyunjin asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Felix smiled knowingly, understanding the source of the inquiry, "Seungmin? He's a good guy. He's not just a gamer; he's dedicated to his studies too. I've noticed he's had a positive influence on our bestie, encouraging her to study harder as well."
Hyunjin nodded, absorbing Felix's words. He tried to accept his friend's reasoning and rationalise the situation for himself. Why was he feeling so unhappy about this anyway? Felix seemed just fine with your new friendship and even supportive of it.
Perhaps he should learn to be the same.
"Yeah, you're right," Hyunjin replied, forcing a smile, "I guess it's good that she's found someone who gets her interest."
Felix clapped him on the back, "Exactly! Seungmin seems like a genuine guy. Let's just be happy for her."
Hyunjin nodded again, attempting to bury the unease and be supportive like Felix. But deep down, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing something, something intangible yet significant, and the journey to fully understand those emotions had just begun.
Meanwhile, you made a conscious effort to push aside the thoughts and emotions stirred up by the encounter with Hyunjin.
As you walked alongside Seungmin, chatting about the latest game releases, you couldn't escape the replay of the moment when Hyunjin grabbed your wrist. Your heart still raced as you wondered about the desperation in his eyes.
Could he be... jealous?
Did he feel the same way about you, or was it just a reaction to your attention being diverted from him and Felix? Rationalising, you convinced yourself that it was probably the latter. After all, Hwang Hyunjin, the charismatic and charming friend, couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. It was safer to assume that he wasn't used to your attention being on someone other than him and Felix.
You couldn't shake off the feeling that you needed to save yourself from further misery. The idea of Hyunjin shifting his focus to another girl loomed in your mind. Sure, the Lia phase was over, but he could very well set his eyes on someone new at any time.
Perhaps it was time to guard your heart, to protect yourself from potential heartache. Resolute in your decision, you pushed aside the uncertainty and focused on Seungmin, someone who seemed genuinely interested in you for who you were.
Despite your best efforts, you found your mind involuntarily comparing Seungmin to Hyunjin, and you mentally scolded yourself for these incessant thoughts.
Urging yourself to stop these comparisons, you recognised that if your feelings for Hyunjin weren't clouding your judgment, you might have fallen for Seungmin instantly. He was everything you could want in a guy – your dream guy, to be precise.
Seungmin shared the same interests, hobbies, and principles as you did. He was attentive, considerate, and almost perfect for you. Although he might not have been conventionally the ideal type for most, he fits your ideal perfectly. So close to perfection, if only he was... Hwang Hyunjin.
You snapped out of your thoughts when Seungmin called your name, informing you that he would be back in a bit as he went to collect your food order. You softened at his gentlemanly gesture, realising that you were being unfair to him by comparing him to Hyunjin. Seungmin was his own person, and you were determined to appreciate and like him for who he truly was.
The realisation hit you hard, and you resolved to give Seungmin the attention and consideration he deserved. After all, he had done nothing but show kindness and genuine interest in you.
Seungmin walked you home that evening after a day filled with fun and laughter. Arriving at your doorstep, you turned to him in gratitude, "Thank you so much for walking me home. Gosh, you really didn't have to. It'll be late by the time you get home."
He grinned, teasing, "Aww, are you worrying about me?"
You scoffed, "What if I am? It can be dangerous to be out late alone."
Unable to resist, he wrapped you in a hug. You stilled for a moment before lifting your hands to hold onto him, "You have no idea how happy I am that you care this much about me." He admitted, and you couldn't suppress your smile at his words.
"Of course, I care about you, Kim Seungmin. What kind of friend would I be not to?" You replied as he pulled away, a genuine warmth in your words.
He seemed to contemplate something before gathering the courage to ask, "H-hey, I was wondering... are you free this Saturday?"
Just as you were about to answer, a new voice interrupted you both, "No, she's not. She has plans with me, sorry." said Hyunjin, standing nearby and staring coldly at Seungmin. The unexpected interruption caught you off guard.
You glared at Hyunjin, annoyed by his sudden intrusion, "What? No, I don't." You retorted, not appreciating his assumption.
Hyunjin seemed hurt by your swift rejection, but trying to save his pride, he added, "Yes, you do. Felix got us tickets to see the latest Marvel superhero movie."
Furrowing your brows, you couldn't recall Felix mentioning any of these plans, "He did?" You questioned, feeling a bit perplexed.
Seungmin, aware that Hyunjin was your close friend, decided to be the bigger person, "That's alright, perhaps another time. I have to get home anyway. I'll see you at school." He said diplomatically, not wanting to leave a bad impression.
You nodded quickly, feeling bad about Hyunjin's borderline rude behaviour, "Text me when you get home, yeah?"
"I will." He beamed and patted your head affectionately before walking away. Hyunjin fumed from his corner, observing you watching Seungmin leave until he was out of sight. The tension lingered, leaving you with a mix of frustration and confusion as you turned your attention back to Hyunjin.
"Dude, what the hell was that?!"
Hyunjin rolled his eyes in annoyance, "What? Are you so upset that you don't get to go out with your little boyfriend again?" He retorted with a dismissive tone.
You narrowed your eyes at his sudden attitude, "Seungmin's not my—" You paused and took a deep breath, not wanting to entertain his childish behaviour, "What are you even doing here in the first place, Hyunjin? Did Felix really get us movie tickets this weekend?"
He gulped and looked away, unable to meet your eyes. That answered your question; he lied about the tickets. You sighed, growing tired of the drama, "I don't have time for this. If you won't talk, then I'm leaving."
Turning to enter your house, he quickly grabbed your wrist.
No, not again.
You distanced yourself before he could pull you close to him, determined to protect your heart.
But he couldn't hold back any longer. Frowning at the distance you deliberately put between you two, he exploded, "I've had it, alright? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Seungmin this, Seungmin that! I'm sick of hearing about him! Do you even care about me and Felix anymore?"
You laughed humourlessly at those words, tears welling up in your eyes, "So, now you know how it feels, huh?"
He froze at that, realising the hypocrisy of his actions.
Wiping your tears harshly with your sleeves, you continued, "How selfish can you be, Hwang Hyunjin? I kept quiet and supported you while you obsessed over Lia, even when you pushed me aside. And now that I've found someone I like, you can't accept it?"
He gulped and lowered his head in shame.
"So it's alright if you do it, but when I do it, it's outrageous and unacceptable, huh? I see how it is."
Not wanting to hear another word from him, you stalked into your home and slammed the door shut, leaving him outside, confronted by the consequences of his actions.
The following day at school, you refused to speak to Hyunjin. When he attempted to chase after you and confront you, Felix stopped him with a serious expression that revealed he knew more than he let on. Stepping aside, the two of them finally decided to address the elephant in the room.
Felix began with a sigh, "She told me what happened last night."
Hyunjin avoided his friend's eye contact, feeling a deep sense of shame. This was a repeat of what happened with you before, but now it was Hyunjin's turn to feel the weight of his actions. Felix deduced that Hyunjin must have returned your feelings, seeing his reaction to Seungmin's appearance in your life.
"You know, it hurt her more than anyone for you to say those things to her," Felix explained, his tone serious, "It's extremely unfair to her. How you felt seeing her with Seungmin, was what she went through when you had Lia. But she kept it all in and suffered alone. She didn't even confide in me. I had to beg her to lean on me, seeing how much it affected her."
Hyunjin felt an overwhelming wave of guilt with this revelation. He had guessed that you'd be hurt, but he didn't fully understand the extent of it until he experienced it himself. He neglected you even more than he realised.
Goddamnit, I'm a horrible friend.
Felix, tired of all the charades, wanted his best friend to wake up to his own feelings. Firmly, he began, "Hyunjin, I want you to think carefully about this."
Hyunjin looked up at Felix's determined gaze, anticipating what he was about to say.
"Do you think that perhaps the reason you're this upset is because you have feelings for her?" Felix asked pointedly.
Hyunjin froze. The thought constantly lingered in the back of his mind, but he always refused to acknowledge it, let alone voice it out loud. It felt like it wasn't supposed to happen. After all, he had known you since you were all in diapers; you'd grown up side by side. How could it be possible that all of a sudden, he would be seeing you in a different light?
With Felix asking this question, Hyunjin knew the feelings must have been there for his friend to see through in the first place.
That would explain why he had been so unhappy to see you with Seungmin, especially when Felix seemed less than bothered by it. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt a mixture of confusion, denial, and a hint of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Felix placed a hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "I know it sounds crazy, but deep down, I trust you know the answer better than anyone else. Just... take your time and figure it out before deciding how you want to approach her. Whatever happens, I'm here for you, alright buddy?"
Hyunjin nodded gratefully, "Thank you, Felix." The weight of the realisation hung heavy in the air, and he couldn't deny that he needed to confront his feelings, as confusing and unexpected as they were.
As Felix walked away, Hyunjin took a deep breath, grappling with the newfound awareness that his emotions for you might be more complicated than he ever imagined.
During lunch, you decided to be the bigger person and chose not to ignore Hyunjin any longer. Instead, you opted to act like nothing had happened. You didn't want any confrontation and wished only to move on from the drama. Thankfully, Hyunjin didn't pester you, especially with Felix sending him warning looks.
As you sat down, you engaged in casual conversation with both of them, discussing topics that steered clear of any emotional tension.
Hyunjin found relief in the momentary peace.
He realised that this was for the best, a chance for him to figure out his own feelings for you without the weight of recent events clouding his judgment. The lunch table, which had once been a source of joy and comfort, now felt like a battleground of unspoken emotions. He couldn't shake off the guilt, but he was determined to navigate through the complexities of his feelings.
Little did he know, you were also fighting with your emotions, doing your best to maintain a facade of normalcy for the sake of the friendship you cherished.
That weekend, Felix decided to make a genuine effort to lighten the atmosphere within your friend group. He went and bought movie tickets for real this time, hoping that this outing could serve as a reset button for all of you, despite the underlying emotional tension between you and Hyunjin.
As you approached the two of them, your usual cheerful self, Hyunjin fought to keep his heart still. You weren't necessarily dressed up for the occasion, but in his heightened awareness of his feelings for you, he couldn't deny that you looked beautiful to him no matter what you wore. He tried to pull himself together as you threw your arms over both their necks in a group hug.
He instinctively reached his hand over your back, holding you against him. At that moment, he closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of having you close. The warmth of your embrace and the subtle scent of your familiar perfume made it difficult for him to ignore the growing realisation that his feelings for you were deeper than he had ever acknowledged.
The movie outing, intended to bring back the carefree dynamic of your friendship, unknowingly became a pivotal moment in Hyunjin's self-discovery.
Felix observed you two knowingly, shaking his head at how oblivious you were to each other's feelings. While you attempted to maintain a distance, Hyunjin made every effort to close the gap, taking a step closer every chance he got. Despite your attempts to push him away, Felix could tell that it was becoming increasingly difficult for you to deny your own heart's desires.
Throughout the entire day, Hyunjin took care of you in every possible way. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, handed you his jacket when the cinema hall got too cold, and even accompanied you to the washroom during the long movie.
You stared at him incredulously when he followed after you, whispering, "Jinnie, what are you doing? I'm fine going alone; I know where the washroom is."
He shushed you and gently pushed you out of the hall, saying, "I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you. Just let me do this."
Despite the flutter in your heart, you rolled your eyes and relented, "Ugh, fine. Don't blame me when you miss what happens in the movie later."
One of the cleaner ladies witnessing your banter chuckled, "Young lady, you have a wonderful boyfriend. You should let him take care of you if he wants to, not all men are like that nowadays."
Choking on your spit, you waved your hands at her, "N-no! You've got it all wrong, he's not my—"
Squishing your cheeks to disrupt your attempt to clarify, Hyunjin smiled politely at her before grinning mischievously down at you, "Listen to the kind lady, my love. She's right."
Once the lady was out of sight, you slapped his hand away with a glare, "You do that again, Hwang Hyunjin, and I'll kick you where the sun doesn't shine."
He burst out laughing at the threat, and you struggled to suppress the smile forming on your face as you entered the washroom.
The outing continued, and Felix marvelled at how Hyunjin's actions were a silent testament to his growing feelings for you. It was as if he had unconsciously shifted into a more protective and caring mode. Felix exchanged glances with Hyunjin when you weren't looking, silently urging him to confront his emotions.
Hyunjin's attempts to get closer to you were evident. He lingered beside you during breaks, shared his snacks, and even stole a glance or two when he thought you weren't looking. Felix hoped that this could be the turning point for both of you.
By the end of the day, as you bid farewell, Hyunjin's eyes held a certain warmth that hadn't been there before. Felix smiled knowingly, hopeful that the walls both of you had built around your hearts might finally start to crumble.
The two boys walked you home that evening. Upon arriving at your doorstep, you turned to bid them goodbye, "Thanks, Lix, for the movie, and thanks, Jinnie, for the snacks. I had a good time with you losers." You said with a playful smile.
Felix laughed, giving you a warm hug, "You're welcome, idiot."
Hyunjin, not one to be outdone, waited for his turn. As his arms enveloped you, your face pressed against his shoulder, you hoped he couldn't hear the frantic beating of your heart. Little did you know, his own heart was racing just as fast. Squeezing you in his arms, he pressed a subtle kiss onto your head and whispered, "Anytime, cutie."
You blinked rapidly, feeling a sudden warmth spread through you. Felix cleared his throat, and Hyunjin reluctantly let you go. You smiled and waved at the two of them, "Alrighty then, I'll see you both at school."
Waving back, they turned to leave. Unbeknownst to Hyunjin, Felix caught him muttering a quiet, "Can't wait."
A week had passed and Hyunjin was just glad you no longer brought up Seungmin again, perhaps you've drifted apart from the boy? Whatever it was, he was just happy to not hear that name again.
Ah yes, things are finally returning to normal.
Or so he thought.
The cafeteria bustled with students, the usual hum of conversation filling the air as the three of you settled into your regular lunch spot. Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, suggesting an idea for the upcoming weekend.
"Hey, let's do something fun this Saturday! I heard there's this new arcade opened—"
Before he could finish, your sheepish smile and the gentle rub on your neck halted him, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it. You guys can go ahead without me though."
Hyunjin furrowed his brows, "What? Why not?"
You sighed, conflicted about sharing the information but recognising the necessity, "I'm... going on my first date with Seungmin."
His cheerful expression faltered, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and disappointment, "Seungmin? You're still seeing him?"
You nodded hesitantly, your gaze shifting away, "Yeah, we've been hanging out quite a bit lately, and he finally asked me out. I didn't want to bring it up, but since you asked..."
The atmosphere grew tense, and Felix, who was listening to the conversation, threw a concerned look at his friend. Hyunjin tried to put on a brave face, forcing a smile, "Oh, that's... that's great. I hope you have fun."
Felix intervened, sensing the underlying tension, "Well, we can reschedule our plans. No big deal."
You offered an apologetic smile, "Thanks, Lix. I really appreciate it."
Hyunjin forced a smile, trying to mask the discomfort he felt, "Yeah, go have a good time."
His gaze lingered longingly on your retreating figure as you left lunch early that day. The once-clear path of friendship now seemed muddled, and the excitement for the weekend plans felt overshadowed by heartache.
The streetlights cast elongated shadows on the sidewalk as Hyunjin walked home, his steps heavy with self-pity. His gaze was fixed on his phone screen, flipping through your Instagram stories with Seungmin. Felix, catching up to his despondent friend, slung an arm over Hyunjin's shoulder.
"Dude, why didn't you wait for me?" Felix asked, noticing Hyunjin's distraction.
Hyunjin didn't respond, lost in his thoughts. Felix glanced over and sighed when he saw your stories playing on Hyunjin's phone. Swiftly, he snatched the device out of his friend's hands.
"That's enough. Will you keep wasting away while the girl you like is out there with another guy? Aren't you going to do something about your feelings?" Felix's words were firm, a mix of concern and frustration.
Hyunjin, taking his phone back, continued trudging home, "What can I do, Lix? All she sees is Seungmin. It doesn't matter how I feel."
Without warning, Felix smacked him on the back of the head. Hyunjin froze, rubbing the back of his head as Felix continued walking.
"Is that what you think? So you're upset with her seeing Seungmin because you have feelings for her. You do realise she felt the same way seeing you with Lia, right? So, what does that tell you?" With those words hanging in the air, Felix left Hyunjin standing there, the pieces slowly falling into place in his mind.
Wait, does that mean she feels the same?
The soft chime of incoming messages interrupted your preparations for the date with Seungmin. You checked your phone to find a series of texts from Hyunjin, desperation evident in his words. He insisted that he needed to meet you urgently, that there was something important he needed to discuss.
Sighing, you considered ignoring him, determined to focus on your evening with Seungmin. But the messages continued to flood in, Hyunjin's pleas echoing through your phone. You were tired of the emotional rollercoaster, the constant back and forth.
Just as you were about to throw your phone aside, a few more texts flashed across the screen. Hyunjin persisted, wanting to talk to you, to meet with you, 'Please don't go to him.' Frustration welled up in you, but you maintained your resolve.
With a firmness that surprised even yourself, you replied, 'Enough, Hyunjin. I'm going on this date with Seungmin whether or not you like it. You're not stopping me this time.'
As you hit send, a text from Seungmin arrived, informing you that he had arrived.
Fixing your hair one last time, you took a deep breath and made a conscious decision to put thoughts of Hyunjin aside for the night. Tonight was about you and Seungmin, and you were determined to enjoy the evening without the interference of unresolved feelings.
Except it was harder than you think.
The cityscape sparkled with lights as you walked beside Seungmin. Despite the vibrant atmosphere and your date's engaging company, every corner of the city seemed to whisper memories of Hyunjin. You couldn't escape the nostalgia that flooded your mind, remembering the countless times you and your childhood friend had roamed these familiar streets together throughout the years.
It became a bitter realisation that, no matter how much you tried to focus on Seungmin, your mind wandered back to your best friend. The restaurants you passed, the park you strolled through, every place held echoes of shared moments with Hyunjin.
To make matters worse, your phone vibrated incessantly with continuous messages from him. Despite your decision to ignore him, his texts continued to flood in, each one a reminder of his persistence. It tugged at your heartstrings, making it harder to immerse yourself in the date.
As the night progressed, you found yourself in a constant battle between the present and the past, between Seungmin and Hyunjin.
Just why are you doing this to me?
Letting out a tired sigh, you pushed your phone back into your pocket after seeing yet another text from you-know-who. You managed a convincing smile for your date, trying to push away the distraction of Hyunjin's persistent texts. But Seungmin's concern was evident as he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.
"Hey, everything alright?" He asked, his eyes reflecting genuine care. Your heart twinged with guilt for letting your emotions surface so easily. Nodding your head, you quickly regained your composure.
"Yep, all good. Ooh, let's go see that over there!" You pointed towards an intriguing stall, its shelves filled with peculiar items. You hoped the novelty would distract Seungmin—and, in turn, yourself—from the underlying tension of the night.
As you both explored the colourful array of trinkets and curiosities, you did your best to be present, banishing the persistent thoughts of a certain someone. Little did you know, Seungmin observed your efforts with concern, hoping to make the evening memorable for you.
Fingers intertwined with yours, he gently tugged you away from the crowd to a quieter corner by the beautiful Hangang River. The distant city lights reflected on the water's surface, casting a serene glow on both of you.
There, you stumbled upon a talented busker passionately pouring their heart into a soulful melody. Seungmin's eyes sparkled with delight as he guided you to a spot where you could enjoy the performance undisturbed.
In that moment, surrounded by the soothing music and the gentle night breeze, you smiled shyly. His presence felt warm and comforting, and for an instant, all you could see was him. He truly was a great guy, someone who could be the perfect boyfriend.
You could see it, see yourself being happy with him.
Until you couldn't.
The busker's next song struck a chord deep within you, a familiar melody that wrapped around your heart like a haunting echo from the past. It was your song, the one you and Hyunjin had dedicated to each other; it signified how much you meant to one another.
As the singer's voice carried the tune, memories of late-night talks, stolen glances, and the warmth of Hyunjin's presence flooded your mind. It was a bittersweet reminder of a connection that ran far deeper than you'd allowed yourself to acknowledge.
You knew you were hopeless when a voice you knew too well from behind you called out your name.
Hwang Hyunjin stood there, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of emotions that mirrored your own inner turmoil. The shattered fragments of the future you envisioned with Seungmin lay scattered like a broken mirror, and there was no escaping the truth that had resurfaced with the haunting melody.
Turning to face him, you knew you were a lost cause the moment you laid your eyes on him. You had no control over how your heart instantly reacted to merely seeing him.
Seungmin's smile faltered, his grip on your hand loosening. The sudden shift didn't escape your notice, and when you looked up at him with tearful eyes, you found a bittersweet understanding in his gaze. His hand gently patted your head, a comforting gesture that carried an unspoken message.
"It's okay. Follow your heart, go to him," He said, his voice soft and understanding. His reassuring smile attempted to dispel any guilt you might feel, "Don't apologise, please. From the beginning, it was clear that your heart belonged to someone else. I knew that, and I just wanted to try my luck winning it over. But it's alright; I can tell this whole time, it's still with him."
His words lingered in the air, carrying both acceptance and a touch of melancholy. Hyunjin, who had been silently observing, began to view your date in a different light. Felix's insight had been right; Seungmin was a great guy.
Giving your hand a final, supportive squeeze, Seungmin nodded encouragingly at Hyunjin before walking off into the night.
The atmosphere around you seemed to shift, the distant sounds of the city melting away as Seungmin left you alone with Hyunjin and the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"Great, he's gone now. Are you happy?! What is it that's so freaking urgent that you had to ruin my date—"
Before you could process the mix of emotions, Hyunjin closed the distance between you. Your anger bubbled up at his apparent interruption, but he cut through your words with a revelation that shook you to your core.
"I'm in love with you, okay?!"
The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, the world stopped. You looked at him, your heart pounding, thoughts racing.
The truth that lingered beneath the surface had finally surfaced, leaving you both vulnerable and exposed. As the weight of his words settled in, you found yourself at a loss for how to respond.
Time seemed to come to a standstill.
You stood there, eyes wide, trembling, as the weight of his words sank in, "Wh-what?" You croaked, almost disbelieving. You feared your mind might be playing tricks on you.
Hyunjin softened, reaching gently for your hands, "I said, I'm in love with you. Always have been. It's... it's always been you. I should've known when I couldn't stop thinking about you even when I was with Lia. I'm sorry it took me this long to realise."
Your eyes rounded at the sincerity in his voice as he continued, "And I know that you feel exactly the same way I do."
You scoffed lightly at his confidence, "And how would you know that?"
He smiled, his gaze unwavering, "Tell me I'm wrong then. Tell me I've never once crossed your mind while you were with Seungmin."
You huffed in defeat, and he brought a hand up to cup your face, making you meet his gaze, "It has been painful watching you be with him, but I deserved it after making you watch and help me chase after Lia. I'm an idiot. I don't know how I've been so blind to my own feelings all this while."
You chuckled, placing your hand over his affectionately, "Believe it or not, I'm not much better. I didn't realise I loved you until Lia came around too."
His heart skipped a beat at your words, and he rested his forehead against yours, "Say that again."
You frowned, "Say what? That I'm no better than you?"
He laughed, "Not that. What you said after that."
You blinked slowly, "That I... love you?"
He nodded, biting his lip, "Again."
You blushed, murmuring, "I love you, you idiot."
His heart soared at that, "I love you too." Before you knew it, you were both leaning in, and your breath was taken away when you finally felt his lips pressed against yours. The world seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of you and the shared realisation of a love that had been there all along.
Hyunjin took you home, and the journey was a blur of stolen kisses, laughter, and the promise of a future that was now crystal clear. He kissed you dizzy at your doorstep, a sweet and lingering moment that left you breathless.
As you unlocked your front door, still feeling the warmth of his touch on your lips, you couldn't shake the need to address things with Seungmin. Despite the confusion of your emotions, you felt responsible for any unintentional hurt you might have caused.
Pulling out your phone, you composed a long text to Seungmin, expressing your sincerest apologies for leading him on, even when that wasn't your intention.
His reply came not long after, and you felt relief as you read his understanding words. Seungmin reassured you that he cherished the friendship you both had and was genuinely happy for you. You sighed, grateful that he handled it with such grace, and responded with a heartfelt thank you.
The weight on your shoulders lifted, knowing that at least one aspect of the situation was resolved amicably.
As the night settled in, you found yourself sitting by your window, a gentle breeze carrying the promise of a fresh start. Texts from Hyunjin lit up your screen, each message carrying a piece of the happiness that now coloured your world.
You smiled, realising that sometimes, the best things in life were the ones that took time to unfold.
The following week, you and Hyunjin walked into school hand in hand, a couple at last. The shift in your relationship wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. It has always been clear to most people that there was something slightly more between you; Hyunjin's protective nature and constant presence by your side made it obvious, that the love he had for you was different from Felix's platonic one.
The subtle hints that hung between you two over the years were now out in the open, and the school could finally witness the natural progression from best friends to something more.
Felix, stationed by his locker with an amused smirk, "Finally! I was this close to losing my patience waiting for you fools to realise you belonged together." His words carried a teasing tone, but there was genuine happiness in his eyes as he looked at the two of you.
Hyunjin chuckled, "Thanks, Lix. I won't lie, we probably wouldn't have been together yet if it weren't for you."
You nodded in agreement, "For real, you're the best," Grateful for the support and nudges from Felix, you jumped into his open arms, embracing him with genuine warmth. He grinned teasingly at your boyfriend as he hugged you back tightly, "I sure am."
Hyunjin, feigning jealousy, cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, that's enough! Hands off my girlfriend." He pulled you back into his arms, giving you a playful glare. You giggled, basking in the joy of finally being able to show your affection openly. The three of you shared a moment, knowing that this new chapter in your lives had been a long time coming.
The laughter-filled atmosphere at the lunch table spoke volumes about the comfort and happiness that had settled into your lives. With your boyfriend sitting by your side and your best friend across from you, the three of you enjoyed the moment.
Felix, ever the playful instigator, decided to bring up a memory, "Hey, remember when you said you had no interest in dating? Funny how things turned out, now look at you."
You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes at his persistent teasing. Just as you were about to feed Hyunjin some of your kimchi fried rice, you paused midway, giving Felix a mock glare, "How many times have we been over this? Give it a rest, will you?"
Hyunjin whined at the interruption, and you turned to feed him with a coo, making him smile. Felix burst into laughter, thoroughly entertained, "Nope, I'll never let you live this down."
Your boyfriend swallowed the food in his mouth before throwing a tangerine at Felix, "Leave her alone and pick on someone your own size, Lee Yongbok."
Felix shook his head amusingly, catching the fruit in his hand, "Okay, okay, sheesh."
Amid the laughter and light banter, Felix suddenly shifted the mood, his expression turning serious, "Hey, on a serious note, you two. I just want you to know how genuinely happy I am for both of you. I wish you nothing but the best, and I hope you'll be together for a really long time. You both mean the world to me and your happiness is what matters most."
Hyunjin wrapped an arm around you and nodded, "I promise, Lix, I'll take care of her for as long as I'm capable of doing so."
Your eyes grew a bit wet at the sincerity of their words. Just as the moment was turning emotional, Felix, in his typical fashion, couldn't resist adding a touch of humour, "Oh, and by the way, if you have a kid, name them after me. Felix has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
You and Hyunjin stared at him, unamused, for a brief moment before bursting into laughter. Without missing a beat, you both reached over to give him a playful smack, "Dream on, Lix."
Deciding to go on a date after school, the two of you waved your best friend goodbye before skipping off in the opposite direction.
Swinging your intertwined hands, Hyunjin couldn't help but pout at the thought of your gaming plans with Seungmin over the weekend, "Can't you hang out with me instead of gaming with Seungmin, hm?" He asked, a playful whine in his voice.
You rolled your eyes, a teasing smile playing on your lips, "Jinnie, please, you're the one who told me the importance of maintaining our own lives outside of our relationship, right?"
He sputtered for a moment, caught off guard, "W-well, I mean, yeah, I did but—"
You shook your head, cutting off his protest with a gentle finger pressed against his lips, "No 'buts.' I'm playing with Seungmin, and you can't stop me."
Turning to continue walking, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you against him. With a gasp, you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, "Really? You'd rather play games with some other guy than do this with your own boyfriend?" He murmured, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of something more.
Before you could respond, he leaned in, kissing you with an intensity that caught you by surprise. Your knees buckled, and you would have fallen if it hadn't been for his strong hold on you. Your eyes fluttered closed almost instantly as you melted into the kiss, all thoughts of gaming and Seungmin fading away.
When he pulled away, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, he gazed at your dazed state, "Tell me, is gaming better than this, hm?" He teased, his voice carrying a playful tone.
Lost in the trance of the moment, you shook your head, feeling his lips brush against yours before he kissed you again. The sensation was electrifying, but if Hyunjin thought he had won you over with that, he was severely mistaken.
Because when the weekend came around, and you were immersed in your gaming session with Seungmin, no amount of kisses from Hyunjin could distract you from the digital world you were exploring. As much as you loved the moments with your boyfriend, your passion for gaming was a part of who you were, and it was a promise you intended to keep.
But you did let him come over while you game.
Hyunjin pouted as he watched you talk excitedly into the mic on your headset, your enthusiasm evident in every word you spoke to Seungmin. Despite his initial playful complaints about being abandoned for games, he couldn't fight the smile that grew on his face.
As you laughed and strategised with Seungmin, Hyunjin appreciated how genuinely happy you were in these moments. He understood that your passion for gaming was a significant part of who you were, and he respected that.
Seated beside you, he immersed himself in his own world of sketches and drawings. The atmosphere was filled with the sound of your laughter and the clicking of his pencil against the paper. He was content, knowing that you were both doing things you loved, even if they were very different. Being by your side was all that mattered to him. And as he glanced at you with a soft smile, he thought, maybe, opposites do attract after all.
He couldn't resist leaning over to plant a kiss on your head as you played. You winked at him in response, making him laugh.
When the long match finally ended in your favour, you jumped up, arms thrown around his neck in triumph, "We won, Jinnie!" You exclaimed, and he cheered alongside you, savouring the victory.
As you celebrated, Hyunjin sneakily wrapped his arms around you and whispered, "Should I reward you for doing such a good job?" A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.
You gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth when you heard a loud groan through your headset. Seungmin's voice echoed, and you realised he could still hear you with the mic unmuted, "Ew, I really didn't need to hear that. My day's completely ruined now, thanks."
"Shut up, Seungmin. You've been hogging my girlfriend all day. Can I have her back already?" Hyunjin scolded, and your face turned a shade of red.
Seungmin laughed good-naturedly, "Fine, she's all yours."
Hyunjin grinned in victory as you ended the call with Seungmin, and he wasted no time pulling you back into his arms as soon as you logged out of the game.
"Damn right, she is. All mine."
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I'll be honest, this slightly strayed from the initial direction that I was gonna go for, but I'm happy with how it ended.
Thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3
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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
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goldenempyrean · 9 months
Note
For a small Drabble! Natasha x sick delirious reader. Nat keeps trying to put them back to bed. 🩷
Secret Agents of the Sea
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〚 Notes - I thought this was super cute so enjoy some Natasha fluff. 〛
〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛
〚 Summary - You're delirious with fever, Nat's just trying to keep you in bed. 〛
〚 Wordcount - > 500 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
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“Y/N you need to stay in bed.” Natasha groaned as she put you back down in bed for the forth time that day, “I cant have you stumbling around like a drunk octopus when you’re like this.” 
The idea of an octopus seemed to amuse you in your feverish state as you babbled, “Ju’s so you know oct’puses are s’very misunderstood.” 
Nat raised an eyebrow as she chuckled, “Oh really, why is that?” She asked, curious to see where you’d go with this. 
You blinked up at Natasha, your glazed eyes struggling to focus on her face. A soft giggle escaped your lips, accompanied by a hint of delirium. "’because," you replied, your voice slightly slurred, "they're masters of disguise and they can wear masks and fight crime.” 
To demonstrate you tried to pull yourself out of best and do a ninja pose but that was instantly stopped when Nat gently pulled you back down into the time, this time tucking the covers more tightly around you, “I think you’re talking about the Mutant Ninja Turtles love.” 
You pouted, your lower lip jutting out in a childish manner. "No, no, Nat," you protested weakly, "I mean the octopuses. They're like the undercover agents of the seas. Nobody suspects them, but they're out there, solving underwater mysteries and fighting off evil creatures." 
Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at your fever-induced ramblings. She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush your hair away from your forehead. "You've got quite the imagination, don't you?" she said, a fond smile tugging at her lips. 
You nodded, a little too vigorously, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. "Mhm, I do. But it's true, Nat. Octopuses are smart, like really smart. They can open jars and solve puzzles. They're like the secret agents of the sea, I'm telling you." 
Natasha couldn't argue with your enthusiasm. She admired the way your eyes sparkled, even in your delirious state. "Alright, alright," she conceded playfully, "I won't argue with you. Octopuses are the secret agents of the sea, fighting crime and saving the day. But for now, you need to rest and let yourself be a superhero of getting better and just let me look after you.” 
〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic 
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theflatpancakes · 4 months
Text
If you couldn't tell from my reblogs I'm suddenly a huge Dreamtheory shipper so yk 😜
Uhhhh here are some headcanons dor Ness and Mike ig
Ness:
•He went to Freddy's all the time as a kid and was really sad once it shut down, although he didn't know why it got closed
•He has a true crime podcast that he does after he gets home from work; each episode is at least an hour-an hour and a half
•One day someone requested him to cover Freddy's and he was just like "???What???? When did something happen at Freddy's?????" And that's when he figured it out
•Every episode after the Freddy's episode he mentioned it at least once, and mist episodes were just covering new stuff he found out about Freddy's and the murders/disappearances
•He has been tempted to break in just to look for evidence so many times, although he never did
•He's a horror movie fanatic
•Also a conspiracy theorist
•He unironically owns the Dream Theory book that Mike has jn the movie. He got it to investigate for an episode of his podcast but eventually just got actually into the ideas the book was talking about
•Coffee. Addict.
•Doesn't care for labels, really. He likes anybody that likes him
•Theater kid; no, not just because MatPat is a theater kid.
Mike:
•Regular at Sparky's, both before and after getting the job at Freddy's
•He sometimes feels Garret pulling at his pants/shirt and is convinced he felt something, but always brushes it off
•Chugs energy drinks like there's no tomorrow
•He never got any sleep, even before he started working the night shift
•^ He also stayed up late when he was a kid/teen despite having to wake up early for school
•After the events of the first movie he quit Freddy's and went and got a job at Sparky's since it was close to his house and nearly guaranteed to not have haunted animatronics with the souls of dead kids in them!
•Always thought he was straight up until he randomly caught feelings for Ness after they started working together and seeing each other all day almost every day
Both/their relationship:
•Mike sometimes shows up in Ness' podcast
•Back on about the 2nd night of Mike's working at Freddy's, he invited Ness to come check some stuff out since he showed some great enthusiasm about Mike working there and him knowing about Ness' podcast and stuff
•Ness confessed first
•^Mike was just letting his feelings sit and shoving them down while he was in denial
•After about a month or two of being together, Mike was like, "Hey broski, so like.... you wanna move in with me and Abby????" And Ness was like "Uhm. Yeah, of course I do" so they moved in and played video games together all the time and Ness because practically a second dad to Abby even though Mike is technically her brother but whatever
•^After that, Mike was in almost every episode of Ness's podcast, and instead of just referring to Mike as his guest/coworker, he actually started referring to Mike as his boyfriend
•^So a little more about what they called each other on the podcast. Ness started calling Mike his boyfriend on there a few episodes before they moved in and the first time he said that he actually said how long they'd been together and when they moved in together he announced that on the episode that they did once Ness actually fully moved at least his recording set up into Mike's house
•So remember how I mentioned Mike was a regular at Sparky's??? So the first couple times he went he got sat in Ness' section and it was a funny coincidence so after that he started asking to be sat in Ness' section because he was funny and nice and just a cool dude to have as your server but Ness didn't know that Mike was requesting to be in his area so he thought it was just a coincidence
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eldritch-spouse · 17 days
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HI AGAIN. Ever since I found your blog and also sent a totally normal ramble abt cannibalism I've been just. Gently tossing your guys back and forth in my head. You're a wonderful writer and I'm always excited to see you on my dash!!
Gonna throw my hat in as asking an actual question- How would your guys fare if their obsession had a particularly weird or morbid interest? I get the vibes that some of them would most certainly encourage it but I also feel like Vinnel would hit me with a hammer if I panic infodumped about ebola-
[Hellow, glad to see you again! Also, I know you probably just forgot, but "your guys" encompasses way too many characters to talk about at once, so I'll assume you were going for TCE staff.]
Morell especially likes hearing about your cannibalism infodumps. They're actually useful to him, since he's going to be living with you, and he needs to know what he can and can't feed you, as well as a possible child between you. It's actually interesting stuff, he'd like it if you talked about it to his family too, you're a smart piggy. Any other topics are usually met with less enthusiasm (unless kitchen/food related), and he'll ask you to quit it if you start talking too much about mushrooms. Overall, it's nice background noise to work to.
Patches is all about infodumping. In fact, you're subjected to it often too, even if he doesn't always stop to explain basic concepts you'd need to understand his rambling. He'll give you a recorder he has, so he can keep the sound of that boundless enthusiasm in your voice forever. He's much more participative than the others, asking various questions and tossing random scenarios at you that'll prompt you to learn even more. There's a potential he'll get distracted and stop working to just research this with you the whole day.
Gallon loves a weirdo -No offense- Feel free to dump all that morbidity on him, he soaks it up like a sponge (so does Martin, be careful). Although he prefers to let you speak unhindered, only egging you on when it seems you're getting passionately angry about things, there's a chance Gallon may begin his own little tidbit sharing regarding a variety of poisons and toxins. He's selective with what he lets slip, but figures it could interest you.
Santi likes listening to you. Doesn't matter what it's about. There's only one thing he doesn't want you to morbidly talk to him about, anything featuring kids. Other than that, you think a rant about the intricacies of cannibalism's effects will kill his mood? Hah, nice try. He usually doesn't have anything smart to say, but may actually pitch in with some first hand details if you mention something sexual and morbid.
Let's face it, this is going in one of Grimbly's eardrums and out the other. Unless, you can talk like you're in a true crime podcast, then he's all ears. Grimbly typically responds to these interests by bragging to others about how his Mommy's "so smart" and "cultured" and he learns so much with you! You should start a YouTube channel!
Nebul likes to hear what you think is morbid. He'll let you ramble when you've been good enough to earn his attention, or if it allows you to keep obeying him. He has his own morbidities to share with you, as a wraith who has seen the darkest parts of many a mind. Surely, you of all people would be fascinated to know how the brain reacts to very invasive types of trauma only some monsters can inflict...
Vinnel will use this to his advantage during shows. You're placed in dangerous games where the whole goal is for you to explain said morbid concepts to the audience while Vinnel or Jingles try to destabilize you so you'll fall into painful contraptions or get cut/bruised/undressed. Sometimes Vinnel pays attention to your infodumps, other times he openly doesn't, it's a coin toss.
Belo sincerely discourages you from seeking such dark information in your brain. A lesser's mind is like a canvas, and it shouldn't be furnished with such desolate knowledge... If your morbid interests somehow can shine a glimmer of positivity or utility, the angel will be a little more inclined to letting you keep pursuing these topics. Otherwise, Belo actively attempts to distract you.
Sybastian doesn't understand about 80% of what you're about to tell him, but he has all the time in the world to sit and listen to his favorite person spit words. He's not verbally communicative during these episodes, but he may clap depending on how impressive the information is, and he remembers things you say enough to sometimes present you with paraphernalia vaguely related to the topics of your morbid interests.
Fank-e is a good bet because he can add onto your information in real time, or correct small detail you may get them wrong. He's generally happy to give you links to more information sources and try to match your level of knowledge, uncaring of how dark the subject theme may be.
If there's one thing you can infodump to Krulu about, it would be diseases. Plagues and ailments of several types are his specialty, the chances of him imparting bits of knowledge you absolutely should not possess on this matter are high. Another thing you may infodump to him about is corvids. It gets him in very favorable moods, surprisingly.
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moodymisty · 2 months
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Everyone wants Lorgar carnally until he says grace before giving head. Or when he recites verses that describe the world’s beauty while he gently caresses your body. Or when you’re having sex and he starts whimpering prayers upon prayers about how wonderful you are, how much he loves you, how he wants you so badly, how he’s utterly yours (he’s not even doing it deliberately, it’s like singing your praises is second nature to him). Or after you’ve finished, when he lies down on your bed and looks at you with complete and total reverence. You can see that in this moment, to him, you are the only thing that’s real. The lamp on his desk is illuminating you like a halo, or maybe it’s not even the lamp at all, maybe it’s just you. Lorgar wouldn’t even question it if that was the case, because who is he to question what true holiness is?
In his gaze there’s more than just a lovers adoration. To him you’re not a mere mortal. He looks at you as if you’re the sun itself, like you could fly up to the very heavens and rip the stars from their foundations. His trust placed in you so wholeheartedly that if you decided to smite him for the simple crime of existing, he would let you, he would even thank you for it.
But you love him far too much to even think those thoughts. You cup the side of his face and feel as he leans into your touch. You don’t know it, but if in this very moment you told him to renounce his faith, renounce his loyalty to the emperor, and worship you and only you. He would, without a doubt, say yes.
… Well. I think I might’ve gotten a little too carried away here lmao
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Oh hey thanks for the fucking feast, excuse me while I go apeshit with my religious undertones/trauma kink
also @thevoidscreams thanks for the inspo as well fam
Warnings: NSFW, Religious undertones, Body worship
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The desert becomes so cold at night, the sand sometimes freezes with little sparkles of dew, reminding you of the snow of your distant home planet.
But despite the frigid air of a Colchis drowned in dark you couldn't feel hotter, skin aglow with the sheen of sweat- lips parted in a pant.
"Lorgar, Lorgar..."
Sometimes his name leaves your mouth as a whisper, sometimes a yell, but it seems as if he can hear neither. It's like he's in a trance, head between your legs for what's felt like and more than likely has been hours.
Your thighs are covered in lovebites, little scratches, redness where he's gripped too tight in his enthusiasm and you've had to pry at his hands and plead for him to stay gentle with you, remind him that you're fragile, as his eyes look at you with reverence.
Sometimes the way he looks at you is almost too much; Too much like worship, the way he lowers himself to press his head between your thighs and whisper so many sweet nothings. So much of it is incomprehensible, speaking in tongues as he presses you into the massive ocean of a bed meant for someone far larger.
You’ve never felt as bared as you have in these moments, like he’s taking every bit of you and some from somewhere beyond.
“By the gods, you look so beautiful… No art, writing or tapestry could ever hold a candle to you like this…”
He could do this for hours, sometimes he has, and while you know he has to in order to prepare you for what’s to come, he takes more than plenty of pleasure in it.
His creation didn’t consider something as frivolous of this; His body wasn’t meant for yours. But you’ve made it work nonetheless, forced it to.
He hears your pitiful whine and hoarse cry as you come against his mouth, desperately grabbing at his hand smothering your stomach and keeping you pressed down in place. He whispers and praises like you’re singing a song just for him, music to his ears.
You could stop here and be satisfied, more than so, but you know that he has so much more he wishes to give you. These moments are rare, but when you manage to steal them he indulges in you until the sun rises and you’re begging for rest. At least a days worth, usually no one sees much of you for a few days after such an evening.
His mouth pulls away from you, his body rises to hover over yours and the difference in your bodies has you swallowed in his shadow, though he only sees you surrounded in light. Your skin glows, lips parted and seemingly beckoning him in.
There’s been nothing more beautiful to him in his life than you, in this moment.
He doesn’t know why he resisted this for so long, though perhaps he should’ve, because now there’s nothing in the galaxy he wants more.
“My love, my little goddess, please, let me…”
You grit your teeth as he presses his way inside of you, a balance teetering just before true pain as you feel the threat of his body weight against your hips and thighs. There isn't much space for your legs to go, they can't truly part wide enough for someone as massive as Lorgar, and so they press into your stomach like he's going to fold you in half.
Throughout it all he speaks as if you’re his gift, as if you’re a beautiful star made manifest.
His whispers his prayers his pleading becomes more desperate until he finishes inside of you, feeling his hot skin against your own.
When his body lays beside yours, he’s looks upon your tired form with reverence. With the same shine in his eyes when he reads his gospel or writes a verse. You wonder if one day it will ever become too much, or if you’ll come crashing down from the pedestal he’s put you on.
“I love you, my dear. More than any other man that has spoken those words. I will pluck any star you desire out of the sky, conquer any planet, or bring anyone to heel just for you.”
You might wish to tell him not to, but the words don’t leave your lips. He kisses you, takes those words from you and leaves you breathless as his hand cups your jaw, and he begins to pray to you once more.
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mrsjellymunson · 5 months
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Hello, Stranger
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader
For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’
Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…
CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆
WC: ~6.2k
A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!
(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)
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Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.
“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”
No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...
You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.
And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.
So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?
By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.
People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…
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You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.
The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.
You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.
One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?
You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.
The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.
The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.
The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.
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One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.
Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.
It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.
“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”
You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.
His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.
He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,
“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).
He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.
Oh, he’s actually really cute.
“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.
He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.
You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:
“Did you find everything you need?”
“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”
You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.
He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.
You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.
You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…
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When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.
He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.
Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…
“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.
Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.
The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.
You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…
You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)
But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.
Would it?
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It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.
Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.
“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.
“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.
“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”
You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?
“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.
The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.
“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”
‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?
“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…
As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.
No, don’t be silly…
You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.
Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”
“Huh?”
“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”
The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.
Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.
“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”
You look a little quizzical.
He thinks for a moment.
“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”
You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.
Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”
Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.
“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”
He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.
“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”
“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”
You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.
What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?
You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.
As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.
Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…
You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:
E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969
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It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).
You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.
He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.
You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”
“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.
“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”
Lighter? Easier to aim?
“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.
“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.
“Umm, you want some help choosing?”
He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.
“Y’know, you really know your tools!”
You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”
You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”
You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”
You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.
You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?
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The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.
Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.
You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?
Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.
He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.
He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.
“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”
You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.
The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.
That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?
But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.
The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.
To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,
“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”
Wait, is he blushing?
“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”
He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.
“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”
He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.
Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.
Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.
Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.
“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.
You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.
He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”
Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.
Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.
Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)
With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.
The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.
You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.
“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”
Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!
He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).
“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”
You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.
You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.
He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.
As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.
He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.
“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”
“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”
“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.
You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.
“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.
Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.
He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.
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“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”
It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.
His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.
Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).
He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.
He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.
This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.
“What size branches?”
He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”
“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”
He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!
He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.
“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”
You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.
“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”
Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.
Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.
Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!
As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.
Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.
‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…
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You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?
Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?
Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.
“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”
So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-
You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.
“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”
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On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.
As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.
“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”
“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”
Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.
“A-heema-whatnow?”
You snicker.
“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”
Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.
He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.
With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”
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The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.
“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”
You contemplate for a moment.
“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”
“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”
“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”
You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”
You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.
“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.
“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”
“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”
Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.
“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”
More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”
Oh my, is he blushing again?
“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”
“You would?”
Okay, he’s definitely blushing.
He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,
“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”
Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”
He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.
He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.
“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.
“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”
You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,
“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”
“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”
“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”
You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.
“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”
As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.
“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”
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If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!
Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.
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lilpunkrock · 1 year
Text
Black Silk
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Status: One-Shot
Pairing: Jack Russell x Fem!Reader
Words: 4.8k+
AN: There is a heartwrenching lack of Jack Russell content on Tumblr, so I'm here to throw my hat in the ring. Enjoy a whole lot of fluff and, yes, sensual sniffing with everyone's favorite wolf boy.
Read my other Jack Russell works here and here.
Translations:
"Cautivante" — "captivating"
"Mi amada" — "my darling," "my love"
"Señorita" — equivalent of "miss"
"Lo siento" — "I'm sorry"
. . .
When you see the dark figure walking along the side of the bustling highway, you’re sure it’s for the first time. After all, you’ve been driving this route every day for years now; you know it like the back of your hand. In your swiftly moving car—hey, so what if you like driving six miles over the speed limit at all times, sue you—you aren’t able to catch many details. A dark outfit and mop of ruffled hair is all that your mind absorbs in the brief moment you have to gather information. As you fly past, your eyes linger on the figure in your rearview mirror.
Are they lost? Having car trouble? Homeless? Your heart clenches as you watch several other cars pass up stopping for the stranger in addition to your own. You’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to know some core rules to live by. Sure, none of them explicitly stated, ‘Don’t pick up strangers off the side of the highway,’ but you felt you could gather as much from context clues. Still, as the figure’s form grows smaller in your mirror, you find yourself heaving a reluctant sigh. It’s unusually cold for late October—under forty currently, with a low of twenty-nine degrees expected tonight—and the sun will set in just a handful of hours. If you’re driving with your seat warmers on, you know the stranger must be freezing. You don’t think they were even wearing a coat. 
After you’ve pulled off the side of the road, you throw the gear in reverse to close the distance between yourself and your stranger. The figure stops in the glow of your red tail lights, anticipating your approach. When you’re several feet away, you throw the vehicle in park, grab your bottle of pepper spray, and slip out of the car before you can change your mind.
The face that greets you when you turn around is…endearing. Your stranger is a middle-aged man with warm-toned skin, a prominent nose, and a strong, square jaw. His salt-and-pepper hair looks like it’s been freshly touseled, complimenting the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw. His green eyes are wide as he stares at you, his pale pink lips parted in surprise.
Standing here with his startled eyes upon you, you suddenly feel incredibly awkward. Maybe he didn’t want to be helped. Maybe he was perfectly fine walking on the side of the highway. Then, a frigid wind whisks past you, cutting right through your cashmere sweater, and you decide no, there was no way. This guy was dressed in nothing more than a plain black crew neck sweater and dark jeans. It was impossible for him to not be freezing.
“Uh, hi,” you greet him awkwardly with a small, sheepish wave. “I’m sorry, I know this is really abrupt, but I just saw you walking on the side of the road and…aren’t you freezing?”
The stranger’s eyebrows jump upward in surprise. He looks down at his clothes as if wondering to himself, ‘Should I be cold?’ He lifts his head to look at you again. “Uh, no. I’m not, actually.” His voice is soft, lilting slightly with a distinct accent. He offers you a small smile. There’s something about the slight crook of his teeth on the upper left hand side of his mouth that melts the awkwardness from your bones. “I guess you could say I’m pretty warm blooded. I always run a little on the hot side.” 
You nod thoughtfully, though you really can’t fathom how he’s not freezing his ass off right now. “Okay. Well, why are you walking out here? Where are you coming from?”
“Ah, my friend and I recently moved here. I live just that way,” he explains with enthusiasm, pointing one hand toward the expansive forest sprawling off the side of the highway. 
Your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly. You’ve lived in this area all your life, have spent countless weekends walking the trails in those very woods. You know no one lives within them. Is he homeless, then? you wonder. Deeming it rude to pry, you instead respond, “Oh, okay. Well, is there anywhere you want me to take you?” 
The stranger’s eyebrows raise again, as if this thought had never occurred to him. “Actually, I was just walking to town to get coffee for my friend and I. Once a month we have a bit of…a, uh…a wild night, you could say. I was trying to get prepared before dark.”
You purse your lips, debating on how to give him the bad news. He definitely must be new to the area. “Well, I hate to tell you this, mystery man, but you’re moving away from town.” You point your finger in the opposite direction of where he was walking, back toward where you’d driven from. “Town is about twenty minutes that way.”
The stranger’s face falls at your words. Something about the tender disappointment in his expression reminds you of a kicked puppy. Your heart clenches at the sight. “Oh,” he says softly, seemingly at a loss for words. 
You offer him a friendly smile, seeking to lift his spirits. “I could drive you, if you wanted.” The words are out of your mouth before you even have time to contemplate them. What the fuck? the logical, true-crime-podcast-obsessed part of your mind hisses. Your pitiful heart pushes back, still insistent on helping this poor, coffee-needing, puppy-esque man. 
The stranger’s eyes brighten for a moment, glimmering a brilliant shade of grassy green. But then he lifts his hands, as if in apology. “That is very kind of you, señorita, but I must decline. I really need to be back before dark.” His voice is slightly anxious as he raises his hand to scratch behind one ear. 
Señorita. Your heart melts slightly at the word. Why were accents always so damn endearing? You shake your head at him. “Nonsense. If you need to be back before dark, that’s all the more reason for me to take you. You’ll never make it back in time on foot.” 
The stranger seems to weigh this hefty truth, nibbling his bottom lip in thought. The crook in his teeth peeks out at you adorably. Staring is rude, you chastise yourself, tearing your eyes from the sight. After a long moment of hesitation, he gives a slow nod. “Alright, you’ve got me. I thank you for your generosity.” 
You give him a wide, toothy grin, beckoning him back toward your vehicle. As he climbs into the passenger seat, you quirk an eyebrow at him expectantly. “No thanks needed, mystery man. I will, however, require payment in the form of your name.” 
The stranger gets to work making himself comfortable, burrowing his back into the warmth of the heated seat. He peers at you out of the corner of his eye at your question, watching you curiously. After a long moment, his lips draw into a slow smile. “Jack. Jack Russell,” he says quietly with a nod of affirmation. 
Your lips upturn slowly, mirroring his. “Well, Jack Russell, it’s nice to meet you. Now, let’s go get you that coffee.” 
. . .
The more you observe your new friend during your drive, the more convinced you are that his spirit animal would be a dog. Jack rides with his high cheekbone pressed against the window, his green eyes bright and curious. The radiant, warm-toned fall foliage passes by in a blur outside, along with birds, cars, and road signs. His eager eyes flicker about, taking in all of it in rapid succession. Your heart flutters at the earnesty in his gaze, the bone-deep contentment in his expression. If picking up this handsome, puppy-eyed stranger off the side of the highway was how you became the subject of one of your true crime podcasts…well, so be it. 
Several quiet minutes into your drive, you clear your throat quietly, seeking to break the silence. “So, Jack, where are you from?”
Jack’s gaze lingers on a small cluster of deer grazing beside the treeline before he draws his eyes to you. When he does, his gaze is all-consuming, attentive. Having grown up in a world with constant sources of distraction, the sheer intensity of his focus on you is startling. “I have lived in many places, actually. I typically do not stay in one space for too long. My work keeps me busy.” 
Your heart clenches slightly at his admission, and you mentally chastise yourself for it. Why be disappointed that he doesn’t stick around? It wasn’t as if you were liable to see him again, anyway. “Oh, I see. Well, what do you do for work?” 
A heavy pause. “I hunt monsters,” he says seriously. 
His words hang in the air for a long moment, suspended. Then, your abrupt laughter fills the car. Sure, the two of you might live in a world of spidermen, aliens, and tech genius superheroes, but you had never heard of any monsters. Jack gives you a cheeky grin, the quiet rumble of laughter in his throat joining in with yours. “Ah, a comedian, then,” you comment, shooting him a knowing glance. “And your friend? What do they do?” 
Jack’s eyes turn to the ceiling of your car, that warm grin still plastered on his face. “I suppose you could say we’re a traveling duo,” he says simply. 
You shake your head incredulously, a soft chuckle purring in your throat. You’re inclined to pry more, but think better of it. After all, you’d only asked for his name in payment for the ride, not his entire life story. “You said you had a wild night planned. What are you up to?” 
Jack’s olive green eyes turn to you again, dancing in the low light of the late-afternoon sun. His cheeks are flushed pink from the warmth of the car. “We’re going to…watch the moon,” he responds. 
Now, that one makes you deadpan. “Watch the moon,” you echo, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 
Jack only hums in response, affixing you with a closed-mouth smile and a self-satisfied gaze. His eyes twinkle in challenge, as if to say, ‘You don’t believe me?’ You pin him with a knowing look and a smirk of your own as you flick your blinker on, turning into the approaching Walmart parking lot. “Alright, mystery man, keep your secrets,” you say with a laugh. “We’re here. Let’s get you that coffee so you can get on to your…moon watching.” 
Pulling into the first parking spot you see, you turn off the car and exit it swiftly, Jack following quickly behind you. Though nightfall is a little over an hour off, you want to be conscientious of his need to get home before dark, especially if he was going to be trekking through the woods. As you walk toward the grocery entrance, Jack’s head moves on a swivel, taking in the sight of customers coming to and from the building like a kid in a candy store. Lost in thought, he nearly walks directly into an elderly woman pushing her cart toward her car. Jumping back just in time, he murmurs a sheepish, “Lo siento,” and bows his head in apology before shuffling after you. An amused chuckle rises up in your throat, and you trap it behind a smile. 
As the two of you approach the grocery entrance, you spy the familiar sight of a Girl Scout’s booth set up just outside. A young girl, likely not even ten-years-old, stands beside the booth, her scout’s sash displayed proudly over the thick coat she wears. She bravely steps forward as customers enter and exit the store to give her brief sales pitch. Your heart aches at the crestfallen expression on her face when customers respond with gentle denials. Your hand is dipping into your purse before you even realize it, your fingers clasping onto your wallet. 
“Hi,” you say kindly as you and Jack come to a stop beside her booth. She turns toward you quickly, all bouncy black curls and brown doe eyes. You give her a radiant smile as you hold out a handful of bills. “I’ll take a box of Tagalongs and Adventurefuls, please. And you can keep the change.” 
The girl positively beams at you as she accepts your money with tentative fingers. When she places the boxes in your hands moments later, you add with a wide smile, “Thank you so much. You have no idea how you just made my day.” 
Tagalongs and Adventurefuls in tow, you and Jack walk into the store with purpose in your step. As your eye searches for the aisle marker labeled ‘Coffee,’ you can’t help but notice Jack staring at you out of the corner of your eye. At first, you think it’s just a momentary glance, but when you still spy his face turned toward you after several seconds of walking, you turn to look at him fully. He’s pinning you with the same thoughtful gaze as he had in the car, all closed-lipped smiles and twinkling eyes. As if he’s collecting observations of you and bottling them up, studious impressions reserved for him and him alone. 
Suddenly acutely self-conscious, you give him a nervous smile. “What is it?” you ask, voice quiet with hesitation. 
Jack’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he dips his head to his chest, his eyes never straying from yours. “You are very kind, señorita. Helping strangers as you do.” His voice is soft and earnest, each word carefully crafted and caressed as they pass the curve of his pink lips. He seems to smile a little wider as he adds, “Myself included.” 
Your lips part slightly in surprise at his statement, heat flushing your cheeks in a rush. Was it hot in this Walmart or what? You’d need to tell a manager that the thermostat was a little off if you spotted one. “Well, I’m definitely not perfect, but the world desperately needs more kindness. I try to do what I can,” you say bashfully. Seeking to divert the focus of conversation from yourself, you fix him with a knowing gaze. “You seem like a pretty nice guy yourself.” 
Jack chuckles quietly at you, turning his olive green eyes to the aisle signs overhead. “You are too generous to this stranger, señorita. I try to be as kind as I can. I struggle once in a full moon, but I suppose we all do.” 
You giggle good-naturedly at his slip. “You mean once in a blue moon?”
Jack’s lips part slightly, his expression one of genuine surprise. However, it lasts only a moment. He quickly gives you a sheepish grin, raising a hand to scratch hastily behind his ear. A nervous tick, you supposed. “Uh, yes, right. Of course.” 
Within moments, you find yourself alongside the coffee aisle. You dip into it swiftly, Jack following only a step behind. You come to a stop in the center of the coffee section, a wide array of possibilities available before you. “So, what kind are you looking for?” you ask expectantly. 
Jack’s eyes rove over the options quickly, seemingly seeing everything and nothing at once. His dark brows knit inward as he admits, “I…I’m not sure. My friend, Ted, normally gets the coffee. I haven’t any idea what I am looking for.” 
Your eyes widen in surprise. If this man had no idea what type of coffee to get, there was only one way to proceed. “Black Silk,” you say matter-of-factly. 
Jack turns to you slowly, confusion pinching his handsome features. “Black silk?” he echoes, the words rolling off his tongue without recognition. 
You nod wholeheartedly, eyes imploring and earnest. If there was one way you could truly help this man today, it would be this. “Yes. Folgers’ Black Silk. The only option when it comes to purchasing coffee. Especially if you don’t know where to start.” You beckon him toward the shelves of familiar red containers. Your trained eye finds the black-labeled tub instantly, and you crouch down, grabbing the largest option with eager fingers. “Let me tell you, mystery man. This coffee right here? A life changer.” 
“Oh.” Jack’s eyes are wide as saucers as he looks from you, to the container in your hands, and back to you. One corner of his full lips creeps upward as he gazes at you in equal parts amusement and intrigue. “A life changer, you say?” 
You nod. 
“And you think I need the largest tub they have?” An adorable peekaboo from that crooked grin of his. If you didn’t stop staring, you’d be reduced to nothing but a puddle on the floor. Clean up in Aisle 20.
“Yes. You’ll thank me later. If you’re doubting me…” Your gaze sweeps the aisle on either side of you. It’s just the two of you here, alone. Your fingers make quick work of popping the lid from its place and peeling back a section of the Aromaseal within. “...then just smell it. I promise, all your doubts will be erased.” 
Jack’s eyes dance with amusement as his gaze flickers between you and the coffee. You hold your ground, a challenge portrayed in the slant of your smirk. As if to say, ‘Yes, this is a hill I will die on.’ After several moments of bated breath, Jack lowers his head to the lip of the container. Instead of drawing in a long inhale like most human beings, he sucks in several short, rapid sniffs in succession. In that moment, you’re signed, sealed, and delivered–this man’s spirit animal is undeniably a dog, without question. Shaking your head incredulously, you close your eyes and dip your chin to savor the aroma yourself. 
The first word that enters your mind as you draw in a deep inhale is ‘bold.’ The scent of the dark roast is rich and robust as it weaves through your senses, awakening them instantaneously. The aroma is intense, luxurious, alluring. Your mouth waters unbidden as you hold the scent in, savoring it, before exhaling slowly through your nose. You can practically taste the notes of dark chocolate and smoke on your tongue. 
Satisfied, you slowly open your eyes. When you do, you find yourself gazing into two pools of olive green. Jack stares at you over the container of Black Silk between you, his eyes thoughtful, watchful, attentive. There is a gentleness behind his soft gaze, something intangible in the supple curve of his lips and his vaguely knotted brow that is fond, affectionate. 
“Cautivante.” The endearment is spoken on a breath, so faint you’re unsure you truly heard it. Your eyes fall to Jack’s lips, now parted slightly with bated breath. Your heartbeat flutters rapidly in your chest, fast as hummingbird wings, making you dizzy. Your very flesh seems to sing under his enthralled gaze, your skin warm and flushed, your knees weak. Unable to pry your eyes from the softness of his lips, the dip of his Cupid’s Bow. Your own lips seem to hum under his watch, calling out to him, buzzing so intensely you’re certain he must be able to see it, to feel it. As if drawn together by an invisible thread, you see him inch imperceptibly closer, and you mirror him, the song in your bones growing louder and louder– 
Ca-thunk. The sound nearly startles you out of your skin, slicing clean through the tension of the moment. Jumping backward, you turn to look past Jack at a very uncomfortable-looking woman several paces away. It’s very clear that she had been aware of your little….moment and had been trying to grab her tub of coffee unnoticed. Sorry, she mouths with a pained grimace. She dips down to grab the container of French roast that she had dropped on the floor and scurries off without another word. 
Fuck, your mind groans as panic sets in. Your gaze reluctantly slides to Jack, expecting to find his face twisted in regret, mortification, or awkwardness. Instead, you find him still watching you intently, captivated, spellbound. His olive eyes drink in your features like a man starved of drink. The feeling steals your breath away. 
You watch as his lips part wider, as he draws in a breath to speak. A rush of white hot panic sends your heart leaping into your throat at the sight. What would he say? Nerves thoroughly fried, you weren’t sure you could handle it, good or bad. So you beat him to it, hastily blurting out, “So, did you like it?” 
For a long moment, Jack’s expression hangs suspended, still as stone. He scarcely breathes as his eyes rove over your features, searching. You give him an awkward half-smile, mentally loathing yourself and your painful awkwardness in matters of affection. Part of you wants to tuck tail and run as far away from here as possible, hoping to save some scrap of your dignity. A bigger part of you wants to take his handsome, stubbled face in your hands and press those blush pink lips to yours, throwing caution to the wind. 
But neither of those things happen. When Jack finally releases the breath he’s been holding, the sound is low, wistful. “Yes, I liked it very much,” he says quietly, his voice thick with an emotion you can’t place. 
You release a bated breath of your own. Regret fills the space it once occupied, cold and heavy. “Alright, then…Great. Let’s get you home to your friend.”
. . . 
The ride back from town is quiet. Well, quiet on the outside. The inside of your mind is utter turmoil, a cacophonous tirade of:
What the fuck were you thinking–
Damn that woman–
He’s still a stranger, you know. You never should have picked up a stranger–
His lips were so perfect, how the hell can he be so–
“Here will do.” 
Jack’s soft voice startles you out of your mental beratement so abruptly that you have to white-knuckle the steering wheel to keep from swerving. Your eyes flicker to the side of the road where you’re currently driving, a grassy hill leading down to the forest beyond. You look at him next, eyes settling on his clasped hands, the fingers that he’s been twiddling for the past twenty minutes. “Here?” you say, your voice quiet. “Are you sure?” 
Jack gazes at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips upturned in a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I live just a couple miles from here. If I begin walking now, I can arrive home before dark.” 
Ah, yes, nightfall. Your eyes turn to the dipping sun, just barely visible over the treeline to your left. It paints the sky in gold and burnt orange, the clouds overhead dip dyed in radiant shades of pink and purple. Your heart clenches at the sight, at the thought that time is running out. You turn on your blinker and pull into the gravel off the side of the highway with a lump in your throat. 
The two of you sit in still silence for a moment as you shift the car into park. The air in the cab is thick with nerves, with words left unsaid, actions left undone. You nibble at your bottom lip anxiously, wondering what on earth you could say to cut the tension. 
Jack beats you to it. “It was lovely to make your acquaintance, señorita.” His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes wide and emphatic. He gives you a small smile. Your eyes drink in the sight greedily, committing it to memory. “Thank you for helping this poor stranger. You have a warm and generous heart. I will leave you to continue your night in peace.” 
Peace. Your heart knows no such feeling as his hand closes around the grocery bag between his legs, as his fingers clasp the car door handle. Your heart revolts as he pushes the door open and begins to step out of the car. Sure, this was all your fault. You’d known from the get-go that your mystery man wasn’t sticking around. He’d told you as much himself. But that didn’t change how outright wrong it felt to watch him go. It didn’t change how desperately you wanted him to stay, the lengths you’d go to see him again, just one more time. Moon watching be damned. 
“Jack,” you say suddenly, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. Your mystery man’s posture stiffens slightly, followed by a slow, agonizing turn as he shifts to look back within the car, back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, your eyes rove over his face, searching, imploring. “Will I see you again?” Your voice is small, fearful, hopeful. 
Jack’s eyes widen at the raw emotion in your voice, a wealth of words said and unsaid. His green eyes search your face, picking you apart, reading you like a cherished novel. Whatever he finds within your expression, it prompts him to crouch down, reaching the front half of his body into the passenger side of the car. His earnest eyes do not stray from yours as he gently takes your right hand from the steering wheel. His fingertips are warm and lightly calloused as he lifts the sleeve of your sweater ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your skin as he nestles his nose against the soft flesh of the inside of your wrist. Slowly, he draws in a deep, long inhale. He holds the breath in his lungs, savoring. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as you transcend several levels of the multiverse in the length of his breath. 
“Cautivante.” His soft lips brush affectionately over the flesh of your wrist as he speaks the word. Turning your palm over, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and plush. Dazed and flushed, you’re certain that your soul has left your body until he speaks softly, grounding you to the spot. “Do you wish to see me again?” His voice is small, fearful, hopeful. 
You don’t even hesitate. “Yes.” 
His olive eyes sparkle at your eagerness, mouth widening into a delighted grin, eyes smiling at their corners. Your heart melts at the crook in his teeth as he looks down at your hands, bashful, then back up at you again. His teeth tug at his bottom lip thoughtfully as he grins at you. “Well, if that is what you wish, mi amada, then that is what you shall receive.” 
And in the blink of an eye, he’s gone, with only the slightest lingering aroma of Black Silk remaining in his place. 
. . . 
Driving home from work the following day, you’re almost embarrassed to admit that you’ve spent more time searching the woods on the side of the road than looking at the road itself. But when you spot a familiar dark haired man standing off the side of the highway a half mile ahead, all sense of shame leaves your mind. You flick on your blinker in an instant, pulling over without hesitation. 
The first thing you notice about Jack is how bone-deep exhausted he looks. His salt-and-pepper hair is entirely unkempt, his eyes framed by dark, shadowy circles. You’re almost sure he’s wearing the exact same black sweater and jeans from the day before. Still, when he sees you approach, his face brightens like a man who’s just had his best sleep in years. Your heart swells three sizes at the sight. 
He throws the door open and dips into your passenger seat like it’s the only thing he’s thought of in the past twenty-four hours. “Hello,” he greets you adorably, face split with a wide, cheeky grin. 
You couldn’t hold back your laughter if you’d tried. “Hello,” you greet him in return. Your skin seems to sing in his very presence, heart fluttering with an intoxicating mix of nerves and anticipation. “Out of coffee already?” you joke. 
He gives you a knowing smile, eyes twinkling. “Sure, you could say that.” 
Your teeth pin down your bottom lip, trying to bite back a grin. “Well, that sounds like a serious problem,” you try to keep a straight face, to keep the bit rolling, but glee sneaks into your tone anyway. “We’d better fix that.” 
Jack’s hand slips over yours on the gear shift, his thumb kneading the backs of your knuckles affectionately. With his olive green eyes on you, you feel like you could do anything, go anywhere. His presence is a drug, so much more addictive than caffeine could ever be. “Indeed, mi amada.” His grin widens ever so slightly, giving you the perfect glimpse of that endearing crook in his teeth. Your lips hum in response, eager to kiss that sacred spot, to adore every inch of him. To keep that grin plastered on his face forevermore. “Lead the way.”
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lakesbian · 4 months
Text
“You’re a jerk, Lise,” Brian frowned, “Hogging the new girl to yourself.” “You get your morning meetings with her, I want to go shopping, cope,” Lisa stuck out her tongue at Brian.
We parted ways with the boys, Lisa wrapping her arm around my shoulders and going on about what she wanted to get. Her enthusiasm was catching, and I found myself smiling.
okay see. lisa's reason for acting all enthusiastic about hanging out with taylor & putting her arm around taylor's shoulders and grabbing her by the wrist and being all yaaaay we're going shopping!! is very clear--she wants taylor to be thinking less about who the other murderer is/who their boss is and more about what a Cool Happy Fun Time With Friends this little excursion is. but brian has no reason to go "aw man....youre hogging taylor..." beyond meeting a girl whos also really really autistically thorough about planning crime and immediately going ohhh i like her. thats all genuine. taylor's attempt at telling herself she's Infiltrating not going to last three seconds in the room full of people who are so excited to hang out with her that they start bickering with each other about getting taylor time. clenching fist on the ground it is Not True the fantasy lisa wants to sell her is Not Real everyone here has Problems chasing them and their stability is not sustainable but wouldnt it be nice if it was real
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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year
Text
“So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me”
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Lady Lesso x Ever Reader
cw : soulmate au // blood and injury // angst and hurt comfort // fluff // bffs lesso x dovey // age gap // older woman x younger woman
wc : 5500 ish
ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/42983871
I love the fact that we are all collectively simping for Lady Lesso. Everywhere I go, I see her. Also, is it just me or does it make you incredibly happy when someone you’ve followed for some other women you love began posting contents of this new woman that you’ve just fallen for? No? Just me? Ok.
Fyi, the title is from Ben L’Oncle Soul version of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve got you under my skin
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You have always deemed your parents the quintessence of the vows “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health”.
There has been a period of time where your jovially energetic mother has peculiarly lost her enthusiasm.
One of the first few signs is exhaustion. The woman who used to be on her feet all day with gusto, executing a whirlwind of tasks about the house, would become short of breath with only a handful of movements.
Then, comes heart palpitations, which eventually lead her to collapse in bed. When it happens, your father has been there for her, taking the houseworks upon himself on top of his own workload. Along with you, your father would take your mother to see a physician before he would, then, have to continue on to his job.
He has to burn the candle at both ends, juggling between his work and taking care of his wife. You help as much as you can, but still, bigger responsibilities fall on your father’s shoulders. Tirelessly, he works day in and day out, never complaining one bit.
The silver lining to it all is that your mother’s case is not so much a decline in health than an ailment, so after a few days of taking prescribed medicines coupled with bed rest, the jovially energetic woman makes her spirited return.
As it so happens, your father comes home one day with a flu, and despite exercising social distancing amongst the three of you, the whole family unfortunately falls prey to the disease.
Whilst recovering however, in the death of one night, the town officials appear on your doorstep, taking your father away on the grounds that he has to be interrogated for an alleged crime.
In the morning, he does not return home. Nor does he within the next day. Eventually, a day melts into two, three. Then, days grow into a week. A week becomes weeks.
Your mother has not been sitting idly by during all that time; she contacts her husband’s friends, does everything within her capability to get even a trace of his news.
Your father is a real people person. If there is one thing he has in abundance, it is friends, and they are good friends, offering to help in any way they can, and indeed, consistently helping your mother in pursuing news of your father’s whereabouts.
The painstaking efforts have had no luck so far, until after having no traces whatsoever of him for a whole month, you and your mother are finally informed of the news that he will be put on trial.
As it turns out, your father has been unfairly accused of a crime that he has not committed, and subsequently detained for it.
You and your mother have gone to meet him a couple of times already, and the both of you are pleased and relieved to find that he is doing well, cheeks getting chubbier and appearing as radiant as ever.
You find the whole ordeal but a testament to their unyielding love for each other.
There have been inevitable arguments between the two of them. But, it is, you suppose, what makes their connection, all the more admirable. Getting to grips with disagreements and surmounting obstacles hand in hand, they nurture their imperfectly perfect tale with conflicts and reconciliations, cries and apologies, curses and sweet nothings.
“After all, what is love without a little pain?”
Your mother has said to you one evening, sitting on the porch and knitting a hat for her dearest husband.
“Your father, he is my one true. People usually say that you will see it. But, my darling girl, mama has to disagree. When you find them, you will feel it.” Her palm rests on your chest. She smiles, drops her voice to a whisper as if what she is about to say is confidential. “In here.”
And indeed, feel you do as soon as your eyes behold her.
Funnily enough, the fated encounter comes as a by product of chasing after your cat, Eclipse for she has midnight sky for fur. After running after her all over the Great Lawn like a headless chicken, you find her sitting curiously at the feet of someone.
Up until this point, you have been in a single-minded pursuit of your cat that everything else has been a blur. Yet, by the time you stand up after gathering your beloved furball in your arms, you are enthralled by the vision before you, so enthralled in fact that you do not realise the proximity of your bodies.
How curious, you muse, that you are bombarded with a queer indecipherable feeling, as if a piece of you, that you do not realise has been missing, has returned to you at long last.
“Get that repulsive thing away from me.”
A voice, rich and smokey, jostles you out of your musings, a tip of a cane landing atop your chest to push you away.
Her lips are pulled tight into a scowl, you notice, and the only thought whirling around your empty head is that this woman is absofuckinglutely captivating, very much the epitome of handsome and gorgeous combined.
And then, before you can formulate a response, she is gone, dark stilettos drumming against the floor with every elegant footfalls of those impressively long legs.
Only then do you see it, a red silky thread coiled around her pinky, stretching across the distance between the two of you, then twining itself round yours.
And just like that, you have found your one true.
────────────────────
Finally being made aware that the fairytales you have grown up loving after all this time, are real does not make you as happy as it is supposed to.
Instead, you are busy envying the nevers who get to interact with the dean of the school for evil on a daily basis, and it does not help either that the woman seems to be deliberately avoiding you like you are the very plague.
Every time she sees so much as a shadow of you, she flees the room. When you try approaching her in front of other people, she disregards your existence altogether.
Fed up to the back teeth with her unreasonable behaviour, you foolishly decide the best course of action would be to confront her, and thus, you find yourself standing in the middle of her study one afternoon.
“Do you plan on keep ignoring me, Lady Lesso?”
“Who says you could come as you please into my study?”
“Why do you keep turning a blind eye to me?”
“Riddle me this ever, what obligation have I to take notice of you?”
Her aloofness stings as well as irritates you, and exasperated, you thrust your arm out, as if it isn’t the elephant in the room.
“Isn’t this reason enough?”
“It is but a worthless string.”
“It’s a string that ties us together. Does it mean absolutely nothing to you?”
A nonchalant hum.
A beat. A painful throb of your heart.
“Lady Lesso, why do you dislike me so?”
“Now, don’t be presumptuous, little girl. Aside from disinterest, I harbour not an ounce of feeling towards you. Your significance to me is as existential to me as my love for cats.”
“But I thought you hated Eclipse?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
“How mean of you.”
“I’m the dean of the school for evil. Does that suggest anything to you?”
“And I am your soulmate. Does that suggest anything to you?”
“Soulmate this. Soulmate that. How utterly risible! It is sheer folly that leads you to believe that two literal strangers can magically, readily feel something deep and profound for each other. I don’t give a flying fuck who my soulmate is. Your existence matters not to me. In fact, it in itself is a downright insult to my face. An ever, a student and a reader at that? I simply do not care.”
Tears of frustration have been pooling in your eyes, but those that finally cascade down your cheeks are tears of dejection.
“Ever since you’ve appeared in front of me, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my flesh. So, yes, it does suggest to me that you are a pesky little vermin.”
“All it takes is a flick of my finger,-” Suddenly, the tip of her forefinger starts glowing, and before you know it, you watch, crestfallen, as the little red thread is instantly reduced to dust. “-and there, this “our tie” that you’re so annoyingly fixated on is no more. Now, leave me alone. I certainly have far more important things to attend to than deal with this tomfoolery.”
You return to your dormitory a snivelling mess.
You have half a mind to believe that it is heartbreak that has you descending into an awful illness come morning.
────────────────────
After you have run out of her study, Leonora has been left transfixed by the staggering pain that has marred your features, unable to do anything productive for the rest of the evening.
She has thought that without those annoyingly captivating eyes perusing her every move, her heart would not feel as jittery. She has been certain that she would get satisfaction out of her little display of cruelty, and she has, if only for a while, but now, her mind is relentlessly plagued by the images of you. As soon as she has hit you with those words, it is like a dam has been broken behind those big wounded eyes.
It happens three days ago, and she has not seen you ever since. As much as she loathes to admit it, lately, all she can think of is you. In classrooms amidst teaching, at night as she lies awake in bed, it is always your agonised little face sullied with tears that makes a repeated appearance.
You have cried as if physically harmed.
She almost feels bad then, and now, she does.
Regret always comes too late, does it not?
“Why, pray tell, is the dean of the school for evil skulking about the corridors of the school for good?”
She doe not even realise that she has mindlessly wandered off to your school until a sickeningly sweet voice reaches her ears.
Slowly, she swivels on her heels, signature cane in one hand, an equally sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.
Her lips have just moved to utter something when she is rudely interrupted by an ever.
“Lady Dovey, I’ve searched the whole perimeter but there’ve been no signs of her.”
It is none of her concern and yet, oddly, she is inclined to ask. “No signs of who?”
And, to her dismay, it is your name that falls out of the other dean’s lips.
After impatiently listening to the detailed recount of your last known whereabouts, subsequently learning that you have been sick in bed, she storms out of the school for good, intent on conducting a surreptitious search of her own.
On her way back to her school, coincidentally, she happens upon a group of nevers. She sees them talking animatedly and hears them all collectively laughing over the story of hexing an ever.
Neither is it strange nor wrong to have nevers and evers going against each other’s throats, but there is something particularly strange about this conversation that is rubbing her up the wrong way.
Soon, she understands why, and simultaneously, her anger is justified once they mention your name.
────────────────────
Your wounds sting, your body aches and your head throbs, contrapuntal with the relentless pounding of your haywire heart. Around you, the naked branches creak, crows cackle, stymphs squeal and various other inhabitants of the forest sneer.
Emitting a cacophony of condescending noises, the woods itself seems to be making a mockery of your misery. Even the moon, in her full golden glory, appears to be looking down on your sorry state from her majestic onyx throne.
Should you were within the comfort of your dormitory, the occasional zephyr would have been a soothing, charming embrace, but currently as you are with nothing more than a flimsy silk on your frame, it is anything but charming.
You are not sure whether it is the spiricks’ venomous bites finally rearing their ugly heads or the weather being particularly unforgiving tonight as the chilliness seeps into your bones, and seems to swell from deep within. In the end, you conclude that it must be a combination of both taking a toll on you, for there is a profound aching agony blooming from beneath the area where their fangs have sunk into your flesh. It does not help either that some of the deeper cuts you have sustained continue to ooze blood, liquid crimson making a macabre artwork of the blank canvas that is your nightdress.
Unconsciousness sounds like a rather enticing idea right about now, but the wicked woodland does not appear too keen on giving you even a semblance of reprieve. No sooner have you entertained the thought than come the rustling noises from the inky thickets adjacent the tree under which you are taking sanctuary.
Scrambling to your feet is instantly proved a careless mistake when, under the influence of a woozy mind and on your wobbly legs that appear to have suddenly lost their purpose, you topple over. Along with a pained little grunt, you lean against the thick mossy trunk, bracing yourself for what you believe to be the imminent danger.
However, all the fear and trepidation that have taken hostage of your mind ebb away once an impeccably dressed woman enters your vision. Her arrestingly gorgeous red curls backdropped by the golden glow of the moon serves as a halo befitting a dark goddess.
If you didn’t know any better, you might have found it puzzling: the fact that her presence alone has the effect of a calming salve on your mayhem of a mind. It swaddles your whole body in an invisible cloak, soothing stings and healing wounds, suffusing warmth and supplying solace.
All this time, your subconscious mind has been desperately craving her, you realise with a start at the lack of surprise and abundance of relief upon seeing her. During the last few days, it has gone as far as daring to harbour the flimsiest of hopes that she will find you while the more logical part of your mind keeps reminding you that she has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing, absolutely nothing in fact, to do with you. Your last interaction itself is proof enough of that claim, and your wishful thinking regardless of what she has said to your face, is certainly proof enough of your, as she likes to put it, folly.
Then, as a gust of wind plucks sickly leaves out of fragile branches, forcing you to shake on your feet in a similar fashion, a coat suddenly lands on your shoulders, shielding your trembling frame from the assault of the freezing air.
The residual heat from her body seeps into your skin. The familiar fragrance of the dean, dark, rich and dangerous with wonderful woodsy notes, leaves a trail of blood red roses in its wake. Your arms lock themselves around your body, savouring each whiff and soaking every droplet. The combined senses warm you to the core.
On the other hand, you muse with bittersweet fondness that perchance, this is as close to being cocooned in her arms as you will ever come. The sad reality instantly drenches you in thick melancholy.
When your eyes meet the dean’s, dewy though they are with unshed tears, they lack the shine of which she has always been rather fond, she has now just realised, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks.
Drowning in your wounded eyes while being well aware that she is unequivocally the culprit, it is well-nigh torture for her not to engulf your dainty frame in her arms. The apparent fragility of its current state is the only reason behind her hesitation to do so.
However, when you stagger on your feet like a newborn fawn, as if possessing a mind of their own, her hands move to hold you on your delicate waist. Immediately, your fingers, lovely and lithe, find home on her forearms, maintaining a determined grip. If she has oh so foolishly thought that this little electrifying contact is going to be the death of her, imagine her absolute bewilderment once your forehead falls onto her chest, dainty digits digging into the fabric of her waistcoat.
An aggressive exhale through her nose is a poor attempt to prevent herself from gasping audibly, a not so flawless facade masking her crumbling resolve.
A muffled little whimper that subsequently drizzles out of your lips is as much a candy to her ears as it is toxin to her mind.
The string that ties the two of you together is now but a flickering red. This usually is a sign of one’s soulmate being in a potentially life threatening condition. She has said such bitter, hatful words to your lovely little face, intentionally injected poison into your veins, simultaneously making you believe that you are absolutely unwanted by the one true who is meant only for you.
Instead of making her feel liberated as she has stubbornly believed, it has weighted heavily on her heart ever since those words, acidic in nature, have left her nefarious lips, and now throbs a pang of guilt, unforgiving and relentless, as your eyes, as shimmery as a moon reflected in a pond, seek her face once more.
“Y- you came.”
Your voice is worryingly feeble, breath ragged, tapering to a choked sob, crumbling into sporadic wheezes.
“Shhh, I’ve got you now.”
A gentle thumb traces a tear as it trickles down your cheek, plucking the blossoming droplets out of your lashes before they burgeon and burst.
A breath catches in her throat when you nuzzle your peachy soft cheek into her palm like a sweet, affectionate kitten.
However, the swaying of your body coupled with the crimson cuts on your once faultless skin reminds her once more of the alarming state you are in.
Hooking an arm under your knees and twining the other round your back, you are effortlessly lifted into her arms, cradled close to her chest. Cheek pressed against her bosom, one of your arms wind up around her elegant neck while your fingers seize her collar in a white-knuckled grip, as if letting her go would colour you crazed.
“Let’s get you out of this godforsaken woods.”
Her voice is the last thing you hear before consciousness slips into oblivion, with the last thing on your mind being if it meant being alone with her, then you wouldn’t mind staying trapped inside the endless woods even if indefinitely. Deem you selfish or even mad for thinking so but as long as you get to be in the receiving end of her concern, you consider a couple of nasty wounds but a small price to pay.
────────────────────
With a broken little darling bird tightly secured in her arms, the dean of the school for evil makes a hasty return.
No sooner has she taken a step into the school grounds than out strolls the dean of the school for good, frazzled and clearly vexed.
“Where in the great lawn have you-” Upon seeing not one but two people, one of which has been declared missing for the past couple of days, she cuts herself off with a gasp, “Where did you find her?” , inching closer to examine the queer little bundle in her evil counterpart’s arms.
When her queries aren’t answered, she knows better than to press, understanding immediately that there is more to it than meets the eyes. Even when she notices that they are not heading towards the school on the right, but the left, piqued though her curiosity is, she asks no questions until someone else does it for her.
“The school for good is this way. Where are you taking her?”
She recalls this lad as a prince endeavouring fruitless attempts at wooing you. Sighing internally, she muses, distracted by her recollections, Just how clueless can he get! You are clearly not interested.
“She’s been lost for days. She must be terribly malnourished, to say nothing of the state she’s in. We need to get her immediate medical attention.”
She wants to feel sorry for her student when he moves to arrogantly pry you out of firmly fixed arms, but she is more intrigued by her friend’s reaction to pay him any mind.
“Touch her if you dare and bid your hands farewell.”
One glance at the red head is enough for Clarissa Dovey to see her true emotions. On the front, her friend’s mien betrays nothing, quintessence of cool and collected. It may work in fooling other people but Clarissa Dovey is not just other people. They go way back and, albeit unintentionally, she has mastered the art of fathoming this intricacy of a person.
She sees it all in those foxy eyes; behind their frosty aloofness lies a brewing storm of anger, desperation and anxiety, sprinkled with just a touch of possessiveness.
“I must tend to her myself. I can’t even for a fraction of a second let her out of my sight.”
Clarissa Dovey knows that the declaration is directed at her, an almost imperceptible crack in her facade as her voice wavers, but she has noticed it all the same.
And, as she watches her friend swiftly disappear into the school for evil with one of her ever students cradled close to her chest, “Don’t.” , she shakes her head at the puzzled lad whose eyes seem to be overflowing with incredulity. “Let them be.”
She thinks she has deciphered the gist of her friend’s odd behaviour.
────────────────────
With every bit of skin that is revealed to Leonora’s intense scrutiny, too, comes a new wound to add to the gradually increasing collection.
The bite on the left side of your chest is arguably the most dreadful of them all. She has magically extracted as much venom from your system as she can manage, being extra careful to instantly heal most of the superficial cuts closed while giving ample attention to the more serious injuries that necessitate organic healing.
Gingerly, she cleans the wounds, stitches them extremely cautiously if stitches are warranted. Once she is satisfied with her work, she dresses them with pristine white linens, and you, in one of her dress shirts.
The sight of you in nothing but her white shirt is a rather dangerous vision, she decides as she tucks you under the covers, and flees the room under the guise of putting the soiled linens away. The pull between the two of you has suddenly become overwhelmingly powerful that she fears it will stoke the flame within her lest she puts some distance.
As long as you are under the same roof as her, she will be fine, she reasons.
“How is she?”
The voice that soon greets her is her friend’s.
“Still unconscious but thankfully, out of the woods. Venom has been extracted and I’ve dressed her wounds. Well, some of it at least.”
The blonde has joined her by her side as she rummages in her potions cabinet for something equivalent of multivitamin supplements to give you. So, she stops, turns to face her best friend, her only confidante.
“Dovey, I said some hateful things to her. I treated her quite horribly. I don’t know if she’s ever going to forgive me for it.”
Resuming her search, she utters her terrible confession.
“It was I who pushed her away, and yet, being away from her, truly away from her, it was awfully unbearable, as if, as if a piece of my heart is being ripped away.“
A hand lands on her shoulder.
“That’s even more reason for you to make it up to her. She needs you as much as you need her.”
The eyes that greet her upon making contact are kind, gentle, and full of wisdom, not anything near the usual Dovey who revels in throwing merciless quips at her with a fiery passion. There however is a hint of reproach in her voice as she adds, eyes hardening for just a fraction.
“Trying to deny the connection will only continue to hurt the both of you. If you are clever enough to understand the importance of it, you would do well to fix your mistakes.”
It is during times like these that she is infinitely grateful for having a friend like Dovey. More often than not, they will be seen partaking in almost ruthlessly aggressive banter, making them come across as nemeses who despise one another to those around them, but Dovey, to Lesso, is a port in the storm: someone, no the only one she can turn to.
Suddenly, following her friend’s much needed advice, even being under the same roof becomes painfully insufferable. Her heart demands that she returns to your side, and thus, after shocking Dovey with a rare moment of expressing gratitude, grabbing the bottle in hand, she walks briskly back towards her chamber.
────────────────────
By the time you wake up, there significantly is less soreness overall. Cocooned in satiny softness, you feel infinitely better, up until the last couple of hours gain on your foggy mind. It is too beautiful of a memory to be real, and you wonder if you have just made it all up when a delightful whiff of a familiar fragrance teases your nose.
Tracing the scent leads you to the conclusion that not only are you in the dean’s chamber, you are buried under her feather-soft duvet, sinking into her pillowy bed. Upon peeling the satin sheet off your body, you find yourself in Lady Lesso’s pristine white shirt.
Your cheeks are painted sunset pink, jolly little hummingbird causing mayhem inside its bony cage, but then, rears the ugly head of reality, crushing the delicate buds of hope beneath its foul boots.
You are inside her room, enveloped in her scent, and surrounded by her things, and yet, it is such a depressing disappointment that the woman herself is nowhere to be found.
She has been adamant that she doesn’t wanted you then.
What are the chances that she will want you now?
Your tie has meant nothing to her after all. Is there even any reason for you to keep pestering her now that what little connection you have to her is no more, due to her own doing no less.
With thoughts running rampant, your bare feet have just barely touched the fluffy carpet when the click-clack of heels notify you of her impending arrival.
Panicked and emotionally unprepared to force back into the bitter reality, you dive back under the covers, pretending as though sleep has yet to release you from its grip.
There is silence for a few minutes.
And then, “If you’re awake, let’s get some elixir in you. It’ll help you heal better.”
You comply, peeking one eye open first before moving to sit on the bed.
Trying your damndest not to unabashedly stare at her is proven to be a rather challenging affair as your eyes are keep being drawn to her tantalisingly dishevelled state. Her sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, displaying her surprisingly strong arms; you can see her veins, emerald green and amethyst purple, under her skin like milky porcelain.
Then, a bottle is handed to you. Your eyes are busy admiring her beautifully long fingers with their stylishly painted nails, sharp as talons, to give any mind to the peculiar looking colour and consistency of the contents of the bottle.
When it comes to most potions, the first droplet is always the most unpleasant, and then, you somehow get used to the taste, and watery as they usually are, the rest of the liquid goes easily in. However, with this one, the taste is unrivalled, in that it does not go down easily, the thick consistency of the liquid making it terribly unpleasant for you to swallow.
You almost end up giving up halfway, and you certainly would have if it wasn’t for her hand holding your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek, while the other is clasped over yours around the bottle, urging you on.
The roundness of the bottle is soon replaced with the thinness of the glass when a glass of water is put in your hand.
“Good girl.”
The lowly husked praise has come out of the blue that you very nearly choke to death amidst mouthfuls of water.
Silence reigns for some time afterwards before it is dethroned once more by her voice, “If you would give me another chance,” soothingly tender and conveying genuine repentance. “I would like to give this, us a proper chance.”
The sincerity of her words stuns you for a moment.
“Would you?”
You choose your words carefully. She has finally warmed up to the idea of you and her, and you do not wish to scare her away.
Still, you must state what you must.
“I won’t lie and say that you didn’t hurt me, Lady Lesso because you did, possibly even more than you’ve intended.”
At this, to your genuine shock, she wilts, the prim and proper Lady Lesso with her shoulders slumped and brows furrowed.
“I took you for granted. Of course, you would want nothing to do with me anymore. I understand. If I were you, I’d hate me, too.”
“Regrettably, even if I want to hate you, I am unable to. Not that I want to in the first place.”
Your hand finds hers on her lap, gingerly brushing a thumb against her warm skin, and when she stares intently at it, stupefied and breath caught in her slender throat, you smile to yourself.
“As foolish as it sounds, I have wanted nothing but you ever since you’ve entered my vision. I think you would have enamoured me all the same even without this string binding us together.”
“So, yes. Yes, I would.”
Her eyes are a mesmerising green as they seek yours. Now it is her doing what she does best, exercising the art of taking one’s breath away.
“No darling,-” A shadow of a smile makes its breathtaking appearance on her lovely lips. “-not only have I been a fool but I have also been a coward. It is an age-old belief that villains are never granted a happily ever after, and I-” Her hand engulfs yours, mirroring your ministrations from earlier. “-I resorted to subjecting you to my wrath before, as my irrational fear had made a foolish presumption, you would, one day, make a fool out of me. Ironically, I ended up making a fool of myself.”
Emboldened by the revelation, you intertwine your fingers with hers. “I know that our case is unique, possibly even unheard of from what I’ve gathered thus far, but Lady Lesso-” Squeezing her hand reassuringly, you make your unfaltering confession. “-even while being well aware that our path will not always be all sunshine and rainbows, I will unequivocally choose to walk the arduous path as long as I can have you.”
A beat.
Your heart thrums anxiously beneath your ribcage.
Two.
Have you divulged too much?
Three.
And then, she cracks the most fabulous smile, “Be careful darling. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
The warm, pulsating sound of it is the loveliest melody to your ears.
The tip of your ears burning, you move to hide from her mischievous gaze, but as if reading your mind, her fingers slide along your jaw, gingerly running a thumb across your raspberry suffused cheek.
“Verily, you have the purest heart.”
She muses more to herself than talk to you, only after some time, aiming utterances to you.
“Very well then, we have all the time in the world to tackle our situation. Now, rest, for it is your utmost priority. These past few days have been terribly unkind to you after all.”
“Mmhm, but Lady Lesso?”
“Yes?”
“I thought you had severed our ties. Why is it still intact?”
“Because I didn’t.”
“It was only a mirage then?”
“Yes.”
“And, Lady Lesso?”
“Yes?”
“Stay with me?” You ask meekly, then add. “That is, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. I couldn’t wish for anything less.”
Your belly butterflies rejoice when after tucking you back into her bed, “Sleep tight, my sweet little songbird.” , you feel the warm press of her lips on yours. It is but a fleeting touch. But, when they descend upon your cheek next, they linger, brushing against your skin in the softest, most delicate caress.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
That night, you fall asleep with the goofiest of smiles on your face.
Tied around your pinkies, and cascading into a stream amongst the creamy sheets, the string of fate that binds your souls together burns the brightest red.
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thethirdromana · 1 year
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A few people in the Dorian Gray Weekly tag have observed that Oscar Wilde doesn't make it clear what he wants us to think of Dorian. I'd like to dig into that a bit more, because I think it's true, and fascinating, and weird.
Because if you take everything so far at face value, then Wilde has made it abundantly clear that Dorian is a terrible person. His actions have resulted in a young woman's suicide. He has a visual record in his attic of his moral degradation and that record has become "evil". The picture is covered in "signs of sin", and it's pretty clear that Wilde means that literally. It's not just that Dorian is being spared the realistic physical consequences of his misdeeds, like bags under his eyes after a heavy night out. His sins, which he is unquestionably committing, are visibly altering the appearance of his portrait, like that Roald Dahl quote:
If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until you can hardly bear to look at it.
We don't know exactly what his sins are. But we know how they cause people to act around him:
It was remarked, however, that some of those who had been most intimate with him appeared, after a time, to shun him. Women who had wildly adored him, and for his sake had braved all social censure and set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid with shame or horror if Dorian Gray entered the room.
The only reason that there isn't more scandal around him is explicitly because he's rich and attractive. Not because there's any hint that he's sometimes a good person. While Wilde doesn't say "Dorian was evil and his portrait looked evil because he was an evil person who did evil things", he comes pretty damn close to it.
And yet...
Despite all that condemnation, it's hard to come away from reading this novel with the impression that Wilde is actually condemning Dorian's actions, as the commentary in the tag demonstrates. (Which is handy, because this is vibes-based analysis and tricky to prove otherwise).
I think there are two reasons for this. One is the lavish, indulgent descriptions of everything Dorian is doing. The details feel like they're shared in a spirit of appreciation, not judgement. Post-Sibyl, Dorian's crimes are presented in an innuendo-laden, nudge-nudge way that lets you imagine whatever level of debauchery you find titillating. (It's always fun to see where adaptations choose to draw the line here). Dorian's life is shallow, but it's vivid and luxurious - and more than a little enviable. And sometimes it's fun to read about rich people doing bad things!
(Of course, that means that the reader ignores Dorian's sins in favour of his wealth just like his acquaintances do).
The other reason is the weird relationship between Dorian's life and Oscar Wilde's own. Wilde puts what feels like an uncomfortable amount of himself into Dorian - the book that Dorian "could not free himself from", that contributes to his moral degradation, is one of Wilde's own favourite books. Wilde also lived an indulgent, hedonistic lifestyle that took him into sordid parts of London, where he did things that, once revealed, would see him shunned by society, some of which we would still judge harshly.
Wilde was writing for an audience who didn't know as much about his life as we do, but he was already an established celebrity when The Picture of Dorian Gray was published, so I think his readership would see an echo of Dorian's decadence in Wilde himself. Like Basil Hallward, he put a lot of himself into his art. Like Basil Hallward, it revealed more of him than he perhaps intended - but he did intend some of it.
I can't quite imagine writing a character who shares a lot of my interests and enthusiasms, plus some of the worst of my behaviour, and then explicitly describing that character as evil, but that's what Oscar Wilde did. Dorian Gray doesn't feel like it's written in a spirit of self-loathing, but nor does it feel like a demonstration of cognitive dissonance. So I'm no closer to figuring out what the hell is going on here. But for me, the chewy complexity of exactly how Wilde wants us to feel about Dorian - admiring, judgmental, condemnatory, detached - is a significant part of why I enjoy this novel so much.
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Disappearance of Beverly Sharpman
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Beverley Sharpman circa 1947 (The Doe Network)
Beverly Sharpman
Physical Description
Full Name: Beverly Sharpman
Date of Birth: December 10, 1930
Race/Ethnicity: White/Caucasian
Sex: Female
Height: 5′0″ - 5′6″ (60 inches - 66 inches) (152.4 cm - 167.64 cm)
Weight: 100 - 180 lbs (45.35 kg - 81.65 kg)
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Nicknames/Aliases: Babe
Distinguishing Characteristics
Hair was long and wavy
Family
Mother
Father
Brother
Misc. Info
Worked at a clerk job in downtown though she resigned from it the day before she disappeared
Was going to be a senior at Overbrook High School before she disappeared
Case Information
Age at Disappearance: 17 (92 if still alive as of April 23, 2023)
Missing Since: September 11, 1947 (Missing for 75 years as of April 23, 2023)
Location Last Seen: Philadelphia, Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania, USA
Location Last Seen on Google Maps: https://www.google.com/maps/place/39%C2%B057'09.3%22N+75%C2%B009'54.8%22W/@39.9525839,-75.1652215,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m4!3m3!8m2!3d39.9525839!4d-75.1652215
Case Classification: Endangered Missing
Dentals: Not Available
Fingerprints: Not Available
DNA: Available
Clothing & Personal Effects
Gray or Brown suit or dress
Brown in Black shoes
Flush Colored stockings
Earirngs
Suitcase
Circumstances of Disappearance
Beverly was reportedly last seen at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Station at 24th and Chestnut Streets carrying a suitcase and sent her parents a telegram telling them she was leaving home to marry and not to worry. She was never heard again. The day before her disappearance she appeared to be troubled and wanted to tell her mother something but later changed her mind and her mother decided to not press her about it.
Unidentified Person Exclusions (NamUs)
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/7034/investigations (30)
Misc. Info
The Text of the Telagram: "Got married. Leaving town. Will not be back. Don't worry. Babe."
Police labeled her a runaway but they still searched for her
Beverly had taken $175 dollars from her savings account
She had told coworkers that she was going to Chicago and while she has relatives in Chicago, those relatives reported that they never seen or heard from Beverly
Beverly had no boyfriends and none of her friends know of any men in her life nor of anyone she would eloped with
Authorities had checked marriage-license bureaus in all 50 states but didn’t found any evidence that Beverly had married
There were many reported sightings of Beverly in cities all over the United States after her disappearance but none of them were confirmed
Her parents published advertisements in newspapers in attempt to appeal for to contact them but she never reached out.
A theory is that she ran away because of an illegitimate pregnancy as it was a heavy stigma in the 1940s though nothing found support that theory
Contact Information/Investigating Agencies/Contact Agencies
Philadelphia Police Department
Agency Case Number: 2010-16-028710
Agency Contact Personals
Detective Viviana Reyes
Detective Valarie Miller-Robinson
Agency Phone Number
215-686-3093
215-685-3252
209-937-8377
NamUs
Agency Case Number: #MP7034
Agency Contact Personal: Regional Program Specialist Katherine Pope
Agency Phone Number: 817-879-9357
Agency Email Address: [email protected]
National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC)
Agency Case Number: 1148707
Agency Phone Number: 1-800-843-5678 (1-800-The-Lost)
Sources/Further Information/Places of Interest
https://charleyproject.org/case/beverly-e-sharpman
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/7034/details
https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/2220dfpa.html
https://www.missingkids.org/poster/NCMC/1148707/1/screen
https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/pa-beverly-sharpman-17-philadelphia-11-sept-1947.61173/
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byebyebriar · 10 months
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One of my favorite things about Honor Among Thieves is that Solfina is so much smarter the more you think about her. 
Why does she make sure Holga and Edgin get captured? Because if they get out clean, the Harpers Guild only has the stolen artifacts to figure out the motives of the crime. The Horn of Kazgaroth and Tablet of Reawakening stand out! Diabolical plot is afoot! Except Edgin swears that the Tablet of Reawakening was to be used on his dead wife and the rest of the loot was to sell. He does so, so convincingly that the council was willing to pardon him and Holga. The Harpers Guild is going to be looking for black market auctions not a red wizard taking over Neverwinter. Diabolical plot? What diabolical plot? Edgin gave Solfina a better cover story than she could have ever managed herself. 
Why didn’t she just kill Lord Neverwinter so Forge could take over? Because the pair never meant to keep Neverwinter. It was always going to be a stepping stone. Keeping Lord Neverwinter in a coma gives pacifying hope (”one day the REAL Lord Neverwinter will wake up and things will be okay”), a distraction (”Clearly we need to go on a quest to find what can wake our TRUE Lord”), and avoiding dealing with a succession crisis. Forge becoming Acting Lord Neverwinter despite the age of the current Lord Neverwinter points to Lord Neverwinter not having an heir. Solfina and Forge only have to hold power long enough to revive the High Sun Games. Something that took less than two years and was greeted with enthusiasm by nobles and commoners. Dangling Lord Neverwinter as a carrot was far more effective than just killing him. 
Why does she insist that Edgin’s crew take part in the games? She doesn’t know about Xenk or Themberchaud! What she does know is that Edgin and crew tracked down a powerful helmet missing for a century and defeated her assassins. Something that shows far more power and cunning than she thought they had. Of course she’d want to take the opportunity to gain that for herself! As far as she knew, there was no way for them to get out of the maze before she cast Beckoning Death. 
Why does she let Forge go when she hates his guts? She could be Lawful Evil. Or she could have realized that Forge is not going to become a hermit. He’s going to use the treasure he stole from the gamblers and set himself up as a lord again. A lord that Solfina knows can be convinced to do awful acts if it gets him power. 
Is Solfina Hannibal Lector smart? Nah, but she’s not stupid. She just wasn’t expecting the Thieves. But nobody expects the thieves. 
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trulybetty · 5 months
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oct' 28 x samhain
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Prompt: samhain Pairing: tim rockford x gn!reader Word Count: 501 Warnings: this is fluff, brief mention of alcohol and food. Summary: finally a night out with tim as he walks you back to his car after dinner & drinks 🍷
x. masterlist
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Tim frowned as the two of you dodged another group of jovial people dressed in masks and crowding the sidewalk.
“Halloween isn’t for a couple more days,” he muttered, his hands digging deeper into his coat pockets in an attempt to keep them warm against the evening's chill.
You pulled yourself tighter at his side, your arm already looped in his, “It’s Samhain,” you responded, before dropping your voice into an eerie lilt, “it’s a Celtic celebration, it’s believed that the veil between the physical world and the spiritual world drops. Allowing the denizens of the otherworld to cross over.”
“Do your listeners get a kick out of this stuff?” he asked as he gave you a small smirk, enjoying the warmth your closeness brought him.
“Well, you’d know all about it if you actually listened to this week's episode.” you teased, knowing full well his opinion on the rise of true crime podcasts and armchair detectives.
He rolled his eyes, “Dipping into the occult now?”
You rested your head against his arm, both your arms now wrapped around his as you walked, missing the sight of the smirk on his lips transforming into a soft smile at the buzz of your enthusiasm. A rare sight on the stoic detective and one that seemed to be appearing more often since meeting you.
“No,” you laughed, “I phoned in this week's episode, I wanted to be free for our date.”
Tim’s smile grew exponentially bigger at your words. “I'm glad you did. Had a really nice time tonight.”
“Me too,” you admitted, your cheeks warming at the compliment.
Eventually, you both reached Tim's car, his first love you would tease him. His 1968 Mustang GT Fastback lovingly restored and his pride and joy in all its highland green colour.
Tim leaned against the passenger door, his arms folded across his chest, for a lack of idea where to place them, as he looked down at you.
“So,” he began, clearing his throat as if searching for the right words. “Would you be interested in maybe coming back to my place for a nightcap? Nothing crazy, just some good wine and maybe a little more conversation.”
You felt a surge of warmth shoot through you at his words, flattered and intrigued all at once. Taking a step closer, you slipped in between his legs and leaned into him, feeling the steadiness of his body against yours. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him, taking your time to savour the moment and the way he tasted. The richness of the steak he’d ordered mixing with the scotch he’d washed it down with danced on your lips making the kiss so much more delectable.
He kissed back with a surprising tenderness, a sharp contrast to his usually guarded demeanor. When you pulled back, he wore an expression that was half-smile, half-question.
“Does that mean yes?” he finally asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
“It means absolutely,” you confirmed, matching his soft tone.
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liminal-lesbian · 8 days
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Related to my last ask(which i will follow up on) I don’t think its fair to say marcy wasn’t being her true self. While she was hiding her negative feelings, her enthusiasm about being in amphibia was her authentic self.
(Plus, its a little hypocritical that Andrias is praised for following his heart, despite hiding his malevolent intentions)
While I definitely agree her enthusiasm surrounding Amphibia was an expression of her true self I think her interactions with people in Amphibia involved a lot of people pleasing in order to reach a state of feeling secure in her place in Newtopia.
A good example of this is when we see her immediately declare she'll do all she can for Newtopia in thanks for them taking her in. While this does make sense, obviously thanking the people who took you in through acts of service is reasonable, I think much of Marcy's motivation is underlaid with her anxiety surrounding being needed/useful.
For example, New Wartwood is great for showing how Marcy conceives of herself in relation to a new environment. She NEEDS the townsfolk to like her, arguably, if my thesis about her is correct, because that disapproval equates to a threat to her sense of self, as she needs the positive lens of their approval in order to define herself. She goes about it in a way that she absolutely enjoys and IS true to herself, using her special interest in architecture to render a service that will benefit the town, but the important thing to note is she's doing this not for her own enjoyment or interest, but to earn the approval of others.
The same could be said for all her services to Newtopia. I don't doubt for a second that her actions in Newtopia were a fun, gratifying, and engaging experience in which she could exercise her interests that she truly enjoyed. HOWEVER, everything she did was in service of earning approval, raising her standing in order to be liked. After all for Marcy, to be liked, to be needed, is to be. Neutrality, apathy, or, god forbid, dislike, is crisis, because Marcy defines herself in relationships mainly by what she is to them, and if she's not wanted or needed, she doesn't have the solid baseline confidence to be assured of who she is. And that is TERRIFYING.
In a vacuum, yes, Marcy knows what she enjoys, but in terms of interpersonal interaction she doesn't have the sense of self to allow herself to be Marcy for Marcy's sake, always Marcy for another's. That isn't a healthy way to go about relationships, and Marcy learns to take this to heart. She doesn't develop it in Amphibia but in Amphibia is where it begins.
In the timeskip we see the fruits of this growth in her career. It's not a surprise, I think, that Marcy's future is predicted by her principal by what she can do for the world, because up til that point to others Marcy WAS what she could do. Not a person with desires, just the acts of service. By choosing the path that she wanted to take, a career as an independent artist where she's able to express herself artistically, doing what she loves because she HERSELF wants to do it, shows Marcy has attained that secure sense of selfhood, happy to do what she wants without concern about earning others approval. She is Marcy Wu and she's more than what she can give to others.
---
As for Andrias, I'm assuming you mean his change of heart in the finale? (Correct me if I'm wrong).
I wouldn't say Andrias is praised for that per se. He's still, at the end of the day, isolated, exiled, and shown to be atoning for his crimes. Notably he isn't forgiven for anything, especially not by Marcy, as is her right. He hurt her terribly, physically and emotionally, and nothing he can ever do will take that away, and I truly think he'll suffer that weight for the rest of his life.
I think Andrias is meant to show that changing, even if it doesn't outweigh the evil you've done, even if it doesn't heal the people you've hurt, still matters. It's never a wrong choice, no matter how much you've done to hurt people, to choose to do better.
Could Andrias have been written to be a better nuanced villain, of course, but I don't think he's praised for his change of heart. I think he stands as a lesson that, while you can't take away the bad you've done, you can choose to stop adding to it, and maybe even start adding to the good.
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robotlesbianjavert · 1 year
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toga and spinner's controversial true crime podcast widely criticized for its lurid descriptions and unnerving enthusiasm but wildly popular nonetheless. however many question where exactly they get the level of detail that they do for the more recent crimes covered.
vs dabi's podcast which idk. maybe it was a a competing true crime. thing. maybe he just thought that he could talk a lot and people would come. anyways no one liked and he gains no traction until he hires skeptic as an editor but skeptic hijacks the entire thing and just starts taking all his dabi voice recordings and just has 'dabi' says whatever random fuckin shit that skeptic thinks deserves to be in a podcast. but it works and they get an audience so shrug.
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