Tumgik
#I hope people read my tags that i blackout and write every time
fixing-bad-posts · 6 months
Note
I looked around and didn't see anything about this on your blog but I apologize if I missed it.
I was wondering, what does doing the work behind this blog...feel like? I guess what I'm asking is if it does anything to you. Like, I had a thought. For a flash, I imagined you as Butters from South Park in that episode where he is tasked with filtering out all the negative comments on Cartman's social media. It ended up really messing with Butters, what with him having to see all that negativity.
You're definitely not being affected to that extreme, I assume, but I wonder if you would have anything to say about the process of finding these negative posts and reading them several times to edit them. Has it exposed you to unpleasantness that you wouldn't have otherwise seen? Or is there perhaps a kind of catharsis in editing such filth?
I'm making a lot of assumptions here. Maybe I'm also asking about your process. I just think what you're doing is neat and would love to hear about your experience with it.
Thanks for reading and I hope you have plenty of reasons to feel joy <3
oh boy, i love talking about myself haha—so thank you for giving me an excuse to do so! i have answered similar questions in the past, though never at length. every once in a while, someone pops into the inbox to ask about my mental health (which, rest assured, is just fine—i don’t put this blog’s operation above anything; it’s honestly pretty low on my list of life-priorities), and it’s always quite sweet. having a mob of strangers following one’s sideblog has its perks: one being that sometimes parasociality results in some well wishes, kind thoughts, and general goodwill. which is very nice, and probably an unearned vanity-boost for my ego.
what does the work behind this blog feel like? in turns: mundane, challenging, vindicating, annoying, amusing… and probably other things that i’m forgetting. most of the work i do on this blog is actually me procrastinating! i am a certified adult with a job™, and i’m definitely guilty of slacking off at work sometimes to queue posts submissions from my inbox, which is more fun than like… proofreading financial documents and making spreadsheets. other times, i’m sitting in a café with my partner, and allegedly i’m “writing” fanfiction. but, uh, if you know any writers, you know that sometimes “writing” means, ‘looking at a blinking cursor’. so it’s in those moments that i open up tumblr and start writing image descriptions and adding tags to prep posts for my queue. that’s mainly when the blog feels mundane.
something that i think helps me avoid negative doomscroll-spirals is that i don’t actively seek out bad posts for this blog. being a citizen of the internet delivers fodder to me naturally. that, and running a semi-popular sideblog on tumblr. when i see a bad post in the wild, that’s when the feeling is annoying/challenging. challenging, because ever since starting this sideblog, hateful posts don’t feel as vicious to me. once i see them, they stop being posts and turn into word-puzzles. and i love word puzzles!
solving the word puzzle is amusing for me, as is getting to look at my resulting “blackout poem.” it makes me laugh, it stretches my brain. when i started, i used to have to read a post several times to find the ‘good post within the bad post’ so to speak. these days, i’m so used to it, i barely read the bad posts more than a handful of times. but as i was saying to my partner, one of the reasons i love found poetry (erasure poetry, and cut-up poetry) is that it uses the same part of my brain that loves scrabble (the board game). then, of course, it's vindicating to see my posts get so many notes, sometimes surpassing the original bad post. that's more of my own vanity, i'm sure.
as for the last part of your message: yes, i have plenty of reasons to feel joy. i work with people who respect me, i live walking distance from a bubble tea café, and have friends and family whom i love. i have the good fortune to be safely out as a queer person. i’m a fanbinder. i’m currently working on a long fanfiction which is getting some very nice comments on ao3. and i’ve recently decided to become a poet (like, for real).
i must admit, i’m fascinated by how you imagine me. i often wonder how i am perceived, especially because i keep many cards close to my chest here on my sideblog.
anyhow, thank you for this excuse to ramble about myself and the process of running this blog. i hope you also have plenty of reasons to feel joy 💛
105 notes · View notes
doggernaut · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Thank you to @parvuls for the BINGO card and motivation to do this. I love fic, and I love sharing fic recs (and I love hunting down fics for people!), especially those that fly under the radar. I think there's a good mix of "classics" and what I hope will become new favorites for people in here.
(I'm going for the blackout here, folks, but will post one line at a time because I just got back from one trip and am trying to plan another (not to mention catch up on everything I put off during the week I was away), and putting these rec lists together is time consuming. )
genfic (no ships) • Atwater Market by WrathoftheStag (@wrathofthestag)
I love this little fic about Bitty and Bob bonding as they shop for dinner. There's something really satisfying about reading about positive relationships between a character and their partner's family members, and I love that Bitty and Bad Bob have their own "thing" they're able to connect over that has nothing to do with Jack. @wrathofthestag also writes so evocatively about cities and food; when I can’t travel, her fics scratch that itch.
crossover • And the Day Winding Like Dreams by HugeAlienPie (@hugealienpie)
This is less a crossover than it is a fic inspired by Inception, though characters from that movie are mentioned in passing. What this is is a fic that takes Inception’s world building and skillfully transfers it to a post-canon SMH fic that’s also a heist AU and an incredibly romantic getting together story. Read it even if you aren’t familiar with Inception; I did and I loved it, and when I finally saw the movie it was that much easier to follow because I’d read this fic.
hurts so good • This Unsheltered Place  by westernredcedar (@thewesternredcedar)
Buckle up and brace yourself because this is it, the ultimate angst fic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read this fic and still have to skim the first few chapters because they’re so painful. But, painful in w way that poking at a bruise is kind of satisfying. Despite the pain, this is one of my top five fics of all time. Yes, there is a breakup, but the coming back together is so satisfying and, because of the way it happens, feels so earned. This is also a wonderful Jack Zimmermann character study that delves into his anxieties and insecurities (a thing that @thewesternredcedar is so so good at in every fic). His decisions in this fic aren’t always the best decisions but they always make sense, and that’s largely because the author is so skillful at making the reader to see Bitty through Jack’s eyes. (Mind the tags, because I mean it when I say this one can be rough.)
still a WIP • It's Only a Change of Time  by Sophia_Prester (@missweber)
I don't want to say too much about this time loop fic but that's because 23 (out of a projected 25) chapters in, I still can't begin to guess how it's going to end. It's a time loop and a mystery and there's a bit of hockey history and Jack Zimmermann/Zimmermann family backstory thrown in as well. Johnson is there. Through it all, it's Jack's love for Bitty and the life he wants to build with him that drives him to do what he does. Over and over again. This fic is so well thought out and executed. As soon as it finishes I plan to read it all over again from the beginning because I know I'll see things I missed the first time around.
you read it instead of sleeping • Heart of Ice by flowerfan (@flowerfan2)
This is a 55K fic that I read in one night. I couldn’t put it down. Without giving too much away, it’s a mystery of sorts that begins with Jack disappearing. I read this straight through because I couldn’t sleep without knowing why Jack left. The chapters depicting the months Bitty spends alone, grieving the end of his relationship and forging ahead with his post-college life, felt as long to me as they must have to him. As the story progresses the reason for Jack’s disappearance, and the way he and Bitty navigate their new normal upon his return, is slowly revealed. This fic is so well-crafted and though an AU, it has all of the elements of a classic Zimbits fic: their love for one another despite the apparent obstacles, and Bitty’s kindness and belief in Jack, are its foundation. 
37 notes · View notes
chemistryread · 1 year
Text
washing machine heart
robert 'bob' floyd
summary: a regular night turns into an opportunity during a game of truth or dare, thanks to jake.
disclaimers/tags: minors dni. female reader. no Y/N.
a/n: ok so while i finish right cowboy, wrong time’s last chapter, have a short bob one shot! i wanted to turn the ending into smut but maybe next time. the title is just because i was listening to the song while writing this, and thinking about how reader wants bob. lmk your thoughts :)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The book you had promised to yourself that you'd read at least one chapter of now sits untouched on your lap, as you type away on your phone.
You're occupying the entire loveseat, stretched legs, arms above your head, screen shining brightly over your face. Everyone else sits on the armchairs or the floor, since you refused to give away any space.
"Jesus, you're not even reading, go be on your phone somewhere else."
"I was here first, Jake. Stop stressing, you're gonna get wrinkly."
The Dagger Squad fills the base's 'peace room'. That's how you all decided to call it after you agreed you'd not bring any training tensions into it, but it became a very ironic name given that Bradshaw and Seresin were constantly working to shred any semblance of peace in the area. And so it stuck.
It was supposed to be a very boring Tuesday night. If only you knew.
Coyote and Hangman peer pressure a group of Navy pilots into playing truth or dare, spinning an empty Gatorade bottle.
A middle-school energy fills the room quickly.
Phoenix is dared to poke her tongue up Fanboy's nose. Payback gets Hangman to tell the story of his first blackout, and how he embarrassed himself in front of a pretty nurse and her doctor husband. Nat asks Rooster if his mustache is real, which turns into daring him to let her and Fanboy pull on it at the same time. Brown eyes fill with tears, but he swears it only hurt a little.
You're too lost in your texting to really pay attention, until Seresin calls your name.
Head turning, the group seems to remember you are there.
"What?"
"Care to participate for once?"
It's not that you dislike fun, you love it, it just so happens that what Hangman considers fun tends to make you roll your eyes. When you told him as much, he obnoxiously read it as you being too no-nonsense. Now, he takes every possible opportunity to fuck with you.
To see the fire in his eyes, you decide to play along. Sitting up and cracking your neck.
"Sure. Dare."
Six people woo. Your expression remains unamused, communicating to the main instigator that you're not scared of his antics.
"I don't know why you decided to grace me with this tonight, God, but thank you-"
"Get to it, airhead."
"I dare you to take a trip down memory lane and stop at Seven Minutes in Heaven." Some scoff, you only chuckle. Predictable. "Me, Rooster or Bob. What's your pick?"
Phoenix smirks your way.
"I get to choose? Uncharacteristically nice of you."
"So?"
This will be good.
"Bob."
Spines straigthen and heads snap up, glancing between you and the mousy young man hugging his knees up to his chest in the corner.
Jake looks utterly confused.
"What?"
"Contrary to your delusions, Bagman, not everyone is invested in your dick measuring contest with Rooster. Just because you're the loudest doesn't mean you've caught my eye."
"But baby on board?"
Shrugging, you manage to mask your excitement pretty well, you hope. Truth be told, reserved and kind was always your type.
Big, round eyes. Lightly curled hair. Neat look, with an effort. You know it takes confidence to be unapologetically modest in a testosterone exhibit such as the Navy. Bob doesn't care, and that is very attractive. The day he told Seresin he always manages to offend, calling out his bullshit, you had stifled a satisfied laugh behind your fist, clicking your pen. He glanced back at you, and the proud albeit flustered smile has been seared into your brain ever since.
You like to believe the two of you get each other. Maybe you lean into the jokes a little more, but your words have similar bites, carrying the same goal of taking these raging overinflated egos down a notch.
"Your roster. Plus, I'm curious." Usually, you don't target him, spare him of the teasing. He gets enough. But now, you lean on the edge of the loveseat, biting your lip when you look his way, finally noticing the book balancing on his knees. "Are you even playing?"
"No, I said I wasn't. At the beginning."
Jake's lips start to move, probably to say you'd have no choice but to go for him or one of your oldest friends who you had said you'd never swap spit with because of how weird it would feel. So him.
You cut him off, still watching Bob. "You are now."
The group laughs, you stand up, smoothing down inappropriate short pijama shorts, and he burns up.
Natasha, the only person who has caught on to your crush on her backseater, clears her throat. "Pantry? We can lock the door with one of the stools from the kitchen."
"A-are we actually doing this?"
He finally gets up, mimicking your actions and nervously straightening his shirt.
"Do you have somewhere to be in the next seven minutes?"
Rooster interrups your flirting with a belly laugh. "Relax, baby Bob, she's never kissed anyone during that game. I would be more worried she might punch you. That happened once, ninth grade."
In your mighty defense, you said no and the boy still made a move. Your hand happened to come up at the same time. With a lot of force. Into his nose.
"No distractions!"
Payback rips your book and phone from your hands. You chuckle at how unaware they are, you're not planning on cowering from this one.
When the two of you reach the door, you turn back to Bob, setting a timer on his wristwatch. You feel his arm hair stand up as your fingers work the band, undoing the strap and chucking it to Phoenix.
The last thing you see is Hangman's furrowed brow and crossed arms. "I can't believe this."
It's very dark, once the door is closed.
"Lights on or off?" You joke.
"Up to you." His voice is shaky, swallowing dry. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the idea that you make him feel like this.
Blue eyes shine, and you can make out the silhouette of his face, a bit of a pink tinge to his cheeks. Scared the brightness would give your own anxiousness away, you opt to stay hidden, lights off.
He jumps when you thump heavily on the door, hearing Fanboy gasp. "Back to your game, you nosy kids. We'll be out in seven."
You stay close to it, making sure that you've been left alone for real this time.
"That was smart."
Nice, you're definitely blushing now. Thinking of a 'good girl' in his voice being added to that sentence.
"Thanks, Floyd. Means a lot coming from you."
"Oh, right. Sorry, didn't mean to sound condescending."
Curse your sarcastic nature. You're so used to it, to biting back, that sometimes it comes out when you don't mean to.
"No, no." You take a step forward, still unsure. "I meant it. I think you're probably the smartest out of all of us, and we have similar- Okay, now that sounded bitchy and narcissistic. Everyone in there is obviously very intelligent, I genuinely think so, I just meant- Uhm, what I meant was-"
"Wait," He breathes out your name. "Are you nervous?"
Bob is leaning on one of the shelves, practically sitting on it, across the room. Arms behind his back, one shoe propped up, in a way that highlights defined biceps and thick thighs. You audibly swallow.
Your eyes trace his crooked goggles, quickly fall to his lips, then snap back up to him.
"Floyd, have you noticed I didn't say 'don't try anything'?"
He smiles, and you shrink, feeling small under the shy teasing coming from him. This is new. Usually, you act as equals, like-minded partners in social situations. Now, he's turning the game on you.
"Do you want to kiss me?"
Another step forward, hands behind your back, like his, and a small tug of your lips.
"Like I said, I'm curious."
"Curious?"
His arms cross in front of his chest now, legs spreading, looking even more appetizing.
A sheepish smile covers your features, eyes effortlessly dragging over his body, head to toe. You hope he is seeing this.
"Just, uhm," You chuckle. "I don't know. Every time we hang out, there are these little moments, fleeting, that I think- I think there's something there. A pull. When your jokes fly over Hangman and Coyote's heads, when you basically only speak to back up Natasha no matter what, when you let them mock your game just to pocket three in a row. I see all of that, and I think you see me seeing it. And you like it. But maybe I'm being conceited."
"You're not."
His voice goes somehow lower, soft twang to his accent bleeding out more, even with two simple words. You're quickly crumbling under his stare, transfixed on the way his teeth trap the bottom lip, pink turning redder.
He has built the same walls you have that aren't easy to break down. Different from the others. Uncharted territory, and you're fumbling big time.
"Mhm." Cracking your knuckles behind your back, looking at his shoes. "But we don't have to, if you don't want to. I hope I'm not being pushy, really, I've just thought about this before and it's like scratching an itch inside of my brain. Phoenix knows, by the way, so she's probably gonna tease the hell out of both of us when we-"
Large hands pull you by the waist, foreheads bumping very lightly before his lips are tugging on yours.
Bob tastes amazing, like the hibiscus tea he was just having. His hands are calloused but not rough, or maybe that's just the way he's using them.
It takes you a second to react, so he moves back, preparing to mutter an apology between your parted lips. But, with your eyes still closed, your hands finally revive and wrap around his neck, pulling him to you again.
You're stuck together, as if by a gravitational pull, legs trapped inside of his spread, in a way that you have to bend your neck down to meet him.
Fingertips slide an inch down his waistband and you realize he skipped the underwear.
You open up for his tongue to swipe under yours, and it's a divine feeling. Your heads move back and forth naturally, chasing each other. Scratching his neck, his throat, clinging to the collar of his shirt.
It happens fast.
A desperate bite to your lip and you forget to contain your moan, totally mindless of where you are and grinding down on him. You feel him buckle, his groan so breathy and restrained swallowed down your throat, and he changes your position. So now he's pressing you against the shelf, crotch fitting perfectly against your hips, one hand coming up to pull on your hair, grazing your breast on the way, while the other grabs your ass like he depends on it to breathe. Funny, since you're not doing much of that anyway.
You probably waste three minutes doing that.
It would be so easy. Your shorts are thin and, well, lacking length. He's wearing sweatpants. So, so easy to just…
A loud knock. Rooster. Thirty seconds left, and then the stool goes back to its original place.
Bob sighs, lifiting your chin with his index, thumb running across your bottom lip delicately, setting you up for another kiss. Reluctantly, you stop him.
"Should take those thirty seconds to sort that out."
He follows your gaze, down to his erection pushing against the fabric.
"Oh." At last, his hands leave you, fast and sorely missed. He steps back, blushing furiously in the dark.
"Take a seat, breathe. We'll stall."
He does, sitting on the floor of the pantry as you turn the lights on. You don't regret the inital decision to leave them off, the brightness makes both of you wince.
It's definitely awkward to watch him try to concentrate and will his hard-on away, but it would be worse to help and have him walk out of your little game with an unmistakable stain in his pants.
You pick a jar of cherries, popping one into your mouth and crouching next to him, hand soothing his shoulder. He jumps.
"Don't do that!"
An apology is spat out amidst unstoppable laughter. Another right after when he glares at you. Yeah, you can't do much here.
You're laying on the floor, opposite to him, chewing cherries and silently laughing at his state.
"At least they're black. It's not as easy to see."
"It's not gonna go away."
"Just say you're going to the bathroom."
"That's too obvious."
"Fine, bedroom then. I bored you to death and you're sleepy."
"Hardly true." He blushes again and you grin, toothy and proud. "Stop! You're not helping. This is your fault, telling me you've thought about me, talked to Phoenix about it. A girl like you…What did you think was gonna happen?"
He's more helpless, than angry. A self-satisfied grin blossoms on your face. Simply knowing you think and talk about him got him hard. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid making things worse again. Sitting up, you breathe in, working on how to make sure you come across as genuine as possible.
"Bob, I'm not just fucking around." His eyes squint behind the goggles. Your hand slides on the carpet, pinky curling around his. "I really like you."
His eyes roam your face, smile lines strengthened, and he's going to say something when Phoenix opens the door.
You retrieve your hand.
"It's been eight minutes. You're up."
Her dark eyes investigate everything in the room, including the both of you.
"Oh, we got lost talking about our books, sorry."
You throw her a very suspicious smile, bumping her shoulder lightly on your way out. She chuckles under her breath.
Jake and Javy took over the loveseat and you're arguing with them when Bob announces he's turning in.
He walks with the book in front of his crotch, and Nat nearly chokes on her water. After he leaves, she's quickly pulling on your elbow.
"We're gonna go too, goodnight!"
Thankfully, your and Bob's rooms are on separate ways, passing by a very impatient Hangman.
"You guys suck."
You bend down to whisper in his ear. "You're just moody because you got no action tonight."
His blond head whips around, yelling for you as Natasha drags you along.
"Did he? DID HE?"
169 notes · View notes
42donotpanic · 3 months
Text
FIC WRITING REVIEW 2023
Thank you @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for coming up with this!
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.
(I just copied @voiceoffenrisulfr who copied @foxywrites thank you both for tagging me <3)
Before we start I want to note that I hope to post 6 more fics this year and make it to 100 posted works before 2024 ^^
Words and Fics
335,338 words published in 2023
70 fics worked on
62 completed fics
most productive month: July with 74,045 words
monthly words average: 27,945 words
Top 5 Pairings
Clint Barton/Matt Murdock [16]
James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton [13]
Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson [6]
Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier [6]
James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark [6]
Top 5 by Comments
Purple and Red; all the same to me (AUgust Writing Challenge 2023) - 78
The quiet life - 17
Building a Relationship - 14
Safe Place - 13
3 Times Matt's date didn't take his blindness well (+1 where it wasn't the biggest surprise that night) - 6
Top 5 by Kudos
3 Times Matt's date didn't take his blindness well (+1 where it wasn't the biggest surprise that night) - 255
Couch already taken - 208
The Reporter and The Lawyer - The Devil and The Protector - 146
Daredevil: The Man with Trauma - 131
Fuck Ninjas - 122
Top 5 by Hits
The Reporter and The Lawyer - The Devil and The Protector - 2,251
3 Times Matt's date didn't take his blindness well (+1 where it wasn't the biggest surprise that night) - 1,725
Purple and Red; all the same to me (AUgust Writing Challenge 2023) - 1,724
Coming Untouched - 1,722
Building a Relationship - 1,529
Fandom Events in 2023
For this part, I'm only adding in Bingos that I was able to get a bingo/blackout for If you want to know more feel free to check out my masterlists in my pinned post <3
Bingos
[5/9] Any Fandom LGBTQ Bingo - Bingo
[5/5] July Break Flash Bingo - Black out
[9/9] July Break Mini Bingo - Black out
[25/25] July Break Bingo - Black out
[15/25] Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Round 1/2 - Bingo
[6/25] Masturbation Midsummer Bingo - DNF
[13/25] WinterIron Bingo - Bingo
[9/9] Writers Pride Month Bingo - Black out
Writing Challenge's
[30/30] Slash Mulitverse Daily Pride Prompts
[31/31] AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023
[5/31] Flufftober 2023
Upcoming Plans
Fic's I'm hoping to continue/complete next year:
[Clint/Bucky] Soul Marks and Metal Arms
[Clint/Natasha] To see the Bruises
[Matt/Foggy] Learning to Live again
[Clint/Bucky] Now I wear my scars just like Tattoos
[Clint/Rhodey] Bring them back (to get you back)
[Clint & Matt] Who even am I?!
[Clint/Matt] Hawkdevil AU
[Clint/Bucky] Domestic WinterHawk AU
[Clint/Matt] Building a Relationship
Writing Reflection
After I got back into writing fic this year it was something I really enjoyed all throughout this year. I discovered a bunch of fun challenges and servers, met many lovely people (sadly all online) and learned a lot. I have hyperfocused a lot, especially in the summer and I collected a boatload of prompts I would like to fill in the coming year.
I have a lot of fics already planned for the next year. There will be a lot of feels, fluff and angst/whump alike and I hope I can keep the run I had this year going.
A big thank you to everyone who supported me along the way, be it with ducking/spaghettiing fic ideas, sprinting with me, participating in challenges, commenting, sharing or even just reading and liking my fics. You folks mean the world to me and I love every single one of you. Take care and remember, as long as you do what you love you get a good grade in fandom <3
Tagging: @stripedscribe @ravenmold @endlesstwanted and everyone who wants to participate (totally not a cop-out because I lost track of my tumblr, no)
9 notes · View notes
ink-and-dagger · 2 years
Note
Question to you as a writer if you don't mind answering! How do you plot out your stories? You seem to have everything so figured out with the little sneak peaks/ideas about what the next chapter is going to be about you give us. Genuinely you are one of the best authors I've come across since entering the fanfic world like 8 years ago (I'd argue one of the best authors period because you write slow burn like no other) and I'm so interested in your process! I've been re reading different chapters from drink with me so often to get my fix between updates that I've been finding more and more about your writing that I love! I hope you have a fantastic day!
I weeeeeeeep 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much, you’re too kind ❤️❤️❤️
Of course I don’t mind sharing! Forewarning though, I’m a rambler so this may not make any sense whatsoever.
Also apologies if this sounds pompous, I really don't mean it to. I’m under no illusions here; I know I’m just a crunchy internet thot, not Jane Austen.
So, I like to have my fics fully plotted and at least half written (super rough drafts) before I begin posting. And by fully plotted I don’t mean that I know exactly every detail of what’s going to happen - I just mean that I have a clear idea of the below:
What the story is - what the vibes/themes are, what I want to achieve, what I want people to feel when they read it
Where it’s going - the main story through-line (beginning, middle, end), and several key points/scenes/moments/goals to hit along the way.
Content - any ratings and warnings/tags that may be applicable. It helps draw in the right audience for the story from the get go.
Character Arcs - goals/dreams, lessons, mistakes. Where they start vs where they finish.
I have a master outline which I work from. This takes the form of a chaotic, quite frankly illiterate note on my phone. And I add to it as ideas pop into my head - sentences/dialogue, words/phrases, scene ideas, plot/sub-plot ideas, really just any thought I have I shove it down for later. It's messy.
Despite having the core plot locked in place from the start, I always find that the story organically develops further as I’m writing. I’m constantly expanding the plot and coming up with new ideas for scenes and subplots which I then weave into the main storyline - often as a tool to expand on points that I already intended to make as part of the core story.
A few examples for DWM:
The Blackout/Chapter 8 - Simply never existed until maybe one or two chapters before it was posted. Because I was finding that the story was naturally evolving into much more of a romance than originally intended, and because Silco’s an uptight bastard, I needed something to give us a flash of his true feelings, and to ramp up the stakes a little higher.
Max - He really didn’t exist until I opened the document for Chapter 11 and started writing. Again, because the romance was kicking in earlier than originally planned, I wanted to give Reader an opportunity to actually talk through her feelings/receive some legit advice. And I also wanted to provide a foil for her and Silco’s relationship. I planted mention of Jasper having a partner in the earlier chapters purposefully, just in case I needed to add in an extra character for whatever reason. But the mention was ambiguous enough that it could be easily skipped over if I found I didn’t need one.
By having the main story locked in place, it allows me to look at the whole picture and see where I can slot things in. However, I never add a new element unless I know exactly how I’m going to resolve/round it off in the end. Or without considering how it might effect later plot points. (As tempting as it was to have them play strip poker in Chapter 9, that was only ever going to end one way, and I’ve had my heart set on that cigar smoking moment from the very start).
I also have the story roughly split up into chapters ahead of time to ensure the story flows nicely and we’re not being overloaded with too much of one thing at once. (E.g. Angst needs be interspersed with a bit of fluff and vice versa etc.)
Also, I have to say, I don’t think readers understand the power of leaving comments on fics. Personally, I’m really influenced by them. It always really surprises me what little nuggets and details people pick up on. If people are really vibing with a particular element of the story, then I’ll develop it further in future chapters. I’ve even added whole new scenes because of what a reader has said (not in DWM yet, I’ll always credit if this is the case). Even such a simple comment as “I love this” lets the writer know that they’re on the right track.
Although, this being said - I’ll never deviate from my main plot because of a comment. I always believe fully in the base story I’m telling, and will stick to my guns on it. And every writer should do the same.
I believe in flawed characters, and I love a bit of angst, miscommunication, drama, and bad decision making. It makes for an interesting story. Who wants to read about perfect characters doing perfect things? So I’m never swayed by comments expressing annoyance/disappointment at a character’s actions or flaws. Everything they do, they do for a reason, which becomes apparent when the time is right.
Okay I went on a bit of a tangent at the end there, but I guess that’s mainly it.
This is just how I personally plot. Everyone is different, and what works for some doesn’t work for others. You’ve just got to trust your own process.
I honestly love talking about writing and story crafting. So I’m always happy to answer questions or give advice 🖤🖤🖤
50 notes · View notes
valleynix · 1 year
Note
Mmm yeah Cass my poor baby, she banged half of the castle's staff, in other stories she's also responsible for death of the other half.
She usually has only two things on her mind. Sadly.
Onto better things which is ch.6
Bela and Reader arguing meanwhile Cass is having the time of her life pls I love it, I love her.
Ahhh cuddles with Dani 🥺 so sweet. And she just... radiates such comfort pls. I loved that whole scene with her. I'd trust her with my life.
Another bonding time with Bela with some teasing✨ Reader really got brave there to call her a brat haha
And OMG ANOTHER ONE DOWN WITH THE KISS
SO MANY KISSES LATELY
And I'm happy that they got to spend some time with Cass in her natural habitat too haha.
We've got to see what exactly she's doing in her free time. She does strike me as one that would like to study humans. Be it their literal insides or their mind.
I hope we get to join her for more in the future.
(And damn she does like to annoy the shit out of Bela and get on her sis' nerves, using poor Reader. Also, there are some things to unpack between those two it seems)
With how many happy sweet moments there were, at some point I was like it's going to end soon isn't it? (me every time my life goes suspiciously well lmao)
And I was right 😭 because at the end was this blackout again.
Lastly, I have a question. I've been thinking about it recently, is Daniela not as fluent in English as the rest of her family? She usually speaks with single words or simple sentences. Is that the case? Or is there another reason?
(Happy to hear my struggles to understand what's going on and the journey with this fic is entertaining 😭)
right?? i personally can't stand when people write her like that. she's so much more than just a sadist </3
*Cass lives for drama, i just know it
*I LOVE DANI SM, i did warn you she tends to get better scenes because i'm very biased with her BAHA
*YESS ANOTHER KISS, Bela is bold with initiating and Reader is bold with starting the whole thing off by calling her a brat (she is one, she's just in denial)
*i do like to think Cass is an artist in many ways, like sketching, painting, dissecting humans- all to further her own knowledge, of course, and to find ways to better protect her family :D
*(i am hoping to explain a bit in chap15 about why Bela and Cass are a bit hostile with each other, but i believe i explained it in a headcanon post about their pasts? i can rb it or tag it in this post if you want to read it)
*BAHAHA, i do feel like the angst is definitely weighed out by the fluff/comfort?? like, most of the time, it's not JUST angst, yknow? there's usually some comfort that follows it :D
*there is a reason for it! i can't remember if i actually went into depth about it later on or just implied it, but Miranda severely fucked up Daniela's experiment and the Cadou in her head. it's why she loses control so easily, why she was very much Not Herself in chap4, and why she speaks Like That
it does get much better as the chapters go on and Reader's place in the castle becomes more solidified. she's incoherent and nervous when they're around where you're at, mostly because her thoughts move too quickly for her to accurately articulate what she wants to say, if that makes sense. but as time goes on, you'll see her have full sentences and while she has her moments where she stutters over her words when she's upset, she gets a lot clearer when she speaks >:)
(it'll hopefully make sense as you read more and find out why Miranda didn't care much for their experiments, but i have thought about going further into detail in the upcoming chap when Reader and Alcina have a nice little chat :o)
2 notes · View notes
bulkhummus · 3 years
Note
(martin and carlos smooch anon) i think cecil and jon in a giant ‘this is our get-along tshirt’ would b so much funnier than a smooch between them. but the tshirt is bedazzled and says ✨eye avatar besties✨
Tumblr media
i know u wanted them to play nice but i think these two idiots would have a catfight on sight
(this is in reference to this post, and this post, for those who want wtnv/tma content and context)
instagram // ko-fi
658 notes · View notes
alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years
Text
Blackout Blues
Pairing: ADA Sonny Carisi x Fem Reader
Word Count: 1,258
Prompt: The One With the Blackout for @thatesqcrush Friends Bingo
TW: none
A/N: So, this is my first time writing for Sonny. It's just a whole lot of fluff with a teensy bit of hurt/comfort. The only thing it really has in common with the episode is that there's a blackout. As always, if anyone wants to be tagged in a future fic post, please let me know!
Tags: @thatesqcrush, @madamsnape921, @itsjustmyfantasyroom, @prurientpuddlejumper, @welcometothemxdhouse, @teamsladsandgents
“Doll, do you really think we’re going to need all that? Come on, sit down, snuggle with me, please?” Sonny gave you his best puppy dog eyes and pouty face. He was already settled on the couch in a t-shirt and pajama pants, a soft fleece blanket draped over his lanky legs. You placed another battery powered lantern and two more flashlights on the coffee table next to all the other ones you had dug out of various drawers and closets. You tested the lantern and flashlights to make sure they worked and looked at your husband. It was Friday night and he had been in court all week. He’d won his case and been home early for dinner, and now you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his arms and fall asleep bingeing old episodes of “Beachfront Bargain Hunt.” But you heard the pounding of the rain intensify against the window, followed by a rumble of thunder, and sighed. Mother Nature clearly had other plans.
“They said on the news that this storm might be a bad one, Sonny. They even interviewed that guy from the power grid, and he said to be prepared for possible blackouts. Even the Super called everyone in building to make sure we all had emergency supplies.”
“Hey, I’m not knocking you for being prepared, but you know,” he sat up, taking your hand, and pulling you closer, “you look really good in those pajamas…and you love watching other people buying beautiful, yet ridiculously overpriced waterfront property…”
You giggled at that, cupping his face in your hands, and placing a sweet kiss on his lips.
“Mmm… yes, I do, and I would certainly hope that I look good in these pajamas, you bought them for me.” The pajamas in question had been an impulse buy on a family outing to Target. You had gone in to get bedding for your daughter’s new bed. You had walked out with that, new pajamas for everyone, and a bunch of snacks that you really didn’t need, but Sonny had insisted otherwise.
“Well, I know how much you like soft, comfortable things. Come on, Doll, sit down, relax. You can use me as your pillow, you know I’m your favorite pillow…”
“Oh, I will definitely be doing just that, after I check on Lucy. Then I’m all yours, I promise.”
“Babe, she’s asleep. I read her three stories just to make sure.”
“I know, Sonny, but she’s two, and she’s just as scared of thunderstorms as I was when I was that little. And considering how it’s been since we moved her into a “Big Girl Bed” …”
“Babe, it’s only been a few weeks. She’s had some good nights, and some not-so-good nights. She’ll adjust, just give it time.”
You leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I know, Sonny, I know. How about, you start the show, and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
“Okay, love you, Doll”
“Love you, too, Son-shine bear.”
You crept down the hall to the door of your daughter’s room and opened it as quietly as you could. The glow from the nightlight illuminated Lucy’s face and you smiled. She was, indeed, fast asleep, her little arms hugging her favorite Care Bear. Her faithful canine companion, Winnie, was curled up next to her, snoring her adorable Bulldog snore. Satisfied that she was okay, you softly shut the door and went back to the living room.
Sonny grinned mischievously as he saw you approach the couch. You lifted the blanket and made yourself comfortable next to him. Your back was to the TV, but you didn’t care as you placed your head on his chest and yawned. He wrapped his arms around you and placed soft kisses along your face. Your body relaxed and melted into his.
“So, she still asleep?” he asked.
“Mmm hmm, “you murmured. “Like an angel.”
“Good. I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you, too, Sonny.” You felt him place a hand on your stomach, and you covered his with yours. “I’m okay, Son-shine Bear, we both are, just tired.”
“I know, Doll, I just worry about you. Any ideas on how we tell Lucy that she’s going to be a big sister?”
You opened your eyes and gazed up into his. “Not yet, let me get through this first trimester. Hopefully, I’ll have some ideas by then.”
Sonny chuckled at that and kissed your forehead. “Okay, Doll.”
There was an obnoxiously loud rumble of thunder and the lights flicked. You sat up like a shot, hand instinctively reaching towards the coffee table. It immediately connected with one of the flashlights, which you grabbed and switched on. You turned on a few more of the emergency lights, just in case.
“Doll, what are you—” Sonny was cut off by a clap of thunder so booming it shook the whole building. The lights flickered again, and this time, the living room went dark.
“MAMA! DADDY!”
“Lucy!” You and Sonny said in unison.
“Hang on, baby girl! We’re coming!” Sonny called back to her. You both jumped off the couch, grabbing as many lights as you could carry, and ran to your daughter’s room.
Sonny got there first. Lucy was sitting up in bed, terrified and bawling her eyes out. Winnie was trying to comfort her little human by licking the tears off her face, to no avail. Sonny dumped his lights on her bedside table and scooped up his daughter into arms while simultaneously plopping down on her bed.
“Daddy! Big boom! No like!” She wailed, holding onto him for dear life.
“I know, sweetie, I know. It’s okay, Mommy and Daddy are here. You’re okay we got you,” he desperately tried to reassure her, gently rocking her back and forth, and rubbing circles into her back.
You sat down next to them and embraced both of them. “We’re right here, baby, everything’s going to be okay. The thunder can’t hurt you; we won’t let it.”
Lucy sniffed and hiccuped. “Paw-mise?”
You smoothed her hair and placed a kiss on her head. “Promise; now, how about you sleep in the big bed with me and Daddy tonight? That sound good?” Lucy nodded, and you kissed her again. “Okay.” You looked down at Winnie, who was resting her head in your lap. “You too, Winnie, everyone in the big bed tonight.”
Winnie didn’t need to be told twice, getting up and jumping down to the floor. You grabbed Lucy’s security blanket and wrapped it around her tiny shoulders, then handed her her Care Bear. Lucy hugged it to her chest as Sonny kissed her forehead and stood up. You grabbed the flashlights and lanterns and led the way to the master bedroom.
You set up the lights around the room and Sonny got Lucy settled in your bed. Winnie made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed.
“Staw-ee Daddy?”
“Sure thing, baby girl.”
Sonny began reciting one of several Sesame Street books that he had committed to memory. You snuggled next to your husband, Lucy between you, hanging on her dad’s every word. As he neared the end she yawned, and her eyes fluttered shut.
“Wuv you, Daddy.”
Sonny kissed her cheek. “Love you, too, Baby Girl.”
“Wuv you, Mama.”
“I love you, too, sweetie.” You kissed her one more time, and then met your husband’s eyes and smiled. “I love you, Son-shine Bear.”
“I love you, too, Doll. Now get some sleep because I’m taking my favorite girls out to breakfast in the morning.”
108 notes · View notes
makoodlesarchive · 4 years
Text
in bloom 🌼 || bnharem server collab
Tumblr media
hellooo everyone!! this is my piece for the bnharem sfw collab. The theme this time was ‘flowers’! i had the absolute pleasure of writing for my baby kiri! this collab was actually super fun to write for, i had a blast 🌸🌸🌸
please go and check out all of the fantastic works on the masterlist here!
kirishima x reader
word count: 4.9k
。゚❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆ 。゚❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆
Your apartment in Musutafu is small and cramped, with thin walls and very little natural light. The rent is extortionate for what it is, even considering the location in the city centre, and at least once a month there’s a complex wide electrical blackout. You can overlook all of the faults of the apartment though, because it’s in a safe neighbourhood close to a hero agency and, most importantly, it’s got a balcony.
Like the rest of the apartment, the balcony is small, but you’ve got enough room to cram a little outdoor bench into the corner. The rest of the space is filled with planters full of flowers and leafy pants, transforming the cramped little space into your own tiny garden. As the weeks begin to melt into summer, your little garden transforms into a wildy colourful and delightfully fragranced haven for butterflies and honeybees. You love to curl up on your little bench with a book, relishing the warmth of the sun on your face and the musical buzzing of the bees flitting about your Lantana flowers. Your apartment’s location on the ground floor means that you don’t get a whole load of privacy, but it doesn’t stop you from spending as much time as possible on the balcony beneath your hanging ivy planters.
Another bonus to the ground floor balcony is the cute redhead that wanders past every day at 2pm and then again at around 9pm. You’re not entirely sure when exactly you first noticed the man, but since you’ve moved in he’s become a permanent fixture in your daily routine. In the afternoons when you take a break from working from home and sprawl out amongst the leafy greenery of the balcony, you always catch a glimpse of him. You guess he must work in one of the offices nearby, and judging by the hastily buttoned jacket and wrinkled sweatpants he changes before going on his lunch break.
Every day he walks by, and every day you see him craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your balcony. It’s not uncommon for people to stare, considering your balcony is basically a green splash amongst the dull grey drabness of your apartment building, but unlike all the other curious passers-by, whenever this guy makes eye contact with you when you’re sitting out he’ll make sure to grin widely and wave at you. It’s sweet. You know next to nothing about the guy, other than that he always seems to be in a hurry and he has a smile so bright and toothy it could probably be seen from space, but those little interactions always put you in a good mood for hours afterwards.
After countless days of waves and smiles from a distance, you look up one day to find him grinning and waving yet again, but this time with a new addition. In his hand is a little potted cactus, which he holds up in the air so you can see. 
“It’s for my office!” he yells to you. There’s a shrubbery area right outside your balcony that acts as both decoration and security to prevent anyone from just strolling up and hopping over the railing, but the guy is still standing as close as he can get on the sidewalk.
Your grin spreads slowly as you get up off your little bench and lean over the balcony railing to get a closer look at his little potted plant. “It’s cute!” you call back to him.
He beams, impossibly pleased with himself. “It’s not as impressive as yours!” he gestures at the foliage flowing over the railings and the hanging baskets.
“Everyone has to start somewhere!”
He laughs at that, his nose scrunching up just a little, and then waves at you again before setting off down the street. You watch him go until he disappears from sight, then return to your bench to continue reading. You’re so distracted by that whole little episode that it takes a few minutes for you to realise that your book is upside down.
It was such a short exchange, but after nothing but smiles and waves from afar for so long it leaves you a little dazed. You could kick yourself for not asking what his name was, but you just hadn’t had the time. Besides, you had been a little dazzled by his smile.
The man’s name is Kirishima Eijirou. Since the first day he spoke to you, you’ve bumped into him at the local supermarket several times. He’s friendly, sometimes overwhelmingly so, and really kind. He’s the perfect package wrapped up in the body of a professional cage fighter, so it’s probably inevitable that you develop a big fat crush on him. The two of you have only really exchanged basic pleasantries and small talk, but it’s enough to have your pulse skipping everytime he smiles at you.
The local flower shop is beautifully vibrant compared to the gunmetal grey skies outside, and the quiet warmth of the place makes it one of your favourite places to spend your days off. Hanging baskets full of seasonal flowers and trailing ivy are suspended from the ceiling and from high shelves, and leafy green plants create a jungle-like atmosphere within the shop. The effect is delightfully mismatched, with enormous bouquets of flowers brightening up the spaces along the walls. The high shelves and boundless foliage makes the whole place feel like a maze; you could happily lose yourself for hours upon hours within the humid little aisles.
You trace your fingers along the large waxy leaves of a monstera plant, enjoying the smooth texture. A bell tinkles overhead as the door to the shop opens and shuts, momentarily breaking the soothing blanket of quiet. You contemplate the price tag on the monstera plant; you already have one, and if you buy another you’ll be pretty hard pressed to find space for it. It is really cute though, and you’re pretty sure that if you move your ficus a little more into the left corner of your balcony you can make enough space for it.
Your thought process is broken by a noise from the top of the aisle, and you glance up to meet the gaze of a surprised yet familiar man.. “Oh! Kirishima-san.” you say at the same time as he blurts “Hi!”
Before you can say anything else, his face splits into a smile. “Aw man, I can’t believe you’re here! This is perfect!”
You laugh a little nervously. “Huh?”
“I was hoping to get a new plant for my office! Could you help me pick one out?”
“Oh.” you blink, a little overwhelmed by his exuberance and the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, “I don’t work here.”
He laughs like you’ve just told a really funny joke, and moves to meet you in the middle of the aisle. “Yeah, I know. I’m just guessing that you know your stuff about plants -- your balcony is so awesome.”
“Oh.” you say again, straightening a little despite yourself. You feel ridiculously pleased, probably more than such a simple comment warrants. “Thank you. I worked hard on it.”
“It really shows!” he enthuses. “It actually inspired me to spruce up my office a bit, actually!”
“Really?” you ask, leaning back against one of the shelves. A frond-like leaf tickles the back of your neck, but you don’t bother swatting it away. You think that the two of you might be the only two customers in the shop at this time, and your conversation seems so loud in the relative silence. Somewhere near the back an electric fan buzzes, the noise breaking up the monotonous quiet so it doesn’t seem quite so oppressive. 
“Yeah! So, will you give me a hand?” he tilts his head as he asks, and you realise that his shoulders have dropped down, as if he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. “My friend thinks it’s stupid, but I’m determined to have the nicest desk in the whole building!”
You smile despite yourself, his good humour infectious. “Yeah, okay. Are you looking for something in particular?”
Kirishima steps back and regards the surrounding display cases thoughtfully. “Um. Honestly, I don’t know much about plants. I have my little cactus, but it’d be nice to get it a friend, right? I’m happy to go with whatever you think is best!”
You hum, considering your options. If it’s a small office desk he’s hoping to decorate, you suppose a couple of small succulents could do a nice job of adding a bit of life and colour. “I’m sure we can find something.”
“I’ll leave myself in your capable hands, then.” Kirishima says with a grin, inclining his head a little.
You step further into the shop, ducking under a trailing strand of ivy leaves. The dark hardwood floor creaks as you move, with Kirishima following close behind you. When you pause to gaze at a couple of potted plants on one the shelves you keep your gaze cast down, but glance up through your eyelashes to look at Kirishima. You’re surprised to find him already watching you, like he’s drinking in every move you make. The attention is a little overwhelming, but it’s also exciting. His gaze on you is like a physical weight, and you can’t quite help the coy smile that curves over your face. You know you’re not imagining the soft, heated interest behind his eyes; he’s not exactly being subtle.
You duck into a parallel aisle, just fast enough that Kirishima stumbles for half a step at the sudden change in direction. You hum quietly to yourself, and toss a playful smile over your shoulder as he follows behind you. He meets your smile with another grin, bright and handsome. He doesn’t look away from you for a second.
You come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the aisle and turn to face him. The sudden movement takes him by surprise, but he manages to catch himself before he barrels into you. It’s probably not entirely intentional, but he ends up standing so close that you can almost count the delicate little freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose from the summer sun. His head dips down towards you, leaning into your space in a way that is decidedly more than just casually friendly. His lips part, but before he can speak you ask, “What about this one?”
His gaze drops down to the space between you, where you’re holding up a small plant with waxy little leaves. He blinks at it, and then recovers gracefully. “Hey, that one is pretty cute.”
“‘Pretty cute’s not quite good enough, though, is it?” You pretend to ponder, tapping your chin. “If you want the nicest desk in the whole building, you need better than ‘pretty cute’, right?”
If anything, Kirishima’s smile grows even wider. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You up for the challenge of finding me the best plant in the store?” He steps closer as he speaks, until there’s nothing but a scant few inches and the potted plant between you.
You make a show of considering the challenge, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Hold this for me?” you ask suddenly, practically shoving the plant into his hands.
Kirishima takes it, startled, and in the moment of distraction you turn on your heel and dart down the aisle, disappearing down another row of shelves. You’ve barely turned the corner when you hear a deep, rumbling chuckle followed by quick footsteps against the hardwood floor as he follows after you.
It’s like a game. You wind your way through the aisles, skipping over vines and stray pots, and Kirishima tries to catch up. You know this shop like the back of your hand (you’re in here nearly every single weekend), but Kirishima is fast and agile despite his large stature. There are a few close calls, where you just manage to round the corner of a new aisle before Kirishima can reach you, and each one makes your breath catch in your chest when Kirishima’s delighted laughter rings out through the shop.
You can’t help the grin that stretches across your face as you turn into another half-hidden aisle, ducking under a large fan-like leaf that stretched out and drooped low. Only a moment later you hear a soft slap and an “Oof!” as Kirishima presumably runs straight into it, and you laugh quietly to yourself as you slip in between a row of glass display cases.
A clatter and a soft curse sounds from one aisle over, and you guess that Kirishima just accidentally knocked a pot over. You pad softly to the end of the aisle, taking a moment to try and catch your breath and stifle your wild grin. It’s so childish, playing a game of chase in a garden shop with a man you barely know, but you’re having so much fun.
You poke your head cautiously around the edge of one of the display shelves, biting your lip and listening carefully for any sign of Kirishima. The only noise you can hear is the strained mechanical whirring of the fan from somewhere near the back of the shop, so you edge forward. You’ve only managed to take two steps before you feel a presence behind you.
“Gotcha.” Kirishima rumbles, right by your ear.
The noise that’s punched out of your chest is embarrassing, a weird cross between a yelp and a laugh. You whirl on the ball of your feet to face him, only for him to keep stepping closer. You have no choice but to retreat, until you’re backed up into a little alcove between two large glass display cases overflowing with luscious green ferns. Kirishima advances until he’s as close as he can be without actually touching you, and maybe you should feel a little intimidated by this man that’s built like a brick wall of pure muscle but his smile is so delighted and soft that you don’t think you could be afraid of him if you tried.
“You got me.” You agree, a little breathlessly. You don’t know if it’s from the exertion of running through the shop like a child or from the thrill of Kirishima’s closeness to you, but your heart is thrumming like a wild thing in your chest.
From this close, you can see the way Kirishima’s hair is sweat-damp on his brow and curling just slightly; it must be from the humidity inside the shop, because he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit affected by the physical activity of chasing after you. “You’re fast.” he says, his voice quiet as if afraid to break the atmospheric stillness within the shop.
“Yeah?” you mimic his volume subconsciously, “You sure you don’t just like chasing me? I think you could have caught me earlier, if you wanted.”
Kirishima laughs, and the skin around his eyes crinkle up in the most adorable way you’ve ever seen. “Maybe.” he says, and it sounds like a secret. His teeth are white and sharp and his cheeks dimple when he smiles. You’re distracted by the dimples, so when he raises his hand you barely notice until suddenly there’s a flower right under your nose and your eyes nearly cross in your attempt to look at it. 
“It’s pretty.” You say with a smile. It’s a simple white cosmo flower, though Kirishima is beaming as though he’d managed to find a particularly rare gem, and you don’t get a chance to take it from him before he tucks it neatly behind your ear.
“It’s like you.” He says. The words are flirtatious, but he delivers them so earnestly that you don’t quite know how to react.
“How about a potted ivy?” you blurt, at a loss for anything else to say. “It would be easy to take care of, and it looks good.”
Kirishima blinks, but takes the change of subject in stride. “Is that your professional recommendation?”
“Mhmm.” It’s hard to focus when he’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across your skin every time he speaks. You’re sure he must be picking up on how flustered he’s making you -- you’re not convinced by the innocent expression on his face. “Maybe a few succulents, too.”
Kirishima nods thoughtfully, consideringly. “Hmmm. That sounds good to me. Will you go out to dinner with me?”
It’s such a non-sequitur that it takes your brain a long moment to register his words. “I- huh?” 
His dimpled smile turns bashful and a little self-conscious. “Ah. Sorry, that might have been a little forward.” He scratches the back of his head, and your gaze is drawn to the way his bicep bulges at the movement. “I was wondering if you’d like to get some dinner with me? I know a place that does some really great burrito bowls.”
“Are you asking me on a date, Kirishima-san?” Your words come out soft and quiet and effortlessly flirtatious -- you hadn’t intended on sounding so seductive, but you can’t help but enjoy the way Kirishima leans in closer to you.
“Yeah. No pressure if you don’t wanna, of course!” He’s quick to reassure you, “It’s totally fine if you’re not interested. I just wanted to let you know that I am very interested.”
As refreshing as his straight-forwardness is, you can’t help but feel surprised. This man is very much out of your league, you’re not blind, and yet he had been the one to approach you, and had indulged in your silly game of chase around the shop, and had playfully cornered you in an alcove and asked you out. You’ve met him enough by now to know he’s kind, friendly, and eager to help with just about anything you ask. Plus, he’s practically built like a Greek god, with a handsome face and the most stacked muscles you’ve ever seen in person.
“I’m interested.” you breathe, heart hammering in your chest. God, you really hoped this wasn’t some kind of elaborate joke. 
Kirishima seems to actually inflate at that, a bright smile blooming across his face as his shoulders straighten. “Really? Great! Awesome! Tonight?”
“Sure.” you agree, returning his smile. Your heart rate still hasn’t returned to normal from your chase around the shop; if anything, it feels like it’s pounding harder than ever. “I’m free tonight.”
“Great!” Kirishima says again. He seems more excited than you would have expected, which is honestly pretty flattering since you’re pretty sure you’re the one that should be feeling the most excited in this situation. “I have to go back to work since I’m technically on my lunch break right now, but I could pick you up at your apartment at around eight tonight?”
“Eight is perfect.” you straighten the flower behind your ear and smile up at him, letting your own excitement shine through on your face.
Kirishima steps back, finally giving you some space. You forcefully resist the urge to follow after him, watching instead as he backs away, still beaming. “Okay. Okay, cool. So, I’ll see you tonight?”
You let him go a few more steps before tilting your head and asking, “So, you changed your mind about the plants?”
He pauses, one foot raised mid-step like a cartoon character. “Plan-?” he starts, before his eyes go comically wide, “Oh! The plants! Right!”
You laugh, finding him stupidly endearing, before stepping out of the little alcove and setting off down one of the aisles to the left. There’s a whole section of the shop dedicated solely to the house plants, and it’s not difficult to find a suitable ivy plant with light green leaves and tumbling vines. Kirishima takes the potted plant when you hand it to him, and trails after you again as you go in search of the succulents. When you’ve found some suitable little plants, you help him carry them up to the counter with the cash register. There’s no one manning the register (and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief at that, because it means that no one saw the two of you running through the shop like idiots), and you ring the little bell to notify the employees that you’re at the counter. 
“I’ll leave you to it,” you say, stepping away from the counter as an employee finally emerges from the back of the shop. “See you tonight?”
Kirishima fumbles with the plants in his hands as he tries to wave. “Tonight! Yeah!”
The bell tinkles as you duck out the shop door, biting your lip to try and stifle your excited grin.
//
You look in the mirror yet again, tugging nervously at your clothes. You look pretty good, you think, but the closer it gets to eight the more nervous you get. You realised too late that you never exchanged phone numbers, and Kirishima doesn’t know which number apartment to buzz from the front door. You focus on staying calm and not overthinking things; it’s just a date, with the most handsome man you’ve ever actually spoken to. No big deal. It’s fine.
You tug on your shirt again, even though it’s sitting pretty much perfectly. You just lean forward to check your teeth when a crash sounds from your balcony. You jerk towards the crash automatically, and race out to open the doors to the balcony. You’re greeted with the sight of Kirishima with one leg over the balcony railing, staring dismally down at the shattered pot that he apparently just knocked over.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurts as soon as he sees you, “It was an accident! I didn’t know your apartment number to buzz the door and so I thought I’d just knock on the door to your balcony but I didn’t see the pot and- wow, you look really good!”
You wave away his frantic apologies with a laugh as you step over the spilled dirt. “Don’t worry about it. You look pretty good, too.” Your eyes drop to where he’s hiding his hands behind his back. “What have you got there?”
Kirishima hikes his other leg over the railing and drops to his feet, before pulling his arms out from behind him and revealing a large bouquet of beautiful white and pink lilies. “I got these for you.” he says, a pink blush dusted over his cheekbones. “I know you, uh, like flowers and plants and things. I don’t know much about them, but I thought they were pretty!”
Your whole face softens, and you reach out to take the bouquet. They are pretty, with delicate pink-streaked white petals and long, dainty stems. Pollen drops from them at every movement, sprinkling into the air in delicate yellow puffs. “They’re beautiful! Thank you.”
When you glance up at him you find that his attention is caught by the side of your head, his own smile softening. “You kept it?”
You touch the cosmo flower still tucked behind your ear, a little embarrassed. It had seemed like a cute idea to keep it and wear it for the date, but now you wonder if it’s a little weird. “Yeah. Like you said, it’s pretty, right?”
“Yeah.” he agrees. His gentle pink blush has intensified into a deep red. “Very pretty.”
You look back down at your lilies, still smiling. You feel so pleased, like all your nerves are being melted away only to be replaced by excited anticipation. “Your office must be really close by if you had the time to grab these before getting here.”
“It’s right around the corner,” he points towards the end of the street, “But, uh. My boss actually let me go early today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I, uh-” His blush, impossibly, seems to intensify further. “I’ve been talking about you for a while, I guess. Telling people about your awesome balcony and stuff, and how nice you are whenever I meet you. I didn’t actually realise how much I mentioned you, but, uh, when I told Fat that I had asked you out, he pretty much told me to get outta there and come straight to get you.” 
You laugh, pleasantly embarrassed yourself. “Wow. That’s… that’s really sweet.” A thought intrudes on the back of your mind, suddenly, and you frown a little. He said his boss's name was Fat? Office around the corner? “Wait. You work at Fat Gum’s Hero Agency?”
“Yep!” He flexes one of his biceps playfully; you’re pretty sure it’s bigger than your head. “I’m a sidekick there! ”
“Wow.” you say, gaze stuck on his muscled arm. “That- well. That explains- I mean, you have a very nice body.” Oh god, you think, cursing yourself. Why had you said that?
Kirishima flushes from the roots of his hair to his chest. You can’t help but grin, his bashfulness impossibly charming. “Oh! Thanks! I work out a lot.” he chuckles, shrugging as if it’s nothing.
You’re still grinning as you look at his rosy face, your eyes dropping to his red-flushed chest. His very red-flushed chest. “Uh.” you glance to his neck, where the skin is an angry crimson colour. “Kirishima-san?”
“Yeah?” The sun is dropping low in the sky, and the golden sunset throws buttery yellow-toned light all over your balcony. It lights up Kirishima’s profile in warm relief, and makes you wonder if you’re maybe imagining the colour you’re seeing.
“Are you okay? You have- I think you have a rash?”
“Huh?” He drops his chin to his sternum, trying to get a look at what you’re seeing. When he tugs his shirt down, it reveals angry red lines streaking down his chest. “Oh. Yikes.”
Your mouth drops open. “That.. looks painful.”
“It’s more itchy, really.” He admits, poking at the patch of ruddy skin. His head snaps up, eyes wide, and he quickly adds, “This doesn’t usually happen! I don’t usually have, uh, whatever this is!”
That definitely isn’t as comforting as he’s clearly hoping it will be. “Um. Kirishima, do you feel weird right now?”
“A little? I think I’m just nervous for our date, though.” He shifts on his feet and reaches up to scratch at his throat. “Just a little itchy. My throat feels a bit weird. I think it’s nerves.”
The angry red rash climbing up his chest and throat suggests that it’s not just nerves. “Does your throat feel… swollen?”
“Kinda?” 
Your gaze drops to the flowers in your arms. The breeze shakes loose another little cloud of pollen from them, which floats into the air in a little puff of yellow dust. “Did this start after you got the flowers?”
“I guess!” Kirishima says, clearly not following.
“Oh.” You stare at each other. Kirishima still hasn’t quite caught on to the logical conclusion of these questions. Now that you’re looking at him closely, you’re pretty sure his face looks a little puffier than usual. “I think you’re having an allergic reaction.”
Kirishima blinks, then looks to the flowers in your arms. His hand scratches idly at the base of his throat, which is now a raw and angry red. “Oh. Oh, I see. Huh.” You might be imagining it, but his voice sounds a little thicker now.
“I think we should go to the hospital.” You set down the lilies on your garden bench and usher him into your apartment. You haven’t had time to tidy up, but you’re past the point of caring about cleanliness. Kirishima doesn’t seem to notice anyway, as his face has fallen.
“What about dinner?” He asks, obviously disappointed, and yep, his voice has definitely gotten thicker. It sounds like his throat is swelling.
You try not to panic. “We can get food after the hospital!”
Kirishima actually has the nerve to pause and think about it. “Are you sure? I don’t feel that bad, and I really want to take you somewhere nice.”
It’s hard not to feel flattered at that. “I really appreciate that, Kirishima. I would feel a lot better if we got you checked out before dinner, though. I think the date would go better if you weren’t on the brink of anaphylactic shock.”
Kirishima concedes at that, and lets you call a taxi. As you stand on the sidewalk waiting for the taxi to arrive, he sighs and tilts his head. “This is embarrassing. I can’t believe I finally ask you out only for it to be ruined by some stupid flowers.”
“Hey,” you bump him with your hip, but it’s like hip-checking a boulder. You wince and rub at your hip bone as you say, “The flowers were beautiful, and a really lovely thought. Plus, I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while now. One little bump in the road isn’t gonna chase me away, okay?”
“Really?”
You tug him over so you can press a chaste, tentative kiss to his cheek. “Really.”
“I’m gonna make sure when this is over that I bring you on the most unforgettable date ever!” In the light of the setting sun, Kirishima is lit up golden. He grins, gilded and bright, and even with his puffy face and swollen throat, you think he might just be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 
“I think that you’ve already accomplished that.” you say delicately as you spot your taxi rounding the corner of the street, “Maybe our next date should be a little more uneventful.”
“Yeah,” Kirishima laughs, sounding like his throat is full of cotton balls, “Maybe uneventful is best. But you basically just agreed to go on another date with me, right?”
You suppose you have to be impressed by his determination, if nothing else. You’re not used to being the focus of someone’s attention like this, especially not someone on the brink of a medical emergency. It’s… flattering. “Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe next time we should leave the flowers, though.”
“No flowers.” Kirishima agrees, then chuckles. 
You think his swollen, puffy smile might just be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
1K notes · View notes
written-in-flowers · 3 years
Text
Treat Day
Tumblr media
Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin 
Genre: Smut, angst, darkfic/ Au: serial killer, crime 
Rating: M
Word Count: 9k
Summary: The Candyman, Park Jimin, kills someone on his favorite day of the month. Why? Well for the man he loves: Dr. Kim Namjoon
Tags: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Mental Institutions, Doctor/Patient, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Assault, Food Poisoning, Poisoning, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Couch Sex, Bruises, sexy af doctor namjoon, twink murderer jimin, Minor Character Death, Murder, Attempted murder, yandere vibes, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationships, temporary amnesia, blackouts, dissociative identity disorder. 
A/N: this is part of the @bangtanwritingbingo event for my writing square ‘Ice Cream’. I wanted to thank Kas @voiceswithoutlips​ for making the mood board for me! I adore it! 
****
Despite the medications, the constant supervision, and the small room, Jimin somewhat liked the hospital. He liked being able to go outside into the garden or the recreation yard and enjoy the sun on warm days. He enjoyed going to the library during his free time to read Namjoon’s latest recommendation. The nurses were kind to him; the guards begrudgingly tolerated his presence, and he saw Namjoon every other day at two o’clock sharp. Of course, they’d been a bit stricter on him since his escape attempt on Halloween a few months ago. They’d put him in solitary confinement for a month before he had convinced them he wouldn’t do it again. Jimin didn’t want to leave anymore. He liked the hospital now. 
He especially loved Treat Day. Once a month, the hospital gave the patients a special treat. Normally, it’d be candy, chocolate, popsicles or cookies (the good kind, not the usual lunch-time biscuits). Everyone would sit outside in the sun, playing games in the afternoon, and simply enjoy the outdoors. At night, they could enjoy a special movie in the TV room, something Jimin liked to do. Jimin loved it  when Namjoon spent the day with him. After his escape attempt, Jimin thought the hospital might separate them. He had after all broken into Namjoon’s house, had sex with him, and then left. But Namjoon had explained that the hospital director had changed his mind at the last minute. Jimin had wondered why, but Namjoon’s tone had kept him from asking. Not that he cared anyways. He was happy he could keep seeing his favorite doctor, and that the doctor returned his feelings too. 
“We have to be discreet when we’re outside this room,” Namjoon had told Jimin when they had cookies in his office one day. “Some people find our relationship to be inappropriate because you’re my patient and I’m your doctor.” 
“Relationship?” the prospect had made his eyes light up. 
Namjoon had smiled softly, his dimples dipping into his cheeks, “If you’d like that, that is.”
“I do, I do, I do!” Jimin had bounced around, then hugged and kissed him. Nothing made him happier. He knew Namjoon would not leave him like the others. He knew Namjoon was special. 
From that day, Treat Day became his favorite day. He and the other patients always looked forward to it. Well, those who were competent enough to understand. Jimin wondered what treat they’d get this week as the guards escorted him to Namjoon’s office. He hoped it’d be ice cream again. Nurse Hopskins brought this delicious peanut butter and chocolate chip flavor he’d fallen for. The flavor reminded him of his old sweet shop by the farmer’s market. He would’ve loved to use that flavor for mini ice cream sandwiches. People would have loved those. He’d get to see their smiling faces as they ingested they special treat. He might not even have sprayed his poison coating on them either. There were some treats Jimin could never bring himself to use in his games. 
He had truly missed those games. He remembered mixing the coating on all the sweets he sold at varying degrees. Sometimes people would simply become sick. Other times, they’d collapse, convulsing,bleeding, and vomiting. It was a gamble that Jimin loved. It was a special game and only he knew the rules. It gave him a rush that filled the void inside him. Love and loving another person always felt so special to him; being the object of someone’s affections sounded so nice. Being in love gave him a high he constantly chased. The game gave him excitement in between. But, he doesn't need that anymore. He had Namjoon, and Namjoon would never leave him. 
“Dr. Kim,” one of the guards called into the room, “We have your next patient.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
“We can stay with this one if you want-”
“-No, no, it’s fine. Jimin’s not a threat.”
“Alright then.” 
Jimin beamed brightly when he entered Namjoon’s comfy office. Plants and books were everywhere, and the warm-colored furniture brought a homey feeling to the place. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on Namjoon at his desk. He gasped as he took in the state of his boyfriend. Rather than seeing Namjoon’s kind smile, he saw pain. His lucious, full lips were split in a red gash. One of his sharp brown eyes was swollen and deep purple and black bruises went around the temple. One cheek had a bandage right on the upper half; Jimin spotted more bruising around his neck, underneath his shirt collar. He felt like crying,  his eyes teared up seeing Namjoon wince as he bent forward on his desk. 
“Namjoon!” he moved towards the older man, shock apparent on his face as he came to stand next to the doctor. “Oh god, Namjoon, what happened?”
“A patient got a bit rough,” Namjoon answered, about to move until Jimin put a hand on his shoulder to sit him down. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“Oh lord, Namjoon,” he brought over his chair to sit close to him. Seeing his wounds up close made Jimin’s stomach churn. “Namjoon, oh Namjoon,” he cooed, running a finger over one of the cut cheeks. “Who did this to you? Why?”
“Nobody,” he replied. “It’s not important-”
“-Yes, it is,” he said firmly. He tried holding back his tears as he said, “Who did it? Was it Hobbs? Was it Jones? Who hurt you, Namjoon?”
“It wasn’t them, and it’s nothing for you to worry about.” He saw Jimin’s watery eyes and chuckled, “Why are you crying, Jiminie?”
“Because you’re hurt,” he whimpered. He pecked Namjoon’s injured lips delicately, “Someone hurt you and you won’t tell me who or why. I hate seeing you like this. It hurts me too!”
Namjoon cupped his cheek, his knuckles also showing signs of bruising, “I triggered a patient and he got violent with me a few days ago. It’s why I cancelled our appointment last week. I went to the hospital and they gave me some pain medication to help. I’m fine now, Jiminie. Please don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it,” he sniffled. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” He grabbed a thermos from a desk drawer, “I brought you some lemonade from home. I know you like going to the garden and it’s hot out today, so you can have a drink.” 
Jimin, deep down, knew why Namjoon would not give a name. He took the thermos and set it on the desk. He gazed over Namjoon’s face again. Jimin pictured a faceless monster beating his large fists into his love’s beautiful face. He could almost hear Namjoon’s groans of pain and even possible sobbing. Jimin could not imagine the pain or the humiliation at being assaulted by a patient. “What did you say to them?” he asked, watching Namjoon take a painkiller in front of him. 
“I made the mistake of asking about something from their childhood,” he answered. “I thought we’d made enough progress to talk about it. I think it was an event in his life that created a pattern in his crimes as an adult. I suppose I dug a bit too deep and he, um...he, you know, did this.” 
“That bastard,” Jimin scowled. “When I figure out who it is-”
“-What do you plan to do, Jimin?” asked Namjoon, amused by his anger. “You’re small. This guy’s pretty big; he’d crush you.”
Jimin kept his thoughts to himself. He kissed Namjoon’s cheek, then said, “If you don’t want to talk about it right now, then that’s okay. You can tell me when you’re ready to. You know I’ll listen to you just as much as you listen to me.” 
Namjoon smiled gratefully at him, kissed him, and then they started their session. Namjoon asked his questions about his mother and their relationship as Jimin knew he might. Not liking the topic, Jimin thought about Namjoon’s attacker instead. He thought of all the large men who could cause so much damage to his sweet Namjoon. The thought of someone putting their hands on the love of his life made his blood boil. He had never been much of a fighter. Not even in school when the boys picked on him did he raise his fists. However, looking at Namjoon’s beaten face and seeing his twangs of pain, he couldn’t help but want to hurt that person in return. 
“Jimin? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, noticing Jimin staring off to the window. 
“I want to kill them,” he muttered, his peppy tone gone. “I want to make them hurt as bad as they hurt you.”
“I told you it’s alright, Jimin. They’ve already been punished,” he said. “They’ve been in solitary for a few days now and from now on they will be attended by someone else.”
“That’s not enough,” he snapped. “What if they come after you again? What if they sneak out and hurt you? Namjoon, I-”
“-Jimin, I forbid you to do anything to anyone,” he replied firmly. “You’ve gotten into enough trouble after your escape. I managed to convince the directors you’re safe to be around, but if they think you’re dangerous, they might put you in maximum security and you’ll be taken care of by someone else.” He took a sip of his tea, then continued, “I appreciate you being concerned for me, but everything is fine.” He took hold of Jimin’s hand and kissed it, a gesture that made Jimin swoon. “Let’s focus on you for right now, okay? I wanted to talk to you about Yoongi again. He wrote about you on his blog, and I know for a fact you saw it.”
Jimin glowered thinking of his ex-boyfriend. He’d been the reason Jimin was caught in the first place. However, Namjoon’s mystery attacker once again clouded his thoughts. “How’d you know?” Jimin asked him. 
“Because someone named,” he double checked his clipboard, “‘ChimmyLover95 wrote a comment saying ‘you were a shitty boyfriend anyways. He’s with someone who’s much better than you’.’ Want to talk about that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t care about him anymore.”
Jimin thought of the attacker again. If Namjoon would not give him a name, he’d figure it out himself. He spent the rest of their session talking about Yoongi and his engagement to Taehyung, the guy he left Jimin for. When their session ended, Jimin kissed Namjoon goodbye and went back to his room. He almost reached for his journal, but then realized the staff might read it should they suspect him. Jimin took a seat on his bed, a comfortable cot with soft sheets and a warm blanket on top, and thought quietly. 
His hospital housed dozens of criminal maniacs. There were low-level threats like himself, and then those in maximum security. Namjoon did have patients from that side of the hospital. It always worried him that one of them might hurt him one day, but Namjoon always insisted he’d be fine. He shuddered, imagining what might’ve happened if the guards had not been there. Namjoon was so good to those under his care regardless of how they acted towards him. Jimin remembered all the times he’d wrecked things in the doctor's office out of anger, and how calm Namjoon remained. When Jimin sobbed an apology, Namjoon kissed his tears away and assured him it was alright. Who would want to injure such a gentle man? 
He listed all the men he thought it could be: it was someone big, strong, and angry. There were many men capable of doing something so awful to Namjoon. He needed a list of Namjoon’s regulars from maximum security, but that’d be difficult to get his hands on. Then, as he drew hearts around a newspaper picture of Namjoon in his journal, he realized he only needed to find out who’d been in solitary recently. Seeing Namjoon’s handsome face staring at him in black and white made his heart ache more. Whoever thought they could harm his lover and get away with it had a big storm approaching. A very violent one. 
****
It took some asking around to other patients, sneaking into the nurse’s station in the middle of the night, and poking through Namjoon’s office, but he had finally found the name: Carl Patz. Over six-feet tall, bald with a permanent grimace on his face, Carl was a man to be feared. Convicted of a slew of crimes, Jimin had read, he was brought to the hospital when the prisons didn’t appear to help him. Jimin had remembered the times he passed Carl in hallways; the way the man would smirk at him and spew something about Jimin being prettier than a girl. He had repeatedly boasted about the men he’d raped and killed over his lifetime. Jimin had heard it hit somewhere in the one-hundreds. He’d been convicted of five murders, but there were rumors of more. Carl had ended up under Namjoon’s gentle care when Carl’s previous doctor ended up badly injured. Nobody was certain how Namjoon had managed it, but Carl opened up to him somehow. Jimin guessed Namjoon hit a sensitive topic that had upset Carl that day. 
“Treat Day is coming up, Jimin! Are you excited?” 
He sat in the recreation yard with Hoseok, a fellow patient. Hoseok sat with a teddy bear in his lap, stroking it gently as he watched the other men around them. “Taetae and I are hoping they’ll give us cookies this time,” he said, “Cookies and milk at movie night. Sounds good, huh?”
“Yeah. Perfect.”
He saw Carl on the other side of the fence. Lifting weights by himself, the others kept their distance from him. He saw Carl’s muscles through his shirt, and imagined them bulging as he’d beaten Namjoon’s face. He almost heard the sort of insults and threats the man might’ve said to Namjoon. Yet, he noticed the light bruises on Carl’s face: he had one bandage over his eye and a swelling bruise on his cheek. A bit of pride filled Jimin’s chest knowing Namjoon had managed to defend himself at first. Jimin knew he could not physically harm someone like Carl. The man could no doubt throw him across a room with one hand. Jimin needed a sneakier way and he knew which way. It’s the way he’s known his entire life. 
“Hey Hobi,” he called the other, “Do you know anything about Carl?”
“Carl? You serious?” He looked at him incredulously. “I wouldn’t get near that guy even if you offered me freedom. He scares Taetae.” He brushed fur from the bear’s eyes, “Isn’t that right, Tae? Don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you.” 
“I didn’t ask you to go talk to him,” he said, “I wanted to know if you know anything other than what people say about him?”
“Hm, not really.” They sat in silence for a second, “I know he gets special food.”
Jimin looked over at him, the words sparking something inside him, “Special food?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “There are people in the hospital who get special trays due to allergies or diets. Like, Taemin gets protein meals because of his weight loss from that hunger strike. Carl gets special blue trays.” 
Jimin knew what the blue trays meant: food allergy. It was far too good to be true. He smiled as he continued watching Carl. He saw the man’s large hands grabbing the dumbbells left on the ground and begin curling his arms. He wondered how much damage could those hands have done to Namjoon, the thought made him shiver in anger. Knowing Carl’s reputation, he would have violated the doctor too. He needed to know what that allergy was and fast. 
****
It did not take much work to find out what made Carl sick. Jimin only needed to ask the patients who helped out in the kitchen. Minhyuk told him that Carl received special desserts for dinner because of his peanut allergy. The shorter man cackled hearing it. It amused him that something as small as a peanut could take down a beast like Carl. Jimin was forbidden from kitchen duty considering his crimes, so he needed to get the peanuts another way. 
“Come on,” Jimin said to Minhyuk in the garden, “I just need a tiny bag of them.” 
“I can’t, Jimin,” the slim, blond man said. “They’ll give me another demerit if they catch me stealing. I already got two.”
“They won’t catch you if you pass it to me during lunch today,” he replied. “Namjoon really likes peanuts and I want to give him a special present.”
“Your relationship with your shrink is really weird, you know that?”
“No, it’s not. Give me the peanuts and I’ll give you this.” He looked around for security or nurses, then pulled out a cellphone from inside his waistband. “I heard you were looking for one. You have a boyfriend out west, don’t you? Wouldn’t it be nice to send him some naughty pictures so he never forgets you?”
“What me and Jooheon have isn't all about sex,” he snapped. He eyed the phone in Jimin’s hand longingly. Jimin heard how the pair were separated after they’d been caught in the sadistic dungeon under their house. He knew how it felt being apart from someone he loved. “Just one bag?” Minhyuk asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. 
“Just one little bag.”
Minhyuk stared at the phone a bit longer, then said, “Deal. Come through lunch tomorrow and I’ll give you the bag in your tray.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you the phone after I have the peanuts.”
Jimin and Minhyuk shook hands, then parted ways. He spent the rest of the day planning how to slip Carl the peanuts without the man wringing his neck. Carl was like an angry bear at a zoo. If anyone came close to him, he’d knock their teeth out. Also, being a maximum security patient, he’d be hard to get to in the first place. There were only so many times minimum and maximum shared spaces in the hospital. He could always pay Minhyuk to slip it to Carl instead, but thinking of it, that outcome would not satisfy him. When Carl came out of solitary, he gloated about what he’d done to Namjoon. Jimin tried not thinking about what he’d heard. 
“Is it true he tried to rape you?” Jimin blurted out during their session. 
The question caught Namjoon in the middle of a recap of their last talk. His wounds had mostly healed, but bits of yellow still covered his eye. “What?” he asked Jimin, stunned by the question. 
“Is it true that Carl tried to...to…” Jimin could not bring himself to say it a second time. “Oh Namjoon, why didn’t you-”
“-He didn’t do anything like that to me. He got a few hits in and so did I,” he interrupted. Jimin saw the annoyance written on the man’s face, “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I thought you’d respect that.”
“I’m sorry, Namjoon, but I needed to know,” he said, sniffing back sudden tears. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand knowing he could’ve killed you if Phil hadn’t come in when he did. I can’t...Namjoon, he hurt you! Look what he did to your face!”
“I’ve healed up fine, Jimin,” he said, calm in the face of Jimin’s sobbing. “It’s fine. It’s all fine. Carl is being attended by someone else now, and he’s all the way in maximum. He can’t do anything to me.” 
He took both of Jimin’s hands. Jimin loved Namjoon’s hands. He saw the tiny cut on his middle knuckle on his left hand; he rubbed over the larger bruises still visible. Jimin’s small fingertips ran up Namjoon’s long digits, wanting to kiss and hold them. They were the most beautiful hands Jimin had ever seen. “You hit him back?” Jimin asked, admiring Namjoon’s hands. “I saw some bruises on his face too.”
“I threw a punch or two,” he answered. “He might be a mean son-of-bitch, but Carl is as human as the rest of us. He’s just stronger than most of the men he meets.” He rubbed his thumbs across Jimin’s fingers, “I’m fine, Jimin. Don’t worry about me any more. I’m worried more about you.”
“Why?”
“Joyce said you haven’t been eating a lot and you barely sleep. She sees you pacing in your room when she does her nightly rounds,” he said. “What’s bothering you, baby?”
He loved hearing that nickname from Namjoon’s mouth. Jimin met his eyes, seeing the worry and concern in them as they stared back. Namjoon had such a good heart, and Carl had dared to hurt him. “Just been restless,” he finally answered. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Oh Jiminie,” he kissed his knuckles again, “Don’t lose sleep over me. Somebody needs to sleep for the both of us,” he snorted. “Have you been writing in your journal?”
“A little bit. Nothing big or important,” he scooted forward to be closer to Namjoon. “What did you say to trigger him?”
Namjoon hesitated, looking back down at their hands. “I asked him about the men who attacked him when he was a little boy. It’s a very sore subject for him to talk about; I thought talking about it might make us both understand his hatred and anger towards people. Instead,” he gulped, “He kept changing the subject back to you.”
“To me?”
“Everybody knows what happened on Halloween, Jimin. They’re not stupid. It’s only because of what I told the director that you’re even here in my office.” He then continued, “He told me he wished he’d caught you on the outside. He, um, he…” Namjoon coughed his discomfort out, but Jimin turned over his hands to rub them comfortingly. “He started telling me all the things he’d do to you if he could. He told me he’d rip your ass in half, and choke you with his…”
Jimin saw Namjoon change in front of him. He saw the kind eyes he loved narrowed and he bit his bottom lip. His eyes blinked rapidly, and he tried keeping his face hidden. Jimin saw his jaw jut forward like it did when Namjoon was upset. “Namjoon?”
“I wanted to kill him,” he seethed. “I wanted to grab a pen and shove it in his beady little eye and watch the blood come out. It’s not like anybody would have cared. He’s a no good son of a bitch and nobody would blame me in the slightest. Shit, they would give me a medal for it…” He met Jimin’s eyes, and suddenly straightened up. “I knew he was just winding me up and getting back at me for bringing up a sensitive subject. I knew he was baiting me, and I gave into it when I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re human, babe,” Jimin assured him. “It happens to the best of us.” He kissed Namjoon gently, “It’s over now. He hasn’t done anything to me. I’m here with you now.”
“Yes…” Namjoon glanced down to his lips, “Yes, you are.” 
He leaned into Jimin and kissed him deeply. Jimin’s arms went around Namjoon’s neck as the other pulled him onto his lap. “I love you so much,” Jimin whispered over his lips between kisses. 
“I love you too,” he muttered back. Their kisses became hungrier, their hands roaming down and underneath clothes. 
“I would do anything for you,” he kissed Namjoon’s jawline, giving the spot a small nip, “I love you more than the air in my lungs. I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do to you.” He loosened Namjoon’s tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons, wanting access to his warm, tan skin. “You make me feel so good about myself,” he licked a v-shape around Namjoon’s neck, dipping onto his chest before coming back up. “You make me happy. I think I’d die if somebody took you from me.”
Namjoon kissed his lips, “Nobody is taking me from you, Jiminie. Not even God himself could take me from you.”
“No, he couldn’t.” 
They enveloped each other in another deep kiss as Namjoon lifted him up. Jimin realized, as Namjoon settled between his thighs on the couch, that Carl Patz would pay greatly for hurting his boyfriend. 
****
After Minhyuk gave him the peanuts, Jimin waited until Treat Day. It was one of the few times maximum and minimum were around each other. The guards did keep the peace should the maximum patients get rowdy. Surprisingly, both sides kept to themselves a majority of the time. When the day came, he crushed the peanuts in a plastic bowl from arts and crafts, and took them to the recreation room in their plastic wrapper. 
“Jimin, they got us ice cream!” Hoseok beamed, TaeTae under his arm. Jimin noticed him holding a bowl of chocolate for himself and another vanilla one for the bear. No doubt it would just melt or Hoseok would eat it and pretend the bear had. “Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry,” he listed, “They got them all. You better get in line before the good ones get taken.” 
“Okay, thanks Hobi.”
Jimin saw the nurses standing behind the counter, scooping ice cream from tubs in a large kitchen cooler to the patients lining up. He saw the giddiness in some of his fellows, who loved the sweet treats as much as him. It brought him back to the old days. He’d loved seeing the people come into his shop and marvel at all the bright colors inside. People bought his special candy boxes for occasions, completely unaware of what could possibly happen to them if they ate it. They enjoyed his cakes without knowing the danger behind each bite. He liked putting smiles on their faces even if those smiles eventually faded away forever. 
Joining the other patients, he searched around for Carl and found him ahead in line. The person behind him purposefully stayed a few feet away, which pushed the line back considerably. A feeling he thought he’d lost suddenly built up inside him. Namjoon’s love never completely doused the thrill; it simply remained dormant. It was like reliving those good times again. 
“Evening Jimin,” Joyce, an older woman with salt and pepper hair, said when he approached her, “How are we today?”
“Good,” he smiled at her, happiness swelling inside him like a balloon. “I ate all my dinner tonight, and I feel loads better.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Dr. Kim and I were very worried about you,” she said. “Which one do you want, hun?”
He noticed Carl sitting by himself with a bowl of vanilla. “Vanilla, please,” he smiled. 
A small styrofoam bowl of vanilla came into his hands. He saw the toppings offered: sprinkles of chocolate and colors, cookies, chocolate chips and gummy candies. He dusted bits of the cookies on top with chocolate chips. It did look delicious. He imagined Namjoon would’ve gotten chocolate by now. He considered getting a second for them to share, but he knew Joyce would deny him one. He thanked the nurses for their kindness, then moved out of line. Normally, he’d go join Hoseok in the TV room for the movie, but he had other plans. He caught Carl sitting alone at a table, stuffing his ice cream into his mouth. He could eat the whole thing in two bites and get another one just as quickly. Jimin needed to act now. Standing by the drink station, he gently pushed some of the chocolate chips off the top. Lord, he smelled the sweetness and wished to eat it. But no, this was for Carl. Quickly, he dumped the crushed peanuts into the middle, then gently covered them with cookies and chocolate chips. 
“Um, uh, um, hi...Carl,” he approached him timidly. One might have thought Jimin was approaching an active bomb with how he moved. 
“What do you want, pretty boy?” 
“N-n-nothing,” he said. “I just, um, well, um...they ran out of chocolate and gave me va-va-vanilla. I thought you might want it?”
Carl gazed at him for a moment, his stare alone made Jimin uncomfortable. He thought of running away and hiding, but he couldn’t. Not when this man had hurt his Namjoon so badly and would have done worse to him if given the chance. 
“Why?” he asked. 
“Because, um, you like vanilla.”
He smirked, “Vanilla ain’t the only thing I like.” 
Jimin blushed, “That’s okay. I can just give it to, um, give it to somebody else.”
Carl snatched the bowl from Jimin and dug his spoon into the ice cream. “Get out of here,” he growled, “Before I fuck you to death with my fat cock.” 
Jimin did not leave. He stood watching that vanilla bean cream and cookie chips touch Carl’s lips. He watched that thin mouth chew and swallow. Jimin wondered how long it would take for the effect to kick in. He had never used allergies to kill someone before. His special poison mix took anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour to work, but this was different. He wanted to sit and watch it happen. He wanted to see the allergy work its magic on the brute in front of him. 
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Carl’s rough voice cut through his thoughts. 
“Nothing…” he answered, calmly staring at him. “I’m just imagining those peanuts sliding down into your gut where they will eventually digest into your system. Then, I imagine your airways will start to close. Your face will swell up and you’ll struggle to breathe.” 
“What?”
“You have a peanut allergy, don’t you?” he felt a smile starting to curl on his face. “I heard yours is pretty severe. You have a special diet and everything because even cross contamination can cause a reaction. What happens to you? Do you choke or shit yourself to death?”
The realization hit Carl right as the reaction did. Jimin walked away before anybody noticed Carl clutching the hardwood table, choking as his throat started closing. Jimin snagged a bowl of chocolate from a table. He sat down on the far side of the room and watched. He laughed softly to himself, eating his sweet treat as Carl stood up, his chair skidding yards away from him. Hospital guards rushed forward and grabbed Carl by the arms, but it was too late…
For Carl. 
Jimin smiled seeing Carl’s eyes bulge out from his skull. He watched him clutch at his throat; his gasping echoed in the room. The tall man crashed around the room, knocking over chairs as the shock came over him. Jimin knew his pulse would eventually quicken the harder it became to breathe. He thought of the fear in Carl’s eyes when he crashed to the floor after tripping. Once the guards subdued him on the floor, Joyce and another nurse hurried over to administer his Epi-pen. Jimin knew it was too late when Carl went limp. The commotion riled up the patients in the room, who began hooting and screaming. It took some time for the nurses and guards to quiet everyone down and usher them into the TV room next door. 
He enjoyed seeing them cart Carl to the infirmary on a stretcher. 
****
Carl Patz died the following morning. Jimin heard about it when he passed the nurses’ station to Namjoon’s office. Joyce and another nurse whispered about the severe reaction taking hold of Carl so quickly, the medicine barely worked. They’d thought he’d be fine after receiving the special dose, but the shock took him out. Jimin hoped it’d been painful. Now, he couldn’t hurt Namjoon. That triumphant feeling of winning the game had filled him on his way to Namjoon’s office. He remembered the times he’d hear on the news that his candies had sickened a whole slew of people; he had felt so accomplished when he had won and they lost. Phil brought him to the office door and escorted him inside. 
“Your two o’clock, Dr. Kim,” said Phil. 
“Thanks, Phil.”
Jimin noticed the quietness in the office today. He saw Namjoon standing by the window. He wore his fitted white shirt and purple tie. It was the same tie he wore the day they’d met. Jimin could never get enough of him in that shirt and tie. Namjoon turned to look at him, but he did not smile. He noticed Namjoon’s jaw clenched and moved forward when he rolled his tongue in his mouth. Jimin sensed something stirring in his mind, and it made him squirm. 
“Namjoon?” he dared to say, “Are you okay?” 
“Carl died this morning.”
“I know. I heard.”
“They say he had an allergic reaction to the ice cream,” he said. “A vanilla one that had chocolate and cookies on it. The nurse who bought it swore the toppings were peanut-free. It said so on the label.”
“Well, you know these big supermarkets lie sometimes.”
“Jimin, don’t lie to me,” he said. He kept his eyes fixed on Jimin as he said, “We talked about this. I told you not to do anything that could get you into trouble.”
“But I didn’t get into trouble. Nobody came and asked me about it.”
“And I’m glad they didn’t, but I know you, Jimin.” He came closer to him, but did not touch him. “I recognize the signs: you've been distracted lately; you haven't been eating or sleeping right, and this happens to occur on Treat Day, your favorite day."
Jimin thought of a lie, but it never passed his lips. “He deserved it," he finally said, "Carl hurt you."
Namjoon wrapped his arms around Jimin and kissed his forehead. Jimin inhaled the fresh scent of his shirt and felt the softness of the fabric on his cheek. Namjoon’s voice vibrated his chest slightly as he spoke:
"I appreciate you going through all that trouble for me," he said, kissing the top of Jimin's head again. "It was sweet of you to try handling it on your own all because of me."
"Try?"
He lifted Jimin's head and kissed him. Jimin melted at the minty taste of his lips, and dived deeper into their warmth. He whimpered softly when Namjoon's hands smoothed down his back to his bottom and squeezed gently. Jimin pressed himself into Namjoon, who groaned into his mouth at the slight touch. He began untucking the crisp shirt while Namjoon felt underneath his shirt, brushing a thumb over his nipple as he did.
"Let me show you," he said between kisses, "How appreciative I am of you."
They crashed onto the sofa where Namjoon slid between his thighs once more. Heat spread from his cheeks to his neck, feeling Namjoon's lips leave his for his chest. Gentle, soft fingers rolled circles around his nipples while warm lips kissed down his front. Jimin trembled as Namjoon’s tongue slowly rolled around each nipple, causing tightness between his thighs immediately.  Namjoon slid his shirt up to his neck, exposing his chest and stomach as he continued kissing down. Being this close to him, feeling Namjoon’s hands and lips on his body, made Jimin feel so complete. Sparks of ecstasy came before his eyes as Namjoon slipped down his pants and underwear, revealing the semi-hard cock underneath. 
“Such a pretty boy,” the doctor moaned, kissing up Jimin’s thighs from his knees. Warm hands pushed then spread him open, revealing his center to Namjoon. “I’ve hardly touched you,” he said, pecking his lips across his hips and the dips of his pelvis, “And look at you.” 
Jimin’s cock twitched again when Namjoon kissed right above the base. The sensitive muscle grew harder having the man so close to it, kissing and licking everywhere around it. He massaged the outer parts of his thighs, planting more kisses on the inner sides before reaching to his member again. Jimin melted once Namjoon wrapped his hand around the shaft and slowly stroked. His eyes fell closed as he felt shivers of pleasure tighten the ball inside him; 
Namjoon continued kissing where he could while he stroked gently. The feather-like touches and kisses left Jimin wanting more. Reaching into Namjoon’s dark hair, he guided him towards the throbbing, reddening tip. Namjoon chuckled at his eagerness, but did not stop him. He gave the tip a soft kiss before a long, slow lick. When Jimin whined, Namjoon continued circling his tongue on the underside now standing fully up in front of him. Jimin could feel exactly where the tip of his tongue went along his length, and it drove him insane. Namjoon knew this. Jimin could tell that he knew. He bit his bottom lip once that warm mouth latched onto his tip. 
“Namjoonie…” Jimin muttered, squirming as small suckles made his back arch. “That feels...God, that feels so good.”
“I know, baby,” he groaned between licks. “You’re such a sweetheart,” he sunk his mouth further down Jimin’s cock, sucking a bit harder so Jimin could feel it. “You took care of him for me like that,” he sucked beneath him again, “when you could have gotten in so much trouble.”
“I-I did it because I lo-l-love you,” he whispered, pushing his hips towards Namjoon. “I’d do any-anything for you.”
“And I would for you.” 
Hearing those words made Jimin smile. Nobody treated him the way Namjoon treated him: gentle and caring. He watched Namjoon take him all the way to the hilt, and Jimin couldn’t take it anymore. He carefully began thrusting his hips upwards into Namjoon’s mouth, pushing all the way inside even if it made the doctor gag. The need for release became too great to focus on anything but chasing after his orgasm. Namjoon didn’t seem to mind, staying still as Jimin used him. The pleasure heightened when Jimin felt soft fingers cup his balls and rub very gently. His fingers tightened in Namjoon’s hair. 
His breath quickened, making his chest rise and fall in each breath, and the desire directed his body upwards. But still, it did not feel enough. He wanted more. Namjoon sensed the urgency in him, and sucked harder. Jimin looked down to see his dark, sultry eyes gazing back up at him. They admired his flushed cheeks and parted lips. They told Jimin how much Namjoon wanted him. He’d met people who had desired him; people who only wanted his body and nothing else. Seeing Namjoon kiss back up his body, undoing his pants as he did so, he knew Namjoon loved him for more than that. 
“Do you want me to?” he asked Jimin before passionately kissing him. 
“Yes...Yes, please,” he mumbled between kisses. “So much. Please.”
Namjoon reached over him to the side table next to the sofa, opening the drawer to pull out a single-use package of lubricant. Jimin giggled, “Have fun when I’m not around, Doctor?”
“Never,” he briefly kissed him, tearing the small package open. “I save it all for you.” 
Jimin blushed, then watched Namjoon coat the lubricant on his length. “Let me,” he told him, spreading the lube all over Namjoon. He sighed seeing Namjoon tilt his head back as he groaned deeply. “Gosh, you’re so big,” Jimin moaned, feeling it throb in his palm, “I always feel you for days afterwards.”
“That’s the idea,” he smirked in a breathy laugh. 
He spread the last bits of lubricant on Jimin’s entrance. The new sensation aroused him further. The excitement surged when Namjoon pressed himself to the tight ring. He prepared himself for the breach, anticipating the pain and pleasure Namjoon would give him. Distracting Jimin with a deep kiss, he slowly slid inside inch by inch. Jimin admitted the first plunge always twinged a bit, but he knew he’d get accustomed to it easily. He wrapped his legs around Namjoon’s waist to keep him close each time he thrusted inward. 
Pure bliss blossomed between them when they pressed chest-to-chest. Jimin’s arms went around Namjoon’s neck, trapping him there and keeping their lips together. The waves of pleasure crashing through them brought out streams of pet names, sweet nothings and moans. Jimin had never felt more alive. He felt all the safety and comfort the man had given him. He pushed himself down into the hips bottoming up to him. He needed Namjoon as deep as he could get him. He almost did not care who heard them; he wanted them to know that Namjoon loved him and he loved Namjoon. 
It did not take long for Namjoon to hit his prostate, where he saw stars and fireworks. His body tightened and clenched as his climax approached. Namjoon saw the signs and moved faster, angling his hips the way Jimin liked. Jimin continued bouncing onto the long cock pounding him into insanity. He could feel Namjoon’s balls slap onto his ass, which only aroused him further. He needed as much of Namjoon as he could get at that moment. 
“You want me to fill you, don’t you?” Namjoon groaned in his ear, that deep voice sending shivers down his spine. “You want to walk out of here with my cum dripping out of you, don’t you? That’s why you’re pushing down on me like that. You want to milk out all my cum with that tight ass, huh?”
“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, Namjoon, fill me, please. I love it when you cum inside me. It feels so good when you cum deep and hard in my ass.”
“Oh yeah?” he knelt up, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s legs and bringing them over his shoulder. The new position gave him a direct angle for him to touch Jimin’s prostate, “Then make me cum. Come on, pretty boy, make your doctor cum in you...make me shoot my load all the way inside.”
Namjoon’s dirty talk sent him over the edge. Streams of white shot onto his stomach and chest. His knuckles turned white from gripping the couch underneath him, and his body tensed when his orgasm hit. But, even as he reached his peak, he pushed Namjoon onto his back and waited for him to settle against the pillows before riding him. His hands on either side of Namjoon’s head, he bounced himself on the pulsating, wet cock in his bottom. 
“Cum in me, Joonie,” he pleaded in a whine, “Please, cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and make me yours.”
It took a minute for Namjoon’s hands to grip Jimin’s hips and guide him the way he wanted. Finally, Jimin felt that familiar hot sensation that came with Namjoon’s orgasms. His jaw dropped seeing the tanned, toned abdomen tense and his full lips part into an O-shape as he came. He loved watching Namjoon completely unravel in front of him. It reminded him of their first time that Halloween night. It made him love Namjoon even more. 
Coming down from their highs, Jimin laid on top of Namjoon to catch his breath. He did not want to move. He did not want to leave Namjoon ever. Placing delicate kisses on Namjoon’s neck, he realized how worth the trouble and risk of killing Carl was. Namjoon was worth all the trouble in the world. 
“I love you,” Namjoon whispered to him, rubbing Jimin’s back and kissing his cheek. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun,” he said, “more than bees love pollen. You might’ve done a bad thing killing Carl, but knowing you love me that much...I just love you.”
“I love you too,” he beamed. “I’d do it again and again and again. You mean so much to me. I adore you, Namjoon. I’d do anything for you.”
“And I’d do anything for you.” He held the back of Jimin’s neck and kissed him softly, their tongues brushing together. “Even making sure Carl was actually dead.”
Jimin paused in the next kiss. He propped himself up over Namjoon and asked, “What do you mean?”
“An allergic reaction isn’t a guaranteed death,” he said. “They would’ve administered the Epi-pen that would’ve saved him from dying.”
“Namjoon...What did you do?”
Namjoon moved to open his mouth, but then a knock on the door caused them to jump apart. Phil’s voice came over the other side, telling him that the session was over and Jimin needed to be elsewhere. Jimin thought about poisoning the guard’s coffee for a second before he slid off and straightened himself again. 
“Don’t worry about what I did,” Namjoon assured him, zipping up his pants and kissing Jimin’s forehead. “You just focus on getting better, okay?”
Jimin looked over his lover again. Something in him seemed different now. Yes, he was still the loveable boyfriend Jimin knew, but darkness lurked behind those sweet eyes. It was a darkness Jimin knew well, and he beamed at him. 
“Okie,” he said, kissing Namjoon one more time, “See you Wednesday.”
“Wednesday. Love you.”
“Love you too.” 
Jimin opened the door and grinned at Phil, who ushered him away from the door. His spirits lifted, feeling his and Namjoon’s connection strengthen. His mind flooded with things Namjoon could have done to Carl. Perhaps he should’ve left Carl alone; that way Namjoon could have handled it himself. He’d love to hear all about it at their next meeting. 
He wanted to know everything about Namjoon. 
*****
Namjoon had felt guilty keeping the truth from Jimin. He adored the young man so much, it pained him to lie. Namjoon knew Jimin must’ve felt proud to get away with another murder; he’d originally planned on never telling the truth because he’d hate to crush Jimin’s accomplishment. But, when Jimin looked at him so lovingly, he could not lie. 
When he heard that Carl went to the infirmary for a severe allergic reaction, Namjoon knew exactly who was responsible. Hearing Carl ingested raw peanuts sounded odd to him. He knew for a fact that Carl, despite his size and personality, feared death. The thought of his life ending and the world going black terrified him, which is why he fought so hard to stay alive even if he hated it. So, he desperately avoided things that might kill him, such as his peanut allergy. Namjoon recalled the man recounting a story where he’d been force fed peanut butter as a child by cruel caretakers of his reform school. He would’ve died if the nurses hadn’t found him in time. 
He should have known Jimin might take matters into his own hands. He had specifically told Jimin to stay out of it; he could get caught and sent to a real prison. But, knowing Jimin, the thought would eat at him. This left Namjoon waiting until Jimin’s plan revealed itself. He’d anticipated a chemical poisoning or perhaps a terrible accident. Though, of course, Jimin was in a hospital where he had little access to chemicals, and Jimin preferred using natural methods such as the ricin he’d sprayed on his store sweets. When he heard it was the peanut allergy, Namjoon knew the allergy might not take Carl. 
And it didn’t. Joyce told him Carl would live but they kept him for observation. This meant that Carl, once his throat opened up more, could out Jimin as his poisoner. If not that, then he’d certainly retaliate. Having been at the end of Carl’s hammer-like fists, he knew the damage Carl could inflict on his petite Jimin. Namjoon could not, and would not, let that happen. Jimin was his whole world. He’d grown incredibly fond of Jimin, even when he had tried to fight the feelings to maintain their friendly relationship. But, after the night Jimin was recaptured, things changed between them. He had finally felt free to express himself to someone. Dr. Burgess always gave him a listening ear, but he kept his position professional and as a psychologist, not as a friend like Jimin. 
Sitting back on his couch, taking deep breaths as the exhaustion hit him, he thought back to Carl again. Dr. Burgess worried the attack might trigger Namjoon’s not-so-friendly side, but Namjoon assured him that his ‘twin’ stayed silent. However, he might’ve fibbed when he said it. 
‘I’d love to tear that little ass of his up. I bet I could break him in half if I went hard enough; I could probably choke him with my cock if I go deep enough.’ He could hear Carl’s rough voice spit out in his mind. ‘He’s no different than the others. Then I’d get my cock in you, Doc. I could break you both so easily.’
‘I’d prefer if we stayed on topic here, Carl. Why don’t we talk about why you assault the men you come across? Is it because you’re getting back at the men who hurt you when you were younger-” 
‘-I’d destroy him first though. I’d fuck him raw and hard-’
‘-Ca-C-Carl…-”
“-He’d be screaming for me to stop. He’d cry and beg, and I’d keep fucking him until I’d ripped a hole-’
‘-YOU’RE NOT GONNA DO SHIT TO HIM YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A GODDAMN WHORE!-’
‘-What did you say you little-’
Namjoon flinched remembering the moment before he blacked out. Try as he might, he could not remember what happened. He just remembered waking up in the hospital in deep pain and groggy from his relapse. That was what Burgess called it: a relapse. He kept Namjoon in the hospital for a few days, strapped to his bed as Joyce tended to him. He thanked God everyday for the kind nurse; she’d been working at the hospital since it opened in the 50’s. She knew all its secrets, including Namjoon’s. 
‘You gave us quite a scare when you came in,’ she’d told him when she fed him his medication. ‘You were ranting and shouting. You called poor Phil every name in the book when he brought you in here.’ 
He did feel the humiliation of the attack afterwards. He was a doctor. He was supposed to be able to control himself, especially with his medications. But, he couldn’t stand hearing someone like Carl talk about hurting Jimin. . It didn’t help that he doesn’t recall the night Carl went into the infirmary either. 
Namjoon shut his eyes and focused on what he’d been doing that night: he’d been finishing up some papers and planned on going home that night. He recalled the pen in his hand and his lamp being the only light in the room. He’d been making notes in a patient report when he saw his face in a window reflection. He’d healed up pretty okay, with minor bruises left on his cheek and jaw. 
Somehow, the thought of Jimin in his position popped into his mind then. Carl could certainly kill Jimin with a few good hits. He’d remembered the threats Carl had made that day. What if Carl made good on them and brutally attacked Jimin? Namjoon could not live with himself if that happened. Jimin was so special to him. Jimin meant the world to him. If Jimin ceased to walk the earth, there’d be no point in being there. 
After that, he remembered nothing. Namjoon sat in his office, exhausted and drunk off of Jimin still, and forced himself to remember something, anything. The only memory he conjured was afterwards when he found himself in his room back home. He’d gotten all the way home without knowing it. No. No, he knew. He knew because when he found himself standing in his living room, he found a post-it note on the coffee table. 
‘You finished Carl,’ was written in joined up handwriting, nothing like his own. Namjoon’s stomach dropped at the idea. 
The thought of killing Carl might’ve been a fantasy of his, but he’d certainly never carry it out. Murder was illegal, and he’d be locked up in the hospital for good if they caught him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and he took deep breaths. He felt like a hypocrite. Namjoon always told his patients that the murders they’d committed were wrong, but here he’d done the same. 
No. Not him. This was not his fault. He’d done nothing wrong. It’d been Namu. Namjoon did not like acknowledging his other personality, but he knew the other was there. Namjoon took more deep breaths, trying to settle his nerves. He prayed that nobody saw anything. He prayed Namu had not done anything too crazy. 
Crazy? Namu never did anything ‘crazy’. He did things that were justifiable. He rapidly blinked his eyes as he found himself in the office. Namu rested back on the couch, his mind swarmed with visions of Jimin. Those last few minutes he was deep inside felt holy. He loved knowing he’d made such an infamous murderer a whimpering, pleading mess on his couch. Namu had never loved someone the way he loved Jimin. He adored him. He truly would do anything for the person who made his heart melt. 
Including killing Carl Patz. He’d waited until the nurse had left Carl’s room that night. Carl was lying on the bed, strapped down tightly, and slowly falling asleep. Namu noted the machines they’d attached him to so they could monitor him. How bad had his reaction been that they kept him overnight? All that happens is the windpipe closes and he loses a bit of air. Then again, Carl was incredibly allergic according to the reports. Carl noticed him walk in, and glared. 
‘Ha! I knew you’d come back! Come for round two, pussy? Let me out of here and I’ll knock your ass back to the ground, then fu-’
‘-Oh shut up, you miserable fuck. I’m done listening to you go on and on about how much you hate life and how badly you’re going to rape me because you’re a sad sack of shit.’ Namu remembered the words stunning Carl into silence for once. ‘I’m done listening to you brag about all the arson, theft, rape, and murder you’ve done. You act like it’s something to be proud of. I could handle it before because it was mostly towards me and other patients or people you didn’t like, but then...then you decided you’d talk about my Jimin and...and I can’t have that.’ 
‘That twisted fucker is the one that put me in this damn bed.’
‘I know, and normally I’d apologize on his behalf and give you hush money, but money can’t buy people like you.’ 
The fear in Carl’s eyes when he withdrew the syringe made him smile. Even now, sitting in the office with his shirt still askew and tie loosened, he smiled. He’d taken the monitor they stuck onto Carl’s finger, the one that records his heart-beat and pulse, and put it onto his own. It only took a small pinch to the IV for the bubble to go through. Namu stuck around to see Carl begin thrashing, but the sock stuffed in his mouth muffled his cries. The very thing Carl feared finally came, and Carl Patz died right in front of him. A wave of satisfaction came over seeing the man begin stiffening before his eyes. Of course, Namu left the room before anyone could see him. Then he drove home knowing Jimin was safe. 
“Namjoon?” a voice cut through his thoughts, and he saw Dr. Burgess poked his head in the door. “May I come in?”
The world came back to him hazily. “Um, yeah. Yeah, you can.”
Dr. Steven Burgess had been treating him since he was first admitted into the hospital at  nineteen. His black outs were far worse when he was younger, but he supposed talk therapy and his medications helped ease his moods. Namjoon straightened up in his seat, fixing his messy hair as the doctor took a chair in front of him. He tried shaking off the groggy feeling inside him. Burgess put a clipboard in his lap, crossed one leg over the other, and looked at him. 
“How are we feeling today, Joon? You look a bit flustered.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Jimin was just here, and we’d gone outside. It’s hot today, that’s all. Don’t worry about me.” 
“Have you been having any more black outs since we talked?” he asked, “Has Namu made an appearance at all?”
Namu was Japanese for tree, and his mother called him that because he was stubborn as one. Namjoon could never remember anything Namu did, but it normally ended in blood and pain. Burgess told him Namu was normally triggered by Namjoon’s negative moods such as rage. It’d happened more when he was bullied as a teenager, and he usually found it hard to keep his emotions in check. But then they met Jimin. Jimin brought so much peace and comfort that Namu was kept at bay. Namjoon often worried he might switch personalities right in front of Jimin, and Namu would hurt him. But the only times he did, Namu ravaged Jimin on his couch. 
He supposed his other personality loved Jimin too. 
He hoped Jimin understood why he’d lied. He’d done it to protect him and what they shared. Burgess and the hospital directors only allowed their relationship because of Namjoon’s condition. Since having his license taken away a few years ago, Namjoon was allowed to keep playing psychologist for his treatment. Helping others and focusing on work helped keep his emotions down, and distracted him from the negative. 
He typically saw more difficult patients who the other doctors did not want; Jimin happened to be one of them. The male doctors said Jimin became easily attached, obsessive and delusional. The female doctors could not get a word out of him. They thought some sessions with Namjoon might help treat those behaviors, but Burgess frowned when he learned Jimin and Namjoon fell in love instead. Separating them now might become dangerous for themselves or people around them.  
Namjoon didn’t know what he’d do if Jimin was forced away from him; not after the other man brought him so much joy and comfort. The hospital could be so cold and unfeeling; with Jimin, it was a bright, warm place where he could be with someone who truly loved him. 
As he’d told Jimin, he’d do anything for him. 
29 notes · View notes
ediths · 4 years
Text
Bad Reputation
Tumblr media
Pairing: Frat!Tom Holland x Reader
Word Count: 11,573
Summary: You meet Tom at the coffee shop that you work at, and you never think you’ll see him again, but the world seems to be on your side.
Warning(s): mentions of sex, I think the word hell is used (i don’t think there are any other bad words), some self doubt by the reader, frat!tom (yes, that’s a warning hehe), mentions of tom being a boxer oops, it wasn’t edited (my wife was gonna help me edit it bUT i started overthinking and decided to just post it :))
A/N: This is officially the longest one shot I have ever written. This is for @t-holland2080 ‘s summer writing challenge. I never thought I was going to get it done, there was a lot of writing and deleting and questioning, but here we are! I hope everyone enjoys, and as always, feedback is highly appreciated!!
Masterlist
Add yourself to my taglist here
Request anything here but be sure to read my guidelines first!
*
You were stressed, to say the least. Today had been a busy day and it was only getting worse. Working at the coffee shop on campus had its perks, sure. Like having some extra cash and getting free coffee. But it also had its downsides. It was always busy. Some days, like today, even more so. A lot of the students were absolute jerks and couldn’t bother to wait more than thirty seconds to get their drink when it obviously took longer than that to make, and every one of them always had something snarky to say or a loot to throw you to let you know just how ridiculous it was that you couldn’t snap your fingers and the drink be done.
To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You had opened the store, today being one of the only days when you had no classes, so you could work for longer, which meant that you had gotten up at five this morning so that you could get ready and be at the shop by six. Every person that you had greeted seemed to be in a hurry, hurtling snide comments at you over and over. It seemed to be the busiest day of the week, even though it was nowhere close to the weekend.
And to top it off, another customer just walked in. Thankfully, he took his time walking up to the register, spent a little while gazing at the sweets arranged in cases around the room. When he finally did make his way to you, he flashed you a bright smile. 
“What can I get you today?” You ask, going through the motions.
“Hmm, can I just get a regular coffee, love?” He’s still got that heart stopping smile on his face, and you can’t help but give him a real smile back.
“Sure, will that be all for today?” You ask, wanting to put the order through so that it will get done faster, just in case he is in a rush. It’s just a black coffee, so all you have to do is pour it into a cup, but you’ve had multiple impatient people get upset over it taking you “too long” to pour it.
He wants to say no, wants to say that he wants your number too. He thinks you’re beautiful, and he secretly really wants to tell you that. He wants to let you know that he saw you through the shop window and that he only came in here because of you. He wants to tell you that he secretly hates black coffee but it’s the cheapest option and he had to buy something to talk to you. 
But he says none of those things, doesn’t want to come off strong. He’s never seen you before, after all. He doesn’t know who you are, if you’re the kind of girl that would want to even give him the time of the day. If you’re the kind of girl that gave any boy the time of day.
So he settles for saying, “Yeah, that’ll be all,” he looks at your name tag, “y/n.”
You tell him the price and go to pour his coffee as he swipes his card. Once you’re done, you struggle to put a lid on it; trying, and failing, to not get coffee onto your hands.
You quickly wipe the slight spill off of the cup, not wanting him to get anything on his hands, and then hand him the cup, thanking him and wishing him a nice day.
Once he leaves the store, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. He was cute, really cute actually. And he looked like a nice enough guy. You don’t know how you’d never seen him around before, knowing that there’s no way you had, you’d remember a face like that.
*
Apparently, you wouldn’t remember a face like that. Not until he ordered coffee from you, anyway.
You went to your English class the next day, hoping that the lecture wouldn’t make you want to rip your hair out. When you sit down in your normal seat, a place near the middle, but a little closer to the back, you see him.
You can’t believe you had never noticed him. You had noticed every other person that he was sitting with. They were all the guys that came into class late every Friday morning because they were too hungover to get to class on time. They were the frat boys.
Did that mean…? No, it couldn’t. He didn’t look like the rest of the frat boys.
But he fit right in, really. He was perfectly in place in their group. Honestly, it looked like they all watched what he was doing, following whatever he did, almost as soon as he did it. It was like they were waiting for his instruction. You had heard the rumors, they only did that with the head of the fraternity, Tom Holland.
But no, that would mean that he was Tom Holland. 
Even though you heard continuous rumors about the way that he partied, got blackout drunk, slept with random girls, and then never called them again, you had never once seen the infamous face of Tom Holland.
And nobody questioned it when you told them. You weren’t the kind of girl that would know who he is. You’re not the kind of girl that goes to parties every chance they get and hooks up with the first guy that you can get your hands on.
If your assumptions were correct, however, he had been right under your nose this whole time, you had just never paid attention to him.
*
He had been looking for you, had been trying to find your face in the sea of others the entire day. He had absolutely no luck doing so, though, seeing as apparently, you were nowhere to be found.
He even tried to ask about you, but according to everyone that he knows, you don’t exist. And if you do, you don’t go to school with him. But he’s determined. He will see your stunning face again, experience your heart warming smile one more time, at least.
For the time being, however, he’s trying to push the thought out of his mind, knowing full well that he has to focus on whatever his English professor is going to drone on and on about today. 
Once he had turned in slightly in his seat to see where Harrison was, though, there was absolutely no chance that he would be paying attention to anything but you.
You were right there, you had been right under his nose this whole time and he had spent so much time trying to actively ignore everything to do with English that he completely overlooked you, the prettiest girl that he had ever seen. 
Your eyes were downcast, looking at the notebook that you had brought to class. Yeah, you seemed like the type of girl that would rather hand write notes than type them. 
Your cheeks and your ears were tinged pink and he couldn’t help but wonder what made you blush, but then you looked up and met his gaze, and every thought left his mind. He could do nothing but stare back at you like a fool until Harrison finally walked in, sitting down beside him and nudging him with his elbow.
“Who’re you looking at, mate?” The blonde asked.
“Nobody.” Tom quickly replied, not wanting to have to listen to his best friend nag him about being enamored about a girl that he had only talked to once. And it wasn’t even a real conversation, he just ordered coffee from you, there was no flirting, there was no getting to know each other. The only things that either of you had learned was that he ordered just black coffee when he drank it and that you worked at the campus coffee shop.
You tried to sit through the rest of class as if you hadn’t just, maybe, held full eye contact for like a whole minute with the head of the biggest frat on campus. But really, he’s all you could think about. You were usually pretty good at not getting distracted during class, at not having to worry about whether or not you missed something because you were lost in your own head. But today, you probably zoned out and missed over half the lesson.
This was crazy, right? No person should be this intrigued by a person that they’ve only talked to once and seen only twice, should they? 
If it was crazy, though, you were completely embracing it. There was something about this boy, something about Tom, that was messing with your mind. You weren’t the kind of person to believe in soulmates, but you did believe that the universe brought people together. You believed that there was a reason for everything. Which means that there had to be a reason for Tom to have walked into the coffee shop that you worked in, on the day that you needed a little brightness the most. There had to be a reason that he was in your class, that your paths had crossed yet again.
*
He never paid attention to the things happening around him while he was in class. He had never before paid the slightest bit of attention to the people that would filter in through the doors. But ever since he saw you in his English course, he started paying attention. And he realized that he had two other classes with you, his history course and his biology course.
He saw you every time that you had class with him, but he never had the guts to walk up and just talk to you. He had never had that problem before, usually going up to any girl he thought was attractive and sweet talking her into the palm of his hand in a matter of minutes.
Something about you was different, though. There was something about you that made him almost scared to just walk up to you. The fear of rejection when thinking about you was high, and that wasn’t something that he had felt in a long time. 
It was almost like he felt that you were too good for him. He felt like you were too innocent, too pure to be bothered by him. 
He was the resident fuckboy on campus, and there was no way that someone like you, someone that he had never seen at a party, or at any other social event, would want to be around him. 
There’s no way that he’s anywhere near good enough for you. He thought that if he walked up to you and asked you anything, you’d scoff in his face and then walk away. 
So, he doesn’t go up to you. He doesn’t talk to you. Doesn’t ask about your day, about your favorite subjects, about what your dreams are. And he sure as hell doesn’t ask you what he really wants to, for you to go on a date with him.
*
It had been a few weeks since you had seen him last, always making sure to get to class super early so you could sit closer to the front, not wanting to be too distracted in the classes that you had with him.
You have to admit, though, that you had spent many hours in your dorm room, debating on whether or not you should go out to one of the frat parties that you knew Tom would be at. Ultimately, you decided against it, knowing that you’d just make a fool out of yourself, showing up to a party in which you weren’t invited to see a boy that probably hasn’t thought about you since you gave him his receipt.
You had all but given up on him, realizing that the chances of ever even talking to him again was slim to none, and hoping for anything more than that was absolutely ludicrous.
So, pushing him to the back of your mind, you walked from your dorm to the library. For the first time in what felt like years, you didn’t search the faces that you passed by, you didn’t hope that one of them would be him, and you didn’t feel disappointed to not run into him.
You made it to the library just in time to say goodbye to your favorite librarian, Joan, before she left for the day. She wished you a good evening and then went on her way, shooting you a warm smile as you entered the rows of books that could all be used for reference on the essay that your English professor had assigned.
He hates essays. He really, truly does. He would rather do literally any other type of assignment than an essay. But here he was, walking into the library to search through numerous research articles just to find a sentence or two that he could use for his 5 page, minimum, essay that was due in less than a week.
He trudges over to the shelves, knowing which books that he needs to grab, but not really looking forward to doing so.
Right before he gets to the aisle he's about to wander down, he sees you. The girl that he’s been paying more than enough attention to since the day he walked into the coffee shop that he had never been to before. The girl he had been too scared to go up to and just simply talk to.
Until now. 
He finally had a reason to go up and talk to you. He hated essays. He was complete trash at them. He always failed them no matter how hard he tried.
But you didn’t. You always did great on your essays. He knew you did, not because he was paying a weird amount of attention to you, it’s just that after he realized who you were, he started remembering some of the times that you had been there, but he just didn’t notice you. Some of these times were when every single time the professor would pass back essays, he would ask for yours back for ‘example pieces.’
So he cautiously made his way to you, walking slow to see if anyone was with you that would pop up. Thankfully, nobody did, so he walked the last couple steps to the table you had chosen as your study area and put his hands on the back of the chair opposite of you.
You look up and a wrinkle automatically comes between your brows, one that he can’t help but want to smooth with his fingertips. 
“Can I help you?” You ask after he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just standing there.
“Um, yeah. I- you have Professor Stephens for English, right?” He tries to keep his eyes locked on you, but he can’t, can’t help but let his eyes wander over your features. The way that your eyebrows are furrowed and your forehead continues to be pinched, still confused as to why he’s here. The way that your cheeks seem to be a natural rosy pink. The way that your lips look so effortlessly full. 
“Yeah, why?” He’s beginning to think that this was a bad idea. He had been right when he first thought it, there’s no way that someone like you could even want to be around someone like him. But it was too late to back out now, so he continued the plan that he had conjured up with the two brain cells that he had left.
“So, um, feel free to say no, of course. No pressure or anything.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Just, you see, the thing is, I’m awful at essays. I try my best and still fail, and every time we do one, the Professor always keeps yours for examples when he does them next year. So, basically, I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna help me write mine?” 
You look taken aback for a moment before agreeing, nodding your head and telling him which dorm was yours.
“Um, do you maybe want me to give you my number so that you can text when you’re available?” You ask him, and he tries his best to not let his face light up too much, but he definitely feels his stomach flip at the thought, even though you’re not even doing anything but trying to make study plans with him.
He says a quick thank you and a goodbye before promising to text you the next day as soon as he was done with his frat duties.
Why you had agreed at all, let alone so easily, was a mystery to you. What could he possibly want out of this? Yeah, he seemed like he worked a lot harder and paid a lot more attention than the majority of the other frat boys, but he was still one nonetheless, which means that he had to be up to no good.
Did he want you to just write your paper for him? Was that why he was asking?
A small part of you wants to believe that maybe he asked you because he had been feeling the same way that you have been. But that’s crazy. He’s the most wanted frat boy on campus, there’s no way that he’d want anything to do with you.
He was just trying to get his paper done. Whether he was trying to get you to do it or if he just wanted help like he said, you weren’t completely sure yet. But you knew one thing, you had to clean your dorm before he came over.
You rushed back to your place, throwing things where they belonged and hanging up the clothes that you had neglected for days. 
You’re not entirely sure why you’re freaking out so much, trying to get your dorm as close to spotless as possible. It wasn’t like you needed to impress him. You were a uni student. You weren’t expected to be perfect, to be spotless. Yet, you still felt the need to make sure everything was perfect for him.
And that’s when you remember the cute little cafe that you had been dying to go to. Every review said that it was perfect for studying, and that the food there was amazing. 
So, when Tom texted you that evening to make sure that you had his number, you responded telling him that when he was finished the next day to shoot you a text and then meet you at the cafe.
You’re relieved when he agrees, that place being a lot less personal, a lot less intimate than your dorm room, making you feel much more comfortable.
*
The next day, he texts you around noon, telling you that he’ll be able to meet at two at the cafe that you had suggested. 
He’s more excited than he should be, especially since this is just a meeting for you to help him with the most atrocious thing that English professors can assign. But he can’t help it, it’s you. He gets excited every single time that you glance in his direction.
He rushed back to the frat house, taking a thorough shower and picking out a nice button down and a pair of dark jeans. The outfit was nice, he dressed to impress, but not like he was going to a formal dinner or anything.
This was just a study session. Nothing more.
The thought wasn’t getting his emotions in check like it should. Hell, he shouldn’t even have any emotions going into it. He had talked to you a grand total of two times. He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you for an absurd amount of time when he had known of your existence for approximately a month.
He shouldn’t feel like he had been pining over you at all. He was Tom Holland, for goodness sake. He wasn’t the guy that caught feelings. Everyone knew that. 
But there was something about you, something about the way that you smiled at him, that made him want to be better. Something that made him want to throw away his reputation and start fresh, to not be seen as the boy with a new conquest every day, to be seen as the boy that’s looking for a girl to fall in love with.
Could that girl be you? He has no clue, but there’s something about you that’s begging him to find out.
So, he makes his way to the cafe, taking enough time to not seem too eager but still getting there almost fifteen minutes early.
You were already there as well, though. You had been just as anxious, if not a little more. You had spent hours getting ready, making sure that you were perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. You also spent at least an hour getting your supplies together and then checking, and rechecking everything to make sure that you wouldn’t forget a single thing.
You had arrived at the cafe half an hour early, wanting to make sure that you were there and everything was in order before he arrived. You had half expected him to be late, leaving you more time to calm your nerves. Your expectations were proven wrong, however, when he walked up to the booth you were sat at nearly a quarter to the hour.
“Hey.” He greets, sitting down a notebook, a few writing utensils, and his laptop. “Thanks again for agreeing to help me.”
“Hey! It’s no problem.” You assure, not wanting him to think that this is a burden for you when you’d rather sit around with him and work on an essay than sit at your dorm all alone, especially since you had been so caught up in him as of late.
“So, um, where do you want to start?” And so began the study session that the two of you had been looking forward to. You got so lost in the material, explaining to him what certain aspects of the essay should pertain, letting him write a paragraph or two and then tweaking them slightly, allowing him to do the same, that you didn’t even realize that the diner was about to close until the waitress came to inform the two of you.
He looked just as surprised as you felt to see that the two of you had been there for almost eight hours. 
You both said a quick goodbye and set a time to meet again to continue with the studying, the time conveniently being in a few days, giving you enough time to get most of your essay done so that you could focus on him more.
After he said his final farewell, he made his way down the street, heading back towards the frat house. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way that your smile has been permanently etched into his brain. How your laugh is the most precious thing that he’s ever heard, and he’ll continue to do everything in his power to keep you laughing as often as possible. 
You’re not in a much better headspace, thinking constantly about the way that his smirk is overly annoying, but also so hot that you want to kiss it off of his face. How his nose is slightly crooked, but in a way that accentuates his features in the best way. 
You had asked if he had broken it before, not being able to help your curiosity. This had left to him laughing, throwing his head back, and telling you that he’s had more broken noses than he could count. He’d been boxing for most of his life, and that’s just the kind of thing that happens, knuckles get bruised, noses get broken.
Something about that had made you swoon even more. The thought of him boxing got your heart racing. You had no clue why, you’d never been a fan of any form of violence, but something about picturing him in a boxing ring had your stomach tying in knots and your face heating up.
You fell into bed that night with a smile on your face, feeling more excited than you should have to see him again.
He laid awake in his bed, across campus from you, thinking of the same things. When he’d see you again, if your conversation would venture more towards each others’ personal lives instead of strictly on the material. 
It’s safe to say that neither one of you got that much sleep that night.
*
The two of you decided to meet at your dorm room this time, seeing as how you had spent hours studying the time before and weren’t even done when the diner closed. This way, he could stay and study as long as necessary. 
He was pacing around his room, three hours before he even had to leave for your dorm, trying to find out what in the world he should wear. He thought about asking one of his frat brothers, seeing as the majority of them had a pretty good taste in clothes, but he knew that they’d all take a dig at him if he had to explain why he was so worried about his outfit choice. 
He wasn’t embarrassed of you, not in the slightest, he just didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that wasn’t even a thing yet. If you ever did agree to actually go out with him, though, he would take all the jokes and the comments from his frat brothers that he had to. He’d be too happy to care what they had to say, even if you only agreed to one date and then never wanted to see him again.
He ended up settling for a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, wanting to be comfortable for the long study session, but not wanting to look like a bum. You had also mentioned to him that your building tended to be a lot more chilly than others around campus, and advised him to either wear a sweatshirt over or to bring one with him.
Although he’d never admit it to you, there was a part of him that was already trying to figure out a way to get you to come to the frat house for the next study session. It was abnormally cool in the house as well, but he wasn’t planning on telling you that. If you didn’t bring one on your own sweatshirt, he would give you his. 
Because, no matter what all the boys thought of him, or what he let his reputation get to, he was the kind of guy that yearned for the domestic things in life. For waking up next to the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with. For waking her up with kisses and then making her breakfast. For her to be wearing his clothes and for him to be able to come up to her and randomly love on her.
He had never had the chance to be like that with someone. He had come to college, joined a frat, and thought that he had to be the guy that had a new conquest every night. And he had been completely fine with it, content even. Until he met you. And something about the way that you made him feel in the brief time that he was around you in the coffee shop made him realize everything that he was missing.
He was missing you. 
And you were all he could think about anymore, because he wanted his life to be complete, and he knew that with you, it would be.
How you could be this intrigued by someone after literally interacting three times is unknown to you, but you had to admit to yourself that you are. You’re so intrigued by him that you find yourself thinking about how it would feel to fall asleep next to him, or how it would be to walk into the kitchen in the morning to find him fixing something and just wrap your arms around him without a care in the world.
You shake the thought from your head, realizing that there’s no way it could ever be a reality, so why fantasize about it?
What you focus on instead is the study session the two of you have in just a few hours. You had cleaned your room before the first session the other day, but you had been deep cleaning since last night, trying to make sure that everything looked decent and presentable. You didn’t want him to think that you were a slob.
You were glad that you had remembered to remind him to wear or bring something warm, seeing as today was one of the cooler ones in the building. The thermostat that you kept in your room reading a chilly 64 degrees (17 degrees Celsius). Why it was so cold in your building, leading you to dress warmly, only to go to a lecture where the room felt like you were sitting on the sun, you would never know, but you never complained or requested a dorm change because you genuinely loved the one that you were in, regardless of the temperature.
With a quick glance at the clock on your bedside table, you decide to get dressed. You put on a hoodie and a pair of leggings. You decided to just put your hair up in a bun. It was just Tom, after all. This was just a study session. Nothing more. There was no need to get all dressed up. It’s not like this was a date. You were just helping him with his English essay. Within the next week, this whole thing would be over and you’d probably never see him again besides in class, much less have an actual conversation with him.
*
“Hey,” you mumble as you open the door for him. You’re still slightly nervous about what he could be thinking. 
Will he think your room is a mess? You had cleaned the entire place, going over everything at least three times, but the thought still crosses your mind.
Will he think that the amount of books you have in the oak bookshelf to the left of your bed is weird? Would he think you were too nerdy? Who were you kidding, he probably already thought you were a nerd, he had noticed how the professor asked to keep your papers. At best, he had to think you were the teacher’s pet or something. That’s probably why he even asked you to help him. He probably figured that you would put in a good word for him, that you would let Professor Stephens know that you had helped.
“Hey.” He replies, sounding almost as nervous as you felt. Could he possibly be? Why would he even be nervous? The only thing that you could think of that he could even be slightly nervous about is the impression that he makes on you, if you were impressed or not. He had no need to feel like that, though.
You wanted to tell him that, but you couldn’t. There was no way in the world that you could possibly just come out and say it, let him know that he looked great.
“So, where are we starting today?” You ask, trying to steer your mind back on the right path.
“Um, I was actually maybe thinking that we could just read over what we had worked on since last time, if that’s okay? And then give each other notes that we have if there are any?” You look over at him and see that his hands are slightly tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, giving him cute little sweater paws.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” You pull your eyes from his hands, walking over and plopping down on your bed, looking over at him expectantly.
He seems a lot more nervous than you had initially anticipated. He seems almost as if he’s scared to come sit next to you. There’s something about that thought that makes him seem even more endearing than he already was.
“You can come sit, you know?” You say, smiling at him to let him know that it was alright.
He gives a nervous chuckle that sounds more like a cough and you can’t help but to laugh along. There’s something about hearing his laugh that makes your chest feel a sudden rush of warmth.
He slowly makes his way closer to the bed, still approaching with caution and you can’t help the smile that’s glued to your face.
“So, what’s your story, Holland?” You blurt, not thinking about what in the world you were doing. You didn’t even stop to ponder the possibility that he wouldn’t want to talk to you about his life. There was still the completely possible idea that he actually only wanted to be around you to study. Although, you can’t help but have an itch in the back of your mind that keeps telling you that isn’t the only reason that he’s here.
“What do you wanna know?” He takes you by surprise with that, with the fact that he seems to be willing to tell you any and everything.
“Anything.” you breathe, watching him settle into your bed. You had situated yourself to where you were sitting against the headboard, and he shuffles to lay on his stomach, opening his laptop beside you.
“Well, um, where do I start, I guess is the question.” He looks over at you and you just give a shrug, so he continues. “I could just start at the beginning. I’m Tom, as you know.” He chuckles, running a hand through his chocolate locks, and you can’t help but follow the path that his hand takes through the tendrils of hair, over his neck, and back to the bed. “I have three brothers, all younger. Sam and Harry are twins. Sam’s really into the whole culinary thing, and Harry’s a photographer. They’re really good at what they do.” You can tell by the way that he talks about them that he's really proud of them. “Paddy’s the youngest, still can’t believe how big he is every time I see him. It seems like only yesterday he was a little baby that I could carry around everywhere.” The look on his face seems as if he’s guilty for leaving his brothers when he went to college, and you immediately want to assure him that it’s okay, but you don’t feel like it’s the right time.
“I’ve got a dog named Tessa, she seems to miss me a lot, gets really lovey and excited whenever I go back home for the holidays.” The smile that breaks out on his face makes your heart swell. “Mum and dad are still together, raised me right, taught me how to treat people and how to make the right choices. If we’re honest, I don’t think that they’d be too proud of who I’ve become.” he meets your eyes and gives you a sad smile, and you want to lean over him and envelop him in a warm embrace, but you don’t think that would be the best move.
“What do you mean, why wouldn’t they? You seem like a pretty good guy, Tom.” You’re not lying, you think he’s a great person. You see no reason why they wouldn’t be proud of him.
He chuckles, looking up at you and wondering if what he’s about to say next is the best thing to do, but he decides that he might as well. “I am a pretty good guy, when I’m around you. But when I came here and joined the frat that I did, I thought that I had to be a certain person.” He looks away from you, not wanting to have to see the way you’re going to react to how he really is. “And, for a while, I really liked who I was, you know? I thought that was who I was supposed to be, and it kind of felt right. The whole partying every weekend and taking a different girl home each time I went out thing was fun for a while. And then something changed. Something in my life shifted and I figured out that it wasn’t really that fun. That there were other things that I could do. I don’t want the reputation that I have.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair again, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m surprised that you haven’t heard about it. You’d probably run for the hills if you did.”
You chuckle, and his eyes immediately shoot to meet yours. “I know about your reputation Tom. I have since before I even agreed to help you.”
“Then why would you agree? You had to have known the kind of person that I was. There had to have been at least one person that warned you away from me.” He genuinely can’t believe that you knew about his reputation, about all the things that everyone said about him, both true and false, and still decided to be around him.
“Yeah, there were quite a few that warned me about you, but I don’t listen to what people tell me to do. And I definitely don’t listen to what people have to say about others. I like to find out for myself, which is exactly what I did, and I’m glad that I chose to do what I did. If I had listened to them, I wouldn’t have found out how great of a person that you are.”  Without putting any thought into it, you reach down and run your fingers over his palm, letting him know that you’re there, that you know who he really is and that you don’t think what everyone else does.
He looks up at you, looking a bit startled, and confused, but he makes no move to pull away, just relaxes even further into the bed as you continue to trace random patterns into his hand.
“Hey, this may sound weird, but I haven’t been sleeping well lately, too nervous for my brain to shut down, so do you mind if we maybe, um, take a nap? Or maybe just me? I don’t know, I could lay on the floor or something, I just feel really calm right now.” A blush rises to his cheeks and you can’t help but agree, grabbing your stuff and placing it on the floor beside your bed.
“You can stay up here, Tom.” You murmur, not wanting him to be too far.
He nods an agreement, helping you shuffle under the covers before doing the same. You hear him sigh in content behind you and the smile that spreads across your face stays there as you drift off into the most peaceful sleep that you’ve had since Tom walked into the coffee shop.
*
Weeks passed, and you were still keeping up with the study session, you finding it a lot easier to get things done when Tom was around, and him still needing the occasional push in the right direction on certain assignments. You had both found that it was just simpler to stay study buddies than try to get through it on your own.
You had become a lot closer with Tom, the weeks spent together really letting you get to know one another quite thoroughly.
And, if you’re being honest with yourself, which you hadn’t loved doing lately, you had developed quite the crush on Tom. You suddenly saw what everyone would ramble about when talking about him.
He was sweet, caring, funny, and a lot smarter than he gave himself credit for. When you had told your select few friends about him, they had immediately warned you away from him, told you that he didn’t really need a study partner, he just wanted to get in your pants.
All those speculations had gone away, however, after you explained to them that you had gone the initial week without him trying to make a move whatsoever. At first, they had been surprised, but then you just ended up getting the occasional offhand comment about how it wasn’t all that hard to believe. “I mean, look at him and then look at you.” was one that was used quite a bit. And you hated to admit it, but it really got to you. So much so that you had decided not to make the first move yourself. 
You had grown up being told that women could do anything that men could do, that it was okay to make the first move no matter what the situation was. But there was something about your so-called friends that made you question that in an instant.
Maybe they were right. They did seem to have all the ‘evidence’ that they needed. How could he possibly have the reputation that he had and not have made a move yet? The only plausible explanation was that he simply found you unattractive.
But then your brain would drift back to the conversation that you had shared a few weeks prior. He didn’t want to have that reputation anymore, didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be the guy that he was before starting college, before joining the fraternity that made him into a completely different person. He didn’t want to be the womanizer with a brand new girl in his bed every night.
Those thoughts set the peace back in your mind. Maybe he really was different. He certainly was around you, he had been since the very beginning.
You had made him want to be different, want to change and be known as the guy that wants to fall in love, not as the guy who wants to sleep with as many girls as possible. You changed it all for him and he couldn’t help but realize that he may be falling for you. 
He had been completely enamored by everything about you since the moment that he had first laid eyes on you, and in the short time that the two of you had been hanging out, he had come to grow extremely fond of your personality. Of the way that you saw the good in everything and made him feel as if he wasn’t the crappy person that everyone assumed he still was. Of the way that you made every room brighter, no matter what.
He hadn’t felt as strongly as he did for you in as long as he could remember, and usually feelings would scare him, but there was a certain aspect of the way that you made him feel that took all the fear away, made him feel completely secure in admitting that he had feelings for you.
Not that he could ever admit them to you. No, he was nowhere near fearless enough to come out and let you know how he felt. There was no way that you could possibly like him back. There’s no way that you could have just ignored every bad thing that he had opened up and told you about. There was no way that anyone could love him despite all of that, let alone you.
You were sitting in his room at the frat house, typing away at a project that had been assigned for English, when he looks up at you. He studies your features for a moment, how perfect they all look. How the crease you get between your brows when you’re trying to concentrate makes you somehow even more beautiful than you already are. How the way your tongue sticks out and runs over your full lips makes you look almost angelic, how your hair frames your face perfectly, making him want to run his hands through it.
“We’re having a party here tonight.” He blurts, making you look up from the screen of your computer and give him your undivided attention.
“Oh, that’s fun, do you need me to be gone by a certain time or something?” You ask, slightly bummed that you may have to leave earlier than usual tonight. You’ve gotten used to spending most of the day with him and then going your separate ways at almost midnight every time that you studied together.
“No, no. not at all!” He spits, wanting to smack himself for being so bad with words. Of course he didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to be around him as much as you were comfortable with. He could spend every day and night in your presence and never get bored. “I was actually wondering if, um, maybe you’d want to go?” 
You almost chuckle, thinking how ridiculous the offer is. He knows you, knows that you’re not the girl that goes to parties, much less parties at the biggest frat on campus. You don’t laugh, however, because you see the hopeful look in his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know, Tom. I’m not exactly the party type, you know?” 
He scoffs, “What makes you say that? Everyone’s the party type.” 
You give a slight eye roll at that, “That’s not true. I’m nowhere near what would be considered the party type. I’m the girl that stays in her dorm or at the library studying, not the girl that goes to parties on the weekends and gets wasted.” You look down at your hands, realizing yet another reason why he wouldn’t like you. Why would he want to be with someone who’s never experienced that aspect of his life? “I mean, props to those girls that do that, it just isn’t me.”
He leans over towards you and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting until your eyes meet his again. “Please? I promise you’ll have a good time. I’ll make sure of it.” Your cheeks heat up at this, your mind immediately going to the gutter. You shake the thought from your mind, surprised that you would even think such things.
 It’s not like you and Tom would ever do something like that anyway. He had explained to you multiple times that he didn’t want to sleep with people that he didn’t have feelings for anymore. He didn’t want the meaningless sex anymore. He wanted something that actually meant something. And even though it would mean something to you if something were to happen, it would be meaningless for him, so the chances of anything occurring if you agreed to go to the party was zilch. 
So, you find yourself nodding, agreeing to go. He looks extremely shocked, like he had every doubt in his mind that you would ever say yes. 
If only he knew how you felt, then he would have been aware of the fact that there’s no way that you could ever say no to that face, to the puppy dog eyes that he gives you when he asks for something that he really wants. And he hadn’t stopped giving them since the initial question had rolled off of his tongue, so he must really want you at that party, so of course there was no way that you were going to miss it.
*
Frat parties are weird. They’re kind of gross too, people spilling drinks everywhere, dropping cup after cup into other people and on the floor. You were glad that you had decided to not get dressed up, the room felt like it was a thousand degrees. You had settled on a pair of black denim shorts and a slightly cropped top that came down to just above your belly button, wanting to fit into the atmosphere without looking like you were trying too hard.
You had gone home around thirty minutes ago, getting ready before heading back. By the time you had returned, Tom was nowhere to be found, and you weren’t planning on actively searching for him. You’d let him do his own thing, and maybe catch up with him later.
Another thing you noticed, after pouring yourself a drink and settling against a wall near the corner of the room, was that frat parties are loud. Not just the music, that’s continuously playing, no breaks that would make people want to leave to do something else. There was something about the way that every song made the occupants of the party roudier and roudier. After a few songs had played, almost every person in the house was screaming along at the top of their lungs. So yeah, frat parties were loud.
As you scan the room, you realize that this could maybe be thrilling. If you had someone that you could have asked to come with you, if you had someone to dance with. You had a few friends, sure, but none of them would ever be caught dead at a party like this one. They were all like you, they’d rather stay home and get some peace on a Friday night than go out to a party. 
Were you really like that though? The girl that you had thought you were before, even just three hours prior, would’ve never agreed to this much less be enjoying it.
The last thing you notice before joining the crowd, a girl grabbing your hand and leading you to dance with her, is that, just maybe, frat parties are fun.
He had been pulled into a game of pong by his brothers. He hadn’t even noticed that you were here yet, but the second he sees you dancing with a few girls that he’s never even seen before, all the air is knocked from his body. You look ethereal. The light sheen of sweat making the dim lights reflect off of your body, casting a light around you. The way that the strands of hair that have come loose from your updo stick to your forehead and neck make him want to fix it for you, run his hands through your hair, no matter how sweaty it would be, and redo the ponytail that you had been sporting.
There’s a churning in his gut, and at first he doesn’t realize why. But then it hits him, hits him like a freight train. He wants to be the one dancing with you. He wants to make you smile like you’re smiling at those girls. He wants to be the one that riles you up and makes you dance and have the time of your life.
So, without finishing the game, he makes his way to you, ignoring the questions and shouts to come back from the boys. He walks up to you without a care in the world and wraps his hands around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
You tense up for a split second and he feels like an absolute idiot for just coming up behind you like he did, but then you lean back into him, turning your head slightly to the side to murmur a “Hey, Tommy.” into his ear, and his entire head goes blank.
Tommy? He could get used to that.
“Hey, love. You look like you’re having fun.” He fights every urge in him to not kiss into your neck, to not leave the marks that he’s been dying to for weeks on end. 
“I am. I really never thought this would be my scene, but it’s a rush.” You giggle, still dancing to the music, his swaying along behind you, still holding onto your waist.
“Told you that you’d like it.” He breathes, still resting his face in your neck. You can feel his warm breath fan over the expanse of your skin and it sends shivers down your spine, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the smirk that you can feel appear on his face lets you know for a fact that he felt it. “Hey, do you maybe want to go upstairs? Take a breather?” 
At this, you turn to face him, “Tom…” you say pointedly, knowing what people will think if you head upstairs together. You can already hear the things that people will say. “Is that the best idea? You know what people are going to say.” 
He flashes the puppy dog eyes, and he immediately has you, but you can’t let him know that, so you continue to put up a fight. “Tom, the rumors aren’t going to be pretty.”
“I won’t let anyone say anything bad about you, darling. I don’t wanna do anything, just wanna take a beat, cool down, spend some time with you.” You smile, wanting to just give in to him, to let him lead you to his room that you’ve been in way too many times before, but you’re still a little worried.
“People are going to say things regardless of what you do. And it isn’t just me they’ll say things about.” He leans down, pressing his face back into your neck.
“Please? I really want to just be with you, I’ll fight anyone who says anything bad if I have to.” He promises, making your smile grow.
“There’s no need for violence, come on, let’s go to your room.” You finally agree, letting him take you by the hand and push through the crowd.
You slowly make the trek up the stairs to his room at the very end of the hallway, stepping inside and letting him close the door behind the two of you.
You flop down on his bed, laying on your stomach and looking around the room that you’d already scanned countless times before. The books on the shelf are calling out to you, but it’s not the time. This is a party, not a study session. You let your eyes roam again, landing on the family photo that you’ve admired more times than you would care to admit. He looks so happy, posing on a golf course with his brothers and dad, Tessa sitting at his feet.
“You’re gorgeous.” He blurts, not thinking of the consequences that could come from his words.
You can feel your cheeks heat up from the compliment, your ears beginning to burn. “Thanks, you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”
“Thanks, love.” He chuckles, and then the room falls silent for a few moments, your head resting on the bed, eyes closed and trying to get your heartbeat to slow down. He’s still standing by the door, leaning on his desk and playing with his fingers.
You continue observing the room, noticing for the first time that there was a little hole by the bathroom door. You wonder how it got there. Your brain is shuffling through a few options of how it could have appeared when Tom clears his throat and catches your attention.
You turn your head, locking eyes with him again and quirking your eyebrow, sending him the message to continue, to just spit out whatever he has to say.
“I walked into that coffee shop that day and ordered a coffee. I was in a hurry and I needed to make it to an important meeting at the house, but I saw you through the window. You looked so stressed, I didn’t just want to bombard you with yet another order, so I took my time by looking through the pastry cases, letting you have a second to breathe.” He pulls out the chair by his desk and plops down in it, looking too nervous to continue standing. “I strolled on over to the counter, ordered the simplest thing I could, and patiently waited for you to get it. I saw that you spilled some on yourself and wanted so badly to take your hand in mine and kiss it better. I don’t know why, it was just an urge I had.” He chuckles slightly, as if realizing how utterly ridiculous the action would have been if it had actually been carried out. “After that day, I couldn’t get your smile out of my head, couldn’t get the way that your eyes lit up to stop replaying in my thoughts.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around the room before landing his eyes back on yours. “I looked for you for a while, asked about you, but to no avail.”
You chuckle this time, you’re not surprised that he couldn’t find you by asking around, you didn’t associate yourself with many people. 
He flashes you a smile and then continues, “Everything about you makes me smile, I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I can’t keep you out of my head no matter how I try. You drive me crazy in the best way possible. I caught feelings for you. I feel so hard and that scares me to death at first.” He sighs, looking away from you again. “I don’t usually do the whole commitment thing, as my reputation suggests, but thinking about the things that I could have with you makes me want the commitment, makes me want to be domestic and lovey with you.Don’t get me wrong, it’s still terrifying.” He locks eyes with you again. “You just have this way of making me feel like everything’s going to be alright.” He cracks a smile before continuing with, “I think that the world could be ending and you’d make me feel like it was fine.”
You’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. Tom Holland, arguably the hottest, most popular boy on the entirety of campus is into you. And not only is he into you in the way that everyone had thought he would be, he actually wanted something real with you. He didn’t just want to have you in his bed for one night. The way that he was explaining it, he wanted you in his bed every night for as long as he could have you.
You have to take a second to catch your breath, his confession leaving you feeling as if you had just run a marathon at a full sprint.
Once you calm yourself back down, you let everything you had been dying to say fall out of your mouth. “That day at the coffee shop, all I needed was one thing to make me smile. I just needed that one thing to let me know that it was going to be okay. And then you walked in, and you didn’t just make me smile for a minute, you made me smile for the rest of the day. I looked for you too, searched every group of people I walked past. I didn’t ask anyone because I doubted anyone that I know would know someone that looks like you.” You chuckle awkwardly, trying not to put too much thought into what’s coming out of your mouth. If you did you would immediately psych yourself out and that’s definitely what you needed.
“I caught feelings too. I really tried not to, if we’re being completely honest with each other. I never thought that this would be me.” You look down at your hands, playing with the silver band that you keep around your finger. “I didn’t think that I would be that girl, you know? The girl that falls for the cute frat boy, even though they were repeatedly told to avoid him.” You smile despite yourself, still twisting the ring mindlessly. “I fit the cliche perfectly, don’t you think? The nerdy girl with barely any friends that meets the boy that needs a little help studying and then falls for him.” You scoff at how predictable the whole thing was, it was almost laughable. Honestly, it was, and you’d be laughing along if it wasn’t your life. 
“But the thing about it is, I was fine with being that cliche. I was fine with falling for the boy I’m not supposed to because it wasn’t just any boy, it was you. And I haven’t been able to get your stupidly perfect face out of my head since the minute you wandered into the shop. I can’t stop thinking about holding your hand when I see you tracing seemingly random things with your fingertips. Can’t stop myself from wanting to lean over and kiss you every time that I’m helping you study and get a little pouty because you want a break but we’ve only been working for like five minutes so I say no. Can’t stop myself from thinking about how sometimes we nap together and wake up tangled in each other's arms, and how we could do that every day.” Your cheeks begin to burn at the things that you just let slip out of your mouth, but you’re quickly distracted by the embarrassment as you feel the bed shift under Tom’s weight.
He settles in beside you, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over your knuckles. You look up at him, wanting to see his reaction to what you had just said, and as soon as you see his face, you’re floored.
He has the biggest smile splayed across his face, and you can’t help but mimic his expression, glad to see that he wasn’t repulsed by what you had to say. Which, honestly, it wouldn’t make that sense if he was, but there’s always a possibility.
“Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long, and yeah, we’re definitely the cliche, but would you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?” Tom asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.
You want to say yes. You really do, more than anything in the world, but your voice of reason is asking you why someone in him would really want to be with you. Sure, he said that he didn’t want to be that guy anymore, but that’s literally who he is. Why would he really just throw all that away all of a sudden? 
“No offense Tommy, but you’re not exactly serious boyfriend material, and I’m the girl that wants to have a serious boyfriend, to have a relationship that’ll last. I want to be able to take my boyfriend home to my mom and dad. I don’t just date for the hell of it, Tom. I date for real.” You say, fighting an internal struggle with yourself. So much of you wants to just say yes, but he has to know what you want in a relationship. “And don’t freak out when I say this, because a lot of guys do. But, really, if you’re not dating someone to see if they’re the person that you’ll spend the rest of your life with, why are you even dating them? That’s how I view relationships.”
“I get that, it doesn't freak me out. I used to be like that, used to want a serious relationship.” You give him a look, the way he’s wording his sentences not helping his case. He gets the hint and rushes to continue what he was saying. “I just lost myself here, but being around you made me realize that the part of me that wants to be in a serious relationship, that wants to be domestic was still in there.” He’s getting more nervous by the second, you can tell by the way his fingertips are tracing patterns into your hand. You give his a quick squeeze in reassurance. “I don’t expect you to believe me right now. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe me either if I were you, but I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I can be the guy that you want. Screw my reputation, forget what everyone thinks about me. I just need you by my side, I don’t care what anyone else has to say.”
You smile, feeling your chest swell with his words. There’s not a single part of you that doesn’t think he could prove it to you, so you don’t hesitate to agree.
“Fine. prove it to me Holland, and then I’ll think about being your girlfriend.”
*
Ever since that night, he’s been even more perfect than he already was. He really meant it when he said that he’d prove it. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t show you that he could be everything that you need and more.
He walks you to class from wherever you had spent the night before. If you had slept over at the frat house, he would let you shower there and wear some of his clothes if you hadn’t brought any of your own with you - or if you just wanted to wear his clothes - and then he would walk you back to your dorm so you could finish getting ready. If the two of you had slept in your room, he would always make sure that he woke you up by nuzzling into your neck, then letting you get ready while he checked to make sure you had everything you needed for the day. 
Once you were ready to head out the door, he’d grab your stuff for you, slinging your bag over his shoulder and either grab your hand or throw his arm over your shoulders. He’d walk you all the way to class and then leave you with a kiss on your cheek.
During those that you have together, though, he walks in and you sit near the back. You moved where you normally sit so that he can whisper in your ear during the lectures without bothering anyone else. You had ended up needing to invest in a voice recorder so you could catch the content and listen to it later.
The classes that you shared that took place in the early mornings were by far the worst, for you anyways. He seemed to not have a problem with getting up at the crack of dawn to get ready. But no matter how tired you were, he was always there to make sure that you were well put together. And, after he ensured that the voice recorder was on and running, he would let you lay your head on his shoulder and get a little more sleep.
On the nights that you’re not too worn down from classes, he’ll take you out to dinner. He always lets you pick the restaurant and then takes you to a new scenic destination to watch the sunset. 
You still spend a lot of your time at the library, still having to study even though you’re spending a steadily increasing amount of time with Tom. Any time that you need to sit at the library to study, he’ll tag along if you want him to, even if he doesn’t need to study. He’ll sit across from you, knowing how you like to have an ample amount of space to spread out your materials, and read a book.
Even when you didn’t go out anywhere, just stayed in and spent time with each other, everything was perfect. Everything was completely perfect.
And what really took you by surprise was the fact that he didn’t even seem like he was trying very hard. It seemed like acting like this with someone that he cared about was just second nature. It was really pleasant, knowing that if you did say yes, it would be like this all the time.
One of your biggest fears going into this was that he would be perfect until you said yes and then completely change, do a full one eighty and make you regret your entire decision. But the way that he acts comes naturally to him that you don’t have a doubt in your mind that it will stay the same if you agree to date him.
*
A few weeks later, you’re sitting on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone as he sits at his desk, working on another essay. You had finished yours a few hours prior, so you were waiting for him to complete the rough draft so you could read over it.
“Yes.” You blurt, not thinking to elaborate.
“Hmm?” He wonders, not even looking up from his laptop, fingers still clicking away at the keys.
“Yes.” You say, a little louder this time. His fingers stop moving, coming to a rest on his keyboard.
“What do you mean , love?” He asks, not wanting to get his hopes up as to what you could be talking about.
“I’ll be your girlfriend.” He jumps up from his chair, a smile breaking across his face. He bounds over to the bed and picks you up, spinning you around and planting kisses all around your face.
You giggle, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip to no avail. After a few moments, he lets you down. He clambers onto the bed beside you and puts a hand on each side of your face, smooshing your cheeks.
“I love you, in case it wasn’t obvious.” He says, looking at you like you’re the reason that his world spins.
“I love you too, Holland. Couldn’t imagine life without you.” And it’s true, although you’d only known him for a span of a few months, he had completely changed your life.
And suddenly, you’re really thankful for a busy day at the coffee shop.
*
Permanent Taglist - @spideygirl2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon, @parker-barnes-af, @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @akila-stilinski @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart, @slytherinambitious, @miraclesoflove @tomshufflepuff, @quaksonhehe, @a-different-brand-of-beans, @dummiesshort, 
Tom Holland Taglist - @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts, @thorsangel, @perspectiveparker, @sucker-09, @tom1year, @averyfosterthoughts, @the-crazy-fanfictionist
People who wanted to be tagged in this piece - @sleepybesson, @xoxohollands
277 notes · View notes
anakin-danvers · 4 years
Text
to wish upon a star
Tumblr media
Rex x gender neutral!reader
Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos​
Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you. 
Word count: ~2.2 k
Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!
A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini​ (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗 
P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!
tags: @acnini​ , @catsnkooks​ , @kaminobiwan​
Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child. 
Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu. 
The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have. 
So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list. 
The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is. 
In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind. 
The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall. 
You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot  a sliver of the night sky. 
Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky. 
If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns. 
You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem. 
“Beautiful night.”
If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing. 
Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach. 
“Rex.”
“How are you, nau?”
At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise. 
“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say. 
Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks. 
Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features. 
“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say. 
“I know,” he simply says. 
He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.
Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning. 
“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”
“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”
“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”
His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”
You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”
Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales. 
“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”
Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago. 
“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”
As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child. 
“Ca’tra.”
You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue. 
“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”
“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride. 
“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.” 
Another word to add to the list, you think. 
Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child. 
“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side. 
You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you. 
For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak. 
“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else. 
Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”
You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself. 
“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”
“I hope so too,” he responds. 
You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for. 
As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.  
You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe. 
And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side. 
When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.
180 notes · View notes
moth-song-archives · 3 years
Text
The Insatiable Flow of Time (1/8)
I remembered that I can make posts here too huh! Anyways, I wrote a post-MAG200 fic <3
I’ll reblog it again with the link to ao3 if you’d prefer reading it there :D
Rating: Teens and Up Archive Warnings: Choose Not To Use Categories: F/F Relationships: Georgie/Melanie, Georgie & Jon, Jonmartin (mentioned) Characters: Georgie Barker, Melanie King, Jonathan Sims, the Admiral, Basira Hussain (mentioned), Rosie Zampano (mentioned), Martin Blackwood (mentioned)
Additional tags: Diary/Journal × post mag200 × Post-Canon × Canon Compliant × Rated for swearing and me doing my best to write a fitting epilogue for my most fave story of all time × Bittersweet × Hurt/Comfort × Grief/Mourning × Gentle-Sad-Soft × Fluff × Non-Sexual Intimacy × Tenderness × Generally Hopeful Ending × Ambiguous/Open Ending × Catharsis × You know how TMA is a tragedy? ... yeah × Hope Punk × dealing with the fallout of surviving a literal apocalypse × Moving on and letting go × Trans Georgie Barker × Nonbinary Melanie King × Melanie uses any pronouns but needs to (re)discover this first × and is then mainly referred to with they/them pronouns for diary-simplicity × Melanie is ace in my heart ♡ × Jon is also enby but it only gets referred to in passing × Georgie has a Type™ × Character Study × i love them all so much × Nonbinary aspec author × it's very hope punk and somft BUT ALSO VERY SAD × in like a cathartic way × because i like causing pain :') × pre-written and updates every 2-3 days
I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?
As the world tries to piece itself back together, Georgie grapples with her past, her present, and her future by keeping a diary. She also keeps having this strange, recurring dream that involves Jon. Post MAG200.
Finished at ~12k, will upload over the next couple of days <3
Day 3 - Evening
Melanie is sleeping. Basira is also sleeping, on the sofa in the living-room. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself, these days, so for now she’s staying with us.
I am not sleeping. I’m so far beyond tired that I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been... how long? More than a day, certainly. I’m at the kitchen table and the night outside is darker than any I’ve ever seen. There are no street lights and a million more stars than I could’ve ever imagined. I wish Melanie could see them too :(
Back before everything in my life went wrong, I used to be really good at this. I think I got my first diary when I was... seven, maybe eight? I used to be obsessed with it. I guess I stopped writing in college, after the incident, because it felt... wrong? Like I was lying to myself, trying to fabricate emotions that just weren’t there, keeping up with things that no longer seemed important or note-worthy. Mainly, I couldn’t make myself care about anyone or anything anymore.
I think I want to find that person again, now that it’s over. Try and… move on? And Melanie encouraged me :) I guess that’s the main reason. I found this notebook in one of the domains when we were rescuing people. I don’t know what I originally wanted to do with it, but I did end up forgetting about it until I went through my bag again today. It smells like fire and is a bit singed in places, but I kind of like that? I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. ...that sounds very pretentious, but this is just for me, so...
And I like that it’s just cheap paper scribbled on with a shitty biro. Maybe I’ll just burn it when all the thoughts are on the paper instead of in my head. When I can sleep again. And the prize for the most dramatic way of closure goes to Georgie Barker! But yeah. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?
But I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different, now that they’re gone? The entities, I mean, though Jon and Martin seem to be gone, too.
I keep remembering Martin’s expression when he told us to go early, how upset he was.
Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. As long as I’ve known Jon, he’s always done what he thought best. It used to drive me up the walls, but I also admired it, I think? I never would’ve told him that, but… Well. He’s gone now.
It’s over, all of it.
And I still can’t sleep.
And Melanie is still blind, and I still feel empty, and my fear still hasn’t come back. Everyone who died is still dead, and the trauma is still there. There were angry mobs in the streets, and people got killed.
I can’t quite believe that Jon and Martin went with them. I can’t believe they left us behind to explain the entire mess.
 We’re back in our old flat. It’s so weird to be back home. Everything looks the same, as though no time passed at all. Nobody knows what date it is. How long were we caught in there?
Outside, it feels like spring. There are birds everywhere, singing their hearts out. Sounds like more birds than there used to be, too. The trees are leafless and dead-looking, but Basira pointed out that they’re getting there... and it feels like spring.
I haven’t slept properly in 3 days because the questions keep me awake. It’s not that I’m worrying, really, just… thinking? I think I could sleep better if the worry had come back, but it hasn’t.
As far as we can tell, all modern devices are broken, too. Computers and phones and such, digital cameras, generators... we don’t even know what the rest of the world looks like. I hadn’t realised how much gets controlled by computers these days, we don’t even have central heating or water access in our flat. Rumours and news are spreading person-to-person, like in the Olden Days. We only have emergency systems that were installed in case of nation-wide blackout. I guess I’m glad we don’t actually have a blackout, we just need to get the computers back to work. (If I understood it correctly.)
Melanie thinks it’ll all come back to life in a few more days. I certainly hope so. I also hope I’ll stop feeling like this. Or rather, not feeling like anything. It’s so strange. Like in the first days after the incident, when I just felt numb?
They’re gone! I want to feel like a person again! What if I never get myself back?
 They’re actually gone.
 What will we do with our lives now? Basira isn’t the only one who feels uprooted. I think the whole world feels like that right now.
I hope my computer comes back soon. I miss music, and making things. My photos, all those memories.
I don’t want to lose all of that. I want to start fresh, but not without records of the past.
…I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, specifically. Records, and futures.
What the Ghost is done, right? There’s no fun in creepy ghost stories if you’ve been through an actual, living nightmare.
I think I want to start new with that, too. When everything works again, that is.
New world, new future, new podcast. I like that. I think. Make a record of what happened through eyewitness accounts? Or is that too similar to the Statements… then again, it’ll be more like interviews. And I think we shouldn’t forget.
We owe them that much.
I’ll have to talk it over with Melanie tomorrow. Maybe.
We’ll see.
God, I think maybe… maybe I can actually try and sleep tonight. Writing does seem to help.
 Note to self: thank Laverne for suggesting it. (Also for being there for Melanie. And listening to us. And stopping with that culty nonsense. She’s the only one we found so far, but she actually listened to us. Strange to think that in this world, I have to be grateful for someone not worshipping me for some dumb reason?!)
   Day 4 - Morning
So. Three things.
1) I did manage to fall asleep after all! I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, especially after the incident, so actually getting some proper rest felt really good.
2) I somehow woke up right as the sun went up! I think I’ve never seen a dawn this beautiful? I watched it from the bedroom window and I’ll definitely describe it to her in detail when she wakes up! The Admiral was sleeping on our pillow, right next to her head, snuggled up against the back of her neck and shoulder... it was so cute. I can’t believe my phone and camera still don’t work! Melanie has that old polaroid camera somewhere but we haven’t found it yet, and I wish my art skills were any better. I did draw a sketch of the two of them though. I’ll cherish it forever, no matter how shitty it is :’)
After everything that happened, the Admiral is still a bit weird around us. He started out really aggressive, calmed down a bit, and now… now he’s weirdly skittish? Meows a lot. Keeps walking around the flat. The only thing that even remotely returns him to how he used to be is tuna. It’s weird.
But seeing him like that, with Melanie? I love him so much.
I think he’ll be okay.
But before I forget, and why I actually got out the diary at this ungodly hour instead of trying to go back to sleep now that the sun is up…
3) I had a really nice dream. And... I don’t even know. I think I want to try and hold onto the feeling? I don’t think I’ve felt that… deeply… in a long while. Maybe the last time was before all this, when we decided to move in together. Before all of this happened.
For a moment, I felt like I was whole again :’)
It didn’t even have Melanie in it, which is very rude tbh. I think Jon was there? The Admiral, too. We were just chilling on the sofa, watching netflix I think... It felt so... mundane??? Casual, somehow??? Like it was normal to feel like that and I just... I want THAT. I want to feel like that again, instead of this weird… blank nothingness? I want that all the time, not just when I’m riding a high or feeling so terrible that it pierces through.
I don’t know if that makes sense but this is just for me anyway so I suppose it doesn’t have to.
 I think I should feel bad about Jon being gone, but I still don’t even feel relief at it being over. Just this vague numbness.
I hate it so much, except I don’t, actually, I just know that I should?
Melanie keeps saying that I need a therapist but if we’re being honest here, I guess I need one the least? The whole goddamn world needs therapy right now. Including the therapists. And I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now.
I guess I keep hoping it’ll just go away somehow.
 Anyways. Enough introspection, I’m going back to bed. I hope I don’t wake them! :)
  Day 4 - Evening
 It’s night now, the sun went down hours ago. We have a bunch of candles, but I’m trying to use them sparingly, so I just have one lit. I put a glass of water next to the candle so now the light gets magnified a bit more. It’s a weird atmosphere, but I kinda like it? Feels… cozy! :)
I’m still not over how everything looks the same, but nothing works like it did before, and there’s this… burden? This collective trauma everyone went through. It feels so surreal. So many things are still broken… it’s like we woke from a collective nightmare, but pieces of it still remain, floating around.
And we just sent it away with the tapes. I really hope those other worlds are doing better than us, but what else could we have done? I… try not to think about it. I know I should, but I still can’t really bring myself to care, or even feel overly guilty for that? …
 Melanie fell asleep with her head in my lap half an hour ago. I was reading to her. She says she loves the sound of my voice, so I’ve started doing that in the evenings. (I still love that we had separate crushes from a distance on each other for ages because of youtube and WTG. We’ve been talking about that a lot, too.)
She still has nightmares, but apparently she’s also been having good dreams, and she looks so peaceful right now. The last few days have been a lot, but in comparison to before, and even before then…
It’s over. We made it out. We get to have a future together. I still can’t quite believe it. :)
 I guess I’m writing again (despite already having done so in the morning) because it somehow helped yesterday and I’m hoping to replicate that. And I have a lot to think about. It’s been a long day.
Basira is still out there, helping out where she can. I think she feels guilty. Melanie says she doesn’t because there was no other choice, but I know her, and I know that she’s lying.
There’s always another choice. We just say that to make it easier to bear.
I hope she knows she can come talk to me when she feels ready to tackle it.
I hope I ever feel able to tackle it myself. No. I will talk to her when I’m ready.
We did talk a bit about things, of course. Melanie doesn’t really remember her dreams, most of the time, but apparently she’s been alternating between horrifying nightmares and a really nice, recurring one that sometimes happens after the nightmares. She doesn’t really remember much of it, but she mentioned it after I told her about the Jon dream. Not what it was about, just… in general.
From the way she talked about it, I think her dad might have been in it? I’m actually not sure, but the way she smiled…
She has that little smile on her lips again, even now, dreaming. The soft one she gets when she talks about good things. About him.
About me.
(I still can’t believe she chose me. How impossibly lucky? How did I ever deserve her? But then, it’s not about that, is it? She is mine, and I am hers, and… life will be good. I know it will be.)
 She’s been smiling a lot more, these past few days.
11 notes · View notes
Text
Day 21: Too Many People
Tumblr media
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: YN has an anxiety attack while Christmas shopping for her daughter, Lizzy, and Dean is there to help her through it.
Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Panic Attack, Fluff
A/N: Read The Warnings!!! Day 21 of my writing challenge! This is kind of a personal one because I've had a blackout panic attack before (20 minutes of my life I just cannot remember). No hate on any SPN Cast/Character. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
***ASK OPEN***
*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*
December One Shots Masterlist
The minute Dean and YN stepped into the mall, they knew it was going to be rough. It was Christmas Eve and the mall was packed with people. There was nothing but noise since everyone was shouting at each other.
Dean took one look at YN and knew this was going to be hell for her.
For as long as he's known her, YN has had the worst anxiety. Every little sound made her jump. She was so easily scared. She hated being yelled or shouted at as well. The worst of it was her claustrophobia. She was never good with crowds. Anything more than 10 people was a bad idea for her.
And with a mall full of people who were back to back and shoulder to shoulder, YN was living her worst nightmare.
"We don't need to be doing this, YN," Dean whispered in her ear, "Let's just order it online."
YN shook her head as she stuttered, "N-no, Dean. Lizzy wants that Frozen doll set and I'm n-not leaving here without one."
Dean sighed, "Okay, but the minute you want to leave, you tell me and we'll be out of here."
"O-okay," she took his hand and squeezed it, "Just d-don't let go."
Dean had a tight grip on YN's hand as he swerved through the crowded mall. The store they needed to go to was all the way on the other side of the mall, which meant a lot of pushing, yelling, and rude people.
After a few minutes, Dean pulled YN into the Disney store, which was just as crowded as the actual mall.
"You okay?" he asked her.
She nodded, "Y-yeah."
He squeezed her hand, "The sooner we find the doll set, the sooner we can get the hell out of this nightmare."
They searched up and down the aisles of the store for anything to do with Frozen, but they were coming up short.
That was until YN's eyes caught the exact present Lizzy asked for.
"Dean, look," she pointed at the back wall, "I think that's the last one."
He looked at the doll set then back at his wife, "Okay, look me in the eyes."
"W-why?" YN stuttered.
"I'm going to let go of your hand-"
"No, Dean, please. Don't let go, please," tears formed in her eyes.
Dean laid his hand on her cheek, "I'm going to go grab it. You're going to stay right here and not move a muscle."
A tear fell down YN's face, "Please, honey. I-I'll go with you."
"There's too many people. Just stay right here. Don't move," he kissed her cheek and let go of her hand.
YN felt suddenly trapped. In the blink of an eye, Dean was gone and she was alone in the crowded store. People were all around her and she felt like she couldn't breathe.
Her vision was suddenly getting fuzzy, she felt as if she was suffocating, and she was shaking so badly. She was getting shoved and pushed around by the customers in the store.
Dean pushed through the crowd and made his way towards YN, "Hey, honey. I got it. Now we can get out of...YN?"
The look on YN's face frightened Dean. She was so pale and sweaty, and she was shaking from head to toe. He slowly laid a hand on her shoulder, but immediately regretted it when it startled YN.
"It's okay, it's just me," he spoke quietly, "I'm right here honey."
YN blinked, "D-Dean?"
"Yeah, it's me," he nodded towards the counter, "Let's pay for this and get out of here."
He took her hand and practically dragged her towards the check out counter. She was tripping over her own feet trying to get up with Dean.
Everything was a blur to YN. One minute they were in the check out line and the next minute Dean was helping her into the Impala.
As she sat down in the seat, she turned to him, "Dean? What's going on?"
"What do you mean?" he questioned her, "I think you blacked out or something, babe. What's the last thing you remember?"
YN thought for a moment, "We were in the check out line...and now we're here..."
"Okay, yeah. I think your panic attack made you check out or something," Dean said as he got into the driver's seat, "You don't remember anything do you?"
"Nothing," YN shook her head.
Dean started the car and sat there for a moment, "You were crying. And you were begging me to leave. One of the workers there brought us to the front of the line when he noticed you were freaked out and quickly got us out of there," he pointed to the bag in the backseat, "Then I had you climb on my back and we got the hell out of there. While we were leaving, you clung to my neck and just kept screaming my name."
YN's cheeks turned pink, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Dean."
"Embarrassed? Why would I be embarrassed?" he took her hand in his, "YN, honey, I was scared out of my mind. That was the worst panic attack I've ever seen you have. What set it off?"
"You, um, you let go of my hand and I thought I lost you," she spoke quietly.
Dean closed his eyes, "I'm so stupid. Why did I do that to you? I shouldn't have just left you in the middle of the store like that. I just thought we'd be out of there faster if I grabbed the doll set and came back."
"It's not your fault, babe. I'm just not good in crowded places."
"I still shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, YN."
She leaned over and kissed Dean, "It's okay. I still love you."
"I'd hope so," he winked.
Dean put the car in reverse and began to pull out of the crowded parking lot. The two sat in silence for most of the drive back to the Bunker. YN was still calming down and Dean was just trying to be there for his wife.
"Dean?" YN broke the silence.
"Yeah?"
She turned to him, "I, uh, I think we should maybe buy Lizzy's Christmas presents a little earlier in the month next time."
He chuckled, "Kind of hard when she tells us what she wants on Christmas Eve because she always says it's between her and Santa Claus."
"We could order it online," YN suggested.
"But that ruins the Christmas magic," Dean faked pouted and whined.
YN smirked, "You're such a Dad."
--------------------
Masterlist
My Cherry Blossoms
@mlovesstories​ @smollestbean-2​ @kitwithnokat​
@idksupernatural​ @desiredposion​ @thevelvetseries​​ @let-me-luve-you​​
@obsessedwithfandomsx​​ @mangueweaschester​​ @starchildwild​​ @deans-baby-momma​​
@spnbaby-67​​ @unicornmadness2444​​
@emery--nicole--morrison​​ @spnfamily-j2​​ @akshi8278​​ @avocadogirl216​​
@imthedoctorlove​​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom
26 notes · View notes
kalee60 · 3 years
Text
2020 Fic Year in Review
Thanks so much @dixons-mama for the tag - this is a good one!!
Total number of completed stories:
26 (that's, like... one story every 2 weeks 🤯)
Total number of words:
445,303
Fandoms written in:
Marvel MCU (Stucky)
Merlin BBC (Merthur)
Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected?
Ummmm... Yeah, just a little more than I thought. Although the pandemic hit, I worked full time the entire year and built a house, and many other events happened as well - so I'm pretty proud of what I've accomplished... I'm actually a little shocked to be honest!
What’s your own favourite story of the year?
All of them hold a special place in my heart to be honest, and each of them have different components that I love, (I adore disaster Bucky in Subliminal Advertising for example, and Jock but sweet Steve in Plug it in) but probably the one that kicked my butt but was also so interesting to world build for, was my post apocalyptic fic - The only hope for me is you - I really loved how it turned out in the end.
Did you take any writing risks this year?
I guess you'd call it a risk - but I tried my hand at writing a total different style - fantasy - Of Shadow Realms and Misconceptions - which I actually really enjoyed, and it's so different to anything I've done before... The reception was... Interesting, as it wasn't my usual disaster Bucky or fluffy style fic.
Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year?
So I already have a full and busy year coming up - but yes, a few writing goals!
Writing and gifting my gorgeous MTH bidder her two fics
Completing my AU extravaganza (only 26 to go... 😳)
Total blackout on Stucky Bingo
Sugar daddy Collab with @the1918 (we will get there I promise Lynne!)
More prompt challenges with the outstandingly talented @martelldoran & @darter-blue
Writing the stories I want to tell, no matter if I think they will be popular - this is always a hard one to accomplish though...
Most popular story of the year.
Had to be my fake dating shrunkyclunks Push The Button - the reception for this was overwhelming, and it's my first (and only fic) to hit 1000 kudos which is crazy! But more than that - I met some amazing people through it.
Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: 
To be completely honest - none. Because people will pick up a fic and either like it, or not. And you can't please everyone, so the fact that each and every story I threw out into the universe this year received comments (authors hoard these like dragons with gold by the way) and kudos, was amazing. Obviously you always hope stories will be popular and pull in a large readership, but realistically, not every story can, so I wouldn't want to be ungrateful to name a story and lessen the importance of the people who did enjoy it (I hope my rambling makes sense 😂)
Most fun story to write.
Hands down Define Your World - this story happened from a conversation with @allegedlyann about urban dictionary - and I sat down one day, coffee and music in hand and about 6 hours later it was written and I couldn't stop laughing. What the hell did I just write?? But people loved it - phew... My pop up ads for months afterwards was a delight - who knew so many companies wanted to sell me sex toys 🙄
Most unintentionally telling story:
So I assume this means, the one you put a lot of yourself into. Which would be every story, you always leave a part of yourself behind - but... My soulmate fic, Choose your destiny, I really poured a lot of my emotion into Steve not feeling worthy (we have all been there) and how it would feel to be loved unconditionally for who you are and not how you're perceived. And that all consuming love when you find that one person who just gets you, and you know you'll not have to navigate life alone (you know, the light and fluffy stuff... Lol)
Biggest disappointment.
So it's really lame - but I had a goal of completing a total black out of my Bucky Barnes bingo card - and the last two months of this year kicked me in the butt and I just didn't get there - next time though - for sure!
Biggest surprise.
The biggest surprise for me, was the friendships I formed. And not just people you call friends that you occasionally reblog and comment on occasionally. These are people who I've gotten to know properly, their lives, their quirks, their gorgeous and sometimes cheeky personalities - so much so that when overseas travel is a thing again, we will totally meet up if we are in the same place at the same time. You know who you are 😘
~*~*~*~
So this got longer than expected, but it was really cool to go back through everything and realise that I did accomplish quite a lot this year! Tagging with no pressure at all @darter-blue @martelldoran @the1918 @thegodswife @indyluckycharlie @oh-i-swear-writes @howdoyousleep3 @ixalit @trekchik @hanitrash @thewaythatwerust & @becassine and of course the million people I didn't tag who also want to do this (tag me back, I love hearing what people think of their writing and I might find some new fics to read) 🥰
13 notes · View notes
steve0discusses · 4 years
Text
Yugioh Ep 28: Valon Joins the Dead People Gang
So lately it’s been really freakin hot.
Like crazy freakin hot. I haven’t done anything productive because youknow--I live in a Covid hotspot and I’ve been quarantined for what feels like is 6 years, and then to continue the 10 plagues across America, now it’s just really freakin hot.
I was trying to go the hell to sleep when I heard this WIND outside my window at 2 AM. Just...WIND. It was like 5000 degrees outside, and then it started thundering, and then the lightning started hitting and I was like...wtf 2020, please calm down!
So I decided to check Twitter at 3 AM really fast just to make sure this wasn’t a freakin dream. Aaaaaaand Northern California had a Fire tornado warning.
3 words I never thought I’d see in conjunction. Fire tornado Warning.
and it hella dropped in Tahoe, y’all, it was freakin nuts. Meanwhile, Death Valley--the place where Yugi hella biffed it and died, if you don’t remember--hit 130 F (54.4 C, for the metric lovers in the back) so...it’s been a time for every part of California, and now we have some good ol fashioned rolling blackouts accompanied by 27 wildfires (yes, 27 fires) who have turned the sky into a yellow pea soup.
So because of the rolling blackouts (one of our power transformers exploded because of either the lightning or overuse, I dunno) at any point...my power might go out. Because of this, I didn’t feel like booting up Photoshop and so instead I’ll just...work on this.
...something about the Fire Tornado, the yellow shadow realm outside my window, and crazy lightning over San Fransisco reminded me that it’s been a HOT MINUTE since I’ve posted so lets get back to Yugioh. Somehow they knew that the doorway to hell was my back yard and you know what? They’re right. Completely believable and I wish someone would close the damn door.
Tristan read my mind that it’s been such a hot minute since I’ve checked in, that he mansplained a very quick summary of what the hell is currently happening to Tea Gardner.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
A brave man, Tristan Taylor. A brave man to risk getting into a fight with Tea, who is the only Goliath on this show that exists without also being a paper card.
Which is when Pharaoh had some news.
Tumblr media
I guess without Duke around, Pharaoh had to be the new Killjoy
(read more under the cut)
Tumblr media
I exaggerate a little for the caps, but it’s kind of interesting that when Joey is usually on his own, it’s Yugi who’s certain that Joey is about to die and Pharaoh is the one that has to calm little Yugi down. But, when Yugi’s not there, I guess Pharaoh is just already in a Mood.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mai is really weird this episode! I wish this season had gone into more detail about the extent of the Orichalcos’s mind control. Because Mai could very well be under it’s spell...or not...maybe it has no spell and they’re just falling for it like a placebo?
It’s not like the Orichalcos was ever put on anyone who was “good.” like if it were possessing someone nice like...
....
....(let me think about this, I’ll think of someone on this show who is a true lawful good.)
....
.................Dark Magician Girl, then I’d actually know if this Orichalcos actually IS different from how these characters actually are. But Mai was introduced in this series as a villain, and she’s always been around to bust balls, so it’s like...what part is Mai and what part is not?
Apparently a part that only shows up when Valon dies.
Tumblr media
PS Valon turns a very quick 180 right before he died. I honestly thought I had skipped an episode or something because bro mentioned something about...Valon burning down a church or something...but I think that was a spicy headcanon where he mixed up this show with another anime.
I think. If I skipped an episode, y’all would tell me, right? I didn’t skip an episode?
I did skip the card games, however, so something about getting punched like 1000 times in the dick by Joey Wheeler taught Valon how to be human again, and the death that followed the 1000 dick punches inspired Mai to remember that Valon exists and that she Loves Him.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(just flat on his face)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I just...
I am going to give Yugioh this one. They have had so little in terms of relationships--I will give this to them. Good Job Yugioh, you did it. You had a relationship on your show. Sure, it was one where she...never seemed to like the guy at all, but hey--they actually did embrace...a corpse. Good on you, Yugioh.
Again, I have a really difficult time not cracking up about this very tragic moment a little bit because (and I have said this before about relationships on Yugioh), but I have never seen a TV show treat a straight relationship this way. I have never seen Straight Baiting before in my life and it is...WILD.
Also because Valon and Mai have both murdered I want to say hundreds of people at this point, it’s hard to feel too bad about them, although they are drawn as a very cute couple in how their outfits match. They got the finger less gloves, the belts hanging off their collar, the sleeveless outfit that is both too much clothes and too little clothes at the same time.
And like...I really like the idea behind Valon/Mai. I still think that was a good idea to build off of, I just wish that there was more of a sign from Mai that she had any idea that Valon existed prior to this. Because Valon had Orichalcos too, but he was fully able to love her--so what was happening on her end that prevented this? Was it just the amount that she hated Joey was so much more than her love for Valon? Was Valon actually more jealous of her hate of Wheeler and misinterpreted it as love?
Anyway it’s a billion degrees and I don’t have air conditioning so...I think we’ll have more time to think about this next episode. Maybe it’ll occur to me two weeks after this heat wave ends exactly what I am trying to grasp at when it comes to these two, but for now all I can say is...well it was nice.
Ah RIP Valon/tine (or at least I assume that’s the ship name). You lasted almost a whole season. You almost became a thing. I guess well find out if there’s redemption after he eventually gets resurrected.
And on this show we redeem resurrected people kind of a lot, so that seems reasonable. Sure it was a couple hundred people that he murdered but like...we redeemed Marik.
Tumblr media
And then she goes back to wigging out like immediately. The flipping and the flopping of Mai Valentine in this episode is a lot.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And immediately after he says something along the lines of this, he follows with...doing this:
Tumblr media
Joey! Valon just died so you wouldn’t have to duel Mai Valentine! He’s dead, Joey! Maybe try talking???
The thing about this show is that cards can both heal you and also destroy you, and the line between the two is just...rolling a dice and hoping you come out healed. Yugi played cards against Yami so that Yami could free himself from his guilt and move on--Valon was healed of Orichalcos control because Joey beat him at cards--Seto was “cured” of his more evil side because Yami mind wiped him in a card game--card magic is weird.
At the same time, Cards can take your soul in just So Many Ways--kind of one of the downsides. But, in a very round about way, maybe cards are kind of like therapy in this world. Maybe they don’t have therapy, and all these kids playing card games with eachother is metaphorical to how they all need eachother in order to push eachother to actually go through the steps of-
Ah, who am I kidding? They just really needed to have Mai lose at cards so they could write her off the show.
I do appreciate that the show never tells you that someone’s actions in the past mean they must rot for eternity. This show will never cancel anyone and say “burn that bridge, let’s go” but I feel like murder is...the line where you can just walk away?
But youknow if that were true of Joey wheeler he’d have no friends left.
Tumblr media
During this time, The Yugioh crew was inexplicably lost while, for once in his entire life, Seto was going the correct direction.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Unfortunately, the lure to throw cards at thing was too much for him to go the right direction for very long. It is kind of funny to note that he is the smartest boy in Domino--so he knows you can drive through a hologram--but he just didn’t want to know if they were real or not, so he...didn’t.
Like I think that says a lot about Seto, and I’m sure the show-runners didn’t think about this at all, but he could have tested his theory right now. He could have just seen if these were real in order to know if he was crazy or not...but he’d rather be insane, than be involved with magic.
Anyways, Mai drops that Orichalcos.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Reminder that San Francisco is only 7-12 miles from one end to the other depending on what part of the peninsula you’re on.
But then again, they’re reading a map in Roman characters and these kids are school dropouts who only speak Japanese and maybe Spanish. Maybe they’re actually doing really, really well considering the language barrier?
Anyway that’s all for now I’m gonna go pass out and hopefully when I wake up it’ll be next week when it is no longer hot. If you just got here, this is a link to read these caps from the beginning!
https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono
26 notes · View notes