#APPARENTLY my brain jumped immediately to fondness rather than friendship. FOR WHAT! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Did You Know Dragonflies Eat Bees?

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Mechanic, Scott

An old nemesis has returned. Luckily, IR have a new ally to counter them with.

Day 15 of @whumptober-archive “feed a cold, starve a fever” and I went with the rather odd but amusing prompt of bees. Not really much to say about this one, except that the concept made me laugh and when I hit on this interpretation of the prompt I was absolutely delighted! It was also supposed to be short, but it’s one of my longest whumptober days so far...

Langstrom Fischler was back. It was a name the Mechanic was vaguely aware of, although he’d never actually crossed paths with the other engineer, but from the faces of the Tracys as John made the proclamation, it was not a name with fond connotations as far as International Rescue were concerned.

One crash course of an explanation later, as Mr and Mrs Tracy all but threw him into Thunderbird One to help Scott on site – an unheard of situation – and he had some idea why the name of the man alone was enough to provoke a sea of displeasure. He also found out why he was being shovelled out to the danger zone.

Brains was presenting at a conference and was unavailable for consultation. The Mechanic had turned down an invitation to attend said conference and wondered if that had been a smart decision in hindsight. IR’s other engineer-minded brain, Virgil, was out with Gordon on another rescue.

“Besides,” John had told him wryly as he yanked on an IR uniform he hadn’t even known existed – a dark brown version of Brains’ own, complete with iR insignia on the chest and a shoulder patch that seemed to detail a Scorpion Mecha – “if there’s anyone here who’s an expert in throwing dangerous machinery at people, it’s you.”

That wasn’t an unfair assessment and, unlike if it had come from Scott, felt more like an in-joke than an attack – although with John, he could never quite be sure. The space-dwelling Tracy was still rather an enigma to him.

For his part, Scott didn’t seem particularly perturbed at having him along for the ride, although when the Mechanic decided to stow some Mecha – now with the yellow paintjob of IR equipment and INTERNATIONAL RESCUE stencilled on in black, which was also something he hadn’t done – on board, there was a raised eyebrow.

No comments, or refusal to load them on, though, which turned out to be a good call by the pilot; upon disembarking, not waiting for the Mechanic to push his way out of the jump seat restraints, Scott was immediately flooded by several tiny flying things. It wasn’t easy to see what they were, but the younger man hit the deck in a way that clearly wasn’t planned and didn’t get back up.

Fischler was known for making dangerous technology, and this call out had been much of the same, according to John. Apparently it was even a revival of the same sort of thing they’d been called out to before – drones designed to increase crop yield and end world hunger. It was a logical assumption that those drones had been what had attacked Scott, especially as they were still swarming the young man alarmingly.

What they were transmitting, and how they were doing it, was a question to be answered after neutralising them. Small flying drones, meet big flying drone.

His Dragonfly Mecha was large enough to need Thunderbird One’s cargo hatch to open so it could drop out; the Mechanic didn’t know all the ins and outs of Scott’s Thunderbird, but he knew where the door controls were. They fell open seamlessly and his yellow-painted Mecha swooped down like the predator it had once been, before being converted to IR use.

The conversion hadn’t included removing the electrical discharges, nominally kept in all the Mechas for a quick and dirty disabling measure for hard-to-reach electrics. According to the stories he’d been regaled with on the flight over by both Scott and John, who seemed determined to make Fischler out to be the most dangerously incompetent engineer in the world – not that the Mechanic disagreed with their assessment from what he was hearing – Fischler’s drones were difficult to catch and even more difficult to shut down.

A short, sharp burst of over two thousand volts emitted into the centre of the swarm did wonders for short-circuiting the entire batch at once, electrical arcs flying from one to the other until the entire group were fried beyond repair.

He caught one as it fell out of the air and scrutinised it. It was an impressive enough piece of work, although clearly containing a fatal flaw if it was attacking people.

“My bees!” The man of the hour, or so the Mechanic assumed, came hurtling towards them, red-faced and clearly furious. He pocketed the device and set his Mecha, still sparking in a gentle suggestion not to get too close, patrolling the air around Thunderbird One, just to make sure there were no more drones that might target them and try to cause more damage.

Then he knelt down and checked Scott’s pulse.

“You destroyed my bees!” Fischler repeated, coming to a halt in front of him and wailing at the pile of mechanical carcasses. “You International Rescue people are vandals! Do you know how much money you’ve cost me? And my reputation! Getting funding is almost impossible since you obliterated my weather drones – everyone claims I’m ‘unsafe’ and ‘delusional’! It was only a minor malfunction!”

“Minor malfunctions don’t almost kill people.” The Mechanic stepped back as Scott’s limbs dragged themselves into some semblance of practical arrangement and pushed himself shakily to first his knees, and then his feet. A stumble against Thunderbird One sent currents arcing from the Tracy to the metal, and Scott groaned. “Your creations are too dangerous, Fischler. One day something you create is going to kill you.”

“Oh, phooey,” the hack engineer waved off, “you’re just jealous your lot can’t come up with anything this good. That flying monstrosity up there is awful – look at it! It’s bulky, no aerodynamics at all, and that paint job.”

That was the Mechanic’s creation he was insulting, and he was having none of it.

“It’s safe.” Scott’s defence of it was faster than he could find words, as cutting as a laser, and entirely unexpected. “That Mecha doesn’t go out of control, or try to kill people.”

It had done, once upon a time. Scott himself had been on the receiving end of it, as had most of his brothers. It was one of the reasons the eldest Tracy brother refused to forgive him.

But now he was defending it? Defending the Mechanic’s creation?

“My bees were totally harmless until you came in here with your third rate technology and upset them with its inferiority!” Fischler blustered.

Scott straightened up, legs trembling slightly and clearly struggling to hold his weight after the shock they’d taken.

“What’s their voltage and current?” the Mechanic asked, shifting slightly to draw attention onto him and away from the struggling Tracy.

“Their what now?”

How was this man an engineer? “How many volts do they discharge, and how many amps does it run at?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Ten? A hundred? An amount, who cares?” Fischler dismissed, and the Mechanic was starting to get tempted by the idea of introducing him intimately to a well-constructed Mecha. It wouldn’t kill him, probably – their current was theoretically non-lethal, despite the high voltage – but it might shut him up.

He wasn’t sure Scott would even mind if he did, judging by the thunderous yet resigned look on his face.

Electrocuting people was, however, a no-no in the big book of rescues, and even the big book of being a decent human being, which he was trying to follow. Still, there were other things he could zap.

“How many more of those things do you have?” he asked, gesturing to the dead pile of scrap metal.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Fischler pondered, hand on his chin in a thinking pose that was almost comical to look at. “There’s the F swarm, then the I swarm, the S swarm, the C swarm, the- hey, why do you want to know?”

Taking into account the man’s obvious hubris, the Mechanic calculated that at eight swarms. If the one he had destroyed already was one swarm, that left seven to find.

He sent his circling Dragonfly Mecha in the direction the engineer had come from, and set it scanning for charged equipment.

“Good thinking,” Scott praised, still seeming a little unsteady on his feet. The Mechanic wished he’d go back inside the Thunderbird and sit down before he fell down, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen of the man’s own accord and he certainly didn’t have the clout to make him. Undermining his authority in front of an idiot like Fischler would also be a terrible idea.

Full of clear resentment for International Rescue, and clearly more interested in fame than his creations, giving the man anything to latch onto could prove dangerous down the road. There was even a risk that the Hood, should he ever find his way back out of jail (he’d done it several times already; the Mechanic was half-expecting news of a breakout any day), might try to recruit him. He certainly hit the motivation boxes, if not the skill.

Then again, the Hood had picked up those teenagers and called them the Chaos Crew before letting them loose with technology they didn’t appreciate. Skill wasn’t always a requirement in the Hood’s pets.

“What is that thing doing?” Fischler demanded, fearlessly invading the Mechanic’s personal space to glower up at him. The saying about fools and angels sprang to mind. “Call it off immediately! This is vandalism!”

“This is a public service,” the Mechanic corrected, ignoring the nuisance in his personal space if only because stepping back would definitely be seen as an admission of weakness.

Hovering above his wrist display, the holographic imitation of the Mecha sent out a burst of electricity and numerous small electrical signals winked out of existence.

Fischler let out a sound that could only be discovered as a wail. It went ignored as his Mecha moved on to the next nearest area of signal density, and the Mechanic wished he’d brought more of them along. Neither the Scorpion nor the Ray Mecha would be any good for the remaining work, but as an afterthought he pulled out the Scorpion to patrol around himself and Scott, who still didn’t look great.

If he was honest, the Mechanic didn’t want to be in Thunderbird One on the homeward journey if Scott sat himself back in the pilot seat in that condition.

Fischler jumped back as the guard-Mecha passed near him, sparks flying threateningly from the stinger.

“No respect for genius,” the man muttered. “One day, one day I’ll show you what I can do and you will worship it.”

“Trust me,” Scott interjected, a grin on his face that the Mechanic was fairly certain was aimed at Fischler, and not sharing something humorous with him, “no-one will be happier than us if your technology doesn’t try to kill people the moment it’s activated.”

From what the Mechanic could tell, that would eliminate the majority of their dangerous technology-related calls.

Fischler huffed, turned around, and stalked off. Scott’s legs caved the moment he was out of sight, and the Mechanic grabbed his arm before he crumpled back down to the ground.

“Bees,” the man grumbled, hauling himself back upright and finally, to the Mechanic’s relief, staggering his way to the pilot’s chair, which he collapsed in rather ungratefully. “Of all the things he chooses to make, he goes with bees. John, how much more will it take before we can get him shut down for good?”

“I’ll call the GDF,” the ginger said immediately. “Are they all destroyed?”

The Mechanic looked down at his display again. “One more swarm to go.” The Mecha let out one more discharge and then the rest of the icons vanished. “And gone.”

“Good work,” Scott grunted. “Load them up and we’ll return to base.”

“You’re not planning on piloting?” he checked, looking at the shaking fingers and pale skin. “You-”

“I’ll pilot,” John interjected. “Don’t worry, Scott’s not piloting after that shock.”

“Hey!”

“No piloting until you’re checked over,” the ginger said unrepentantly. Not interested in getting any more involved in the discussion than he was already, the Mechanic turned his attention to his returning Dragonfly Mecha and directed the patrolling Scorpion Mecha to clamber back inside the Thunderbird, ready and secure for take-off, whoever ended up piloting.

By the time both were secured, Scott’s pilot seat had retracted into the Thunderbird, and the Mechanic climbed the ladder two rungs at a time to enter her belly. The brothers were still discussing the piloting situation – more of a one-sided argument that Scott was clearly losing – and he strapped himself into the jump seat again, ready for lift-off.

John was the one that took control in the end, much to the explosive frustration of Scott and the Mechanic’s internal relief. Not that Scott wasn’t a fantastic pilot – he was well aware that the eldest Tracy brother ranked amongst the best pilots in the world – but with shaking hands and an off-colour pallor, the Mechanic wasn’t even sure he’d stay conscious the whole flight home.

Thankfully for the Mechanic, as the only other warm body around and therefore the only possible administer of emergency first aid on the flight, he didn’t pass out. That didn’t stop the cluster of Tracys in the hangar once Thunderbird One slid to a stop on her mooring, however, with the elder generations leading the pack and fussing over Scott the moment he stepped out of his Thunderbird.

Even without the concern of Scott’s health, the Mechanic hadn’t been expecting any recognition for his first rescue. With everyone fussing over the pilot, he was certain that he wouldn’t be noticed at all, and slunk away to offload his Mecha and check the Dragonfly over for any wear and tear after the successive discharges.

A hand on his arm pulled him up short.

“So, how did you find it?” Mrs Tracy asked, a glint in her eye that he couldn’t quite read. Turning to face her, he was taken aback by the several pairs of eyes on him, all curiously awaiting an answer. Scott was leaning heavily on his father, who in turn had a tight hold on him. Behind them, it appeared that Virgil and Gordon’s rescue had concluded and they’d returned home, now standing alongside Alan and behind their brother and father. John’s hologram hovered out of Scott’s comm, and even Kayo was lurking in the shadows at the back.

MAX was projecting Brains to complete the set, and a lump settled in the back of his throat.

“The man was an idiot,” he managed, and a swathe of chuckles rippled through the family. He rested a fond hand on the Dragonfly Mecha, in hibernation while it awaited its checks.

“Did you like it, being out there?” It was Alan that said the question he could tell they were all looking for an answer to.

“Would you do it again?” Kayo added, making some of her brothers jump as though they hadn’t realised she was there.

The first question, he didn’t have an answer to. The second was somehow easier, the words emerging without needing to think on them.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her. “Yes, I would.” He’d never thought he’d want to do it – be on the front line, throwing himself into danger to save others – but seeing his Mecha defend people, save them brought something warm to his chest. This wasn’t what they’d been made for, originally, but it was what they did now, and it suited them so much more than their original purpose ever had.

Scott shifted, catching his attention as Mr Tracy tightened his grip on his son just a little more.

“In that case,” the eldest brother – IR Commander, distrustful even after everyone else forgave him – said without a hint of disdain marring the small, satisfied, grin that had crept onto his face, “welcome to International Rescue.”

#whumptober2021 #no.15 #bees #thunderbirds are go #fic #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #the mechanic #scott tracy #langstrom fischler #john tracy #thunderwhump #thunderfluff

36 notes · View notes

lurafita · 5 years

Text

Avengers/Peter, dub/con, captivity

Know these moments when you just can’t get this one idea out of your head, and all of a sudden you are writing it down, even though you have other stories going that you should be focusing on?

Yeah...

Heed the tags, everyone.

kidnapping, dub/con, captivity, chains, bondage, obsessive Avengers, Peter/Everyone, darkly soft Avengers (in the sense that they hold Peter captive, but only want to love and protect him), non-powered Peter, dark-ish Avengers, 18+ Peter, Clint is not married and has no kids, Tony is not in a relationship with Pepper.

The long chain wasn’t actually necessary, what with Friday being able to control every door and window in the building, and every single one of the Avengers being physically stronger and faster than him (even the non-enhanced ones like Tony, Natasha, Clint and Sam).

So it’s not like Peter could escape from their private floor, much less the tower as a whole.

They simply liked the physical proof that he couldn’t get away. They liked being able to touch the chain, to hear the links clink when he moved. They liked being able to see him tethered to their home. Their territory.

It hadn’t started like this. Of course not. These things never do. Or, at least Peter doesn’t think they do.

He had been one of the very few lucky college students to get an internship at Stark Industries, home of the Avengers. (Though, while Peter was undoubtedly a fan, he cared far more about the Stark Industries part of the deal, than being close to the cities heroes)

He had started out as a lab assistant to one of the project leaders, working on different things. After about four months of that, the new interns (which included Peter), had been asked to propose an idea for a new project that could benefit the company, and/or society.

Peter’s idea of an organic polymer that could be compressed and stored in great quantities, and hardened to adjustable strength when exposed to air, had immediately caught the attention of one Dr. Bruce Banner.

After the initial shock and hero worship that Peter experienced when being face to face with one of the greatest minds the scientific community had to offer wore off, he was able to talk to Dr. Banner (”Please, call me Bruce.”) about the different applications his formula could be used for, especially in the fields of emergency rescue and medicine.

Peter had apparently left such a good impression on the doctor, that the man who would occasionally turn into a green rage monster, had elevated Peter to his personal lab assistant.

Needless to say, the college student was over the moon.

Shortly after beginning to work with Dr. Banner (”No, seriously Peter, call me Bruce”), Peter had gotten to know Tony Stark.

Stark was a close friend and frequent visitor of Dr. Banner (which of course he was, with them both being on the same Superhero team), and had come to the lab one day to talk shop and escape one of his many, many board meetings.

After Peter somehow managed to stutter his way through an introduction to Tony fucking Stark, the man had enthusiastically joined the two in brainstorming for more and more ways to adjust and improve on the ‘web-fluid’. (”So you are the little Spiderling Brucie-bear has been ranting about for the last few days.” “Sp-Spiderling, sir?” “Well, your web-fluid, yes, that’s what I’m calling it, does have some similarity to spidersilk. I was just going to call you ‘Bug-boy’, but seeing you in person, that name doesn’t really fit someone as cute as you.” Not knowing how to deal with being called ‘cute’ by one of the smartest and most powerful men in the world, Peter’s brain had zeroed in on the one thing it could process. “...Spiders are arachnids...” The two older scientists had given him an impossibly fond look for that comment)

Lab work often ran pretty late, and on one day where the hours had flown by particularly fast, Bruce had invited Peter to just stay the night there.

(”I wouldn’t feel good about you taking the subway at this hour of the day, or rather night. There are more than enough guest rooms on the Avengers floor. And I’m sure we can find you something to sleep in.” “I, I couldn’t, Dr. Ban- I mean Bruce. That would be such an imposition-” “You are not an imposition, Peter. As I said, more than enough rooms. Tony has actually raised the idea of giving you one of those for your internship. You are our most promising intern in years.” Peter had blushed fifty shades of red “But Dr- Bruce, that’s not necessary, really, it’s not that late, I can just-” “Nonsense. Crime has been picking up lately, especially after dark. Can’t have my best assistant get jumped on his way home. Come on, it’s Steve’s turn to cook tonight, and that man makes a mean casserole.”)

And that’s how he had met the other Avengers.

He was awkward at first, shy and insecure about every little thing he said and every gesture he made. But the Avengers (THE AVENGERS!) had been very welcoming of the younger man. Asked him about his studies, his work in the labs, teased lightly about how much both Bruce and Tony were always praising him. The dinner had been great, conversation flowing between him (a total nobody) and the worlds mightiest heroes, going through many different topics. It had been mostly lighthearted and funny, with Peter being just as pleasantly surprised about the easy camaraderie as the Avengers were. He had helped clean the dishes after, and had tried his best to not feel emasculated when the clothes to sleep in, had come out of the Black Widow’s closet. (”You have a dancer’s figure. Nothing to be ashamed of. The guys’ clothes would just swamp you.” “I,... uhm.. th.thank you, miss Widow, I mean, miss Romanoff? I used to do ballet, but had to stop once I got into college. Time constraints..” “Call me Natasha. If you want, you can join me in the training room sometime. I like to go through a few of the routines, they are good for balance and agility.” “O-oh, I couldn’t disrupt your training like that-” “I will pick you up from college tomorrow, then we will go through some positions and figures. Make sure you eat something light beforehand. After, we will come back up here and make Barnes cook something. I know about that ‘starving college student’ myth, and I will not have you become one, you are skinny enough as it is.”)

And so Peter had started to do a few hours of ballet with Natasha every week. Which always led to being fed by whoever was in charge of cooking on that particular day. Tony tried to steal him away from Bruce’s lab and into his own about 4 times a week, and succeeded about half the time. Lab hours stretched late into the evening on more and more days, and Peter found himself sleeping over at the tower a lot. The closet in the guest room he used, gradually filled with clothes in his size, and three new pairs of shoes appeared in the room one morning (while his own, old and very battered ones, were nowhere to be found.) Tony never admitted to buying the items for him, but the satisfied expression on the older man’s face when he saw the brunette in his new clothes, was its own confession. Bruce started to keep snacks and drinks in his lab, and made sure that Peter took regular breaks in between the sciencing. Whenever Tony had Peter in his own lab, Friday would remind the genius that both he and his intern were required to take a break to eat and drink something. Peter was made to stay for dinner almost every night, even the ones that he didn’t sleep there. He got to know the men and woman behind their hero persona’s, and in turn opened himself up for them. Thor would visit a lot, and while it took a little more time for Peter to get over being starstruck by the god, than it had for the other Avengers, a friendship was struck quickly.

He truly, genuinely liked the Avengers. And they truly, genuinely liked Peter.

And the college student had thought that that was all it was.

He didn’t notice when fond, friendly looks, became lingering, longing stares. He didn’t notice when little, friendly touches, would last longer, would become caresses. Jovial shoulder pats turned into full body hugs. Leading the younger somewhere suddenly always required the other to hold on to his wrist, hand, or arm, or to keep a guiding hand on Peter’s lower back. They sat closer during dinner and the occasional movie night. Natasha corrected his stance and form during their ballet sessions far more often than Peter thought necessary. Pressing close and intimate every time. They started to fuss over him more. Made sure he ate and drank enough, always asked if he slept well, insisted he just stay over to study for his exams and other college work. (”Where else would you get a super computer and two certified geniuses to help you if you need it, Spiderling?”)

Peter hadn’t thought anything of it.

So they were a little protective and tactile, it’s not as if Peter minded physical forms of affection.

When they started to gripe about the neighborhood Peter lived in, he took it in stride. He knew it wasn’t the best part in the city. Ned, MJ and Aunt May similarly weren’t happy with Peter living there. But student housing had been filled to the brim when Peter started at the university, and the apartment had been close to the campus and cheap. (”Because it’s a shithole, Petey. Wasn’t there a drug raid just around the blog from your address last week? I think I heard something about that in the news. Do you even have hot water in that hovel?”) His answer of “Sometimes.”, had been met with many heavy and worried frowns.

Needless to say that Peter had been vigorously urged by the Avengers to abandon the place, and just move into the guest room he was already occupying most of the time anyway.

Peter had declined, of course. He could not be such a burden to his friends, not when they had already done so much for him. But the Avengers were evidently far more stubborn and determined than the college student, and by the end of that same week, Peter’s lease had been canceled via one phone call of Tony’s lawyers, and all of his belongings had been moved to the tower.

But still, the brunette hadn’t really thought anything of it.

Sure, their actions had been a little heavy handed (and controlling), but it was understandable, was it not? They were his friends. They worried. They just wanted to help.

But soon after that, the young college student had been appointed a personal driver, who would cart him to and from the university every day. Outings with his friends became decidedly less, the more each of the Avengers wanted to spend time with Peter. Between ballet, lab work, assisting with cooking or baking, video game sessions, movie nights, spontaneous shopping trips, or any one of the team just sitting down with him and talking, not to mention his course work for university, he hardly found time for his semi-regular phone calls with Aunt May. (Who was, by the way, ecstatic that he lived with the Avengers. “At least now I don’t have to worry about you being robbed blind one night, because your landlord is too cheap to install a working lock on your door.”)

It was fine.

Tony, Bruce, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Steve and Thor were his friends. His very tactile, affectionate and protective friends.

When the pet names started, Peter took it as simply another form of affection.

Friends gave each other nick names. It was fine.

“Petey, would you hand me that test tube over there? Thanks.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Almost done with Mark 39. Just some little adjustments, then it can be taken for a test run.”

“Want more sugar for your coffee, doll?”

“That last pirouette was beautiful, lastashka.”

“Your Toad may have bested me in this round, sweetie, but Bowser and I will have our revenge!”

“Honey, did you remember to eat lunch today, or did you neglect your poor empty stomach over studying through your break again?”

“You cold, pumpkin? Come over here, I will warm you up right quick.”

“I understand that education is important to you, but you shouldn’t push yourself so hard, love. Give the books a rest for today. Sweet dreams.”

It was fine.

...

Until it wasn’t.

______________________________________________________________

Read Part 2:

here

Read Part 3: here

Read Part 4: here

Also, I’m not sure about ship names for a few of them, so I’m just gonna tag every combination I can think of.

507 notes · View notes

i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 5 years

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Two)

Ugh! It’s been 3 whole months since I updated this story! This one is a bit long, so maybe it will make up for that? Anywho, in addition to this being a bit of a doozy, it’s kind of a filler chapter, which I hate to do but there ya go. I’m feeling a bit wonky about this part, but make sure to let me know how you feel about it. I hope you enjoy! (P.S.--Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!)

Previous--Next--First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Warnings: I don’t see any here!

Word Count: 2076 (!!For WhY?? Why can’t I write this much for my courses??)

It had been a few months since that first meeting, and it had become second nature for you to stop by his bookshop on the way home from work. You were grateful that Aziraphale didn’t actually want to part with any of his precious volumes, or else your poor bank account would definitely suffer. Because the shop was essentially the best sort of library you could imagine, it was incredibly easy to find a book to read. And because Aziraphale was the nicest man you had ever met, he was more than happy to let you find a comfy old chair to park yourself in whilst you read said book. This was how most of your days went recently, and it was, in fact, how this particular day had begun.

The door clicked shut behind you with the pleasant sound of bells that you had grown so fond of. You were in a good mood—you’d gotten a major promotion at work, which meant that although you’d have to work a few more hours, you’d be doing things that you enjoyed and getting paid more for them. Aziraphale had, for some reason unbeknownst to you, planned to cook dinner for the both of you today. You’d objected, not wanting him to go through all of the trouble of having to close his shop early to get dinner ready by the time you got out of work, but he’d persisted.

“It’s a special occasion, Y/N!”

“What is?”

“Being alive, of course!”

You’d known that there was something more, but you ignored it in favor of relishing in the cozy affection that washed over you at how adorable this man could be. He could find wonder in the most trivial thing, which never failed to put a smile on your face. Even recalling moments like that, as you were doing now, could lift your spirits.

You wandered around the shop, browsing the shelves for any new additions. Aziraphale’s shop had quickly become your safe haven—a place that you could go and just relax with a good book and not have to worry about anything else. Soon, you had come to associate that feeling with the man himself. You hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time, and it was refreshing, in an odd way, to feel like a teenager again. This was something new and unexpected, and perhaps it was just what you needed. Your inner monologue was cut off by Aziraphale calling your name from across the room.

“Y/N! You’re here! Just in time, everything is ready.” You turn and smile at him but frowned when you caught sight of the old grandfather clock standing by the sales counter.

“Already? I only got here a few minutes ago,”

“Oh, I wanted it to be ready for when you got here, so I started early—”

“But I got here almost an hour before I normally do! How are you finished already?” A flash of something unidentifiable crossed over his face, but it was quickly replaced with a charming smile.

“I must’ve forgotten to set the clock upstairs and started earlier than I had thought. A happy accident, no?” Again, the doubts in your mind vanished, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Ever the gentleman, he gestured for you to walk up the stairs in front of him. The smells coming from the second floor had drifted down slowly and were weaving themselves around you, making your mouth water in anticipation. When you got to the top of the staircase, Aziraphale darted around you to open the door to his flat.

Despite all the time that you had spent in his building over the past couple of months, you had never ventured up here. You doubted that you would even notice if you had—the flat had the same eccentric-yet-cozy feel to it that the bookshop did, except in the place of books there were hundreds of different knick-knacks. Some looked rather new, and others looked as though they had jumped straight out of a history book.

“This is where I live. Pardon the mess, I haven’t been able to find a good system of storing yet.” He started fiddling with a set of Russian dolls that were sitting on a side table but gave up as quickly as he started and turned back to you. You realized that he was waiting for you to say something.

“I love it. It’s…homey.” You smiled genuinely at him. In some ways, it felt more like home to you than anywhere else, but that was a revelation for another day. After a few seconds of slightly awkward standing, your stomach chose that exact moment to growl. Loudly.

“Where are my manners? You must be starving! Here, let’s get some food in you, alright?” He led you to his dining room, where you were immediately greeted with the most delicious-looking meal of your life.

“You made all of this for me?” You asked incredulously, not believing your eyes. The table in the center of the room was positively groaning under the weight of all the food Aziraphale had cooked. Somehow, every single one of your favorites had made it onto tonight’s menu, making your heart grow warm with the knowledge that Aziraphale listened to and remembered the things you told him. You looked up at his expectant face, feeling silly for getting so emotional over dinner.

“It’s wonderful, Aziraphale. Thank you.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you.” He moved to pull out the chair closest to you, indicating that you should sit down. “Shall we?”

Dinner was divine. The food you ate on that day was the best food you had ever, or would ever, eat, period. You insisted that Aziraphale was secretly a world-famous chef, an idea that he quickly shot down— “How on Earth could I be a world-famous chef in secret? Wouldn’t everyone know? It wouldn’t be much of a secret, Y/N.”—but you weren’t too sure. You ate more than your fill, but when Aziraphale suggested that the two of you end the night with a cup of cocoa by the fireplace, you couldn’t refuse.

And so, you found yourself sitting on Aziraphale’s worn tartan sofa, sipping the rich chocolate and staring into the flames. Aziraphale sat beside you, his cup resting nicely on his knee. Together you sat in comfortable silence for quite a while, giving you time to reminisce over the evening and, more importantly, your thoughts about the man who had orchestrated the whole thing.

You knew that you had developed a sort of crush on him, and it had become increasingly apparent in recent weeks. Your heart would pound harder the closer you got to his shop, and the second he would look up from his work and focus his attention on you, you could feel your cheeks start to burn. It was highly unlikely that he hadn’t noticed anything different about the way you acted around him, but you knew he was too kind to say something about it. The trouble was that the friendship you had built with him, the easy companionship that you found in each other, was too precious for you to risk losing it by telling him what you truly felt. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he only wanted you to be his friend, nothing more? Oh God, what if he was gay? You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but quickly looked away. Your anxiety was spiking, and you had to do something about it before—

“AZIRAPHALE!!” Both of you jumped, but thankfully most of your cocoa was gone so none of it spilled. Aziraphale was not so lucky, and he cursed as he looked down at his chocolate-covered lap.

“Damn!” You looked around for something to wipe it off with, but you couldn’t find anything. When you refocused on him, your brain short-circuited for a second. Aziraphale’s pants were now completely dry, with no chocolate on them whatsoever. He seemed to have gotten some on his hand though, because he had part of his pointer finger in his mouth, trying to suck the pain away. Loud footsteps were coming from the stairway outside the door of the flat, and you stared at each other in confusion.

The door was kicked off its hinges in the singular most dramatic entrance you could imagine. The strange man at the door seemed to be other worldly, like his very presence upended the balance of the Universe. Space rippled around him, giving one the impression that he was swaying back and forth, almost snakelike. He had the air of someone who was much much older than they appeared, which clashed atrociously with his spiked, modern haircut and his skintight jeans. It hurt your eyes just to look at him, but, like a car wreck on the M-25, you couldn’t look away. Somehow, even though he was wearing glasses the color of a black hole, you could tell that he was ignoring you entirely. You watched as he made his way to stand angrily in front of your friend. Aziraphale opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

“I’ve been calling you for day, you useless blob! I thought something had happened to you, Aziraphale! In case you’ve forgotten, we are in this together. If we fuck up, it will be the actual end of the world. I—who the Heaven is this?” The man turned to peer at you through his sunglasses, frowning as if you were a spot on the sofa, and not a living, breathing person sitting there instead. Suddenly he turned back to Aziraphale, so you could no longer see his face, but his body language changed drastically—he looked dangerous, like an animal ready to pounce. When he spoke his voice was mocking, dripping with derision.

“Really? You mean to tell me that this pathetic waste of space is what has you tied up? Didn’t you learn anything from the last time you tried it on with a mortal? I knew you were dense, Angel, but not stupid—” Aziraphale was up before your brain could process that he had moved at all. He was now standing toe-to-toe with the stranger, which would have looked unimpressive if Aziraphale had not been so obviously full of rage that it practically radiated off of him. The taller man looked down his nose at Aziraphale but said nothing.

“Don’t you ever speak about her in that filthy way again.” Where the tall man’s voice had been unsettling, Aziraphale’s was downright terrifying. You had never heard him sound so threatening, and you’d seen someone try to buy his first edition of Gutenburg’s Bible. It sent shivers down your spine, and your instincts kicked in. You rose from your seat, backing away from the escalating argument in front of you. The two men fought back and forth, and your heart sank further and further into the pit of your stomach. The night had started out so well, you had no idea when things had gone so wrong. You located your purse on the coffee table and picked it up, clutching it to your body.

“I’m going to leave now,” you tried, but to no avail. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were on the brink of tears. “I said, I’m going to leave now!”

That got their attention. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide when he saw you holding your purse, not to mention the way you seemed to be unconsciously cowering away from them. He reached out to you but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Th-thanks for dinner. I have an early day tomorrow and I should really head home.” You turned to leave. Your hand was on the doorknob when you heard Aziraphale’s voice from behind you.

“Will I see you tomorrow, then?” Your shoulders tensed, and you had to bite your lip against the—completely ridiculous—tears that spring up at the careful hope you could hear. You took a deep breath, and without answering, opened the door and left the little shop.

From the street, you could hear a tremendous noise coming from the second story window, like something quite large and heavy being thrown against the ground. You shuddered because deep down, you didn’t know if the stranger had done it, or if Aziraphale, sweet, loving Aziraphale had. You walked faster.

Tag List:

@chelsdub, @a-hoe-for-vanya, @lordbeezyprinceofhell, @ohfortheloveofchuck

#aziraphale x reader #good omens #crowley #One Monstrous Miracle #Aziraphale #michael sheen #mine

76 notes · View notes

kpopwords · 5 years

Text

Secret Notes - Hwang Hyunjin fic

Genre: fluff, light angst, university au.

Warnings: Underage drinking

A/N: Well. It was supposed to be a secret admirer au. And a mini fic. Neither of those things really happened the way they were meant to, as it became 4k words of college shenanigans and Hyunjin being lowkey heart eyes & highkey jealous af.

“Another one, huh? How has no one seen who's been leaving these?” Your roommate, Eunha, asked as you bent to pick up the small envelope on the floor. For weeks now someone had been writing you little notes and shoving them under your door, and all the other people on your floor either hadn't seen who was doing it, or they weren't talking.

“I have no idea. They must be sneaky,” you shrugged, sitting down on your bed to open the newest letter. It was carefully penned in the same pretty purple ink as usual, and just looking at the neat scrawl made your heart twist.

‘You look really cute today. I don't know who you're looking so good for in a 10am psych lecture, but they sure are lucky! Just don't forget to eat lunch, you should really stop hiding in the library so much’

“It’s infuriating, I don't know how you can just live with not knowing,” Eunha groaned as she read over your shoulder and then fell back onto your bed. “It has to be one of the boys from the second floor, they're the only ones we talk to enough that they'd know your schedule.”

“Okay, but maybe they don't want me to know,” you reasoned, carefully tucking the note back into the envelope. “And maybe I don't want to know.”

She gave you an unimpressed look. “You just want it to be Hyunjin.”

You kept quiet, knowing she was right. All the boys from the second floor were cute and funny, but there was just something special about Hyunjin. He was just so distracting, the way his bright smiles couldn't hide the plumpness of his lips, the way his eyes shined when he let out his bell-like laugh. You were enamored to the say the least, despite telling yourself at the start of the semester that you went to college to get an education, not get involved with boys.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Eunha snorted, rolling off your bed. “I would die of laughter if it was Felix or someone instead, just because of how smitten you are.”

“Rude,” you gasped, throwing one of your pillows at her. “Felix doesn’t have that good of a grasp at writing neatly in Hangul yet, you jerk.”

“Maybe he’s been practicing just for you.” She screeched in laughter as you jumped off your bed with another pillow, and then notes were soon forgotten as you attacked each other.

~~~~~

Friday after class found you practically dragging yourself back to the dorm, your brain hurting after a full day of classes. While it was nice to sleep in, your 4-6 lecture was possibly the worst idea you’d ever had, especially since most of your friends were on their weekend by 2pm. You entered the building and made for the stairs, anticipating your welcoming bed, when you hit the second floor landing and were promptly yelled at.

“Yah, earth to Y/N!”

Looking down the hall, you saw Jisung leaning out of his door waving at you. “Hey, what’s up Sungie?”

“Movie night in the Seungjin room, you down? Felix and Eunha are already there, but no one could get a hold of you.” He stepped further into the hall and offered you a sweet smile, and you internally groaned. How had you and your roommate managed to become friends with the cutest boys in the building?

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, the pointed up the stairs. “Can I put my stuff up first?”

Jisung let out a small laugh, nodding. “Of course, I just wanted to make sure I caught you. Get changed too, it’s snuggle time!” He cheered, gripping the side of his flannel pants and waving the fabric slightly for emphasis.

You grinned, shaking your head. “You got it, give me a couple minutes.”

Waving to each other, you both parted ways, you going back to the stairs while Jisung was probably headed to Hyunjin and Seungmin’s room. When you got to your room you immediately dumped your backpack, heading to the closet to put together comfortable yet not embarrassing pajamas.

College was weird, to say the least. You’d never had issues making friends, but you’d also never had friendships that involved as much skinship as you did here. Your roommate and the boys had no issues with hugs and cuddles, and Jisung was very fond of cheek kisses. He had teased you endlessly the first couple weeks after meeting him, cooing over your reddening cheeks, but you had grown used to his affection.

After pulling on some soft pants and an oversized sweater, you locked your door and made your way back to the second floor. The boys always insisted you didn’t have to knock, but you did anyway, trying not to smile too hard when the door opened to reveal Hyunjin.

“Hey! Come in, why’d you even knock?” He asked as always, pulling you in for a quick hug before letting you into the room. You tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks as you stepped inside. Jisung was sprawled across Hyunjin’s bed, Eunha on the floor with Felix’s head in her lap, playing with his hair, and Seungmin sat on the edge of his own bed spinning the TV remote in his hands.

“I’m being polite, Jinnie,” you insisted as you debated where to sit. Hyunjin pushed past you to jump on top of Jisung, making you both disappointed and relieved there was no space left. Seungmin seemed to notice your apprehension, patting the space beside him as he started the movie.

“You can sit here, Y/N,” he offered, “even if you totally ignored me waving at you yesterday when you left your psych lecture.” Something about his words sounded familiar, and you remembered the note when you noticed Eunha giving you a look out of the corner of your eye.

“I can’t believe you expect me to have brain function after psych, Minnie,” you accused as you took your place on his bed, scooting up to lean on the headboard.

“She’s got a point,” Felix agreed from the floor, getting a pillow to the face for his trouble.

“Could’ve fooled me, you always look so put together.” Seungmin shrugged as he tossed the remote and leaned back as well, arm brushing up against yours. Eunha’s eyebrows were nearly to her hairline at this point, but you ignored her. It was just a coincidence.

Everyone settled down as the movie started, and it was nice to just relax after a long week of classes. It was one of those sappy, feel good movies, probably courtesy of Felix, and the soundtrack was quickly making you far more tired than you already were.

You swore you only closed your eyes for a second, but suddenly someone was shaking you, and you opened your eyes to notice you were half laying on Seungmin, an arm curled around his and your head on his shoulder. You jumped back and heard laughter behind you, but Seungmin just gave you a kind smile.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep here,” he explained, leaning back to give you more space. He was right, you weren’t fond of sleeping in other people’s rooms, but as you turned you saw Jisung and Hyunjin still laughing on Hyunjin’s bed, Felix giggling behind his hand.

“You’re so cute, Y/N, always so shy about skinship,” Jisung teased. You got up from Seungmin’s bed, making your way over and flicking Jisung on the forehead.

“So mean,” you whined playfully as he pouted at you. “I should head up, though, if I’ve already passed out once.”

“I’ll come too, let the boys have their sleepover,” your roommate agreed, ignoring Felix’s protests as she got up. The boys chorused their goodbyes, but in retaliation for the teasing, you snatched up a sweatshirt on your way out, Eunha laughing as you pulled it on while walking back to your room.

The next morning you woke up to another envelope on the floor in front of your door, and you stared at it for a few moments before your roommate noticed. Screeching, she jumped up and grabbed it, shoving the paper into your hands.

“Open it, open it! I'm sure it'll have a hint this time!” She insisted. You were inclined to agree, though you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. On one hand, you'd probably die of happiness if it was actually Hyunjin, but if it wasn’t…

“Come on, you're killing me here,” Eunha whined, shaking your shoulders slightly. Deciding to rip the bandaid off, you opened the envelope and pulled out the note, beginning to frown as you read it.

‘You look so adorable when you're sleeping. Don't go falling asleep just anywhere though, you can't trust other boys like you can us. And give Jisung back his sweatshirt, he knows you took it’

“Um.” You said blankly. “Well, it's not Jisung?”

“I hate to say it, but it sounds like it's Seungmin,” she frowned down at the paper. “That's… I'm sorry Y/N, I know-”

“No, its okay,” you insisted, folding the paper up and putting it back into its envelope. “Life wouldn't be life if we got everything we wanted. And Seungmin is… nice.”

“How about this?” She said loudly, climbing onto your bed and grabbing your hands in hers. “Flirt with him a little, see what happens. Maybe it's not him? We all saw you asleep.”

“That's a horrible idea,” you frowned. Just the thought of flirting with Hyunjin's roommate when he was the one you liked was unfathomable to you.

“Consider this, though: either it's Seungmin, and he returns your advances, or it's Hyunjin and he gets jealous. It's a win/win.”

It sounded stupid, and the perfect way to break both yours and Seungmin's hearts, but in a way she was right. You didn't have to really flirt with him, just spend a little more time beside him rather than Hyunjin. That would work, wouldn't it?

~~~~~

When you ran into the boys next, they were playing video games in the common room, Hyunjin and Jisung both yelling at the TV as the other two egged them on. Felix noticed you both first, waving you over to join them, which you did easily. As you approached Hyunjin looked up, offering a smile.

“Hey guys!” He greeted, moving over on the couch. Normally you'd take the seat beside him, and apparently everyone else had noticed that as well, considering the questioning looks you got when you sat beside Seungmin on the other sofa instead.

“Well hello, did the banshees draw you in?” Seungmin asked, the only one seemingly not surprised by your choice.

“More like siren calls, we just feel compelled to follow the shouting for some reason,” Eunha answered for you, taking the seat beside Hyunjin. The boy in question moved a bit more to give her a little more space, and she pretended to be affronted as she swung an arm over his shoulder. “I'm sorry, are you upset I stole Y/N' s usual spot?”

“Just making space for your fat ass,” he teased back, dropping the controller as he anticipated her leaping on top of him.

“I don't know why you guys say things like this to each other, you know it's just gonna end in pain,” Felix sighed, ducking his head just in time as one of Hyunjin's arms swung around.

“They just crave physical attention,” Seungmin answered smartly. Then he leaned closer to you, grinning conspiratorially. “They don't understand personal space like we do.”

“I'm glad at least you're on my side,” you told him, grinning back when he offered his hand up for a fist bump.

“Why don't you love us, Y/N?” Jisung whined, ignoring the now dropped game in favor of leaning over the arm of the couch and pouting at you. “Cuddle me!”

“Too late, her arms are full already.”

Suddenly Seungmin was sprawled across your lap, grinning cruelly as Jisung began to whine louder. Felix rolled his eyes at you both, while your roommate and Hyunjin finally stopped bickering.

“Wow, replaced just like that,” Hyunjin said in mock offense. “To what does Seungmin owe the honor of stealing my place in your heart?”

Your mouth felt dry, as you couldn't tell if he was teasing or not, since the boys were always just… like this. “You form a special bond when you sleep with someone, y'know,” you joked back. To your dismay, Hyunjin just snorted in response, while Seungmin began laughing wildly. Neither boy was really acting as though they had a crush on you, and you were just left more confused than ever.

~~~~~

‘You're really coming out of your shell more since we all first met. It's nice. You're clever, and so funny. You have no idea how much I like talking to you.’

~~~~~

“Its fine, we'll figure this out,” Eunha reassured you as you walked back together from your classes. “We have way more information than when this started, we've narrowed it down to two, how hard can it be?”

“Apparently very hard,” you sighed, clutching your books tighter to your chest. “I always thought it'd be obvious if a boy liked you, he'd be more physical and sweet, but they're all like this. Can we even disqualify Jisung and Felix?”

“Welcome to college, I guess,” your roommate shook her head. “It's not one of them, though. Jisung is just… like that, and I've seen Felix get all heart eyes over that upperclassman. We've just gotta… kick it up a notch, I guess.”

Whether for good or bad, the boys happened to be on the lawn in front of the building when you both arrived. Seungmin waved you over immediately, while Jisung took a more direct approach and sprinted over, nearly bowling you over in a hug.

“Y/N, I thought I'd never see you again!” He exclaimed, squeezing you tight.

“We had breakfast together, Sungie,” you rolled your eyes, attempting to lead him toward the group.

“Chan-hyung let him have an energy drink, sorry,” Felix apologized immediately, reaching up to press his fingers into Jisung's waist. Jisung immediately screeched and leapt back, throwing a glare in Felix's direction.

“That explains everything,” you nodded, taking a seat in the grass. “So what's up?”

“Pretending we don't have homework,” Hyunjin shrugged, ignoring the disappointed looks Eunha and Seungmin threw at him. “Oh, hyung is throwing a party this weekend, you interested?”

You pretended to think about it, though really you were trying to find a good response. Maybe this is what Eunha meant by kicking it up a notch. “Are you going, Minnie?”

Hyunjin let out a small laugh of disbelief, and Seungmin stared at you, surprised. “Uh, if you want me to?”

“Of course.”

Both boys suddenly wore blank faces, completely unreadable, until Hyunjin coughed beside you. “Yeah, it'd be good if all of us went,” he said carefully. Eunha nudged your knee with her own, but you had no idea how to read the situation.

“Okay, I'll go,” Seungmin nodded, though he seemed apprehensive. “It's not really my thing, but if you guys want me there.”

“I need someone with me in anti-party solidarity, Minnie,” you told him, making both boys laugh. Still not helpful.

“You don't even wanna go and yet you said yes, that's so nice of you,” Hyunjin said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “It'll be fun, I promise.”

~~~~~

“Hyunjin was so jealous, and I am so proud of you,” Eunha laughed as you both got ready for the party Saturday night.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled on your nicest button-up shirt. “Don’t be stupid, he was just surprised I was asking Seungmin to go.”

“He was soooo jealous,” she insisted, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, Seungmin was surprised I asked, so we’re back to square one.”

Eunha sighed, turning to look at you. “Well tonight is perfect. We all drink a little, loosen up a bit, and-”

Just then, another envelope was shoved under the door. Eunha immediately ran to it, then past it, trying to yank the door open before remembering it was locked. By the time she pulled it open and looked down the hall, it must have been empty, as she threw her head back and yelled “why do we live by the stairs?!”

“That was awful brave, since they all know we’re in right now,” you muttered, picking up the envelope. You pulled out the paper carefully, wondering what was so important that they had to leave it right away.

‘I’m glad we’re all going out tonight. It’ll be good for all of us to do something different, something out of our comfort zone. I kind of want to confess tonight, but I get the feeling you don’t feel the same way I do. I guess we’ll see how this goes, right? Whatever happens, though, please don’t wear your leather jacket. My heart might explode.’

“Something out of our comfort zone sounds like Seungmin,” Eunha sighed, shaking her head. “Well. Wear the jacket.”

You laughed aloud, going back to your closet. “You got it, boss. Ready to meet up with them?”

“I was born ready,” she nodded, putting her keys in her pocket as you both headed to the door. Taking the stairs quickly, you both headed to the lobby, Jisung whistling lowly as you approached.

“Woooow, lookin’ good Y/N! I totally forgot you owned that!” He told you, coming up to sling an arm over your shoulder. With him pressed against you it was impossible to see Seungmin and Hyunjin's reactions, but you thought it might be better that way. “Let’s go guys!”

The apartment was only a couple blocks off campus within perfect walking distance, so you all made your way down the road, following a couple other groups that were probably also headed to parties. It wasn't long before you'd arrived, the party already in full swing.

It wasn't like you'd pictured, however. There was music playing from a stereo in the corner, but it wasn't too horribly loud, and though there was a small crowd dancing in the living room, most of the people were stood chatting with drinks in their hands. It was actually kind of nice, far better than you'd been expecting.

“I told you it wouldn't be bad. C'mon, let's get a drink.” Hyunjin put a hand on your back and led you all to the kitchen, where you were surprised to see exclusively canned beer and shot sized bottles of various liquor. “Chan hyung likes everything to be single serve so he doesn't have to watch it.”

“That's really smart,” you nodded, impressed, as Hyunjin made his way to the cooler. You weren't exactly interested in beer, but he came back with two brightly colored cans, piquing your curiosity.

“Cider. Tastes way better than beer, I’m man enough to admit that,” he joked, popping the tab on one and handing it to you. When you took a sip it actually tasted quite pleasant, the bitterness of the alcohol near undetectable behind the taste of strawberry. “Good, right?”

“Yeah, thank you,” you told him, taking another sip. He smiled at you fondly, then turned to introduce you to some of his friends. Jisung soon joined, and they all talked quickly, clearly having known each other for a while. After a bit you excused yourself to find Eunha, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the conversation and how quickly they were drinking.

Stepping back into the living room, your roommate appeared nowhere to be seen, but Seungmin was sitting on the couch to the side, waving to someone leaving. You made your way over and he greeted you warmly, moving over to give you room to sit.

“Jinnie's other friends are loud, right?” He laughed, taking a small drink from the plastic cup in his hand.

“Yeah, just a little. Very chatty, too.”

“That's why I don't come out much,” he leaned closer to admit quietly to you, bringing his free hand up to rub the back of his neck. “They get really into it really quick, it's so hard to keep up. Good guys though.”

You nodded a little, looking down at your drink. It wasn't awkward necessarily, but there was definitely something different in the atmosphere between the both of you.

Seungmin seemed to notice and scooted a bit closer on the couch, putting a hand on your arm. “You okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to him. “It's you, isn't it?”

He frowned slightly. “What's me?”

“Leaving the letters under my door,” you said carefully, watching for his reaction. Aside from his eyes widening slightly, his expression didn't change. “They're cute, the little notes. Very sweet. I didn't realize-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I didn't write them. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“It wasn't you?”

Seungmin laughed then, head thrown back. “No, oh god no. And please do not tell him you thought it was me, I'd end up dead in a ditch.” Tilting his head toward the kitchen, you turned to see Hyunjin staring at the two of you, lips pursed in a frown. When he noticed you looking back, he set down his drink and started making his way over. “Seriously, don't tell him, he already thinks you have a crush on me.”

You whipped your head back around, affronted. “I do not!”

He laughed again, nodding. “I know. We all been knew, except that idiot.”

“Hey, what's up over here?” Hyunjin asked when he finally stood in front of the sofa, looking directly at Seungmin. Though Seungmin had confirmed what you hoped all along, and Hyunjin was acting blatantly jealous, you suddenly felt awkward.

“Oh you know, just telling Y/N a funny story,” Seungmin answered, shrugging.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Can't have been that funny.”

Bursting into laughter again, Seungmin stood up from the couch, gesturing to the vacant spot. “Alright, you tell her a funnier one then.” With that he took off, still laughing to himself as Hyunjin stared at the empty space.

“You can sit, I don't bite,” you teased, patting the space beside you. He took another moment before sitting down, looking down at his lap instead of you.

“So, Seungmin…” he started, and it took everything in you not to laugh. For all his constant confidence and obvious jealousy, you were a little disappointed you had to say something first.

“He told me you wrote them.”

“He what!?”

You couldn’t help but smile widely, one hand moving to rest on his thigh to stop him, the other coming up to cover your mouth. “It's okay, Jinnie. I- I liked them. They were very sweet.”

Hyunjin stared at you with wide eyes, as if waiting for you to say you were joking. “And yet you've been flirting with Seungmin for weeks.”

“Not-” You paused, because he was kind of right. “Well. It had to be one of you two, and I was trying to figure it out.”

He scoffed, frowning again. “So you decided to try him first?”

“If it helps, I wanted it to be you.”

Jaw dropping slightly, he looked at you carefully, waiting for the joke. When you stayed silent, he moved a hand to cover the one on his thigh, squeezing gently. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, looking down. “I really like you, Hyunjin.”

He squeezed your hand again, bringing the other up to cup your face and tilt your head so you were looking at him. “I think it's obvious by now, but I really like you too Y/N.”

You couldn't help the grin spreading across your face, and you moved a little closer to him. “Could you, maybe, kiss me then? You owe me, for making me think it was Seungmin of all people.”

Hyunjin snorted, rolling his eyes. “You're the idiot who thought it was Seungmin,” he said, but leaned in all the same, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. His hand moved to the back of your neck, tilting you up toward him more, and he dropped your hand to grip your hip, pulling you closer as he pressed more insistently against your mouth.

“About damn time!” Jisung shouted across the room, Felix hollering behind him in excitement. You pressed your face to Hyunjin's shoulder, mortified they saw you, while Hyunjin just laughed.

“Yeah, but I got her! What have you got, asshole!?” He yelled back. It didn't silence them in the slightest, but you felt comforted when his hand moved from your hip to your back, rubbing it gently, his lips brushing over your forehead. “I've got you now, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “You've got me now.”

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids fic #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin fic #fic #mod hobi

123 notes · View notes