#that looks either completely empty or slightly smiley or sad

[spectracully]

busy boy.

pairing : fratboy!jaemin x sororitygirl!reader warnings : drinking, mentions of drugs, a bit suggestive (but pls note that this isn’t smut), cursing, mentions of divorce genre : fluff, angst, college!au word count : 2.5k

summary : inspired by chloe x halle - busy boy. basically playing around with the local campus playboy, na jaemin for months is not the best thing, not the worst thing either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You face yourself in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the white sink. You saw him, right there. Dancing in the middle of the frat house’s living room with a girl in his arms. Na Jaemin, the boy you’ve been talking with for 3 months now, who recently just texted you “are you up?” on 9.15, and when you replied to him that you’re actually at his frat house, attending the party that Jaehyun hosts, he just texted you back one hour later by saying he’s with his family.

You’re malfunctioning right now, still dazed, don’t know whether it's because of the alcohol, the weed Lucas gave you, or it’s just you- believing his cheap lies. Cause when you think about it, who the fuck leaves the campus, go home and spend time with family in finals month? Yeah, you’re the one who’s dumb here, actually believing his lies. But who blames you for believing in the first place, anyway? You and your sorority sisters have arrived here since 8.30 anyway, an hour and half is long enough to get you lightheaded from the shots you take.

You glanced at your watch, it’s only 11.28 pm. About an hour since you read his text, and practically 34 minutes after you literally saw him. Facepalming yourself, you close the toilet seat and sit above it. It’s not even right in the middle of the night, but it has been a wild ride for you. It’s kinda frustrating when you are the one who actually started this game, you knew Jaemin is hell of a playboy on campus, yet you decided to get some taste of it just because he’s being a real gentleman with sweet words to you. Yeri was actually furious when she saw Jaemin dropped you off at the sorority house a few weeks ago, she warned you that you should dump him before you’re too attached, but you won’t listen. There it is, the fruit of not listening to Yeri’s 40 minutes lecture of how you should avoid men like Jaemin, Lucas, Yuta, Ten, Johnny and Jaehyun in your love life, big disappointment.

Finally catching your breath, you decided that it is time you get back outside, and actually do something about it, rather than being all somber and gloomy. Jaehyun threw a goddamn frat party in the middle of finals month to relax the fellow students’ mind, not for you to dwell on your sadness, in the bathroom. It’s embarrassing. And a disgrace for your sorority.

You head out, spotting Lucas who’s leaning by the counter with Hendery and Jungwoo. They’re probably hitting more blunt and having some existential crisis over a potato chip wrapping. You continue to scan across the house, only to catch a sight of Joy busy making out with Sungjae on the couch. Or Yeri, who’s currently twerking to Doja Cat’s song, totally shitfaced. You sighed, your friends are either high, shitfaced, or sucking a boy’s face out. You really wanna continue your search for your other sisters, but then suddenly a light brown haired boy appears in front of you.

“Hey, y/n, you alright? You look like you’ve been through 4 divorces.” he asks as he stares at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just went through a fucking divorce. With your homeboy.” you answer him absentmindedly, pointing to the black haired boy who is wearing a black-white patterned wool sweater and a red shirt underneath, along with his slate-grey suit pants and a silver necklace. The boy in the topic is currently talking with the girl you saw earlier, being all smiley and shit.

Mark just laughs lightly as he sips his beer, “Oh him? Yeah he’s quite a busy boy. Probably went through countless divorces with half of the campus.” you chuckle at him, he knows what you’re talking about. All these girls never even had a proper official relationship with Jaemin, including you, but always ended up getting a nasty ass divorce without any reason. You know that, but you did not expect that you’d hang on up until now.

“You wanna do something about it?” Mark asks, nudging your elbow. He’s in a helpful mood now, probably because he is still not completely shitfaced or high. You glance at him, giving him a questioned look.

“Well.. I mean I would do it, but what? Kissing you in front of him so that he’ll get jealous? No, Mark. You know that his head is made out of a fucking rock, right?” You answer him, seizing his beer and take a big ass gulp.

“Hey, that’s my beer- What? Kiss you? Gross, dude. If you are looking for that guy, might as well run to Lucas or Jungwoo.” he lifts his eyebrows, slightly engrossed. You laugh at him, he’s a funny guy when he reacts to your silly jokes.

“Do I look like I wanna give you a kiss, Mark? No offense, but I don’t like crackly lipped boys.” you tease him, now he’s pouting and starts touching his lips, “Is it too crackly though? You have a lipbalm or something?” he asks

You continue to laugh while fishing the watermelon lipbalm out from your black leather jacket and pass it to him. He muttered a small thanks. You set the beer aside to the table then face him once more.

“Anyways, what should I do?” you eye him, who is now done applying the lipbalm.

“Drop your drink to the girl or something? Make sure he notices you dude.” he suggests, shrugging his shoulder.

“You’re dumb, Mark. It’ll cause a fucking catfight in the middle of party.” you deadpanned.

“Oh yeah, you have a point.” he swept his hair to the side, glancing at the whole party situation. That’s when you get the idea. Scratch kissing other boys in front of him, it’s probably the right time to call him the fuck out, you already have alcohol running in your system anyways, might as well go all out tonight, since everybody else also seems like already intoxicated by the liquors.

You lightly brush your hair, stretching your neck and praying to god that he’ll forgive you for what you are about to do. “Toodles, Mark. I’ll think a way when I get drunk, soon enough.” you wave him a goodbye, heading to the dining table to get a bottle of vodka, it’s half empty though, considering you’re being pessimistic tonight.

You chug the bottle with no mercy, wishing it’ll bring you straight to intoxication. You start to feel it kicking in, when you finish the last drop of the vodka. Banging the bottle to the nearby table, you make your way to Jaemin, who is currently sitting on the staircase by himself, checking his phone.

“Ooh, busy boy, aren’t you?” you ask him, not giving anymore fucks. He looks up to you, who is currently squinting at him, face reddening from the alcohol heat. He stares at you, biting his lip.

“Y/n. You’re drunk.” he says lightly as he stands up, tucking strands of your hair to the back of your ear. You squirm from his action. As much as you want to punch him in the face for playing with your emotions, you really miss his touch.

“I am not! Jaemiiiiin, why did you lie to meeeee?” you whine loudly to him on purpose, placing his hand on your face, pouting. Your plan worked, a few people turned their heads to you and Jaemin. He just sighs and snorts, smelling the strong liquor scent that slipped out of your lips. You can feel Yeri is probably trying to kill you with her glare, you know how much she hates Jaemin.

“Listen, baby, what are you trying to pull?” Jaemin whispers close to your ear. You’re not that sure whether it’s because of the loud music blasting in the whole house, or it’s just Jaemin’s voice. Whatever it is, your ears are tingling, sending funny sensations down to your spine.

Jaemin is pissed, you know it damn well from his tone, stern and strong. Oh yes, you love it so much, pissing him off, probably you’ll start humiliating him more and more in his own frat home, because that’s what he deserves for playing with you, and some other random girls.

“Don’t baby me, Jaemin! You said you were with your family, and then I saw you with some random girl!” you shout. At this point, you don’t really care about what others think of you, because they can clearly see you’re being drunk and probably will shrug it off. If that’s what it takes to call Jaemin out in a huge crowd, then you’ll take it. You have nothing to lose, anyway, they’ll agree with you, they all know Jaemin is a big flirt.

And there it is, the anger and humiliation fills Jaemin up. He pulls your wrists, practically dragging you upstairs. You liked it, don’t know why, it’s just fun, making him mad when it’s actually you, who should’ve been mad in the first place. He rushes you to get into his shared bedroom with Jeno and Renjun. Amused, you quickly sit on his bed, acting like you’re dumb.

He shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms. “What’s this all about, baby?”

You snort, “I think you know, Jaemin. You’ve been messing around me for 2 months- or what, I actually lost count because you’re such a busy boy.”

He widen his eyes, “I don’t-”

“Oh shut up, are you surprised that I actually last longer than all your pretty girls?” you stand up, you can’t contain the anger anymore.

“Listen, baby, I-”

“I said, don’t baby me when you do that to probably other 7 girls!” you shout, glaring at him, who is currently freezing on his space.

He sighs and sweeps his hair in frustration, licking his lips. “Will you listen to me first, at least?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms while glancing at his study desk. Nicely decorated, and you can see his family photograph neatly placed in a small frame. You noticed that he’s quite a reader too, judging from his book collection compared to Jeno and Renjun.

“First, I gotta admit, you last longer than other girls, yes. And second, it’s because I want to keep you-” he starts, taking a seat next to you,

You scoffed, “Keep me? You think I’m some kind of puppy that follows you around, Jaemin? You’re being such a dick right now! Do you think that I’m just some kind of wh-”

“Can you not interrupt me, baby? I’m talking.” he growls, placing his hand to your thigh. You can feel your cheeks heat up from his actions. Jaemin, being Jaemin, can sense that you’re actually flustered, he lightly squeeze your thigh, just to see your cheeks redden even more. God, he’s such a flirt.

“But first, I got to be honest with you, I was torn between ghosting you or continuing. That explains the lie a lot.” he clears his throat, looking into your eyes. You’re not giving him a reaction (except the fact that you’re already as red as a fucking cooked lobster from his hand placement), just like he said, don’t interrupt him.

“I mean- after all those messing around, I grow tired of it. I-I don’t even want to flirt anymore, I want to be comforted.. Those girls, those people.. They know I’m not serious and they do the same, y/n. We just kinda.. Have a good time and dipped.”

You’re still sitting in silence, eyes fixed on Jaemin, who now looks flustered. This is not Jaemin at all, he’s usually cocky, cheeky, and flirty, just exactly like a few seconds ago. He usually throws wink here and there, but now he actually looks… vulnerable.

“I was surprised you’re still holding on for like 3 months.. Those girls won’t even last for 2 days, y/n. It’ll end up me ghosting them or vice versa, no one ever had a second date with me. But you, you can’t seem to give up when I’m not replying, don’t you?” he chuckles as he looks at you softly,

You giggle at him a little, “Yes. I’m THAT dumb, Jaemin.” you admit to him. In reality, you know it, you know when he’s not replying, he’s probably with some other girls. But you are being deadass, you just don’t know what possessed you, you just keep on texting him like it’s nothing.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I was actually scared that you’ll dump me when I develop actual feelings to you.. Or worse, what if I break your heart after we have something? I mean, if I have to, I’d break it now, so the pain is not too harsh. That’s why I keep on lying to you, and maybe, not replying to your messages.”

At first, you feel bad from hearing him speak truthfully. But after he opened his mouth again, you can feel the anger slowly rising again through your veins. He is very very selfish and self-centered. Is this how he show his true color? A man with a big ego? That’s it?

You tilted your head, “Fuck you. Really. Then why did you start the conversation, Jaemin? You could’ve told me how you felt and we’re set. But I can see-”

He shakes his head, interrupting your words, “I-I told you, y/n. I’m very torn between wanting to pursue you, or letting you go. That’s why I often not replying right after I texted you. I’m sorry, I really do.”

You’re angry. You’re sad. But you’re confused that you’re a little happy too, hearing him speak from the bottom of his heart. But that’s very selfish of him, doing those acts to you. He could’ve told you what he actually feels way earlier than this, so you can make sure what are you two doing, instead of playing pointless games of ghosting and chasing around again.

“I see. You’re so fucking selfish, Jaemin. We talked for months and this is all I got? Am I not worth of your explanation from the start? I know you wouldn’t do anything if I hadn’t drag your ass in the middle of the fucking party!” you stand up, you can no longer hide your disappointment to him, tears start rolling down your face.

His heart breaks a little, watching bundle of tears fall from your eyes. He is the heartbreaker, but those girls were never crying when he ghosted them after they had fun, those girls would catch another boys and forget about Jaemin right away. This is Jaemin’s first ever experience, seeing a girl crying because of what he did.

He knows that he’s an asshole for playing fire, but now he feels like he is THE asshole. He broke your heart right on, and it breaks his heart right back.

You sigh deeply, trying to catch a breath after a few sobs. “Don’t fucking find me. Have fun with your girls.” you look at his eyes with full of anger and hate. With heavy steps, you walk to the door, thinking about things you’re about to do once you get downstairs, probably joining Lucas and the gang, stoning yourself out, so you don’t have to think about Jaemin and his stupid beautiful face.

Just when you try to reach the door knob, you can feel Jaemin is grabbing onto your hand.

“Y/n, I am truly sorry.. After what you did earlier, I realized that I’m a big fucking loser. I can’t even admit my feelings. When you call me out earlier, I just wanna dissolve into thin air. I can’t handle the shame of being such a dick, I should’ve told you what I feel instead of making uncertain decisions.”

You turn to him, seeing his eyes glimmering, probably because of the tears pooling up. You’re hurt, you want to push him away as far as possible, you want to see him suffer. Hell, you just want him to extinct. But seeing him like this, you can’t lie to your own feelings, you like him. You really do. But just like your sorority sisters taught you, yourself comes first, not those stupid silly boys who just fuck around.

“Goodbye, Jaemin.” you say to him, holding back more tears coming in.

Just when you’re getting ready to reach the doorknob for the second time, he pulls you into his arms. You want to let go of him, but he’s strong, and you- actually wanting this for so long. You hate him, but you have feelings for him. You can’t help but stay on his embrace.

And then... There it is, the feels. It comes back, the way you hide yourself from Yeri whenever you pick up his calls, or maybe the late night drive to nearby McDonalds, or maybe flirting through the notes you pass during class, or maybe the first kiss you shared with him in front of your sorority house, and ended up being scolded by Yeri and Joy. 

You realized that it was a stupid crush with the stupid playboy Na Jaemin, but you enjoyed your time with him. You remembered how he likes to send you goodnight selfies, or maybe the way he pouts a lot when driving. Those 3 months of on-and-off-unofficial-relationships with him, is actually making you feel things.

“Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you, but really.. This time, I mean it. I promise, I won’t mess around. Please, I know I’ve been such a dick, but if you just give me one more chance, y/n..  But I completely understand, if you hate me, and you probably want to slam me to death, and I will allow you-”

You look up to him and grabbed his face, crashing his lips into yours. He tastes like cherry soda, with a hint of cigarettes. He seems like enjoying the kiss, he cupped your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. You can feel his hands travel around your body, only to land in your hips.

You want to trust him this time. He promised you. He meant it. He will take care of you. And you trust him, this time. 

“Alright, busy boy. I do want to slam you, though... But remember, just because you’re so damn fine, I won’t even think twice to dump your ass if you act up.” you warn him.

The tears you shed just bloomed into giggles and smiles. The inconsistency between the 3 months before finally disappeared, and reborn again into a new promise.

He nods. “Believe me baby, you’re the one who wants to be slammed right now.” he teases you, glancing to his bed. You can feel your cheeks reddening again, you lightly hit him, and he laughs. He’s a cheeky boy.

“Busy boy, huh?” he giggles, “Your busy boy.”

The anger within you is released now. No more chasing around like a fool, no more getting late replies from Jaemin, no more nights of hoping that he’d reply, because he’s only busy for you now.

#jaemin #nct #nct x reader #nct dream #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin scenario #jaemin scenarios #nct college au #nct fratboy au #nct dream fluff #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct fanfics #fanfics #jaemin imagine #jaemin imagines #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct funny #nct dream scenarios #nct dream scenario #na jaemin #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin scenarios #nct au #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfiction

[celest1all]

𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲

— pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

— summary; the reader isn’t welcoming towards ashley seaver when she joins the BAU.

— warning(s): angst, hating on ashley seaver, sadness, swearing, just angsty lmao.

— authors note: this hurt my heart, not gonna lie.

MASTERLIST

You weren’t a horrible person in the slightest, not at all. You would always make sure that someone would feel safe and welcomed no matter what. So the whole team was quite confused as to why you were being quite bitchy and rude lately.

But you knew why. It was the new member of the team, Ashley Seaver. If it wasn’t for the fact that she seemed to take quite a liking to your bestfriend (who you are also in love with) Spencer, then you would’ve welcomed her with opened arms. But since that didn’t happen, you were acting like a complete bitch.

For example, when Ashley smiled at you, you would either roll your eyes or glare at her. When she asked you to get something for her, like a file, you would scoff. Everyone on the team was getting sick of your bullshit, you couldn’t blame them though. You were getting sick of it yourself but you didn’t know how to stop being like it.

But again, you knew why. She was everything you weren’t — or everything you believed you weren’t. She was blonde, blue-eyed, clever, smart and obviously caught the attention of none other, Dr. Spencer Reid.

Now, you and Spencer had been bestfriends for about four years, but that was as far as it went. You were in love with the boy genius, so you wanted more. Him, on the other hand, had made it clear that you were strictly best friends and nothing more.

And that hurt. Therefore, you buried your feelings deep inside your self and hoped that they would go away (they didnt). However, when Ashley joined the BAU, those feelings shone through extremely quickly. You were jealous. And jealousy was an ugly colour on you.

Spencer and Ashley were currently conversing with one another. You didn’t really care that they were talking to eachother, it’s when they started laughing and she put her hand on his arm was when you started to care and get annoyed.

Thankfully, you were currently by yourself and no one was hovering over your desk like they normally would do you didn’t have to hide your vexation. Well, that was until they did something you never thought would’ve happened.

They hugged. They fucking hugged. You weren’t even aware of the fact that your pen had snapped in your grasp until the plastic started digging into your palm, making you hiss slightly. And your misfortune didn’t finish there, oh no. Spencer caught your eye and frowned at you slightly and you swear you could see he was glaring at you slightly.

You widened your eyes slightly, and bit your lip anxiously, turning back to focus on the work in front of you. Until you felt a presence — or more specifically, two — beside you, hovering. Your cursed inwardly, and swivelled towards them. And just as you had thought, it was the people of the hour, Ashley and Spencer! Fucking typical.

“Hi.” You said, more to Reid than Ashley. Once again, he narrowed his eyes at you slightly and sent a pointed look towards Seaver, as if to say; Say hello. What, is he your dad now?

“Hello.” You forced a smile and had to physically refrain from rolling your eyes at her. “What are you two doing here and being all smiley about?”

“Well,” Ashley began, smiling at Spencer. “Spence and I were thinking of going to the theatre.” Spence. Now that hurt. It just used to be you and JJ to call him Spence (oh how you missed JJ) but now, she was calling him Spence? Who next, Rossi?

“Are you now?” You faked a smile again, clenching your jaw slightly — which Reid took note of.

“Mhm.” He hummed, nodding. “Would you like to—”

“No.” You stated, cutting him off. You knew what he was about to say and there was no way you were about to fucking third wheel.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asked you, her brows creased.

“Oh, I’m amazing. But don’t let me keep you waiting!” You gritted your teeth, “I hope you and Spence have a great time.”

You turned around and rolled your eyes, beginning to make your way to the bat cave — aka, Garcia’s office.

“Sorry about that,” Spencer apologised, frowning. “I don’t know why she’s acting like—”

“Like a bitch?” Ashley finished. Reid flinched slightly, but he sort of agreed. You were being a bitch and he was getting sick and tired of it.

“Yeah.” He sighed, “Can you wait here for a minute? I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Sure.” She nodded and sat down on one of the empty desk chairs (which was yours ironically).

You were just about to walk into Penelope’s office when someone grabbed your wrist, spinning you around. “Uh, what the fuck?”

When you had regained your composure and figured out who had just turned you around, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah it’s me. I need to talk to you.”

“Are you sure the wife is going to be okay with that?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

“Don’t.” He stated.

“Don’t, what? You might have to elaborate, Spence.” You smiled sweetly up at him

“Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?” He narrowed his eyes at you and started to walk closer to you.

“What?”

“Are you jealous that Ashley and I are going out later?” He asked, still walking towards you. You backed up and ended up hitting the wall behind you.

“Of course not.” You scoffed, hoping he believed you.

“Yes you are. You’re jealous that I can actually see a relationship between me and her.” He spat, your heart dropping. Okay dude, that fucking hurt.

You towards above you whilst your eyes started to fill with unshed tears, “That’s unfair, Reid and you know it.”

“Is it?” He cocked his head to the side, copying what you did earlier. “So being a bitch towards Ashley ever since she got here isn’t unfair?”

You started to sputter out a sentence, but was ultimately at a loss for words because you knew he was right.

“You know,” He started, backing up in the process. “I thought that maybe we could make a relationship work because we were bestfriends before, so that would make sense, right?”

You nodded, fiddling with your hands to try and keep your tears behind your waterline.

“Well not anymore.” You never thought one sentence, one small sentence could tear all the breath out of your lungs and your heart out at once. But here you are, the tears now free falling down your face. “Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who’s just plain fucking rude.”

With that, he turned and walked back towards the bullpen — back towards Ashley. He had left you there, heart broken and sobs wracking through your body.

Not only had you ruined any chance of being Spencer Reid’s girlfriend, you were pretty sure that you had just fucked your entire friend ship in the process.

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid one shots #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid x yn #dr spencer reid imagines #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds one shots #angst #fluff #sadness

[darkenedreaper]

The Velvet Box

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: angst, lil fluff

A/n: requested by lovely @captain-josslett hope you enjoy honey

You and Natasha had been happily together for 2 years. The two of you had moved into a spare room within the compound. It was on the floor below her old room and it was on the same floor as your old room. Natasha was the happiest she’d been in a long time. The same for you.

After that extremely traumatic event that was your parents death, Natasha had become everything to you. You felt the desperate need to protect her, contrast to how you couldn’t protect your parents fro Hydra. The Avengers become your family. And you were deeply grateful.

Your shared room was simply decorated. There was some photos of the both of you and some of you and the Avengers scattered around the room. She had her own photo of you and her on her bedside table. It was a Polaroid, your arms were wrapped around her waist as she held the machine by her head with her hand, the other holding onto your wrist.

You and the Avengers had recently had a tough mission and had easily finished it. So Tony was holding a little dinner for all of you. Natasha had gotten ready putting on the finishing touches of her black dress, which ended just above her kneecaps. The straps of her dress left room to show off her collarbone and her shoes were black, only added to the beauty she had. Her red curls were perfectly draped over her back and arms and her mascara highlighted her eyes. You wore a black shirt that had 3 buttons open. Your shirt was tucked into your black pants and you wore a thin suit jacket over it. You had checked for the 100th time that the small velvet box was in your jacket pocket. And you made a mental note to not take it off. She came over and greeted you with a kiss on your cheek, raising her head slightly so she could reach you. You hadn’t worn a dress and you looked strong in that suit, which Natasha was fond off. But you still had that feminine shine. She linked your arm with yours and you left your room, lamp turned on to come back into after the small group party.

You had been gathered around the glass coffee table, Steve’s soft music was quietly playing on the speakers and you had made subtle eye contact with Clint and he knew it was time. He took away Steve, Bucky and Bruce. Which left Tony, Thor, Wanda and Vision. Tony got the hint and as you and Natasha were in conversation, Tony and Thor excused themselves as they were gently arguing over who had the best suit. Vision had left to go and make Wanda another cocktail and so Wanda rushes to his help, hoping to not have another incident in where the drink spilt all over the counter. They had given you space, far enough so you were basically alone but close enough that they could just catch what you were saying. You turned to Natasha catching her attention as her eyes stuck on yours and her lips turned up.

“Nat. You know how much I love you and, how much you mean to me. I’m not that good with words but, I.. I wanted to ask you something.”

She listened to you with confusion and then everything clicked into place once you had slipped off the sofa and onto one knee in the floor. She watched you take out a velvet box and she dreaded what came next. There it was. A silver white coloured ring with a diamond sitting on top of it. It was beautiful, yes.

“Will you marry me Natasha?”

You asked with a smile on your face. The team joe had their full attention on the both of you, smiled tugging at their lips aswell. Although your smile had started to die once she hadn’t spoken or did anything in 10 seconds. You tilted your head a little in question.

“Y/N.. no. I can’t.”

And she lifted herself up from the chair and simply brushed past you. The click of her heels had started to fade away and you began to feel... upset, like a fool. The team had watched her walk away and they turned back to you with sorrow looks on their face as they saw you still kneeling on the floor with no one in front of you.

“Well then..”

You whispered to yourself. You got up from the floor and sat down on the couch slowly, a million questions running through your mind. You had your head in your hand now. The ring was forgotten on the table, still closed now. Tony made his way over to you and sat down, he tucked his left hand under his jacket not wanting to show you his wedding ring as he knew that would pain you even more. He gently rubbed your back and whilst you had your eyes covered by tears and your hands, Steve took away the box and stuck it in his pocket. They didn’t do anything or say anything, all they could do was watch you. Wanda could hear your mind and heart breaking that made her frown. She could also hear the teams hearts breaking. You just decided to give the team a small smile, hiding your head as you made your way to your shared room. You opened it, not so surprised to see it empty, without her. Where you now single? What happens now? In hopes, you made your way to her old room and as soon as you reached it you knocked gently on the door.

“Natasha? Nat? Can we talk? Honey?”

She could hear your muffled pleads from outside the door, knowing you were leaning against it. But she decided to block it out and instead get undressed. Taking out her earrings that you had given to her for your 2 year anniversary. You decided to leave her, perhaps she would think things over.

You went to bed later on and cried. Cried without a shoulder to cry on.

It was now morning and you had gotten about all together, 13 minutes of sleep. You got up. Your hair was a mess, you had a T-shirt on and some sweatpants and socks. The team decided not to discuss what happened last night with either of you and instead Clint had breakfast. You slowly sat down at the kitchen counter and slumped over in your chair. You ran a hand in your hair and sighed. Clint slide your plate that had pancakes on that were shaped into a smiley face. You smiled back at him, satisfying him as he smiled warmly and turned back round to the pan. You soon pushed it away from you. Bruce and the News on tv had drowned out the possible awkward silence and your kindness nowhere except for when she walked in. You stood up from your chair and you hadn’t noticed Steve protectively standing behind you.

“Morning Nat.. can I err, can we talk?”

She had she gone deaf? You called out her name once more but you just watched her fill her cup up with coffee. She then walked past Steve and had taken a seat on the sofa in front of tv. You cautiously took only 3 steps in the direction she was sitting in and you called her name for the 3rd time.

“What?”

She said in a harsh tone without even looking your way. She was obviously ignoring you and it seemed like you got to her that much she eventually decided to answer you to get you to shut up.

“Can we talk?”

You said and your tone was a little more quieter.

“Nah.”

Nah. You hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast but suddenly you had energy. You nodded your head doing your best to not show your weakened face, even though she wasn’t looking at you. You made your way to the training room. They all couldn’t believe how she was acting. Like nothing had happened, like there wasn’t such a thing called a 2 year relationship between Y/N and Natasha. They had kept their mouths shut as they knew not to anger or disturb the Black Widow. Maybe Clint would try later, but not now.

2 hours you’d been in the training room. You had to re-wrap your knuckles another 2 times as you had gone that hard on the training back, the wrapping had dissolved away. Steve had been watching you long enough to know that you weren’t in the mind of you. He brought you in a sandwich he’d made and a bottle of water. He left it on the bench for you as he watched you once more with a sad frown before leaving you alone. After needing to wrap your knuckles for a third time, although it wasn’t doing to much to help as your knuckle skin was already broken. You grabbed the water, completely oblivious to the sandwiches.

It was later on now, getting to 11 o’clock at night and the team had done everything to drag you to bed but you locked the doors. Jarvis had then threatened to turn off the lights and he did, but you trained in the dark, only focused on the bag in front of you. Jarvis then talked literally into your ears until you were forced to leave. Your head and hair was drilling with sweat and you made your way up to Natashas floor. You needed a quick breather as you leaned your body against the corridor wall, taking some breathes before you weakly knocked on her door, arms hurting and knuckles bruised. You had knocked twice more and no answer.

So you made your way to what would now be your second room only the find half of it empty. Natasha had taken things from her bedside table, clothes from the wardrobe, her jewellery, make up, phone charger. Nearly everything. But she did an excellent job of leaving the pair of earrings you’d bought her. They were the same ones she was wearing the night you proposed to her. They were just sitting in the bed. But what hurt most was that the Polaroid of you and her was still on her bedside table, knocked over. She hadn’t taken it, probably not even acknowledged it. You were just still. Your face turned from a sad one to a neutral one and you grabbed a clean jacket and headed down to the ‘Mission Room’.

Bucky had to pull out of a mission because he had special plans with Steve and so you hoped that mission was still available as you’d take off in 10 minutes. And luckily it was. So off you went.

The night you decided to leave for the mission, had worried everybody. They were worried sick thinking you might’ve left or been kidnapped. Until Wanda had the gran idea of checking the mission file and sighs of relief had spread throughout the room seeing as you had checked out i the compound for the mission. Except for Natasha. She hadn’t even known that you were missing. At this point she literally blocked you from her mind.

It was about 2 months on now. You’d lost about 30 pounds. Your gym sessions were daily and lasted throughout the day. Every night you knocked on her door, got no answer. Then you would cry for about an hour and hate yourself for being so stupid and so unloveable. Throughout those months, the team had found that their mission had been completed, and that could’ve been 3 or 4 a day, adding up to a total of 30 missions a week. Your weight loss hadn’t gone unnoticed by the team. In fact, they tried to take you to Bruce’s lab and force feed you. Then tried taking you to a therapist, but you told them you’d eat if they let you go. You smiled every time but Steve could see right through it. They all could see your bloodshot eyes, bags under your eyes, bruised knuckles, clothes getting ridiculously big on you. So big, you had to have a new suit made for combat.

Wanda cried to Vision every night as your thoughts were too loud. She was crying because you were the opposite. You weren’t unloveable. You weren’t a fool. You weren’t a failure. But you were right about one thing. You were broken and slowly dying inside. Wanda was just lucky it was only her mind she could read and not your organs. You only ate every 4 days and that was maybe a cracker or two. The rest water, training, maybe sleeping. Clint provides you with many hugs and Tony would watch you whilst you were sleeping. He knew you weren’t you because as soon as you heard the door handle you used to sit up right away. Now you slept right though him stroking his hand through your hair. Steve was always protective and close to you as you just had a great and trustworthy connection with him. Natasha didn’t bother with you. You even sat down next to Natasha once when she was eating and she continued to take bites of her food and scrolled through her phone. Each night you’d find yourself sleeping in later, drinking more, losing more weight every day. Then it was team training day. Doctor Cho always stood on standby if anything serious happened. You were on the treadmill as usual but this time you just had to come off it earlier then usual. You tried walking around to get rid of the jelly legs and you tried to grab your water, but all you could see was 3 of everything. Bucky and Doctor Cho were studying you from a far and Thor had started to come over to you as he spotted your ghostly face and sweet beads a mile away. But you doubled over from a pounding headache and all Thor could see was what looked like your eyes shutting as you fell over on your side, body going limp. And everyone heard the thud on the hard floor as even Natasha turned her attention towards it. Thor had started shouting for Doctor Cho and the doctor called for medical assistant. Tony ran over and picked your head up from the floor and he placed it on his bent knees from sitting in the floor with you. He turned your head to the right so you were breathing properly and Natasha saw you. She froze. She actually froze. She was at first focused on your face, your cheekbones had stuck out, your eyelids looked raw red and the bags under your once beautiful eyes had turned purple, going darker and that horrible pale colour that washed over your face. Her eyes were then draw to how thin you were, and she saw him loose the t shirt you wore was, and then sweatpants were the same only baggier. They had to force you to sit up as you were still unconscious and she gasped when she saw your spine sticking through the t shirt and the distinct lines that represented your ribs. She placed a hand over her mouth and everything stopped. She realised what she’d done. How she’d broken you. How she abandoned you. How she left you alone to question if you weren’t good enough. She was then distracted by the team of doctors, 2 with a stretcher, that swarmed around and gently lifted you onto the moving bed. You now had an oxygen tank by your side and a mask on your face. Helen wanted to get an iv drip into you as soon as possible which is why you were rushed off so quick. All she could do was watch and the only part of her that could move were her eyes, desperately trying to see your face if your eyes were open yet.

Steve had stopped and looked at her watching before he quite rough ty shoved the velvet box into her hands. She didn’t dare open it. She just sat down on the training floor. Her thoughts were torn away from you as Clint practically stormed in to find her. His breath was rapid and his eyes were glossy. He stood above her with his hands on his hips.

“Do you know what you’ve done to her? Her organs are failing because of you! She thinks she’s unloveable, unwanted, a failure! Because. Of. You!”

He yelled at her. She could just watch him rant as she didn’t realise that tears were filling up her eyes and she didn’t know that a few slipped out. He soon softened and he sighed before having nothing left to say but he did look sympathetic towards her. He soon left her to return back to you.

As he returned to the room where the Avengers where he took a seat. You had multiple wires and lifelines hooked up to you. You had to have 2 more blankets placed over you as your body temperature was dropping. Thor sadly placed his cape over you. Steve was looking down, Wanda was trying to read your mind, Vision had his arm around her, Bruce was constantly checking your decreasing vitals. Tony was crying silently, the evidence staining his beard. And he was looking at your hand, wanting to hold it. Bucky looked at your face, then your finger and thinking how if she wasn’t so cold to you, within a year you could’ve been wearing a ring there aswell. To Bucky you looked like him when he was caged up which is why he had to leave the room, maybe to go and spend some time in your room. Heading out the door he bumped into Natasha who seemed frantic to get in there. He stopped to say something but she barged past until she saw your figure lying there.

Clint nodded to the rest of the gang for them all to clear out as she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. It could’ve been the disruption, it could’ve been the loud footsteps, noises of the chairs scraping but whatever it was, stopped your heart. Everyone’s heads turned to you and Natasha practically screamed for a nurse.

Tony was immediately by your side holding it as Thor was trying to pull him away as he was getting upset himself.

Helen and nurses came rushing in as they started to work on your body. Natasha refuses to leave and so she was allowed by your side. She did what she had to do and took out the velvet box, looked at the beautiful shining ring and placed it on her finger.

“Y/N. Y/N look. Open your eyes your ring is on my finger. Y/N I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry please!”

Helen had now started manual resuscitation as the team outside weren’t doing a good job of holding it together. Natasha had started to sob as suddenly there was a faint beep on the machine. And another. Another. You were back. She had dropped her head in relief and she begged you to open your eyes, much like you had begged her to open the door. They all heard a groan from you and Natasha lifted up her head and the Avengers were all crammed next to each other looking in through the window. Your eyes were slowly opening and you turned your head to see a green eyed beauty crying. She took a look at you and dropped her head down again in shame.

But that shame was replaced with hope as she felt a light squeeze in her hand that was yours. She grabbed yours with both hands. You couldn’t really talk with the mask over your nose and mouth and your mouth being extremely dry. So you used your other hand to point to it. All she could do was nod her head.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I don’t know why I refused you and.. and put my walls up when I’m this vulnerable around you. Please.. please don’t leave me.”

You gave her a slight nod from your head and a tired smile and she knew what that was. She dried her tears but was still sniffling and now smiling. And then you turned your head to see a bunch of Avengers smiling back at you, some sounds of ‘awes’ coming from them.

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345

#natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader angst #Natasha Romanoff x reader #ask

[scxrlettwxtches]

picture perfect | kim seungmin

Genre: fluff 

Warnings: none!

Word Count: ~1.5k

Description: Seungmin hated weddings as much as any other estranged cousin, but that wedding photograph is really cute. 

Author’s Note: hi everyone! because of school and other reasons, i’ve been on hiatus for a couple months. however, i’m happy to say that i’m writing again!! thank to everyone that’s been giving my writings so much love!! here’s a rather sloppy drabble to announce my return. :) more to come soon!!

Seungmin never cared much for weddings, especially the wedding of his rather wealthy, incredibly stuck-up cousin, but if he had to find one good memory to take home with him that day, it was that the photographer was cute. 

Like really freaking cute. 

Maybe he was biased, being a photographer himself, but his eyes were on you the whole night. It was captivating to watch you, someone who seemed to wholeheartedly love their job, someone who genuinely had a passionate spark in their eyes, and Seungmin found himself absolutely enthralled before the two of you had even said hello. 

That was okay, though, because Seungmin was never one to act on his impulses. He was perfectly content with just admiring you from afar, sitting at one of the empty tables in the far corners of the banquet hall with his half-full glass of champagne. It wasn’t as if there was anything else he would rather be doing, or anyone else he could bear to be in the presence of. 

As the banquet soon turned into a stuffy dance party, Seungmin lost sight of you, and he sighed dejectedly. Guess it was back to the depths of boredom for him. Glancing at his watch, he counted down to the hour that his mother had given him permission to legally leave without offending the elders of his extended family. He was so detached from reality by this point, he completely failed to notice that a certain photographer had made her way towards him, her heels clicking softly. 

“Enjoying the festivities?” Seungmin feigned ignorance as he almost choked on his sip of champagne. Your voice was fuller than he had imagined, but it held this melodic quality that he made him want to cling onto your every syllable. Looking up past your fancy attire to gaze directly into your eyes, he gestured to his dark, secluded corner. 

“Can’t you see all the fun I’m having?” 

You only raised an eyebrow, hands still clasped on your camera hanging from your neck, “Not a wedding person, huh?” 

“I prefer weddings that feel like the pair actually love each other.” 

“How dare you insult the happy couple?” You said, sounding offended, “They’re infatuated with each other!”

“I’m pretty sure they’re more infatuated with each other’s money than the person themselves,” Seungmin retorted rather wryly. He wondered for a split second if he had genuinely offended you, but then your lips quirked up into a small, secretive smile.

“Touché,” Gesturing to the empty seat beside him, you asked, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Seungmin waved his hand, and you smoothed your dress from the back as you sat down, taking your camera off your neck and placing it on the table. 

The man cleared his throat, “Um, I think you’re a really good photographer.”

You looked amused, “If you’re going to compliment me, don’t you think you should actually see the photos first?”

Seungmin panicked internally, “No, no, really! The angles you use are really creative, and I know the photos will turn out great.”

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, before you let out a bitter laugh, “The bride only asked me to be their photographer because she knew I wouldn’t ask her to pay me. You’d think someone with this much money to throw around could spare a couple hundred bucks for their wedding photographer.”

“Why wouldn’t she pay you?” Seungmin asked curiously, “Are you guys friends?”

“We were roommates in university,” you answered, shrugging your tired shoulders, “Though we didn’t really talk much. She was always out partying and I was always locked in my room, studying away.”

“You could still charge her,” he argued.

Your face grew thoughtful as you looked up to the crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, “Maybe,” you said, before adding on with finality, “but that’s not me, and she knew that.”

Seungmin couldn’t help but feel a newfound admiration for you, a girl who’d stick to her morals even when dealing with people that took you for granted, “Well, the bride’s going to be in for a pleasant surprise when you send her those photos. She might just pay you because they’re too high quality.”

You laughed, a soaring, beautiful sound that made Seungmin’s heart flutter, “That would be nice. I just ran out of boba funds last Friday.”

Now with a comfortable silence, you started again, wanting to get to know this mysterious man a little better, “So, why are you here, when you’re obviously not enjoying yourself? Blackmail? Bribery?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not too far off from the truth,” Seungmin said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, “The groom is actually a cousin of mine, one that I don’t particularly get along with either, but I think my mom would’ve genuinely called a hitman to threaten my life if I didn’t show up. All about preserving the family respect, you know?” 

“Yes, I sadly know too much about that,” you agreed, “Can I also be bold enough to say that your cousin’s family are probably the most wealthy relatives in your extended family, so everyone is flocking to this wedding so they can stay in their good books?”

Seungmin snickered, looking mildly impressed, “Do you keep tabs on my life?”

You smiled wryly, “I don’t need to. I’ve lived your life.”

“Ah, what dysfunctional upper class family do you come from, then?” 

“My family owns a really big tech company in Korea,” you answered, although you looked slightly more uncomfortable than you did before, “I was supposed to inherit it and shit, but I didn’t want to, so I ran away to start a life here in LA.”

Frowning, Seungmin decided not to press more about your family history, since your eyes had grown sad and full of pain, an expression that he never wanted to see on your face, “What are you doing in LA now?”

“Oh, you know,” Gesturing to your camera, you shrugged, “Freelancing with photography, doing some art commissions, sometimes I produce songs, the list is infinite when there isn’t a parental figure clinging to your back like a hawk.”

“Lucky,” The man said rather bitterly, “I didn’t have the courage to leave, so now I’m stuck with a nine to five office job that I absolutely despise.”

You swallowed as you asked hesitantly, “D-do you like performing arts? You don’t look like a dancer, or a classical musician.”

Seungmin felt a smile creep on his face, “Nah, I’m a singer. Or at least, I want to be.”

“A singer,” the look in your eyes had changed, sparkling with interest, “Are you any good?”

“You wound me,” he reigned offence, pressing a hand to his heart, “Do I look like a bad singer to you?”

“It’s not about how you look, handsome,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s about how you sound.”

Handsome. Seungmin felt his ears grow warm. Without thinking too much about what you said, you reached for your camera and began looking through some of the photos, oblivious to the turmoil beside you. Seungmin watched as you posted into concentration, your hands working the camera and checking the details of every photo like a true professional.

She asked you if you sing well, a voice sounding suspiciously similar to his friend, Hyunjin, whispered in his mind. This is your chance. Shoot your shot, bro. 

“Well!” Seungmin bursted out with more volume than he’d intended. Startled, you whipped up to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. Panicking, he stammered with a little less confidence, “Um—I sing pretty well.”

If you hadn’t expected him to say that, it didn’t show on you face, “I see,” you replied, and you sounded pleased, “If you’re up to it, I’d like to hear you sing sometime. Maybe we could work together on a song or two.”

You shot your shot, imaginary Hyunjin spoke again. Now just say yes, you idiot.

“W-wow, that would be good! Great, actually!” Seungmin yelped, his composure slipping, “Should we call and figure out a time to meet?”

Nodding, you opened your phone and passed it to him so he could write down his information. He put “Seungminnie” with a smiley face as his contact because he really was whipped, not that he’d tell anyone. 

When he got home, completely worn out, his phone buzzed with your name popped up in his notifications.

hey seungminnie! thanks a lot for today, you were basically the only reason i had fun at this party. hope we can make that collab a reality soon! 

oh, and here are some pics i took of you when you were daydreaming in the corner of the banquet hall hahaha :) you could definitely be model if you wanted to 

If Seungmin’s face was flushed until he fell asleep, it wasn’t anybody’s business. 

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #kim seungmin imagines #my fics

[wincore]

heartbreaker | na jaemin

pairing: jaemin x reader

words: 8.9k

genre: ’’’bad boy’’’!au, high school!au, fluff, angst

warnings: jaemin breaks hearts, mentions of underage drinking

a/n: this is cheesy and very long ur welcome (not really!!!)

There’s a simple rule you and the rest of the students at your school follow. Do not fall in love with Na Jaemin unless you can handle getting your heart broken.

But of course, even the simplest of rules are hard to follow sometimes. Especially when the danger you’re warned against is so enticing, so charming and sweet, so warm. School isn’t a place that likes to harbour friendliness or even the slightest of warmth, no matter what they try showing on the outside. No, it’s competition and silence, loneliness and the cold. But human beings, especially children,  somehow have a way of finding light in the darkest of systems, and you’ve adjusted yourself with close friends and people to rely on early. However, it isn’t really possible to be satisfied with just that; no, everyone is missing a softness, a warmth that they’ve tried to live without for so long.

And it’s people like these who fall for Na Jaemin. People who are kind or sweet or shy, people who are tough or bold or frayed on the edges—all of them fall for Jaemin no matter what, because he has the warmth they think they’re looking for, the glow they haven’t seen in a while, feelings they haven’t experienced. Even though his reputation screams danger, his charms are undeniable, his smile stupendously blinding, and his eyes pure and soft. He’s dream-like, and his movements are gentle and caring and kind. Jaemin has everything you want, and everything you didn’t know you wanted till you met him. He just has his way of roping people in, tangling them in his red strings of ill fate, blessing you with his lies. Yet, at the end of it, you’ll be blaming yourself.

You and Jaemin have…a complicated relationship. You knew him when he was just Jaemin, the boy next door, the boy you used to play tag with, the boy you shared secrets with, and not Mr. Heartbreaker, a playboy, the boy you don’t want to get too close to for your own sake, the boy with thousands of hearts in his grasp. You don’t know how and when the boy with the sweetest of words started using them as a weapon, but you guess it was two summers ago. You remember his first victim, Park Jiwoo, easily the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, with long lashes and an innocent smile. You remember how it had morphed into an empty, lifeless one after the breakup. Jaemin’s first relationship was also probably his longest, and the ones after had ended in a quick trail of several broken hearts.

But people still fall in love with Jaemin, and you don’t blame them. He’ll smile the purest of smiles when you confess your feelings, take you on dates, talk with you on the phone for hours. He’ll hold your hand, sing his ‘I love you’s, look at you like you’re everything. But that’s it. Then it’s over with an ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re meant to be’ and a small, sad smile. That’s how every story with Na Jaemin goes, and to say you’re not curious would be an outright lie. You’ve always been curious since the boy you called your friend stopped talking to you, and the fact that you’ll never get that boy back is upsetting. But as your mother says, friends come and go—you’re the one who’s supposed to keep the light alive within yourself. It makes you wonder how many lights Jaemin has stolen.

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Jisung waves his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you sit up straight. “I zoned out.”

“And missed the entire chemistry lecture,” Jisung shakes his head.

You did miss the entire lecture. But it’s not like you ever listened anyway. You take your bag and get up at the same time as Jisung, when a figure passes by, ruffling Jisung’s hair into a mess. Jisung glares at Jaemin but responds to his grin with a reluctant smile anyway. You still don’t know how Jisung manages to get along with Jaemin of all people, but you assume the beginning had something to do with Jaemin’s persistent stream of affection towards the younger boy.

When your eyes meet Jaemin’s, he grants you a wink, and you ignore it with a sour expression, making your way to your next class. You can almost picture Jaemin pouting, but he should be used to it by now. He should know the fact that there are people like you—too afraid of what their heart will do in Jaemin’s presence, too afraid of the betrayal it might present, and most of all, too afraid of collecting and joining its broken pieces. And there’s your story. You have to pretend you never knew him in the first place—never knew how fast he spoke when he was being stubborn, never knew the mole on his arm you used to complete with a smiley face, never knew how funny he looked with his mouth hanging open watching TV, never knew the secret handshake you made up. No, you don’t know Na Jaemin anymore, because he isn’t Jaemin; he’s the worst kind of person you’ll ever encounter, or so you tell yourself. He’s the kind who takes a heart with a promise and handles it with nimble fingers till he finds a new one, till he no longer cares about the promise.

“Are you going to ignore me all the way to the next class? We have the same class, you know,” Jaemin’s voice snaps you out of it. Ah, speak of the devil and his unrealistically sweet smile.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you shrug. Of course you’re ignoring him; you want nothing to do with him.

“Ah? I thought you were,” Jaemin tilts his head to think, but follows you at a steady pace.

You’re just a bundle of nerves around him sometimes, as you process all the questions that run through your mind every time. Does he even remember? Does he think of you in same detailed way you do? Does he think of you the way of you think of him, with the fondness of old memories and secrets shared? You almost scoff. Of course not. Does he look at you as another heart to break, a nameless soul to be charmed? You don’t want to think about that, but it’s very frequently you find yourself running the same thoughts through your head. You want to know what happened; two years are a long enough time for questions and bitter feelings to pile up.

You exit school to face the end of yet another day, the uncomfortably hot breeze doing little to lighten your mood. You’re often glad your house is far away, and you have a lot of time to think and be with yourself, before you have to do homework and be rooted to the real world again. The walk home is either the best or the worst part of your day. It depends entirely on your train of thoughts, the weather and the events around you. Today, however, weather is incredibly shitty and the events seem to take lead as they present a rather out-of-breath Jaemin by your side.

You almost jump at the sudden contact of skin against your palm, and Jaemin looks you in the eyes with panic written all across his face. They think he’s too easy-going, stress hardly ever showing across his features, but you remember the expression he had made when he had kicked the soccer ball into your grumpy neighbour’s house with a loud crash.

“Help me out just this once please,” he whispers in a rush, and drags you by the hand, almost running.

“Wh- what is going on?!” you huff as you take quick steps to follow behind Jaemin without tripping over your own feet.

“I’ll explain when we’re out of sight,” he says, looking back at you once.

Soon enough, you’re at the entrance to your house, and doubtfully glancing at Jaemin while unlocking the door. Is he really going to stay here? You’re not very sure about the strange appearance of your school’s infamous heartthrob right by your side.

Jaemin sighs in relief once you’re both safely inside, before turning to look around with wide eyes and his lips parted.

“Wow,” he breathes, “It’s still the same.”

You’re slightly taken aback as you repeat, “same?”

“Yeah, your house,” Jaemin says, casually.

“You remember?” you ask, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft and eyes shifting elsewhere.

There’s a pause before you remember the dilemma at hand.

“Are you- is there a reason you ran for like fifteen minutes holding my hand?”

“Don’t take it personally, love,” he says, a teasing smile on his lips before they’re pulled to a frown. “I have a stalker. A few probably, but this one’s persistent.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, what?”

Jaemin grins. If he is in such a case, he doesn’t show any fear or worry as you would expect. He almost looks as if he’s joking, largely in contrast with the display he put on while approaching you a few minutes ago.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried?” you ask.

“Well, I mean. It’s not that scary, and it’s not exactly unusual, but I don’t like eyes on me.”

You almost scoff. The entire school has their eyes on him, and he basks in the attention, flashing his winning smile to any crowd waiting to see him, winking at some poor soul who’s been staring at him for too long.

You let out a short, sardonic laugh instead.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s hard to believe when you say it like that,” you say, still sceptical.

“I appreciate the love and time they give me, I really do,” he says, his features peaceful. “But I like being by myself sometimes.”

“Please, Jaemin, you break their hearts too easily for me to believe that.”

Jaemin frowns, a deep frown, but places a hand over his heart as a show of mock hurt, his lips turning to form a pout.

“I don’t think you should be treating your guest like this.”

“Who said you’re a- you invited yourself!”

Jaemin laughs as he pinches your cheek, “Ah, y/n, you’re still so cute.”

Your ears feel hot and you quickly turn your face elsewhere. You can’t even talk to him for the shortest of time without him giving you reasons to flush hot red. It makes it very clear that your childhood means nothing whatsoever to him; you’re just another heart waiting to be a part of his collection.

“Whatever- just um- just- don’t touch anything.”

“So I have permission to stay?” Jaemin’s eyes light up as his lips quirk upwards.

“Sure,” you respond, a little unsure yourself.

You’re not sure how you end up with Jaemin sitting on the floor of your bedroom, him looking around with curious eyes, but it makes you a little heartsick when you think you were like this at some point in your life. You don’t know why the wound hasn’t closed yet. You don’t know the boy in front of you anymore; people change in the strangest ways and perhaps you were too unprepared. That’s why you’re still baffled by these thoughts.

“You still have the stars we stuck?” Jaemin says, squinting at the ceiling.

“That my dad stuck because we were too short to reach the ceiling,” you correct.

Jaemin chuckles. “You looked cute trying to jump around and reach it.”

You roll your eyes, and divert your attention to the windows of the house next to yours, the familiar blue of the curtains contrasting with the reds of the boy in front of you. His eyelashes flicker up and down as he scans you, an unreadable expression on his face, and you feel yourself getting more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Are you really here till evening?” you try to distract yourself.

“Getting excited?” Jaemin asks, moving closer to sit beside you.

You fight the untimely blush, and glare at him. “Excited for what?”

Jaemin smiles at you, a smile the Devil would claim to be his own, as he places his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you. You almost feel the air leave your lungs, with Jaemin far too close for liking and no sign of his blood-boiling smile disappearing any time soon.

“I can hear your heart beating from here,” he continues smiling, looking straight into your eyes.

In a flash of a second, your mind restarts and you push Jaemin with as much force as you can muster. He lands backwards on his butt with an ‘oof’, and rubs his back with a pained expression.

“I was just teasing, love, you didn’t have to get violent,” Jaemin explains, placing his hand on his hip.

“Well, that’s called harassment and I am going to stay far, far away from you now,” you say getting up and sitting on your bed with a scowl.

“You’re adorable when your cheeks are all pink,” Jaemin says, a certain twinkle in his eyes.

You face away from him, getting grumpier by the second. Jaemin doesn’t stop asking questions, and you wonder how anyone could fall for this idiot. His grin fascinated you once, but it just reminds you of all the girls and boys that feel their heart flutter seeing it for the first time. You’re nothing special; you’re just more cautious than the others. His lips are chapped although you’re sure he came in this morning with his lips pink and soft. You remember his mother scolding him for not taking care of himself in middle school. His eyes are still unreadable, but they’re strangely kind. You wonder if it keeps that warmth even when he’s off crushing someone else’s heart, winning another easy game.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Jaemin’s lips quirk upwards. “Wanna tell me something?”

You scowl again. “You’re so full of it.”

“I like the compliments.”

Jaemin winks. Is he being extra just because its you, his old friend, or is he this way with everyone? It’ll always confuse you, the way he behaves around people; you’re never sure if he’s painting an image for himself, or if he’s really that sweet, or nice, or funny. Looking at him now, he’s getting on your nerves more than anything, and your old resentment probably adds fuel to the fire.

Your mother is delighted to see Jaemin in your room again, and her stream of compliments (“You’ve grown so handsome!” “Ah, you must be capturing hearts every day!” “Such a sweet boy!”) brightens his wide grin, as he speaks to her politely and sincerely, like he doesn’t have a notorious reputation at school, like he doesn’t ruin lives daily.

Jaemin leaves with a curt goodbye, and his dazzling smile; and you’re met with a slap to your head by your mom for rolling your eyes at him. It would be a waste explaining Jaemin’s situation to your mom, and it’s not like she’d want to meddle with your life too much anyway. Besides, you wouldn’t actually want to ruin his perfect image, no matter how much he annoys you.

Jaemin goes home with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. He tries to fight the smile making its way onto his way that started with the onset of the flutters. It’s been quite a while since he’s felt this way, and he should be afraid, he should run already but the feeling is strangely addictive. Jaemin sighs when he enters his room. He pats his cheek a few times, Get it together, Jaemin, you can’t lose.

Maybe it’s because he’s been uneasy the past few days; the heavy feelings being replaced by the surprisingly light-hearted ones because of you probably caused this sudden dilemma. You aren’t even a player in the game to Jaemin. He could have tried sweet-talking, flirting, all of his other naturally attractive habits on you, but he always refrained. It felt wrong to let you fall; it always feels wrong when someone falls for him. Jaemin knows he won’t be able to help his fears, and he’ll have to run before he loses, before his own heart takes damage. Even if it’s the same fear he gets with everyone he’s dated, he’s been careful enough for you to not be one of them. He’s never known why, but the idea of it felt worse than the others.

Jaemin sighs again. Today felt different with you. It felt right. Right for him, his heart and his feelings. He wonders if that’s what all the people he’s dated felt for him in the beginning, still feel for him. That’s not a good sign. It means he should stay away. But the feeling resides in the pit of his stomach and he can’t wipe the idea of you.

Jaemin sometimes hates who he’s become, and the feelings associated with him. It’s comes naturally to him, all that he does, but he gets the feeling in his gut that it’s wrong. Jaemin doesn’t know why he still does it. Fun? Sometimes, but not really. Out of boredom? Again, same answer. Fear? That might actually hit close. He doesn’t mind the reputation he’s made if it will keep people away from his own heart, as they approach him with theirs. Jaemin just doesn’t find love beautiful anymore. Feelings are messy and unclear when they’re your own, even if you see them clearly in others. He’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep his prized possession safe. But it’d be a lie if he said he didn’t like showering his affections on someone else; he’s got a lot of it, but he never seems to be able to help the ending.

He’s been more distracted, perturbed these days, especially after Yangyang found his own pet to play with. But the weird thing is, they aren’t a pet at all, they aren’t a way to pass the time, aren’t a result of an inability to exercise self-control—the fact that they’re genuinely in love makes a sick bitterness pool in Jaemin’s stomach. He doesn’t want to feel this way; he’s never wanted to feel this way. It just so happened that the tide rushed in and he got stuck in the current.

Jaemin scowls at the ceiling, lying on his bed. If he can’t sleep, he might as well do something, he thinks as he gets up, running his fingers through his hair. He exits his room; he’s never liked staying inside for too long—it gives him a headache and makes him nauseous.

The night is slightly less hot than the day, but Jaemin likes this kind of weather. He could get something to eat now, hopefully Red’s Diner is still open, although he doesn’t necessarily have to worry about that. The manager gives him a free pass up till two in the morning. He plugs in his headphones and starts walking.

What Jaemin doesn’t expect is trouble, although he should by now. He barely escapes some burly guy, brother of one of the seniors he’s dated, with a bleeding lower lip and possible bruising in his chest. Jaemin hates getting hit in the face. His friends might be able to take a beating, but he prefers staying away from fights; it’s just not his kind of thing. He’s only learned defence, and picking physical fights just seems too childish for him. He sighs and hopes he can still buy something, and then he can go home, clean his face, and then eat.

You massage your temples, sitting alone at a table for two. You just wanted to breathe, you thought, as you had made your way towards Red’s, the unfinished book in your hand. The diner’s still fairly empty as when you had arrived, and you’re glad it is. No one’s there to witness the darkness under your eyes, or your parched lips as your eyes scan the words on the pages. Sleeplessness has given you a mild headache, but you don’t stop reading. It’s an otherworldly experience—to read your favourite book at a diner at midnight, but your peace is disrupted soon.

Na Jaemin stands at the entrance, a look of surprise across his face when his eyes meet yours. His lower lip is swollen and there’s dried blood by the side of his mouth. You can see a few cuts here and there if you squint, but before you can decide what to do, Jaemin takes a seat across you.

“Did I get hit that hard or are you really here?” Jaemin says, mouth dropping open.

“What- What is that supposed to mean? Jaemin, what happened?!”

“So I’m not hallucinating,” Jaemin leans forward.

“Are you- are you flirting?!” you look at him incredulously. “You really did get hit too hard, didn’t you?”

“I don’t really wanna discuss this right now,” he whispers, pointing towards his lips and frowning.

“Well, it doesn’t look too good to me,” you whisper, equally aggravated. “You should get it cleaned.”

You mentally curse yourself for letting your worries show. You’re supposed to stay away from this one guy, but you surely can’t leave him when he’s this hurt like this.

Jaemin snorts. “Yeah, right. I’m getting my food first.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but anger rises in your throat and all the way up to your forehead. You feel a sudden rush of energy as you grab Jaemin’s hand, and place the money for your food on the table before leaving, grumbling about how stupid someone can be.

“Where are you taking me?” Jaemin asks from behind you, his steps reluctant but complying.

“My house. It’s only two minutes away.”

You hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way, and that this is the last you see of him. He owes you at least this much, to stay away from your heart.

You stumble to your bedroom in the darkness, hands roaming around for the light switch. You feel glad as soon as you find it, and place a finger over your lips facing Jaemin. You push Jaemin inside, and close the door behind you, turning to rummage through your first aid.

“You have a really strong grip, you know?” Jaemin comments, standing a few feet away from you.

“Just sit,” you sigh. He follows and waits patiently as you gather all you need and stand in front of him.

“I didn’t even get food,” Jaemin complains. He’s about to open his mouth again when you glare at him, and he makes a show of shutting his mouth up.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see the look on Jaemin’s face. His eyes are widened, his lips barely parted, as he gazes at you with an unreadable emotion. It’s not a common expression you see every day at school, but you ignore the intensity of his gaze as you press the cotton against his lip. He flinches at first, but stays still for the rest of the time you take working.

It’s silent the entire time all the way up till you put on a band-aid on his jaw, and dab some antiseptic cream on his lower lip. Jaemin doesn’t speak even as you place your first aid kit away, and halt in front of him. You’re unsure of what to say as you clear your throat, but Jaemin opens his mouth instead.

“Will you patch me up every time?” he asks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No,” you respond immediately. “I just- I felt bad for you. That’s why. I’m not- I’m not doing this again.”

You stutter out your words, and Jaemin notices, his smile only spreading to his eyes. Why did your impulse have to bring him here?

“I like it when you worry about me. Remember when I sprained my wrist and you stayed over?”

“I’m being nice,” you say, crossing your arms. “And why do you even remember that?”

“Don’t you?” He looks at you curiously, and you sigh.

Jaemin pouts as he stands up, and he flinches ever so slightly, but you notice it anyway. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Did you get punched in the chest?” you ask, maintaining your stance.

“Hu-huh? I- I might have. I don’t really remember.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” you sigh.

Jaemin tilts his head, eyes not really focused. Does he even know how bad a chest injury can get? You curse yourself for caring this much. You could send him off like this; you’ve done enough, but no, of course not. This sort of impulse always get the better of you.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Woah. No one I’ve dated has been that bold before.” Jaemin’s eyes widen as he fakes a scandalized expression.

“It’s not like that, you idiot,” you flush red at his unnecessary comment.

You find flowers of bruises on his chest, and a few scratches. You get your first aid again and treat him once more, complaining about how stupid he is. You’re not very rational right now, you’re much too sleepy and you’re only running on adrenaline. Your grumbling isn’t even the worst you could do.

After Jaemin slips his hoodie back on, he flashes you another smile, accompanied with a wink. It’s like he teases you on purpose. You scowl, and look the other way. You don’t even want to think anymore; you’re just keeping it together till he leaves and you can crash. A part of you is still curious, though, unfortunately.

“How’d you even get beaten up this bad?” you ask, the words coming out reluctantly. Just who could beat up your school’s most adored boy?

“The…the boys,” he answers, his pitch slightly higher as he gulps, “They ran into some trouble.”

You scoff. “I didn’t think you were this bad at lying, Jaemin.”

“And how would you know?” he retorts, eyebrows twisting in confusion.

“I know that face,” you mumble.

Jaemin falls silent as he looks down at his hands on his lap. He looks back up after a few seconds, and opens his mouth but closes it soon after. Why does he look so guilty?

“It was some guy…the brother of someone I dated…I don’t really remember.”

Jaemin looks away, and you feel a mixture of anger and pity. You’re not sure if it’s the tiredness speaking, but you chide him, “If you don’t know how to fix something, don’t break it.”

Jaemin holds a small smile for a few moments before responding quietly. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Whatever, Jaemin, get some rest,” you say, patting his shoulder.

Jaemin stands up with a sweet, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

You find yourself smiling back for the first time; it’s present even as he leaves, and you send him off with a note to be careful as you watch his figure carefully make his way through the streets. You smile in your sleep too that night, but you don’t remember what you dreamt of in the morning.

“You look chipper today,” Jeno notes as Jaemin breaks into another grin.

“I do?” Jaemin’s eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t elaborate although he’d really love to.

“Stop pretending,” Renjun shoves him. “You know you want to, so spit it out.”

Jaemin shoots a look at Renjun, and massages his shoulder. “I’ll tell you if I want to. Stop glaring at me.”

“Let me guess,” Renjun says, a teasing smile on his face. “You’ve found the love of your life!”

Donghyuck snickers from behind Jaemin, and even Jeno looks amused. Yangyang resorts to shrugging, a sly smile making its way onto his face. Jaemin turns around to look at Donghyuck first.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” he glares while Donghyuck responds with a ‘hm’, his cheek pressed to the desk and eyes closed. Sometimes even Jaemin doesn’t get Donghyuck and his sleep schedule. Does he sleep in class to piss off the teachers or does he really not get sleep at night?

Jaemin turns to look around at the rest, still shooting Jaemin bemused looks.

“What? I’m not going to date anyone right now,” Jaemin shrugs. It’s true. He doesn’t feel like going through the process all over again. He hopes it’s not because of you.

“Do I hear correct?” Yangyang quirks his brow up, mock surprise on his face.

“I heard it too,” Renjun interrupts, mouth open in an exaggerated gasp. “Na Jaemin, Mr. Heartbreaker, isn’t going to date? How are you supposed to keep up your reputation?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “You guys are something else.”

Renjun grins, while the rest look equally amused after poking fun at their friend. However, as soon as you walk into class, Jaemin suddenly finds him staring after you. He finds it interesting how you never spare him a second glance, like you didn’t clean his wounds and treat him with all your care last night. He found your touch warm, soft and very, very real.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Renjun interrupts Jaemin’s train of thought. He feels uneasy at the comment—is he being obvious? That’s the last thing he wants.

“Why don’t you just use your usual tricks on them? If you’re that interested,” Yangyang suggests.

Jaemin isn’t interested, he swears he isn’t. But the more he promises himself the more the dreaded realization dawns that he probably is, that he might break your heart. He scoffs internally. It’s too soon, and he won’t date you, certainly. He made that decision a long time ago, and even though you don’t talk to him anymore, he couldn’t do that to his old friend. The ones who come to him pleading with their hearts, the ones who readily give it up when he shows the slightest interest—they never felt like anything to Jaemin, just a shadow of the warmth he could have felt, that they probably felt with him. Na Jaemin doesn’t fall in love easily, no. It’s what his reputation says, and it’s what he decided two years ago when…he shudders at the memory.

“How do you even make all of them fall for you, Jaemin?” Yangyang asks, not paying a lot of attention. “It’s like you speak magic.”

“Seems like they like the look of danger,” Renjun laughs.

“Then girls would be all over Donghyuck,” Jaemin declares, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy behind him from the corner of his eye.

“I heard that,” Donghyuck grumbles, propping his face up on one arm. The others laugh; Jeno is the only one who shoots Jaemin a concerned look, before turning back to his notes.

Jaemin takes one last look at you and decides, no. He’s going nowhere near your heart. But he’s allowed to rekindle old friendships, right?

You don’t get why Jaemin keeps buying you chocolate milk after lunch. Is this his repayment, or is he looking for something more? You shake your head at the latter idea; even if he did, you’re going to be strong and ignore him. You already have some of the answers you were looking for—yes, he remembers, and yes, he knows who you are, he hasn’t wiped off your history entirely from his brain. You don’t have as much curiosity left, and you can be on your own path now. Without him popping in at random.

You almost groan out loud as Jaemin sits beside you, chocolate milk in hand. You don’t show any distress, opting for a small smile and a polite ‘thank you’. Jaemin frowns.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says.

Yes, Jaemin. You.

“I think I look a little bothered all the time,” you say, looking elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t question further. You’re not sure why he’s being nice, and it’s scary. You don’t know what he’s like these days, whether he has other things in his mind now. It’s scary because you don’t know what he’s up to; you’re afraid because you can’t trust him. He’s in the middle of explaining how Renjun almost got caught with his artwork once when you interrupt.

“Jaemin,” you say, “Why are you doing this?”

“What- what do you mean?” Jaemin tilts his head.

“This.”

“I thought being nice is a good thing,” he pouts.

“Jaemin.”

Jaemin falls silent, and you think he’ll crack another silly joke and avoid the issue. But he stays quiet for what seems like hours before finally parting his lips.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, the same deep look in his eyes that he had when you were cleaning his cuts.

You scoff. “Who’s afraid of you?”

You’re not about to tell the lion you’re afraid of him and then walk right into his den. Jaemin smiles bright as usual before looking down at his hands.

“It’s nice talking to you,” he says.

So you let him talk to you. That’s all he does every lunch break, and you don’t know why the wall you put up shakes at the foundation so often. It’s nice talking with him, in fact. You’ve also somehow become Jaemin’s medic, and every time there’s a fight, he ends up at your house with you swearing at him while treating his wounds. You don’t know why he does it, why he keeps showing up even if his face is the last thing you want to see. You don’t know why he keeps getting into fights, if they’ve always been this regular an occurrence.

When Jaemin shows up once more, this time accompanied with more than some gashes and bruises, you’re almost overtaken with panic. He looks as if he’s about to faint, and whispers a “please” before stumbling right into your arms. You carry him to your room to inspect his wounds. As you lay him on your bed, you discover he still has some consciousness left in him as his eyes follow your every movement. You do your work, realizing he might have a mild concussion although there’s no sign of bleeding.

“What happened this time?” you whine, worry seeping into your tone.

“Baseball bat,” Jaemin manages, voice low and raspy.

“You stupid boy,” you almost hit him yourself. “You never fight back, do you?”

Jaemin smiles before fluttering his eyes closed, leaving you on the verge of a heart attack.

“J-Jaemin? Oh my god, are you dead? This isn’t right- what if I get sued? Wake up you crazy—”

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Jaemin’s eyes open once more. “I feel like I’m getting hit in the head again with your yelling.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you grumble. “You must have one hell of a skull to not have died.”

“Of course,” Jaemin smiles despite the obvious pain. “Just let me sleep here tonight.”

You comply, patching up his wounds and applying the necessary. The look on Jaemin’s face is enough to convince you to give him your concern. After all, he’s a friend. But that’s all he is, right? You mumble a ‘good night’, not sure why, as you take your pillow and blanket to the living room.

Jaemin knows he shouldn’t but he keeps coming back to you. He likes the way your thumb brushes across his cheek when you check the bruises on his jaw, or the way your eyes focus on him entirely. He loves hearing the concern in your voice, even as you’re scolding him. But most of all, he adores your touch. It’s a warmth he’s feeling after a very long time, and he’s finding himself addicted.

It’s no good, Jaemin tells himself, The damage is done. Ah, but there’s always more to suffering, isn’t there?

You find yourself at a quaint café you’ve never visited before, on a Saturday afternoon. The walls are beige, and there are pink sticky notes in the shape of hearts on it. The lighting is mild; it’s mostly sunlight doing its job, but Jaemin manages to shine brighter.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. You don’t know why you still refuse to be too long in his presence. After all, you’re not exactly doing the job of staying away too well. Might as well give up.

“You keep saving my life, and I can’t even repay you?” Jaemin makes a face. “What kind of a man do you think I am, y/n?”

“A very extra one,” you scoff. He’s still the overly cheesy goofball you knew in middle school. The thought warms you as you eventually smile back at Jaemin. Every time his excitement shows up as random spasms of energy, his eyebrows moving with the tone of his voice, every time he laughs at his own joke, or when he apologizes for all the cringe that escapes his mouth, not really meaning it, every time he rolls his eyes and gets all sour if you ignore him—you’re reminded of Jaemin, the boy you know, your friend. His smile, by far, is the most reminiscent of your childhood, your friendship. It hasn’t changed one bit.

Jaemin offers to walk you home but both of you get distracted by the dog park on your way back. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been apart for two years, like Jaemin has a different reputation altogether now, like Jaemin is the last person you should be hanging out with. It’s the Jaemin you know, a bit more mature at times maybe, but the same in the end. You find a twinge of a feeling unknown in your chest as you watch Jaemin play with a little pug, trying to get it to give him a high-five. You’re not supposed to be feeling this, right? This is what you’ve been afraid of so far, isn’t it? But then, why does it feel so sweet?

“Is that Na Jaemin’s new sweetheart?” your ears catch onto some whispering behind you, as you sit with Jaemin on a wooden bench.

“Wah, I’m so jealous,” another voice whines.

“Don’t worry, he’ll dump them soon enough. You could try then.”

The voices bring you back to your bitter reality. 

You breathe in. What were you even thinking? You should never have let Jaemin open his mouth in your presence. You’ve let it happen; whatever you were afraid of is already beginning, and there’s no helping it now. You start to turn your head, but Jaemin suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer, and you feel a certain dread rising in your throat. The voices behind you disappear, probably disappointed, and you feel worse.

“Don’t listen to them,” he whispers, his voice strangely worried.

You can’t stop the flurry of thoughts that pass through. Is he treating you like another toy to play with? Just a way to pass the time? Of course, he’s just trying to add your heart to his collection. There’s no other explanation as to why he would start talking to you again after so long. If he really wanted to rekindle your friendship, he would have contacted you sooner. 

You don’t know how to trust him at all, do you? Your heart hammers in your chest as you turn to face Jaemin.

“Are you playing with me?” you ask, looking him in the eye.

“What- I- Of course not!” he looks taken aback.

No, no, no. Na Jaemin is a liar and you should never trust him. That’s the one rule you have to follow. He looks nervous, that you can tell from his face. You can’t believe how you fooled yourself for this long. Friends don’t treat you the way Na Jaemin has for the past few weeks.

“I…have to go,” you tell Jaemin before getting up and walking away as fast as you can.

You don’t understand the sudden settlement of panic, but you can’t think, can’t breathe. You feel like an idiot; this is what you get for letting your guard down. Jaemin can’t possibly want to be your friend - every single thing he does adds up to his schemes, plans you don’t want to get caught up in. You ignore his calls from behind you, but he catches up to you eventually by the side of the lane that leads to your house.

“You walk too fast,” Jaemin pants. His hair is in disarray from the running, his jacket halfway off his shoulder, and his cheeks flushed red.

“Jaemin,” you say as you stand there, frozen, “You’ve changed. And I don’t know you now. I’m sorry, but I think I really am afraid of you.”

You’re afraid of Jaemin, yes, but you’re also afraid of your heart.

Jaemin’s sharp intake of breath draws your attention, and you stand your ground as he walks closer to face you.

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin reasons, “It really isn’t.”

“When is it not like that, Jaemin?” you say, your voice heavy, “I’ve seen too many people cry by their lockers to believe that.”

Jaemin falls silent, and maybe you imagine it, but a flash of hurt makes its appearance across his face.

“Why do you do it?” you ask, your brows knitted. “Why do you keep doing it?”

Jaemin’s frown deepens. You know he probably won’t answer, that you’ll probably have to walk away soon. But he steps forward, his face barely a feet from yours as he speaks with uncharacteristic fear and sadness.

“Because I don’t want my heart to break,” his voice cracks, eyes shaking and looking down at his feet, and you feel pity among the mix of emotions stemming in you.

Before you can respond, Jaemin steps back. An almost inaudible ‘sorry’ escapes his mouth, as he turns around and leaves. And you let him leave, too confused with his answer, too confused with his actions, his smiles, his words, everything he does. You enter your bedroom with a heavy heart, and a nagging thought that you might have hurt Na Jaemin, a heartbreaker and a friend once upon a time.

Jaemin sighs as he hugs his pillow tighter, laying on his bed. Does he ever do anything right? Is he really as horrible as you think he is? He’s got so many questions he doesn’t have the answer to, and a hole beginning to form in his chest. Jaemin sighs once more, feeling anguish for the first time in a long time.

“Do you wanna talk about it? This is like- the eight hundredth time you’ve sighed,” Jeno says, not taking his eyes off his phone screen.

Jaemin sits up. He knows he called Jeno over; he’s the only one that listens as closely as Jaemin likes, but right now, he doesn’t feel like talking at all. Besides, Jeno’s too busy with the stupid game and it’s irking Jaemin even more.

“I messed up,” Jaemin says, finally.

“When do you not?”

Jaemin throws the pillow at Jeno, which effectively stops his gameplay. Jeno grins at Jaemin, who barely returns a smile before lying back down on the bed.

“Y/n should be the one here right now, not me,” Jeno says, “That is, if you want to talk it out.”

“I can’t do that,” Jaemin furrows his brows.

“Why not?”

“I’m- I’m not even that interested. Why should I waste any more time? It’s not like I’ll die without them,” he scoffs. “Maybe I should finally text that girl back. What’s her name again? Yoojung? Yoosung?”

Jeno stares at Jaemin, almost sighing. “You’re rambling out of bitterness now? You really did get feelings, didn’t you?”

“I did not!” Jaemin says, pitch a little higher.

Jeno sighs, leaning back against the wall. “I know you promised yourself you wouldn’t after…that. But I think it’s a good thing. And it’s y/n too! They know you best out of all the ones you’ve dated.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Which is surprising. This is the first time someone hasn’t fallen for you within two weeks.”

Jaemin makes a strangled noise, somewhat resembling a dinosaur as he turns the other way in his bed.

“It’s also surprising how you’re not running away,” Jeno says, raising his phone once more.

Jaemin turns his head at that.

“You’re afraid of real feelings, right? That’s why you run,” Jeno continues. “This time you’re not even facing reality.

“That’s not true! I…” Jaemin’s voice fades. It is true. He’s usually honest with himself and his feelings. And he knows real from fake. But this time, he’s not sure if he’s deluding himself for you. Is it because he missed you, missed being understood? Or did he decide he’s ready to fall in love again? Fear swells up in his chest at the thought. Absolutely not. He’s not giving away his own heart that easily, even if a part of him is ready to. But maybe, maybe he can let himself do it; maybe you’ll keep it safely with you.

“Talk to them,” Jeno repeats, attention already back to his game.

“Why did you bring me here?” you complain to a nervous-looking Jisung, shifting in his place.

“I- uh. I just thought- that uh, you know- maybe you’d socialize more um,” Jisung stutters.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re telling me that?”

Jisung looks away, and when he finds Chenle calling him, he looks almost relieved. He scrambles to his friend with a quick ‘bye!’, leaving you all the more suspicious.

It feels strange to be dragged to a party. It feels even stranger to be dragged to a party by Park Jisung. And to top all of it, it’s Na Jaemin’s party, the last person you want to see.

You contemplate leaving, but it’s Jisung who brought you here; and if he’s making an effort to socialize, the least you can do is appreciate it. But the music’s too loud, and there are too many people smelling like alcohol, too many couples making out and having fun for you to enjoy your time. Jaemin’s house might be more spacious than average, but it still feels too crowded, too suffocating for you to be in there. As the last of your patience fades, you make your way upstairs and into any quiet room you can find.

The bedroom you enter turns out to be Jaemin’s. You think you should leave; it’s not right to disrespect someone’s privacy, but you have nowhere else to go either.

The ticking clock gets on your nerve as you decide to walk around the room. The mirror is right by the window, and you remember drawing a moustache and a beard on it to substitute actual face painting. Jaemin had taken the marker and drawn spirals over your cheeks, as you whined at him to stop. You almost smile at the memory.

One of the drawers beside the mirror is left open; Jaemin’s still so careless, you realize with a huff. You turn to close it, but the sleek black diary catches your attention. Is it the one you and Jaemin used to draw in? You can’t help yourself as you take it out, promising you’ll keep it back immediately.

But the notebook you take out barely contains any drawings—it’s full of letters. There are hundreds, maybe more; each page is a short letter to someone and there are a few loose pages stuck hastily. It’s the words, however, that catch your attention.

Dear Chaerim,

I honestly do think your laugh is the sweetest. Please don’t feel insecure. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Haeun,

I admire your intelligence, your hard work. I know you have the brightest future ahead of you, don’t you worry about it. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Seohyun,

Your eye makeup is always lovely, as are your clothes. Don’t fuss over them too much. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Dear Minsoo,

I loved making you smile, especially when your dimples showed. It looks much better than when you’re frowning. I’m sorry for breaking your heart.

Every line you read gives you strange sense of pain, like you feel the emotions the words were written with. Are these Jaemin’s words? Does he feel like this every time? If so, why does he still do it? After going through half the letters, you’re still nowhere near an answer. Midway through, a loose paper falls out. It’s a light shade of pink, contrasting with the faded white of the notebook pages, and the letter is only one line.

My dearest Jiwoo,

Why did you break my heart?

You sit on the bed, trying to understand Jaemin through the words he’s written. Is this Jiwoo the Park Jiwoo, Jaemin’s first real relationship, and perhaps… first love? An unknown feeling settles in your chest as your brain tries to figure out the boy you swore you wouldn’t care for anymore.

Footsteps break you out of your trance as you hastily shove the notebook into the drawer, shutting it close. You’re a little terrified to find Jaemin enter, his eyes shining as they meet yours.

You’ve never wanted to hold someone as much as you want to hold Jaemin as he looks at you with the sweetest, purest of expressions. When you watch him slowly make his way towards you, you let your fear reside. It’s just you and your feelings, and you have barely a few seconds to just let it be over with.

“Jaemin,” you gulp, when he sits beside you.

“Don’t,” he whispers, a faint smell of alcohol mixed with perfume wafting towards you.

Jaemin places a warm hand over your cheek, thumb moving in circles as a source of comfort. You breath hitches in your throat when he leans in, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You realize with a thud in your heart that you want him to kiss you. He stops a few centimetres away, not close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, but enough to see him eye to eye. Jaemin sits back straight, the warmth of his hand leaving your face and you, disappointed at the lack of touch.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asks.

You pause before nodding reluctantly. A defeated smile forms on his face.

“I never really want to, you know?” he continues, “But I’m always so afraid.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” you say, looking at your hands. “For overreacting that day.”

“No, no. You weren’t wrong.”

You look up back at Jaemin, and you can still find a hint of fear in the way the corner of his lips tremble.

“You’re worse than her, you know?” Jaemin smiles bitterly. “I’ve never been so afraid before.”

Jaemin takes your hand in his and slowly places it against his chest. His heart is hammering faster than yours, and you wonder how he’s keeping up his breathing. No matter how guarded you are, you think, Jaemin is more guarded.

“I am so, so afraid,” his breath hitches in his throat.

Jaemin leans in again, and this time you know your lips touching is inevitable. But he moves slow, and you find the fear in your heart spilling out the questions.

"You're...you're going to hurt me," you whisper, your eyelids flickering down halfway.

"I'm not playing this time," Jaemin's voice breaks, his words coming out as a whisper over your lips.

"Why?" you ask, doubt pooling in your chest.

"Because I'll lose."

Jaemin looks at you for a moment, and then he leans in once and for all, your lips meeting in a pending kiss. He pulls away several times to press more and more kisses against your mouth, as if he can't believe it, can't believe that he's actually kissing you. His grip around you tightens as he pulls you closer, and he hums against your mouth when you kiss him back.

You pull away with the need to breathe, and Jaemin begins to lean in again when you cup his face to stop him. You’ll admit this felt perfectly right, but there are things you have to make sure of.

“Jaemin,” you breathe. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

“One drink isn’t enough for that, love,” he replies with a small smile.

“It’s still illegal,” you grumble before pausing. “You can promise me something, right?”

Jaemin looks at you, expecting you to continue.

“Don’t break my heart,” you say, your voice small.

“I should be telling you that,” Jaemin says with a laugh before placing his mouth over yours once again. You smile into the kiss, and he does, too. Whatever this is, you’re willing to give it a chance. You think it’s time your heart is let out of its cage.

Everyone starts school the next day with a letter in their locker. There are mixed emotions—mostly bittersweet, some forgiving and some upset. But Jaemin still stands with a polite smile and apologetic words, and an added gaze full of affection towards you. If it’s for you, he thinks, he’s willing to start fresh. Besides, he’s wanted to apologize for a while now.

Jaemin finds that once he starts kissing you, he can’t stop. It doesn’t matter to him anymore, the others. He can only see you, hear you, feel you, and it’s a new yet much longed for feeling that he’s experiencing. Jaemin isn’t afraid anymore, even more so after a few months, even during graduation. It’s like learning to trust all over again, like experiencing freedom for the first time. Jaemin finds himself smiling often, happy smiles. His heart that was once broken into pieces, that he once had to glue back all by himself now has you and your heart to take care of it.

#fun fact i intially wanted this to be set in college but nah #anyway who should be next in the series #send an ask babies! #nct scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct au #na jaemin #jaemin reactions #jaemin imagines #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct writings #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #nct jaemin #nct jaemin fluff #nct fluff #nct angst #bad boy!au #moonwrites #high school!au #jaemin fluff #this plays out like a kdrama and i feel embarrassed help m e

[aliensmoothie]

Borderlands: The Broken Mask

pt. 1

word count: 2509

summary: the inciting action

Fiona approached the run-down building. It was just a small shack out in the desert, in a canyon between two orange rock cliff-faces. It was also where she assumed the person who reached out to her was. As she awkwardly stood and debated whether or not she should just enter or knock or something, she heard footsteps approaching and turned around.

"Sasha?"

and there, walking towards her, was her younger sister (and partner in crime), Sasha. Her sister gave her a smile and said, "Good to see you too, Fi."

"What are you doing out here?" Fiona asked, crossing her arms at her sister, trying to contain her smile. It's been a while.

"Well, someone reached out to me. some job?"

"Huh, that's weird…" Fiona trailed off, looking at the shack, "I'm here for a job too."

"huh, yeah, weird coincidence." Sasha conceded.

"Holy shit-" a voice from behind the girls said

"Vaughn???" said the both of them, turning to face the unintimidating bandit lord.

"Sasha, Fiona!" Vaughn said, opening his arms to his friends "Bring it in!"

Sasha and Fiona looked at each other, then back to Vaughn (still holding his arms out). 

As the three friends hugged, Vaughn said "It's been a grip guys, where have you been?"

"Well, it hasn't been that long, right?" Fiona asked. Sasha shook her head.

Vaughn broke from the hug and smiled up at his friends "Yeah, only around a month or something. Still, I've missed you two! I'm not that caught up in bandit lord...ing."

"I've just been taking odd jobs, really, nothing interesting." Sasha shrugged.

"Yeah, same here," Fiona said "but it's good to know that your 'bandit-lording' is still going well"

"Oh like you have a better word for it," Vaughn quipped, "but yeah! The Children of Helios are still together… Albeit in smaller numbers than ever- but still together!"

"So what are you doing here?" Sasha asked, bringing the elephant in the room into focus.

"Oh, I got contact from some guy out here. Said he had a job, and honestly I just needed a break from the stress of bandit life."

"Huh, guess it's almost like old times." Fiona said, evoking a sad smile from her friends. 

It's been about a month since the three saw each other, and maybe that wasn't completely an accident. Every time they get together, even after five years, it's hard not to think about their missing team member. 

When Rhys disappeared, they all searched like crazy, but after a year of it, they had no choice but to assume he was gone. It was the most likely thing at that point. He may have gotten through some crazy shit, but at the end of the day, Rhys was a middle management coder at Hyperion. It's not like he was particularly well-suited for Pandora.

"So, is our employer home or what?" Fiona said, breaking the silence and turning towards the rundown shack.

"I mean, we can probably just go in," Vaughn started, "but maybe we should knock firs-"

Before Vaughn could finish his sentence, someone jumped down from the cliff-face behind the shack, onto the roof. As the figure landed, they saw that it was infamous assassin and vault hunter, Zer0. And as Fiona, Sasha, and Vaughn stood in awe for a moment, they flashed a smiley-face emoticon on their helmet's display.

"Zer0? Did you get a job here too?" Fiona questioned.

Zer0 jumps down from the roof, remaining silent. Fiona had heard it'd been a while since they've said much of anything, really.

Fiona didn't know why she had really expected an answer, but decided to take their silence as a yes, given the circumstances. "Cool, cool…"

Fiona, Sasha, and Vaughn all look at eachother for a moment in puzzlement. Who was this employer, and why did they choose this fucking wild grab bag of a team.

As they turned back to Zer0 to ask them if they knew anything, they saw that they were already attempting to answer the question, and entering the shack.

The three entered after them, and were faced with who they assumed to be their employer. They wore a cyan hoodie, a brown bomber jacket, and (this being their most notable feature) a pink biker's helmet, decorated with a few stickers, and a cyan 'X' spray painted on their left eye, and a cyan 'O' on their right. Behind them, there is a sizable splattering of blood on the wall, just starting to coagulate.

"Well, you're all here." the person said, in a voice distorted and crackled through their helmet, "I'd offer you something to drink but we should probably just leave."

The four paused for a moment, recovering from the slight whiplash of this stranger's lack of niceties.

"Are you uh- Are you our employer?" Vaughn stammered.

"Well, 'employer' isn't really right. But I am the person who contacted you four, yes." the stranger answered.

"Hold on, you're paying us, right?" Fiona asked, one foot practically out the door already.

"No, but my... employers probably will. I can only assume that's what they want with you." the stranger said, walking towards the door, "Now, if you have more questions- and want them answered- you should start walking."

As the stranger left, the four paused once again. Whoever this was, they didn't wait for goddamn anyone. But either they had no other choice, or really just nothing better to do, because all four began to follow them out of the shack.

After walking in silence for a moment, Sasha said, "So… Who exactly are you?"

"My name is Janus," they said.

"Are you going to tell us where we're going, Janus?"

"To my 'employers'" 

"And where are they?"

"Not that far. There's a base near here that we can contact them from." Janus answered calmly, "And in case you were wondering, we don't have to walk all the way there. We should have a ride closeby-"

Just as they finished their sentence, the group spotted what ride Janus was talking about. An only slightly busted bandit technical, parked at the beginning of the canyon. The only issue being, a bandit was indeed in the technical, and as the group approached he began to draw his gun.

"Cool it, Aleks," Janus began "It's me."

And, as soon as the bandit- Aleks- registered Janus, he took a far more friendly disposition. He hopped out of technical, and walked over to Janus to give them a hearty clap on the back, to which they seemed almost completely unfazed (but a little irritated) by.

"Janey! It's good to see ya man! what ya doin out here!" 

"A job."

"Oh really? without any cameras on ya-" the bandit began to say, laughing, but was cut off when he noticed the rest of the group.

"Hold on, did Tyreen send you out to get those four?" the Bandit said softly.

"Yes."

the bandit started inching back to the technical "Shit… uh. let me just uh. make a call on my Echo real quick?"

Janus stared for a moment "We need your car."

Aleks turned back to Janus "whuh- uh, no, dude. the other dudes are still fuckin about, and they told me to watch the te---"

Janus raised their pistol, and without hesitation, shot Aleks clean through the skull. They holstered their gun, and hopped into the technical, with the blood splatter still on it.

Janus looked expectantly at the group, and they reluctantly hopped into the back of the bandit technical.

After driving for a while in awkward silence, Vaughn spoke up, "Was that one of yours?"

"huh?" Janus asked

"The guy you shot, Aleks. Does- did he work with you?"

"Yeah."

"Your uh… employers probably aren't going to be really happy about you shooting him, right?"

"No, I actually think they might be somewhat happy with me."

The group paused in confusion for a moment, until Fiona asked "who exactly are your 'employers'?"

"Tyreen and Troy Calypso of the COV- The Children Of the Vault." Janus answered.

"What do you do there?" 

"I do the same thing as most everyone else. We... entertain, I guess."

The conversation ended there. The pause left before "entertain" was far too unsettling, and nobody wanted to ask them what exactly they meant. 

The technical slowed down as they approached an abandoned Hyperion base. Well, abandoned by Hyperion that is, because in terms of bandits and the like, it was pretty well stocked. 

"This is it. We'll head inside, and we can call The Twins from there." Janus said, hopping out of the technical.

The group walked towards the entrance, which had an uncomfortable amount (read: any) standing near it. None of them seemed to acknowledge the group entering, luckily. It doesn't seem like it would get too violent with Janus with them, but it definitely wouldn't be pleasant.

The continued in through the base, which looked to be in fairly good condition, but heavily… "decorated" by the bandits now occupying it. As they went further in, there seemed to be less bandits mulling about, and they finally entered a room that was completely empty of people. 

It seemed to be some sort of gathering area, covered almost wall to wall in screens of varying sizes, and a large holographic communicator in the middle, to which Janus walked towards.

They punched something into the small keyboard panel on the side, and looked up, waiting for the call to start.

" -oy shut the fuck up i have a call coming in- oh hey, Janey! How's my number one superfan?" Said (who the group could only assume was) Tyreen.

"I got the people you were looking for."

"Always straight to the point Jan, I'll give you that." Tyreen said, turning her attention towards the rest of the group "Wow… You really got all of them! How did you manage that?"

After a moment of Janus not responding, Tyreen glared, but shrugged it off, "Anyways, I have a proposition of sorts for you four."

"What kind of proposition?" Vaughn asked.

"Well, I'm sure Janey over there has told you what we're all about, right?" Tyreen quizzed.

"Uh… They said you. 'Entertain'? Or something?" Sasha said, almost unsure that that was the right answer.

"Exactly!" Tyreen exclaimed, "And we do it with a skillset that suits pandora- and you four- quite well."

"... And what exactly is that?" Fiona asked.

"Bloodshed, gore, murder- we're the bloodiest goddamn streamers on the ECHOnet!"

At that, most of the group took pause. It makes sense that they'd want Zer0, but the rest of them aren't particularly competent murderers.

Tyreen seemed to read their confusion, as she began to explain, "You all had involvement in the opening of the Vault of The Traveller. That's a preeeetty big deal, it was a vault that was known to be wicked elusive, until you and a few others cracked it. We got ahold of most of those 'others' too, but they weren't uhh… too sympathetic to our cause, or whatever."

After a moment of hesitation from the group, Fiona spoke up, "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but it's a no from me."

"Same here." Sasha said.

"Yeah, I think I'm good." Vaughn agreed, as the group cast glances back at Zer0. If anyone, they'd be the one to say y-

"No." Zer0 said, to everyone's surprise. And seemingly to Tyreen's dissapointment

"Well, I was honestly hoping we'd get one of you on board, at least." Tyreen sighed, "But hey, that's why we got Janus in on it, this time."

"What do you mean?" Fion asked.

"To make sure you guys don't walk out of here." And with that, the door to the room slammed shut, and Tyreen pressed something on her ECHO device, activating all the screens, showing footage of the same room they were all in.

"Hey brothers and sisters! God Queen Tyreen here, and today we got a showdown between Janus, and our four special guests! I'll be commentating over the stream, but I'll hang up and Jan, and leave the rest to them." She said, and the hologram shut down, leaving just the five in the room.

But Janus didn't have their weapons drawn.

In fact, they seemed like they weren't even thinking of fighting the four of them, despite Zer0 already having their sword drawn.

"I hacked the cameras in this room before I left. We don't have long until someone realizes the footage is looping and comes in here." Janus said, turning towards the back wall of the room, "There's a secret door somewhere around here, help me find it."

"Wait, you aren't going to try and kill us?" Sasha asked.

"No. You four would absolutely kill me. I may be the longest surviving person here, but I don't fight Vault Hunters." Janus answered. "Now help me find the door."

The four looked all along the walls, trying to see if there was something behind one of the screens, which were all looping the footage of the five of them standing there.

After a moment of searching, Janus hit a button on one of the screens, and a small panel of the wall opened up, revealing the outside of the building.

As the rest of the group made their way out of the door, the main door to the room opened up, with quite a few bandits on the other side.

"Shit- I got them, just run!" Janus yelled, shoving the rest out of the door, and closing it behind them.

Just a moment passed, and the door opened again, revealing the room, now painted with exploded bandits, and Janus, who seemed just fine as they started to run away from the building.

The group followed them, and they ran through the desert, hearing a crowd of bandits beginning to follow after them.

"Where are we going to go!?" Vaughn yelled.

"I don't know- somewhere away from here!" Janus yelled back.

"You didn't have a plan!?" Fiona snapped.

"I did have a plan!" Janus defended, "But the cameras were the extent of it!"

"Look, there's no way we're outrunning them! can't we just fight them!?" Sasha yelled.

Fiona glanced over her shoulder, "No way, they outnumber us!"

"Alright, fuck this-" Janus said, and then pulled out a gun, "Just try to fire a few shots while you're running!"

The group did so without protest, as it was really the best option, though the only one who landed any actual shots was Zer0.

"If we can find a fast travel station- we should be able to throw them off!" Vaughn yelled, "Get back to the Children of Helios or something!"

"Good idea! I know one nearby!" Janus agreed.

As they kept running, they approached the entrance of what looked like an abandoned desert town, which had a quick travel station right there.

Vaughn was the first to get to it, and he hurriedly started interfacing with it.

"Speed it up, Vaughn!" Fiona hissed, still out of breath.

 "I'm doing my best! I don't use these things alo-"

#*drops this out of nowhere* FUCK YOU #except my boyfriend becayse i love him and he taught me how 2 do the read more ♡♡♡ #the ONLY bitch in this house i respect. #my writing #bltb #borderlands the broken mask #borderlands au #fun fact: the name of this au came from that one borderlands three trailer! #maybe one day i will write out the prologue but no will not ♡

[joe-mazzello-archive]

Agape - Chapter Six

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Rating: 18+

Chapter Six

Warnings: Language, Fluff-ish, Absolutely cheesy writing Word Count: 2600 A/N: Definitely didn’t think I would have time to write this weekend and then I wrote this entire thing on the plane. I appreciate the support on this series so far. Especially since I'm relatively new to the scene. Much thanks! Also I'm not a trained writer by any means so apologies for the amount of cheese when they're filming the final scene.

-

You and Joe made your way to a bar on Sixth Street, one of Austin's many nightlife spots. You picked a quieter one, one where the two of you wouldn't be bothered too much. You ordered your first round and took a seat at a high top.

"So are you going to explain why we couldn't go to dinner with Leah and Bri?" Joe eventually asked. You took a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your word choice carefully.

"As much as it might have looked like Leah was inviting all of us, she really was only inviting Briana," you replied. Joe gave you a confused look, the wheels turning in his head. Suddenly he understood.

"Ohhhh! Well that explains their weird interaction in the makeup trailer," Joe said, earning a nod from you.

The two of you chit-chatted for a bit, enjoying your drinks and each other's company. Occasionally someone would come over to greet the two of you, sometimes asking for a picture. You obliged, mostly because you were in a particularly good mood still. Your jealousy from earlier had completely dissipated and you had finally confessed your feelings for Joe. Well, to Leah at least. Close enough.

Joe seemed to notice your chipper mood.

"So you're particularly smiley tonight. I take it you're feeling better?" Joe commented.

"Feeling better?" you asked.

"Well it seemed like during the shoot you were getting a bit frustrated," he answered hesitantly, almost as if he was afraid to bring it up. You felt a little embarrassed, wishing that your feelings hadn't affected your work day so much.

"Yeah, I was kind of going through something personal and I brought it to work with me. Luckily I was able to work through it during the break so that I wouldn't hold us up anymore," you admitted, completely beating around the bush. It's not like you were going to tell him the whole truth.

"Anything you want to talk about? As cliche as it is, you know you can talk to me about anything," Joe said with a soft smile. Damn that smile. You felt your cheeks get warm once again, and you prayed he couldn't see them in the low light of the bar.

You thought about what he said. You were so tempted to just blurt it out right in the bar. Just empty out all of your feelings for the redhead sitting across from you. You opened your mouth to speak but stopped yourself. All of those nasty headlines from your last break-up flashed across your vision, reminding you why you shouldn't say anything. You finally spoke.

"Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it. I kind of talked it through with Leah, so I think I'm fine. But I'm glad to know I can go to you about stuff too," you said smoothly.

"Yeah, it's not a problem. I know before this we were just casual friends, but I feel like we've gotten really close over this shoot. I consider you a really close friend and I hope you feel that way, too," Joe admitted. Your blush only grew.

"I consider you a close friend, too," you replied, trying to will the redness in your face away.

"So....last day tomorrow. You ready?" Joe asked. Damn, you honestly had forgotten that the last day of shooting was so soon. You suddenly thought about the fact that soon you would be going home to LA and Joe would be going home to NYC. You felt a twinge of sadness; while you were looking forward to the distance to get rid of your feelings for Joe, you were bummed that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore.

"Yeah, I think so," you answered, trying not to reveal your sadness. "Shit, this shoot went by really fast."

"It really did. But as they always say, time flies when you're having fun filming an indie film," Joe joked. You chuckled.

"Oh, I don't think I’ve ever heard the full phrase before," you countered.

"Yeah, most people don't know that the phrase was originally said about filmmaking," Joe added. You shook your head lovingly. You raised your glass.

"To a great shoot with a great scene partner," you said, a huge smile plastered on your face as you looked into the eyes of the man you had fallen for.

"Here here," he replied, clinking your glass. You each took a sip of your drink.

You didn't stay at the bar too much longer, considering you both had to work the next day. You closed out your tab before heading in the direction of your apartment. Joe insisted he walk you back to your temporary home, which you appreciated. Once you arrived, you resisted the temptation to invite him up to your place. You exchanged goodbye hugs and Joe left your apartment lobby, headed to his own condo.

You slept soundly, only dreaming of Joe and his damn smile.

The next day arrived and you made your way to the set, a mix of emotions swimming through your head. You were a bit sad that you were going to have to say goodbye to the project as you had made really strong connections with the cast and crew. Plus you were bummed to say goodbye to the character of Ruby, who had become your favorite character you've ever played. You were also a mix of nervous and excited to film the final scene, hoping that the chemistry that you had developed with Joe would be evident as your characters realized they were in love.

You arrived at your trailer to drop off your purse when you noticed a folder on the table with a sticky note attached.

Last minute rewrite. -Julia

You opened the folder to find a rewritten version of the final page of the script. You sighed, hoping there weren't too many changes, as you had worked through the original several times. You skimmed the page, looking for any major differences. Your eyes landed on the final parenthetical.

The pair sit motionless for a few moments. Ruby turns to look at Desmond; she is feeling the strongest feelings she has ever felt in her entire life. Desmond mirrors Ruby, almost telepathically telling her that he is right there with her, flooding with emotions.

You cocked your head. Nothing had changed so far. You continued to read.

Silently, Ruby reaches up to cradle Desmond's face. Desmond reaches up and gently caresses Ruby's face. The two bring their foreheads together and close their eyes, paralleling the moment Desmond found Ruby at her weakest. They pull away slightly, looking right into each other's eyes. A tear runs down Ruby's face. Desmond gently wipes it away, just as before. After a few seconds of this, their lips connect. It is the most passionate, loving kiss we've ever seen. The two pull away, overwhelmed with emotions.

-RUBY: It's you.

Desmond smiles and nods.

-DESMOND: It's you.

Silently, Ruby shifts and tucks herself into Desmond's side, his arm instinctively coming up behind her to pull her in closer. They move as one, settling as close to each other as they can. Their attentions turn back to the television. Tears continue to stream down Ruby's face and she can't help but smile. She has found her true, unconditional love. Fade to black.

You're dumbfounded as you finish reading the paragraph. Before you have time to react, your phone buzzes.

Did you see the rewrite?

Joe. You had to kiss Joe. And not just any kiss. The "most passionate, loving kiss" the audience has ever seen. Normally this wouldn't phase you. You have had your fair share of on-screen kisses before. It was all part of the job. But this was different. This kiss was between you and the man you have been pining over for almost two months.

Yep, just read it.

You sat down on the couch, feeling almost dizzy.

I ran into Julia, she said that she was inspired by our performance in the pills scene. Specifically the part with our foreheads.

You almost laughed. Your performance in that scene was good enough for Julia to rewrite the final shots of the movie. So in turn, this was your own damn fault.

It was powerful stuff. I guess we're just that good.

His response was almost instantaneous.

I told you. Look out for those award noms, ma'am.

This time you actually laughed, shaking your head. Before you could come up with a clever retort, your phone buzzed again.

Want to rehearse it?

Your heart started beating even faster. You were conflicted. On one hand, you found rehearsing with Joe brought out the best performances from both of you. But on the other hand you were still processing the fact that you were going to have to passionately kiss him. You caught sight of the time and realized you were due in the makeup trailer.

Gotta head in for makeup. Maybe we can sneak one in after?

Sure. If not, no worries, I know we'll nail it without a rehearsal anyway.

After finishing in the makeup trailer, you made your way to the apartment set. The food containers and beer bottles were absent this time, since by this point in the film, Ruby has worked through a lot of her self-hatred with the help of Desmond.

You found Joe stretched out on the apartment couch, absentmindedly tapping away at his phone. Once he noticed you, he immediately adjusted to make room for you on the couch. You found yourself more nervous than normal, your heart beating a mile a minute as you took a seat next to Joe. Julia scurried over to the two of you, a huge grin on her face.

"Alright my lovelies. Are you ready?" she asked. You each nodded, both apparently at a loss for words.

You began to work through the beginning of the scene. Ruby and Desmond were seeking solace with each other, Desmond coming off a break-up scene with Talia and Ruby coming off an intense scene between her and her grandparents. The two characters always seemed to find each other in their times of need.

"Talia never loved you. And Dez, you never loved her either. Love doesn't look like that. Not the kind that matters. The kind that stops your heart cold. The true, everlasting love," you pleaded.

"How am I supposed to know when it's that kind of love?" Joe asked, dejected.

"You just know."

And just like that, you had reached the final page of the script.

You stared forward, your heart feeling like it was going to beat out of your chest. After a few moments you turned to look at Joe, overcome with just how strongly you felt for him. He turned to look back at you, his hazel eyes piercing into your soul. You had never seen Joe look at you like that and your breath caught in your throat. You took in the man in front of you, every beautiful feature. Your chest swelled and your stomach fluttered.

You weren't even acting anymore. You were absolutely, ridiculously, completely in love with Joseph Francis Mazzello.

You reached up to cradle his face, just as the script had said. His face had a bit of scruff, and you softly caressed the stubble. His hand reached up and mirrored your action. You leaned into the touch a bit, a soft smile on your face. The two of you slowly moved closer until your foreheads rested against each other. You closed your eyes, taking in Joe's familiar scent, bringing a bit of comfort. You were overwhelmed with feelings again, and the tears easily came. You were so happy to be where you were. You almost didn't care that it was all pretend. You were doing what you loved, telling a story. And you were doing it with a man you loved.

When you pulled away slightly, you made eye contact with Joe. You could stare into his eyes forever. He gently wiped away a tear, a smile appearing on his face. And then you both moved closer.

Your lips touched and suddenly you were kissing him.

Fireworks exploded inside of you. His lips were soft against yours and his fingers slid into your hair as he pulled you even closer. You kissed him hard with every feeling and emotion you had. He kissed you just as hard, massaging your lips with his.

While it was only seconds in real life, it felt like you were kissing him for hours. When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. Joe's eyes were sparkling and his smile returned. You smiled back before speaking.

"It's you." You were surprised with how soft your voice sounded. Joe ran his fingers through your hair again.

"It's you."

After a few seconds, you shifted to cuddle into his side. His arm snaked behind you and he pulled you tight against him. Your head settled against his chest. His hand ran up and down your arm, and you immediately relaxed at the gesture. You felt warm, safe, and happy. One last tear fell as you sighed deeply.

"CUT!" And just like that, the spell was broken. "Amazing work, you two! Let's reset and do it again in a few minutes!"

Joe still hadn't let go of you. And you weren't protesting. Especially since you knew it would be a few minutes until they were ready to start rolling again. You savored the moment, never wanting him to let you go. Neither of you spoke or moved. You debated saying something. As much as you wanted to stay there forever, you wanted to ask why he hadn't let you go yet. Not wanting to ruin the moment, you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Joe didn't release you from his embrace until the makeup artist appeared to touch you both up.

You did the scene a few more times. Each kiss was just as powerful as the first. Julia sang down praises endlessly, only offering small tweaks for each take. And after a few more takes, Julia gathered everyone around. You stood by Joe, who still hadn't spoken outside of his lines.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that is officially a wrap on Agape!" The entire crowd applauded as Julia continued her speech. She thanked the crew for their hard work and patience throughout the shoot. And then she turned to you and Joe.

"And a huge thank you to my two stars, who took two characters who are close to my heart and brought them to life. They put everything into their performances and I'm so thankful for them." The crowd cheered and clapped for the two of you this time. You thanked them all and thanked Julia for giving you the opportunity.

"Thanks again everyone, and we will see all of you tonight at the wrap party!" Julia shouted over the crowd.

The wrap party. Your last hoorah with the group before heading home.

You felt a hand land on the small of your back. You turned to find Joe.

"You're going to the party, right?" he asked, his face unreadable.

"Of course. How else am I going to sing drunken karaoke with you?" you replied, grinning like an idiot. Joe's face lit up and he shot a fist through the air.

"YES! Oh this is totally happening. And I'm not letting you back out this time!" Joe countered, pointing right at you while he walked in the direction of his trailer.

"I won't, I promise," you said with a giggle, already thinking about what song you were gonna sing with him.

#joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello #joemazzmatazz

[ghost-nabbers-imagines]

💀 with either Sal or Larry, maybe so gets bit after saving them

I did both Sal and Larry but Larry's is written for a fem reader because I really liked the idea for his.

Sal

Considering it was the apocalypse Sal made sure you guys had plenty of supplies in the beginning to avoid confrontation with the outise and long as possible.

But of course you'd eventually have to go out and savage for more food.

He insisted on going out but you insisted on tagging along. After about an hour arguing over whether you were staying or leaving with him he finally caved. You two spent a long while going over a plan.

When it came time to go out you were both nervous but Sal more so. He really didnt enjoy being bitten by a dog let alone a zombie.

He grabbed his handgun and a machete, while you had a crossbow and a katana as well as you both having knives.

You both piled into his car and drove to the grocery store where Sal and Larry used to have part time job. Luckily the shutters were still down and the door was still covered meaning no one had been able to get in.

You guys unlocked the door pulling the can as close to the door as you could leaving the back open.

Both of you grabbed shopping carts and began making your way down the isles unloading the cart each time one got full.

You were in one of that isles grabbing as many canned goods as you could fit in the cart.

"So I'm thinking we can probably fit another cart full in after this one and then we can just leave the door open when we leave."

"Yeah good idea love we have more than enough food here. I'm gonna go grab a couple can openers since they're on the end of this isle."

He walked down a little ways while you returned your focus to the canned goods. A few minutes later you heard him yell.

"N-no not you. No!"

You flipped around to see the zombified corpse of Larry stumbling towards Sal.

He sight of him practically broke your heart. He was still dressed in his uniform of khaki pants, the blue shirt, and the neon vest with a now very faded smiley face. His clothing was tathered and dirty. Some of his hair covered his face hiding away his rotting skin. He had a chunk of flesh missing from his shoulder where he had been bitten.

Knowing that Sal wouldn't be able to kill even the corpse of his best friend you took off towards to the two shoving the cart into your old friend's corpse knocking him into the shelf.

You went to grab your knife from your packing only for it to get caught in a tear in the bag.

You struggled to pull it out only for Larry to knock you to the ground pinning you there. You felt your knife go flying in the other direction.

Larry chomped his teeth snarling above you. Sal was trembling trying to force himself to help.

You pushed with all your might trying to get the lanky corpse off of you.

Before you could move him too far you felt his teeth bite into your upper arm.

Letting out a scream you felt your flash tear between his teeth ripping a hole in your flesh. Blood poured down from the would and out of Larry's teeth.

Seeing you hurt Sal jumped into action he took one one of the cans to Larry's head knocking him off you. Once he was off Sal kept swinging till the corpse was no longer moving.

You moved your right hand to the gash in your left arm. You were bitten like for real. This was it.

"B-baby I- I'm so so sorry. This is my fault."

He crouched down to your level.

"No love it's not your fault."

Sal kissed you tears falling down his face.

"What if we cut it off?"

"That might work you dont think it's too late?"

"We have to try I'm not losing you too. I can't lose you. I can't."

He helped you move to the first aid isle laying you down on a sleeping bag hed found in the store.

You pulled off your shirt while Sal cleaned his blade with shaky hands. Once it was disinfected he gently kissed your forehead taking a deep breath.

Even though your arm was burning with pain you forced a smile.

"I love you Sal."

"I love you too."

He got ready to make the first cut but you stopped him.

"Wait wait!"

He looked at you with teary eyes confused as to why you were prolonging this further.

You painfully moved your engagement ring and wedding band over to your other hand.

He smiled weakly with a small sniffle.

"Dont wanna lose those."

He swung the machete cutting deep.

You let out a loud painful scream.

With his second hit you had fainted. Once the arm was off he began applying pressure to the wound with the sterile pads.

When you woke up you were in pain still but no fever. You reached your hand up to feel where your arm had been only to feel an empty space.

You forced your eyes open to see the ceiling of Sal's place. The place was dark telling you it was late. You could hear soft snoring coming from your side. Each snore was followed by a sad whine or sob. Sal was no doubt having a nightmare about what had happened and was crying in his sleep.

Slowly and painfully you moved your arm over to where his head was rested next to your stomach from sleeping sitting up on the floor. You moved your fingers through his soft blue locks making him stir in his sleep.

He shifted so he was sitting up. Once he rubbed the tears and sleep from his eyes he noticed you were in fact awake and not a walker.

"Love you're ok!"

"I think so babe!"

He hugged you tightly but carefully holding you close.

Larry

You two were in the middle of a run when you had gotten over run by a smaller horde.

You ducked behind a car door readying your barbed wire covered bat. At least Steve Harrington had taught you a few pointers in all those Netlfix binge sessions.

You jumped up swinging knocking one of the roaming corpses to the ground. You dodged around the body taking off in the direction of the apartments.

"(Y/n) love over here!"

You spotted Larry with his back against an overturned uhaul truck. Weaving in between cars and taking out a Walker or two you made your way to your fiance. You could feel the baby kicking in your much larger stomach hinting that he or she was just exhausted of running as you were.

You placed a hand on your growing belly taking a couple deep breaths now that you were back by your husbands side.

He hugged you placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

"We're almost home love. Just another mile or two."

You nodded but you couldn't say you were ready to run another 2 miles especially not in this weather.

After another breather you two set off again taking out a couple more of the living dead. After another few minutes you both stopped in order for you to catch your breath.

You let your back rest against a car.

As you struggled to catch your breath you felt a sharp pain Rip through your stomach. You knew for certain it was a contraction.

"Shit not now!"

"What's the matter love?"

"I think I'm in labor."

"Shit fuck! Not now! Are you sure?"

"Yea I think I can make it to the apartments."

You kept running but after a few minutes you felt a worse sharp pain making you scream out in pain leaning against a car. You grabbed onto the open window squeezing it in pain. Your water broke with this contraction.

A moment later you felt something tear into your wrist making you scream out in pain.

"No!"

Larry pushed you out of the way stabbing his knife into the skull of the Walker.

You looked down at your wrist shocked. You were bitten and in labor.

You had been bitten right at the wrist so your arm was bleeding heavily, considering the physical strain and the heat it just took everything out of you. You fainted falling right into Larry's arms.

When you woke up you were back in what looked like the apartments. You had woken up to that ceiling and poster covered wall everytime you spent the night at Lisa's place.

You could feel throbbing burning pain in both your arm and a dull burn in your stomach.

Even though it was muffled and fuzzy you could hear Larry talking to someone near by.

Once you slowly forced your eyes open completely you were met with the rest of Larry's room.

You moved your arm over feeling the space where the rest of your right arm should be.

Next you moved your hand to feel your stomach. You slowly moved Larry's Sanitys Fall shirt up tracing your stomach where there was a giant stiched up wound.

"She has her moms eyes."

"I know shes beautiful just like her mom. Wait till she wakes up and meets you kid. You're gonna love her. And she's gonna love you so fucking much."

"Want me to hold her while you go check on (y/n)?"

"Sure. Here (daughter name) go see grandma for a minute."

A moment later the door opened up to an exhausted looking Larry.

His eyes were sad and tired his hair a mess. His hands were slightly still colored red from what you could assume was your blood.

Once he saw you were awake he jumped to your side.

"Holy Fuck knuckle love you're awake!"

"What happened?"

He stroked your hair moving it from your face while holding your hand.

"You got bit and we. We were so far from home. I -i had no choice. I c-cut it off and carried you the rest of the way. You weren't conscious to push but thankfully that doctor Morrison showed mom and Todd how to do a c section just in case before he left."

Larry let a few tears fall down his cheek as he talked.

"So the baby is ok?"

"Not only is she ok but she's so beautiful and happy already."

"Can I see her?"

Larry got up kissing you sweetly before going to the door and calling his mom in.

She came in smiling handing you your daughter.

"Shes beautiful."

"I told you just like you."

"Fortunately for her she pulls off Larry's nose a lot better than he does."

"Fuck off little dude!"

Everyone shared a laugh happy that everyone was ok.

Later that night you two laid in bed the baby between you both wide awake Larry's arm draped over both you.

"I love you so much. I was so scared I was gonna lose you."

"I love you too Larry. You saved me. Both of us really."

"I cant take all the credit. You fought for keeping our baby alive even if you didnt know you were doing it. I need you to do me a favor ok?"

"Sure what lar bear?"

"That you won't go out as much anymore. I need you safe and she needs at least one of us alive. At least take it easy for a little while even after you've healed."

"Ok love I'll try."

He leaned forward kissing you then your daughters head.

Lex💛

[the-whump-files]

fic: “in the wee, small hours”

TITLE: “in the wee, small hours” FANDOM: X-Files CHARACTERS: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder AUTHORS: the-whump-files {my girlfriend beta’d, but since she’s not part of this community {{she just loves me a lot}} her identity is staying anonymous} RATING: Teen {some very mild sexual innuendo and language} TAGS: whump, hurt/comfort, sneezefic, x files, msr AUTHORS’ NOTES: look, there is not NEARLY enough Scully-centric whump fic out there, and I consider it my life’s mission to change that sad fact. SUMMARY: In which Scully is sick during a stakeout and Mulder is teasing and there's lots of bantering because what else do you do on stakeouts, right? {Also lots of comforting and snuggles, because of course there are.} SPOILERS: None! A few references to the show, but nothing major. FEEDBACK: Always gratefully accepted and appreciated!

“Goddammit,” she hisses.

She should’ve thought this through.

She’s just barely, finally gotten the glove compartment to shut--and stay shut--when Mulder opens the driver's side door. A blast of frigid air follows him in, and she shivers as it dissipates around her already well-chilled form. More cold air shoots out of the vents as Mulder turns the key in the ignition; in typical federal government fashion, their FBI-leased rental is a shitty mid-80s Taurus with a moody heating system. Mulder seems content, though, even pleased: smiling and very slightly vibrating the way he always is when they’re en route to their latest X-File. Scully often finds it charming (she’d never in a million years tell him that) but tonight it strikes her primarily as smug and annoying, and she huffs impatiently from the passenger seat. His eyebrows raise and he casts her an irritatingly cheery sideways glance, which only annoys Scully further.

“What are you so smiley about?” It has been silent but for the pathetic chugging of the engine for the first few minutes of their drive, and when she hears her words hit the air they have more of an edge than she’d intended.

He doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead he hums along to the CD (Tom Waits--he does have good taste; she’s regularly grateful that their musical interests are so closely aligned) for a few minutes, pretending not to hear her, and at first she thinks he really hasn’t. As the song finishes, he answers: “Nothing like a good stakeout to keep life interesting.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “I can think of fifty other things I’d rather be doing tonight,” she says.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. Watching Law and Order. Sleeping. Cleaning my oven. Shoving bamboo shoots under my nails. Committing hara-kiri. Literally anything else.”

He turns to her, and he still seems amused, but there’s confusion mixed in there now, too; this isn’t quite her thing in the way that it’s his, but she’s not usually quite this violently opposed to it, either.

“Someone’s in a mood tonight,” he comments softly.

Scully sighs. “Sorry,” she says. “Just tired, I guess.” She shivers again, then sticks her hands out towards the vents--cold air is still rushing out of them, even though the engine should be more than warmed up by now. “Mulder, do you have the heat turned on?”

He glances at the dials, then frowns. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. Weird.” He fidgets with them a little, but nothing changes. He shrugs, and turns them off completely. “I guess it’s broken.”

Scully shuts her eyes and resists the urge to groan. Of course it’s broken. She wraps her arms tighter around her chest and pulls her legs in closer to her body. She considers delving into her hastily packed glove box of rations, but decides against it for reasons of personal dignity. “How long until we get there?” she asks.

“Fifteen minutes,” Mulder answers. “Maybe twenty.”

Scully leans her head against the window. “Great,” she mumbles. “Just great.”

Mulder stops suddenly at a newly red traffic light, and the glove box pops comically open; it bangs against Scully’s knees and she hisses in pain. “Don’t tell me that’s broken, too,” Mulder says, but frowns when he realizes it opened because it was full to bursting. “Did someone leave all their stuff in here?”

“No,” Scully says, grunting slightly as she unsuccessfully tries to shut it again but it just won’t fucking CLICK. “It’s mine.”

“Blankets?” Mulder asks, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. “You brought blankets? Scully, did you have something in mind?”

“Oh, my God.”

“Because though we don’t have a hotel room at the moment, that can easily be arranged.”

“Mulder.”

“And is that a flask?” he exclaims, utterly delighted. “Agent Doctor Dana Straightlaced Scully, I’m shocked. Did you bring enough to share with the class?”

“It’s hot chocolate,” she says grumpily.

“My question still stands.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to share this with me.”

Mulder scoffs. “Yeah, I think I’ll make that decision for myself.”

Scully exhales with practiced patience. “Let me rephrase,” she says. “You can’t share this with me.”

“I don’t see why I can’t--tissues? Why do you have three whole boxes of--? Oh,” Scully can almost see the light bulb appear and flash on over Mulder’s head. “Oh.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” Scully says with a tired little sniffle.

“I didn’t say anything,” Mulder says, and if he weren’t driving, Scully knows both hands would be up in the air in mock surrender.

“Yeah,” she grumbles, “but I heard you thinking it.”

Mulder just laughs.

* * *

It’s sleeting and all of 38 degrees outside, and they’ve been sitting in an empty parking lot for close to an hour now. Mulder can feel the rash of tiredness and boredom beginning to scratch at the backs of his eyes; Scully is faring far worse. She hasn’t stopped shivering since they left, and she occasionally sniffles into the cuff of her blazer. Mulder can’t quite tell if it’s from the cold outside or from the cold she likely has; Scully hasn’t said anything, but he suspects it’s a mix of the two. Though, of course, as she has been known to remind him, he isn’t a medical doctor.

Another shiver wracks through Scully, and finally Mulder asks, “You cold over there?”

“No,” Scully says firmly, holding very still as she tries to control her chills. Blue-lipped and pale, she looks like a child who leapt fully clothed into the creek and is being forced to serve her due time-out in a belligerent, adorable caricature of misery.

“You know,” Mulder says, “I seem to recall there being some blankets in that glove box. Just throwing that out there.”

“How very observant of you, Mulder.”

“Blankets are very warm.”

The corners of Scully’s mouth twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “Right again, Sherlock.”

Slowly, very slowly, Mulder opens the glove box and retrieves a purple and especially cozy fleece blanket. Unfolding it halfway--it’s made for a queen bed, but Dana Scully isn’t quite a queen-bed-sized human--he drapes it over Scully’s legs and lap and pats it gently a few times, like it’s a sleepy kitten. The shivering she’d been trying so valiantly to suppress begins to slow almost immediately. “Well,” Mulder says, “would you look at that.”

Scully pointedly ignores him and instead plays absently with the delicate gold crucifix hanging around her neck (it’s one of her tells; Scully is a remarkably cool-headed human being, but even she has them). If Mulder had a betting partner, he’d place money that it’ll take Scully at least ten minutes to make any more use of the blanket, assuming she even chooses to do so at all. Mulder checks the clock: 11:06. He decides to give it until 11:17.

They sit in a silence that’s become comfortable after so many stakeouts in their years together, and 11:17 comes and goes. Scully hasn’t even glanced at the blanket, and Mulder is long past the point of knowing whether or not her stubbornness is endearing or frustrating as hell or some baffling combination of both; all he knows is that Scully isn’t going to fully use it willingly and that he can’t stand to see her shiver one more time. He takes the blanket and unfolds it completely, then drapes it over Scully’s shoulders; she moves almost imperceptibly to allow him to wrap her more closely into it. Once she’s been properly tucked in, Mulder rubs her arms vigorously a few times. He grips each of her small hands in his larger ones; they’re like ice, and he wishes they had a pair of gloves. This will have to do. Not that I mind...

Scully doesn’t look pleased, but she doesn’t shrug the blanket off, either. Mulder considers that progress.

* * *

“Strip poker.”

“No.”

“Come on, Scully.”

“Mulder,” Scully says, “it is freezing outside-”

“Six degrees above freezing, actually,” Mulder points out.

Scully makes a growly sound through her teeth. “It’s six degrees above freezing outside,” she amends. “I’m not stripping out of anything.” She’d wordlessly added a second blanket to her purple fleece one around 12:15, and to underscore her point she pulls both of them more snugly around her. Only her face is visible, really: the pinkened tip of her nose, her freckled cheeks that are flushed in the way they always get when she’s sick. Mulder bites back a smirk.

“That’s it?” he says. “That’s the only reason we can’t play strip poker? Because it’s too cold outside?” He leans back in his seat. “Man,” he continues. “I’m gonna remind you that you said that when we’re on a stakeout in August.”

Scully makes a small sound in the back of her throat that could be from illness, or expressing irritation, or both. Likely both. “Never Have I Ever?” Mulder suggests, but Scully shakes her head.

“I’m not playing a game that involves making personal confessions,” she says.

“Do you really think there are any deep dark things I don’t already know about you, Scully?”

Scully raises her chin a few notches. “I,” she says, her small voice going theatrically deep and haughty, “am a woman of mystery.” Mulder laughs out loud. She smiles a bit--the first time that night--pleased with herself and with her partner’s reaction.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Twenty Questions?” It’s a pretty harmless game, he figures, one not even Scully can find fault with.

He’s right.

“Fine,” she acquiesces with a yawn that turns into a sneeze. “Hehhh-mptchh! Twenty Questions is fine. Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

“You think of something,” Mulder instructs. “I’ll guess.”

Scully pauses for a moment, and Mulder knows she’s running through various options in her head; she’s wearing her thinking expression, her pensive expression--her mouth set primly and her eyes staring blank--which is just something anyone would come to recognize after working this closely with a person for so long, Mulder tells himself.

“Okay,” Scully says. “Go.”

“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Well,” Scully says, smiling slightly, “technically it’s none of those.”

Mulder stares at her. “You can’t make anything easy, can you?”

“Never.” There’s a little glimmer of impishness in her light eyes when she says it, and it’s equal parts relieving and--okay, fine--and adorable.

He gets eight questions in and he knows for a fact that it’s a TV show, and by question nine he’s pretty sure it’s The West Wing (he is a trained profiler and Scully is sometimes hilariously transparent; it’s her favorite show as of late), and he’s about to ask question ten when he gets an idea. “Does this thing,” he says slowly, as if he’s deliberating it, “have… a stuffy nose?”

Scully makes her patented what-in-God’s-name-are-you-talking-about-Mulder face and says, “Mulder, we’ve established that it’s a television show.”

“Does it have a stuffy nose?” he repeats obstinately.

“Mulder,” Scully says (her consonants are warped and dull, the m in Mulder especially, and while it may not have a stuffy nose, Mulder notes, she absolutely does), “the thing in question isn’t me. And even if it were, the answer would still be no.”

Undeterred, he regroups. "Does this show have an ensemble cast?"

Scully looks at him suspiciously, unsure of why he's suddenly willing to play along again, but simply says: "yes."

"Is this show airing on TV now?" He fires off the next question without pausing, and Scully blinks sleepily as she tries to adjust her groggy mind to his fast pace.

"Yes."

"Does it have a sore throat?"

Yes, so sore, she thinks. She swallows hard and tries not to visibly wince. "TV show, Mulder."

"Is it a drama?"

"Yes."

"Do I like it?"

"Not really, but you watch it with me because I do."

"Is it feverish?" She doesn't even bother gracing that one with a response.

Mulder gets to question seventeen and decides that he’s done being subtle: “Does this thing feel awful?”

“Possibly,” Scully sighs, surprising him. “Slightly.”

“Was that an affirmative answer?” Mulder asks. “It’s supposed to be yes or no, Scully, but I can make an exception.”

Scully blinks, caught in his trap, then scowls. “I just wanted to get the damn game over with,” she huffs. Mulder catches a whiff of her breath--is that… alcohol?

“You sure that flask only had hot chocolate in it, Scully?” he asks. (She’d opened it around the same time she’d gotten her second blanket, and true to her word has not shared a sip.)

“What do you mean?”

“No peppermint schnapps?”

“What?--no, I have not been drinking schnapps.” Scully looks scandalized at the very thought.

“But your breath--” Mulder murmurs, then it occurs to him. “Cough drops.” He offers her a knowing, sideways glance. Scully frowns, but pulls the little package of Ricola lemon throat lozenges out of her pocket, confirming his guess without meeting his eyes. “I take it the thing really does feel awful?” Mulder says, nudging her slightly.

Possibly. Slightly. “Nope,” Scully says, and pops a lozenge in her mouth. “Just have to get my kicks however I can, Mulder.”

Mulder rolls his eyes; Scully must rubbing off on him. “You were thinking of The West Wing,” he says petulantly, too frustrated to let her have her last few questions.

“You knew the whole time,” Scully says. “Didn’t you?”

“Not the whole time,” Mulder says. “Maybe around question three.” It was pretty obvious, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

* * *

It’s nearing 2:00 and Scully has spent the better part of the last hour trying to sniffle her increasingly runny nose back to composure. They're all out of games; it’s becoming abundantly clear that the stakeout is a total bust. Scully is pale and drawn and shivering again, even cocooned in her blankets. She also keeps having sneezing fits, irrepressible ones, that leave her worryingly wheezy; Mulder has taken to counting during them to hide just how nervous they make him. "It happens when I gehh--hit'chiiEEEww! G-get chilly," she explains during a particularly bad one. "My nose s-starts to run and...and...ahhh...ah'Nngsh! And then I can't st-stop...oh, my Gohhh...God...hihh'hitchiEEw! "

"Sneezing? That one was nine, by the way."

She nods blearily. "Yeah," she says. "That."

"Probably doesn't help that you're sick," Mulder says in an off-hand voice.

Scully isn't fooled. She scowls and tentatively sniffles, mindful of setting her nose off again. "Mulder, for the hundredth time," she says. "Not sick."

He bats at her nose. "Yeah," he says as she halfheartedly bats his hand away, "healthy people are always all...drippy here."

She pouts and looks ready to argue, but Mulder keeps going. "You've been coughing, too."

"It's post-nasal drip, Mulder. That's all."

"And where's that coming from, hmm?"

"Where's it--? Mulder, it's coming from my nose."

"So your nose is runny."

"Mulder!" Scully snaps. "It's cold outside and it's cold in this car; of course my nose is runny. That's a natural bodily response to near-freezing temperatures."

“You know what?” Mulder says. “You're right. About the nose thing." He gives an exaggerated sniff. “Mine is starting to get a bit drippy, too.” He opens the glove box and pulls what might be close to twenty tissues out; he loudly fake-blows his nose on one of them, and then opens the window and throws the rest out into the parking lot. “That’s better.”

Scully gasps. “Mulder!” she exclaims. “What did you do that for? We might need those!”

“Need them?” Mulder says, playing at confusion. “What ever for?” She huffs and rolls her eyes; he isn’t looking at her, but he can feel it. “You haven’t been putting them to much use tonight, Scull.”

She looks slightly flustered and she stares longingly out the window, where the once-good tissues are going to waste on the cold, dark asphalt. “Well,” she says, “anyway, you just littered, which is illegal. You rebel.” If she were in a much better mood and/or vaguely inebriated, she might have punctuated that statement with a punch to his arm. Mulder grins at the thought.

“Covering up government conspiracies is illegal, too, Scully; but that doesn’t seem to stop anyone, now does it?”

Scully sneezes quietly, twice, in response. "Hih'chshh! H'ngsht!"

“There are still some tissues left,” Mulder says, but Scully merely repeats her customary cuff-sniffle and shrugs.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she says flatly.

“Scully,” Mulder says, wholly exasperated now, “you’re the one who brought them in the first place.”

She sneezes again. “Bless you,” Mulder offers, which only earns him a glare.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“I was being nice!”

“Well, don’t,” Scully says.

“Fine, I won't.”

They grow quiet again, and this time it’s for so long that Mulder wonders if Scully’s maybe fallen asleep; he almost hopes she has, sleep would be good for her. He worries that she doesn’t get enough of it. He knows he doesn’t. After all the things that they’ve seen, all the things that they’ve done, it’s not surprising. Unpleasant, sure, but not surprising.

It is at that moment that Scully inhales sharply and just barely manages to catch three surprisingly violent, loud sneezes in her cupped hands. "Hep-TSSCH'ooo! Hehh...hetchiiieeeEEEw! Huh-ISCHIIIEEEW!

Startled, Mulder turns to look at her; a few seconds pass and she still hasn’t taken her hands down from her face. If it weren’t for the garish melon glow of the nearest streetlamp--or, more honestly, if he didn’t have such wildly accurate Scully-senses and a detailed mental schematic of her facial features--Mulder would never have been so lucky as to see what he’s pretty sure he is in fact seeing: Dana Scully blushing.

“Mulder?” she says, her voice muffled.

“Yeah?” He does a surprisingly good job keeping the amused/self-satisfied smirk out of his voice for the entire monosyllabic word.

“Could I maybe have some of those remaining tissues now?”

“Feeling a little under the weather, are we, Scull? Gesundheit, by the way."

Scully mumbles something unintelligible into her hands, and as he pulls a handful of tissues out for her, Mulder says, “Yeah, yeah, I know: shut up, Mulder.”

"Actually," Scully says between nose-blows, with a small but genuine half smile, "I was going to say thank you."

* * *

It’s 3:45 and Mulder has reached the point where he’s too tired to even feel tired anymore; instead, he’s weirdly nervy and wired and running on nothing but caffeinated iced tea and adrenaline reserves. Scully nodded off around 3:00, and though he misses her company, he doesn’t have the heart to wake her. Her head is resting on his shoulder and she’s snoring slightly through her congested nose; at one point, she whimpers and shivers slightly, and Mulder takes off his jacket and adds it to the blankets she’s already using. It dwarfs her, but the shivering stops, and that makes him smile.

He loves her. He thinks of that often when they’re out on a case together: on long watches like this one, in the cloying dark of a million different drab motel rooms, under blankets of stars as they race through the night--trying their damndest to solve the unsolvable. It’s never some silly, Victorian declaration of affection, never oh, Scully, my dearest darling, every moment I spend without you near me is well-nigh unbearable. His mind wanders to C.S. Lewis, to The Four Loves. Storge--empathy bond. Philia--friend bond. Eros--erotic bond. And Agape--unconditional love. God love. He doesn’t know that he buys into all this, doesn’t know that he trusts someone as religious as Lewis, doesn’t even know if one can actually experience all four kinds for the same person at the same time, if all that love could even fit into any one person… especially when said person is so very small.

And yet. Still.

He loves her. I love you. Neither of them ever say that aloud; that would be crossing a boundary that’s invisible yet still very, very present. And anyway, that would feel far too easy, too predictable, too trite. In so many ways, their relationship defies words, platitudes, logic. It is infuriating. It is impossible. It is terrifying. It is all-encompassing. It is theirs. He’s hers, and she’s his. They don’t need to say anything for that to be true. It’s always been true. It’s been true ever since a rainy graveyard in Bellefleur, Oregon, where she stood in front of him and laughed, dizzy and thrilled, because she believed.

He doesn’t know if she loves him in the same way; he suspects it, sometimes even lets himself hope it, but this is an area where Scully is all but unreadable. But it’s alright. Being present with her, close to her--that’s enough, for now.

Next to him, Scully stirs, blinks her eyes open, coughs. Mulder very nearly takes a hand and smooths an errant lovelock behind her small ear, but decides against it. The hand drops heavily down onto the car seat. “I think you drooled on me,” he says.

She quickly wipes a hand over the corner of her mouth, a gesture that makes her look about twelve years old. “Sorry,” she says, her voice little and raspy, which makes hersound about twelve years old, too. Mulder is more charmed than he’d like to admit.

“Any updates?” Scully asks, dabbing delicately at her nose with a tissue.

(TissueGate 1999 ended not too long ago and Scully’s already used up over half a box. With what he considers to be an impressive amount of self-control, Mulder has restrained himself from saying I told you so. Thank you very much.)

“Nope.”

Scully’s face works itself into a funny, exaggerated pout. “I could’ve been in bed hours ago,” she whines.

“And missed all this?!” Mulder exclaims, gesturing at the sad expanse of abandoned shopping center parking lot.

Scully giggles tiredly. “Oh, you’re right,” she says mock-seriously. “Missing out on the empty parking lot show would’ve been a veritable tragedy.”

She blows her nose, and this time Mulder actually does tuck the hair behind her ear. Scully looks up in surprise. “Mulder--” she says, half-touched, half-warning.

“I’m just sorry you had to do this when you don’t feel well. That’s all,” he says, hoping it’s a good enough explanation.

She shrugs. “I told you, Mulder,” she says. “I’m fine.”

He narrows his eyes. “You,” he says, “are the opposite of fine, Scully.”

As if to prove his point, Scully opens her mouth to retort and sneezes instead. She shivers, and finally (finally) leans into him, shamelessly greedy for the warmth his body offers. “Okay,” she says. “I may have a little cold.” Now Mulder is this close to saying I told you so, he can’t help it, when Scully holds up a hand. “Just a little one,�� she says firmly. “A slight cold. A minuscule one, even.”

“A minute cold,” he repeats, deadpan.

Scully slumps down further, until her head is almost in his lap (which is how he knows she truly is sick and exhausted; someone walking by would automatically assume something much dirtier was going on, and Healthy Scully would never allow that risk). She’s so short that she can easily tuck her legs underneath herself and fit comfortably on the two seats. She shuts her eyes, and when Mulder ghosts a tentative hand over her back, her happy sigh is confirmation enough that it’s okay.

“A minuscule cold,” she confirms, sweet and drowsy.

“Whatever you say, Scully.”

“You’re damn right,” she murmurs, and before Mulder has even finished laughing, she’s already fallen back to sleep.

Mulder glances at the clock. 4:19. If they wait long enough they might even get to watch the sunrise.

#x files #msr #whump!fic #sneeze!fic #hurtcomfort #scully #mulder #fic