#and i’m dealing with pms and hurt feelings over stupid stuff that doesn’t even matter

[hythlodaes]

:c

[americancowgirl19]

Leave a Message

Summary: No matter how many times they call, all they get is the answering machine.

Warnings: angst, cursing, fluff, dates might not be correct (deal with it)

Reader: Sister Winchester Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!reader, John Winchester x Daughter!reader, slight Bobby Singer x Daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,481

A/n: Y/n/n = Your nickname Y/d/n = Your daughters name

Masterlist

December 19th, 1996 - 9:17 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, Y/n/n, it’s Dean. Where are you? Dad won’t tell Sammy and I anything. You’ve been gone for two days. Please, just tell me you’re safe. Call me back,”

March 5th, 1997 - 1:32 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“It’s Sam... You’ve been gone a long time... Dad won’t talk about you anymore, he gets mad when we bring you up. He won’t let us look for you but don’t worry, Dean still does and I help him where I can. I don’t know where you are but we’ll find you. We’ll bring you back. Love you,”

October 31st, 1997 - 8:49 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“...It’s Halloween... Remember when you would make Sammy dress up in some stupid costume and take him out trick or treating for a little bit? Dad would always get mad but you had this way of just lightening him up. I swear we would gain so much weight eating Sammy’s candy when he went to bed *small chuckle*… You’ve been gone for almost a year and I’m no closer to finding you than when I started... I’m not gonna give up though. I know you’re out there even if Dad won’t say anything. I just hope that wherever you are... you’re safe. Please, call back,”

December 25th, 1997 - 10:23 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas, Y/n. I miss you... a lot. Dean says you’ll come back but I don’t know if I believe him anymore. We should have found you by now right? Dad should be helping us *aggravated sigh*… He’s been drinking a lot lately... I just want you to come back. Nothing’s been the same since you left. I don’t know where you are but I hope Dean finds you. We need you here. We Love you,”

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas, Y/n/n... Sammy demanded that I call you and tell you that... He thinks you’ll come back if we talk to you or something like that... I don’t know... I’m starting to think you’re not actually missing... I think you and dad fought and you left us. I don’t think you want to be found... *sigh*… I thought you were happy here, with us. I don’t know what dad said to make you leave but please just... come back... Sammy needs you. I... *heavy sigh*… Come back,”

February 10th, 1998 - 2:30 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, Y/n. Nothing has really changed in the last couple of months. Dad’s wanting to take me on more hunts but Dean’s holding him off. I know I’m ready to take on more of the big stuff. I just have to prove to Dean that I’m ready, that I can handle myself. You should come back and help me convince Dean I’m not a little kid anymore...You should come back... Love you”

June 1st, 1998 - 11:41 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Sammy got hurt today... We were hunting and... I don’t even know what happened. One second he was behind me and then we were separated and then he was hurt. Dad got pissed. Dad told me Sammy wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you were looking after him... I know he’s right... You were always better at looking after him than I was... Hell, you’re better at looking after me than I am... I don’t know how much longer we can keep going on without you. We’re falling apart here. Dad’s either hunting or emptying a liquor store. I’m trying to look after him and Sammy but... I can’t do this alone. I don’t know why you left or if you’re even- fuck... if you’re even getting these messages...”

October 31st, 1998 - 9:02 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Happy Halloween... Dean said I shouldn’t call... That you wouldn’t answer. That you’re probably not even listening to the messages... That might be true but still... You’re my sister and I miss you.”

December 25th, 1998 - 12:13 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Merry Christmas from Dean and I...”

December 17th, 1999 - 4:55 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“It’s been three years, Y/n... God, it’s been three years... I miss you like hell...Damn, I just... I just miss you”

December 17th, 2000 - 7:00 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, it’s Dean. Just checking in... Everything’s fine on our end. Dad and Sammy are both doing good. It’s been four years and... I guess we’re just now figuring out how to work without you *small laugh, sniffle*… Sammy’s doing good in school. I can finally drink *laugh* legally that is. I know you’re getting these messages cause Sammy and I have left a shit ton and the box isn’t full yet. That means that you’re deleting them. I guess on the bright side that means you’re alive... I don’t know whether to be happy or pissed... I guess a little bit of both... I miss you. Sammy misses you. Hell, even dad misses you even if he doesn’t say anything. I hope you’re listening to these and not just deleting them... I guess it makes me feel better to think you actually listen... Guess it means a small part of you still cares enough to at least listen to me ramble on... *sigh*… I want you to know... You can come back. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been gone, you can still come back. I want you to come back. Hell, I’d be happy for a damn phone call or even a fucking text! Something!... Just give me something...”

December 17th, 2001 - 6:26 am

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hey, it’s Dean. *Large sigh* I’m just... Just checking in... God, I wish you were here... More than anything... God, I need you. Text me where you are and I promise I will drop everything to come pick you up. Hell, I won’t even ask a damn question. Sammy and Dad have been going at it... It seems like it never ends. I can feel him pulling away. I know Sammy wants to leave and if Dad doesn’t lay off we’re gonna lose him just like... Just like we lost you... I can’t lose him.. I lost... I-I lost you an-and now *throat clearing*… If you come back then you can fix everything like you always could. You know, like, you could just... you can fix us... You can calm Sam down and make him stay... You can get dad to relax... I can’t keep this family together, they’re slipping through my fingers. Please, come back...”

July 8th, 2002 - 4:09 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“...Sammy’s gone... *slow sigh*… *sniffle*… I-... *quiet sob*…”

September 28th, 2006 - 6:37 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Hello, this is Stacey with the - hospital. I’m calling for a Y/n Winchester. I have news about the passing of a John Winchester...”

May 1st, 2008 - 11:59 pm

“Hey, this is Y/n. Leave a message,”

“Uh... Hey, it’s uh... It’s Sammy - err - Sam. *Throat clearing* It’s been a long time since I called... Dean didn’t want me calling and I didn’t think I would have too but I can’t put this off anymore... Dean made a deal with a demon... His contract is up in a couple of weeks. I’m doing everything I can to get him out but... *shaky sigh*… I don’t know if... It would be nice if... If we could just see you. Leave the past behind us, ya know?... I doubt you’ll respond but I just... I had to let you know...”

Sam sigh’s hanging up the phone. It fidgets with the device in his hand, hunched over his knees. He could feel his heart dropping in disappointment. Even though he knew you wouldn’t answer there was still a small part that just... hoped.

He turns his head when he sees something moving in the corner of his eye. Dean leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. Sam looks into his eyes.

Neither of them have to say anything. They just understand.

It killed Dean that no matter what they said to you over the phone, you never called back. You never sent a text. You sure as hell never showed up. You simply dropped off the face of the Earth 10 years ago. No matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find a trace of you.

You were always the best. You were the best hunter, being the eldest of the three. You were the best ‘parent’, being the unofficial mother figure. You somehow managed being both mother and sister. It’s what made your disappearance so hard. The boys weren’t just losing a sister.

Despite the fact that they couldn’t track you, you could track them. In fact, you had been doing your best to keep your eye on them. You’re father had demanded that you leave, never come back, and never contact them. You tried your best but you loved your brothers, you had to make sure they were ok.

However, they’re Winchesters. Keeping tabs on them wasn’t always easy. There would be months where they would be the ones that fell off the face of the Earth before suddenly reappearing somewhere. 

You listened to every single voice mail they left. You would cry your eyes out every time. You couldn’t put into words the pain you felt when you heard their voices begging you to come back. You always looked forward to their calls but it never failed to send you into an anxious depressive mess for weeks, sometimes longer, afterward.

It didn’t matter though, you had to keep moving. You had to keep living. It’s not just you who you have to worry about. 

In a couple of months your daughter would be turning 10. Y/d/n Winchester. The father disappeared a couple hours after conception. You had tried to track him down but it wasn’t your main priority. 

Telling your father was extremely hard but him forcing you to leave was the hardest. He wouldn’t let you say goodbye to your brothers. He just told you to pack your bag and get in the Impala while the boys were asleep. He bought you a bus ticket to the furthest place that the bus went too and told you to stay away from the life.

He knew if you talked to your brothers you would be pulled back in. If you were pulled back in, your daughter would be caught in the supernatural mess. John knew a war would be coming and a little baby shouldn’t be in the middle.

As much as you love your brothers, your priority is your daughter. You loved her from the moment you found out she was in your stomach. You had to protect her, no matter what. It didn’t matter what happened to you, your daughter was going to live a happy life.

You always dreamed of a day where you could introduce your daughter to her grandpa and uncles. You dreamed of different scenarios. You prayed they would come true.

When you learned of your father’s death you wanted to cave that instant. You wanted to pack your things, pick your daughter up from school, and go to Bobby’s. You knew the boys would be there. They could cover their tracks but sometimes they were just down right predictable. 

But then you remembered how he died. The nurses had explained the weird things going on and you got the security footage. You watched Dean teeter between the living and the dead before miraculously recovering. Not long later, your father dies. You were able to put two and two together.

Watching the footage would be the first time you saw Sam and Dean since you were a teenager. You didn’t think it would be possible for them to be so tall. The longing for your brothers amplified but they were in deep shit with demons. That isn’t the life you could bring to your doorstep. That isn’t the danger you could bring to your daughter.

However, when you got Sam’s call your world stopped. Hearing that Dean would be dead in a few weeks, dragged to hell by those damn hounds, made you fall to your knees. Hearing about your father’s death, hell seeing it on camera, was one thing. But to lose your brother is something you never wanted to go through.

Sure, you haven’t talked to him but you knew he was alive. You knew he was still kicking ass and taking names. But now you knew he was going to die and there wasn’t a damn thing you could to about it.

But you could do one thing.

“Where are we mom?” Your daughter asks in the back seat as you pull up to a motel. You don’t answer her. Your eyes are glued on the sleek, black Impala. Suddenly you’re 19 again being dropped off at the bus station by your dad who’s telling you to never come back again. “Mom?” You shake the thoughts out of your head. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” You whisper.

You were not fine. Your anxiety is so high that someone would need an oxygen take to climb to the top. Your nerves are shaking your hands. You couldn’t sit still. You felt as if you were on the verge of a panic attack. You managed to keep yourself together not wanting to have such an attack in front of your daughter.

“Sam,” You whisper. You’re youngest brother walks to the Impala, not sparing your car a glance. You watch him open the truck and rummage through it.

“That’s Uncle Sam?” Your daughter asks. Your daughter knew almost everything about your family. She had an idea about the supernatural but not a lot.

“Yeah,” You whisper.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” 

“Too long,” You respond. Sam closes the trunk and begins to walk away. “Stay here,” You say sternly. “I’ll come back for you,”

“Ok,” Your daughter barely answers before you’re out the car following your brother. You were so nervous about the fact that you were about to approach your brother for the first time in a decade that you had forgot one thing. He’s a Winchester.

Sam rounded the corner and you quickly followed. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab you and slam you against the wall with his forearm digging into your throat.

“Who are you?” He snapped.

“Damn, Sammy,” You choked. Sam frowns his eyebrows and you give him the best Winchester smirk you could muster. “What? Don’t recognize your own sister?” You joke nervously. Sam frowns his eyebrows even more as he takes in your features. “You were the one who called me...” Sam eases back a bit but isn’t completely sure if he trusts you. “Unless you plan on cutting me with some silver or splashing me with some holy water, mind stepping back?” You grab your brothers arm and pull it to the side allowing you to slip away from the wall.

“Y/n?” Sam whispers.

“The one and only,” You wink at him.

“You’re actually here?” Sam asks. You nod.

“I heard that Dean’s in a tough spot,” Sam ignores your comment. “Thought I’d come see you assholes,” The edge of Sam’s lip raises a bit.

“Mom?” Your head snaps to your daughter. Sam slowly follows your gaze.

“I told you to stay in the car,” You growled. 

“I wanted to meet Uncle Sam,” She says walking up cautiously. You sighed and motioned for her to come.

“Uncle Sam?” Sam whispers frowning his eyebrows.

“Sammy, this is Y/d/n,” You introduce glancing at your brother. “My ten year old daughter,” Sam meets your gaze and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Ten?” 

You slowly nod your head.

“Well, technically not yet but I will be,” She says running a hand through her hair. “It’s nice to meet you,” Y/d/n says holding out her hand. Sam looks down at her and instantly begins to notice the resemblance. He slowly begins to smile and shakes her hand.

“I’m going to assume Dean is with you,” Sam looks back to you.

“And Bobby,” You smile at the mention of his name. “Come on, they’d love to see you,” 

“I’m not sure if love is the right word but they sure as hell will be shocked,” You say following after him. Sam grins a bit but doesn’t comment. “Y/d/n, I want you to stay behind me or by Sam, alright? I don’t know how Uncle Dean and Grandpa Bobby are going to react but don’t be scared. If it gets too much, step outside, alright?”

“Ok,” Y/d/n nods. You smile kissing the top of her head. Sam glances back at you and his niece. A fond smile coming to his lips.

“We’re in here,” Sam mutters opening the door. Dean doesn’t even glance up but Bobby does. The instant Bobby sees you he drops the beer he was holding.

“What the hell, Bobby?” Dean snips when some of it splashes on him.

“Use your eyes and look, boy,” Bobby snapped back. Dean looks at Bobby and then to you. You notice Dean pale.

“Hi, boys,” You whisper.

“What’re you doing here?” Dean asks, after a long silence.

“I came to see you Dean,” You tell him. Dean scoffs.

“What do you want?” He rephrases his words.

“Nothing,” You shake your head. “Sam called-”

“We both called,” Dean snapped. “Hundred of times we called,” You press your lips together. “Did you even listen to them?” He asks standing up.

“Every one of them,” You whisper.

“And you never thought to call back?” He growls stepping closer to you. “What about the time Sammy begged you to come back? What about when I begged? When I told you we needed you? Where the hell have you been?”

“Taking care of me,” Y/d/n speaks up. Dean’s head snaps over to her. You look at her as well. She looks nervous but you smile proudly as she puts on a brave face and walks up to Dean. She looked scared but she didn’t waver as she stopped in front of your angry brother. “I’m Y/d/n... and I’m ten... almost,” 

Dean stares at her, his mind processing everything. He slowly looks from her, to you, back to her. She shifts a bit but continues to look strong.

“It’s my fault she had to leave,” She continues.

“Baby-” You try to interrupt but she wont let you.

“I don’t know the whole story but I know she misses you and Uncle Sammy and Grandpa John and Grandpa Bobby a lot,” You glance at Bobby. The old geezer has tears in his eyes as she says ‘Grandpa Bobby’. “She told me all about the pranks you would pull together and how you would all look after each other. She would tell me stories every night. She wanted to go back to you but she wouldn’t because of me...” She whispers.

“Y/d/n, we talked about this,” You say, slowly turning your daughter to face you. “None of this is your fault, ok? I love you and I don’t blame you a bit because it’s not your fault. Yes, I missed my brothers and your grandpas but I love you so much that I would stay away. There’s so much you don’t know still and I’ll tell you when you get a little older but-”

“It was safer for you two to stay away,” Dean whispers. You glance at your brother. He’s staring at you. “She just wanted to protect you, she did what she had to do. She was always good at doing the right thing,” You smile a bit.

“There’s a few things I could have done differently,” You shrugged.

“A text would have been nice,” Sam muttered and you smiles a bit.

“How about letters?” You ask. Y/d/n pulls a large stack of letters out of her bag. “They’re addressed to all of you,” You say tearing up. “There’s some for dad too but...” You sniffle a bit.

“You’re here,” Dean whispers, disbelief clouding his eyes. You glance at him. For a moment you’re looking at teenage Dean.

“And I’m safe,” You smile a bit. Dean’s smile widens just a bit. “I just have to figure out a way to keep you safe... Can’t leave you boys alone for a second,” You tease tearfully. Dean smiles and pulls you into a tight hug. Sam comes up to you as well and you wrap your arms around your little, yet taller, brothers. “I love you both so much,” You whisper.

@akshi8278​

[obeymeluv]

Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.  

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours. 

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

 You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.  

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

[sugurus-slxt]

Our Song – Tsukishima Kei

Type: fluff (SFW)

Warnings: slight cursing, not eating, crying

Note: Guess you could say it’s a college au but I’ve been working at this for a while so I hope you like it.

Word Count: 3388

Hope you guys enjoy the story      

Sunday [6:30 p.m.]

You were laying on your bed in your dorm running your fingers through Kei’s hair while he listened to music. This is how you spent most rainy weekends. He was quietly humming to his overly loud music but you were kind of in a daze looking at the wall but not quite. You did this a lot while staring off in your faraway land, thinking of a future with him but it’s not something you would tell him. You were too afraid he didn’t feel the same way. You knew he loved you, nearly two years into college and you both are still going strong but what if he never thought about it.

“Hey, shorty! Whatcha thinking about?” He looked up at you. “Oh, nothing really just some assignment my professor mentioned in class today,” you lied trying to brush it off quickly. He just shrugged and asked, “Ok...  Umm…Wanna listen to music with me? I’ll play my playlist you like.” You nodded, “I’ll get my Bluetooth headphone…” he pulled on your wrist. “I’ll share these with you,” he held up his regular earbuds and you agreed. If that’s what he wants, it was fine with you.

Tsukishima would never admit it but sharing his earbuds like this with you made him feel more connected like sharing your energy, a sort of bond, it was romantic for him. The thought of it always made the tips of his ears turn pink. He switched positions to have you lay next to him, your face buried in his chest. Silently, he prayed you couldn’t feel his heart quicken as he rested his head atop yours and hand on your waist. Headphones plugged on the playlist began. A few songs in a familiar song started to play, a love song, one of your favorites. “Babe? This song …” you started but he shushed you. “I know. I know. I added it because I knew you liked it ok now just listen ok. It’s no big deal,” his fingers played along your spine only making you feel more nervous. Your thoughts began to wander as more of your favorite romantic songs played. At this point, it was 7:30 PM and there was one thought that couldn’t leave your mind ‘What’s our song?’ and before you knew it you started talking, “Hey um Kei? What’s our song?” You regretted it as soon as you asked. “Huh? What do you mean our song?” he questioned his voice slightly drowsy and muffled by your hair. “It’s just… you know what it’s nothing,” you brushed it off and tried to continue listening to the music but he paused it.

“Spit it out y/n,” he said looking at you, it wasn’t meant to be rude, he just preferred you to be straightforward. You didn’t intend to make a mini-rant but it happened, “You know our song. It like a song for us that describes us and no matter where or who we’re with when it plays we think of each other. Or like if we are together and it’s just that knowing look that happens when it plays. Our song that’ll make it feel like it’s just us no matter who’s around. And it’s not just us you know its fits us, describes us like it was meant for us. Like it’s a song we can play to dance at our wedding, and again on our anniversary and relive the moment. Maybe even for our ki-,” you stopped in your tracks. You had caught yourself before you went too far. It was unbelievable you just brushed it off a while ago but it still managed to come out. Your most insecure thoughts were poking at you as Kei just kind of looked at you, lips parted. You’ve never seen that expression well except the time he’d see you naked for the first time but still, this was a bit different. He looked away scratching his neck and said, “Oh ok… Well, we can think about a song I guess but I’m kinda hungry and I told Tadashi I would go for pizza with him so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your face fell as he grabbed his stuff and walked out of your dorm. He just kind of brushed it off and you were terrified because he was supposed to stay the night. You knew Kei could be like this, he wasn’t the best with his emotions and you knew that. You even loved it but this time his lack of response just threw you into a blender of bad thoughts. Maybe you just made him nervous but what if he didn’t want that, what if you had scared him off your mind was racing. You went to bed without dinner and tried to fall asleep whilst listening to the playlist he had made for you whilst trying to hold back sobs. It’s a miracle you got any sleep that night, thoughts kept attacking you “What if he breaks up with me tomorrow? What if he doesn’t want that with me? Does he think I’m stupid for thinking so far? ”

-----Out for Pizza with Yamaguchi-----

“I thought you and y/n had plans?” he said sipping his drink.

“Hey … We did but um she started talking about this thing called ‘our song’,” he was hoping he could clear his head and talk about how he felt without messing things up. Tadashi was always good with words and being kind.

“But isn’t that like good?” He asked confused chewing his pizza. Unlike Tsukishima who hadn’t touched his food even a bit.

“I guess but she was talking about marriage and kids and I-,” he paused looking down whilst fiddling with the straw in his drink.

-----The Next Day-----

You put on some concealer to hide your eye bags and puffiness, some regular comfy clothes, and bought a whole lot of coffee, just something to get you through today but it didn’t help. You couldn’t focus and it was driving you mad. Your friends noticed your teachers and even the janitor. There was no doubt Kei wouldn’t notice but he wouldn’t let you just say “It’s nothing…” However, there was one problem you hadn’t seen him all day. It was the end of this achingly slow day and you bumped into Yamaguchi, “Hey have you seen Tsukishima?” He smiled and said, “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday but I’m sure you could probably find him in his dorm later.” You wanted to ask him if Kei had said anything but in all honestly you were too scared to. You thanked him and quickly went on you way.

-----Next Week------

The entirety of last week had followed a similar cycle to the say after what you consider the “Great Tragedy”.  You’d barely eaten or slept, the dark circles were becoming more than obvious. You were convinced you guys were over and it was getting harder to bear. Sure you could have just seen him at his dorm and ended this prolonged misery much quicker but something always came up whether it be a problem, an assignment, or just your cowardly nature towards the situation. At this point, you were just torturing yourself. Tomorrow was your 2 year anniversary and you were more than afraid to face him. That’s if it wasn’t over already.

-----At Tsukshima’s Dorm-----

“You have to go see her,” Yamaguchi pleaded

“But what if she doesn’t want me anymore now? What if I messed up? Worse what if she thinks you hate her? I should have seen her even if I was busy.  I’m always such- such dammit I’m an asshole,” it was one of those rare moments in his life where he was having a breakdown and he didn’t know what to do.

“Tsukishima Kei! You better calm down right now!” Yamaguchi held on to Tsukishima shaking his shoulders. “You aren’t going to know unless you find out ok. I know you, even if you’re not good at expressing yourself but you always succeed in getting the point across plus just sleep tonight and execute the master plan tomorrow. And for the record she knew you were an asshole, strangely I think she likes that,” he patted Tsukishima on the back and left the dorm, giving him a small laugh and smile of reassurance.

The words master plan gave him some comfort but he wouldn’t really call it that. It was always the plan it just took longer than he expected. He’s kind of glad you never came to check on him but he knew you, even if it didn’t seem that way. He knew you were hurt and your habits would have taken a turn for the bad he just hoped that he didn’t mess up for good. Tomorrow was your anniversary so in a sense the timing was perfect. The only problem was he’d avoided you for so long he hadn’t even seen you, sure he asked around but his worries weren’t put to rest so easily. He’d never let you know how obsessive he could be.

It killed him to be away from you for so long, especially how your last encounter had ended.  He could only hope this would make you see, make you understand how he feels once and for all.

----- Anniversary----- 

He was hoping he could catch you around campus for lunch and maybe convince you to take a walk with him to the nearby coffee shop where both of you had your first date, but you weren’t anywhere to be seen. He remembered that date, no matter what snarky remark he made you’d laugh and giggle. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but he wouldn’t show it, instead, he’d made a snarky remark towards you laugh which only made you laugh harder. He was intrigued, captured in a sort of way and he knew you’d keep him that way for a long time but now it was a bit different.

“Hey, Tsukki! I heard she’s in her dorm, she hadn’t gone to classes all day,” Yamaguchi ran up to him pulling him out of the memory.

“Thank you!” He ran quickly, practicing more often really paid of athletic-wise.

----- In Your Dorm -----

You hadn’t moved all day. No breakfast, lunch, snack not even water. Your body ached, your nose stuffed not only from crying but rather because you worried yourself sick, literally. His gift laid unwrapped on the floor, It was a box of various things you thought he might like, new kneepads with a cute little dino on the ends, a jacket with an embroidered moon on it, cute matching dino necklaces, and a plushy which was you guessed it a dinosaur. Now you were wondering if he’d even want anything from you.  

As the heaviness of your eyelids started to take over there was a sound of the door opening, you quickly pulled the blanket over your head. Kei was the only one with a key; you wouldn’t let him see you like this. You didn’t want this to be the last way he saw of you, pathetic, weak, and plain loser. You prepared yourself to be broken up with as he called out, “Y/n! Y/n! Shorty! Babe, I’m coming in!” ‘Babe ?” your thoughts lingered on the word, it gave you hope and a bit of courage to call back out quietly because you could barely raise your voice, “I’m in my bed.”

He peeked his head in and the sight made his heart crack, “You little dummy! You got yourself sick; I should have known this would happen. Umm, I’ll be right back.” He ran out and in about 15 minutes he had been back, and even then you were still shocked and confused. “I’m in your kitchen,” He called out.  All you could manage was to mumble a simple ‘ok.’ His plans had few out the window and in all honesty, he was panicking just a bit but he still had a backup plan though and he thinks it’ll work just fine. All he had to do was try his best to do what he came here for, he just wanted to make you see and hopefully he hadn’t ruined everything.

Tsukishima waltzed into your room carrying a bowl, “Ok, I’m no cook but I can make ramen. You better like it ok.” He helped you sit up and held the spoon to your mouth which kind of took you by surprise, “Come on open up or I’ll eat it myself. Unless you want me to do that airplane thing they do for babies you’re such a child anyways,” he joked earning a little giggle from you. You gladly took the mouthful and smiled, “Yummy. Thank you, babe,” a small smile quirked his lips to your response. This caused your cheeks to feel even warmer if that was even possible, the fever was already burning you alive. After you finished the ramen, he made you take some medicine and drink water. At this point, the fact that today was your anniversary was completely forgotten but you did the one thing that got you into this mess again. You blurted out, “So you’re not here to break up with me?” He looked sort of taken aback, had he really made you feel that way. He thought maybe his lack of response had made you sort of letting go of yourself but he didn’t think that this could happen. He hated that he couldn’t make you believe in his love, that he always came off as cold but it was time to execute the plan. He hoped this would show you.

“What? No, no I’m not here for that but um we can talk about this after you should get some rest,” He padded towards you and laid next to you wrapping his arms around you. “What if you get sick?” you questioned him quietly. “It’s whatever; you’re the dummy who didn’t take care of yourself so now I gotta do this. Plus maybe then you can take care of me, you owe me anyway because I made you my amazing ramen,” you chuckled at his response, leaning into his touch. “Wait I almost forgot,” he grabbed his earbuds and his phone. He readjusted and started the music, you were four songs in, all happened to be a mix of his and your favorites.

Tsukishima’s heart rate had quickened and his breathes were getting shallow, it was fast approaching and he was nervous. He couldn’t help but wonder ‘What if you hadn’t liked it?’ The song started and you knew immediately, you couldn’t face him your hand over your mouth, tears welled in your eyes it was beautiful, it was perfect. You could feel every emotion, every thought, you knew he loved you before but this was pure, it was his everything and he did it all for you.

The weight shifted on the bed as he came on the other side of the bed on one knee, he pulled your hand from your mouth and kissed your knuckles, “I’m sorry I left you waiting for so long, I’m sorry I made you feel lonely and hurt but most of all I’m sorry for making you didn’t think I loved you. I’m not the best with words so um I hope this comes out right. When I met you, I felt like I finally found my person, you loved my dry, snarky humor, weren’t easily fazed and most of all you never judged me. You made me feel accepted, loved and I could never ask for anything more. I- I- spent the last week thinking about what you said and well you know what else now, I’m sure you can tell. Anyway, umm I want to get married, I want cute kids that look like you and have your cute laugh, I want it all, I’m sorry I didn’t make it seem that way, I just never thought you could want that with me but I panicked though I was beyond happy. I can’t propose to you now but I want to promise myself to you with these,” he held out his other hand with two rings; they were dino rings which made it even cuter. You couldn’t help but giggle as you wiped the tear with your other hand. “That’s if you still want me and we can play this song, Our Song at our wedding, in the car, for our kids, whenever you want if that’s still what you want,” he broke, tears slid down his cheeks.

 He was never one to cry, and when he did it was genuine. You shifted your body, your legs off the side of the bed, and him now kneeling in between them. You raised his slightly bowed head, holding his face and wiping the stray tears on his cheeks, “Kei, you’ve never made me feel lonely, I just over thought and you know kind of thought maybe you didn’t want to have kids or get married or the whole shebang. I’m not the most optimistic person so I immediately assumed the worst. This isn’t your fault I’m just a big idiot and I love you so much. So yes I want all those things with you and no one else.”  He laughed a bit, “Yep you’re an idiot but you’re my big idiot and I love you too, shorty hmmm shortcake,” he placed a gentle kiss against your lips and slips on the funny little ring.

“Hey you were supposed to say I’m not an idiot but what did I expect, shortcake though I like that,” You leaned in as he hummed in response against your lips. He is incessantly kissing you but a question crossed your mind and you stopped him, “What’s wrong y/n?” He questioned a bit worried. “How did you make that song by yourself? Not to mention your voice is amazing babe. You should consider music as a career you know,” you looked waiting for a response. “Well you see, I had some of the lyrics written about half a year ago and what you said made me finish em. You made me really happy but also nervous and I was scared to mess up so I panicked. I thought maybe if I had finished the song I could get my feelings across so I met up with someone I knew from my time in high school and he helped me out. Semi Eita, the musician he helped me with the tune and the music in the background. I took a bit longer mainly because I needed it to be perfect and I was nervous.  So yeah but I’m gonna be a pro volleyball player babe, I didn’t know my voice was good until Semi suggested I sing it myself.”

“Wait like the Semi Eita,” your eyes sparkled, you loved his music, “You never told me you knew him. Wait sorry I’m off-topic, the song was perfect and you wrote these that long who knew you could be so romantic?” He looked at you slightly frowning, “Hey! I can be romantic ok. You try to top that. Humph!  I’m glad you like the song though. Oh also I’ll introduce you next week to Semi he’s been curious, something about someone who can handle the Tsukishima Kei. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You jumped up, “I can’t wait. Yayyyy. Oh wait before I forget I didn’t wrap your gift but it’s over there, I kind of got necklaces, they match the rings.” You twirl around excitedly when suddenly he grabs you by the waist, “Well since your feeling so much better, maybe you can give me another gift,” he pulls you down to straddle his lap on the bed instantly attaching his lips to your neck.

You jokingly cough in his face and run as he chases you around the dorm shouting, “You damn pipsqueak when I catch you which you better hope I don’t, you’re so screwed.” He does eventually catch you but he drags you back to be for cuddles, kisses and a bit more. Needless to say, both of you did not attend classes tomorrow.

I always found it hard to be myself

But you made feel like no one else

A love like no other is what I really felt

So I’m in this in sickness and in health

So that’s what I thought the last verse could have been but I’m no song writer so I’m sorry if its horrible. On that note I hope you enjoyed the story. I encourage constructive criticism and I hope to see you again.

PS I am working on your requests I promise it’ll be here soon. 

If you liked my work, maybe you might want to buy me some coffee ☕️?

Question; Do you want what happened if Y/N decided not to be playful aka the NSFW?

[hatsukeii]

One where y/n has been obviously in love with Tsuki since they were kids and not afraid to show it, but he’s always been lowkey mean to her and thinks she’s annoying and then finally years later she decides he’s not a nice guy and let’s him know she’s fine with all that crap and then he realizes he’s falling for her and does something really sweet for her and they fall in love? 😭😭🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ty in advance. Sorry if this is too long or specific, if it is, feel free to ignore

I genuinely hope you didn’t think I would actually ignore this<33

IM SORRY IM A MASTER PROCRASTINATOR ILY ALL AND YOU ALL DESERVE AN APOLOGY FROM ME

Dear diary//Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Cursing

Genre: Angst??? I guess???

Summary: He’s an ass, but you still love him to bits, and it’s killing you.

July 16, 2008

Dear Diary,

I got to play with Tsukki again! He had his dino with him, it was super cute! He told me his front teeth came off last night, and there’s a big hole in his teeth, but it’s okay, because he said it will grow back. I tried to hold his hand while going down the twin slides but he said it was sweaty, so next time I’ll wear gloves!

You flip through the hot pink diary, cringing at your young infatuation. Your diary entries were cringey as fuck, but they always rekindle something within you whenever you read them. You can’t even remember when you stopped writing in the book. Was it when you turned 10? Maybe 12? You don’t have a single clue.

April 30, 2011

Dear Diary,

Tsukki refused to marry me in the playground at break:(( I’ve known him for so long though, aren’t we supposed to get married? I just wanna hold his hand and hug him and give him a biiiiig kiss<33

Chuckling at the memory, you recalled the event from that entry clearly. You were seven years old only, still an immature kid. You still thought that getting married in a middle school playground was a huge milestone in life, almost as crucial as a legal marriage.

May 29, 2016

Dear Diary,

Love how Tsukki didn’t even remember my birthday:,) Must be nice getting made fun of. Half the students in my class felt my second hand embarrassment from when he completely forgot about it. God, why am I even in love with this asshole? I’m gonna have to go to school tomorrow and deal with all my classmates making fun of me for being hopeless. Brb, currently digging a hole for myself:)

Frowning at the memory, you think back to when you were twelve. He was an asshole then, still is an asshole to this day. And yet not an ounce of your unconditional love and support for him has faded. Grabbing a tissue, you wipe the remaining tears from your eyes, ignoring the dried tear stains on your cheek. Your hand slams onto the bedside table, lazily feeling for your phone. Tilting it towards your face, you sigh at the empty lock screen, accepting defeat. Flicking through the rest of the book, you are welcomed by pages and pages of white. “So that’s when I gave up on this diary...” you mutter to yourself as you lift yourself up from your bed. Heading towards your desk, you absentmindedly grab yourself a pen, notebook in hand. Slamming the diary down, you open it up to the next entry page after your last one, gently placing the tip of your pen on the first line. You grab your hair out of frustration, the ink bleeding into the thin paper. “What to do, what to do...?” You mumble, starting to form sentences in your notebook.

July 17, 2020

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? Holy shit, all my entries were about Tsukki weren’t they? Jesus, of course they were. At least I was able to get it off my chest this afternoon. Telling him that I’ve been in love with him for years, that was fucking terrifying. Telling him that although I know he’s an ass, an animatronic dick complete with ballsack, that won’t stop me from falling harder, it was gut wrenching, but also relieving to a certain degree. I’m still waiting for some form of response, although I’m not sure I’m gonna get one anytime soon. I can’t decide whether telling him was the dumbest or bravest decision I’ve made. Maybe it was both. Just wait until I look back on this entry like a decade later and still cry about it lmao. Tbh he’s a genuinely nice person at heart. I know that all too well. He may be an ass most the time, and he may think I’m annoying, but despite how hard he tries to push me away, I’ll never abandon him. Jesus Christ, I sound like a yandere here, but it’s not that. It’s that I care for him a lot. Maybe even a bit too much. It’s ridiculous how absolute and utter shit a crush can make you feel.

Throwing the pen down, you flop back onto your bed, huffing into the thick blankets. You stay silent, not sure of what to think of the situation. “I’ll just deal with it all tomorrow, I’m tired of this shit.”

On the other side of the incident, Tsukishima is currently going through a mental crisis.

The blond sits at his desk, eyes unwavering, but focusing on nothing. It feels as if he hasn’t blinked in what seemed to be hours. Just hours of staring at his wall that led to nothing. Your confession plays in his head nonstop, like a broken record that refused to run out of battery.

“The thing is I like you. I’m pretty sure I always have. And I know that you’re such an asshole and all that, you won’t treat me as well as people would expect, but it’s fine. I’m fine with all that. All the dumb, stupid, careless insults you’ll throw at me, the side eyes and sneers, telling me to shut up and go away, I’m fine with it. I know you’re a good person, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Well shit what the fuck do you want me to say?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe he should have let you down slowly.

But as he stares at his wall, the photos of the two of you framed and balanced on his floating shelves, he starts to reconsider his feelings.

The way your expression faltered then as you hastily took your bag and rushed away without a single word, the way you avoided him in the halls, the way you stopped talking to him throughout the day, it drove him crazy. He couldn’t handle the realisation that he hurt you so incredibly badly, so now all he can do is stare at his empty, blank wall. Did he know why he felt that way? No. He didn’t and still doesn’t. He’s Tsukishima fucking Kei, the emotionless, provoking, unlikeable king, yet a mere girl is somehow able to mess with his mind so badly, that all he can do is wallow in regret and confusion? What is this weird feeling? His throat itches, his heart is beating like crazy, sweat starting to gather around his temples. He clamps his two hands together, slamming his forehead onto them and squeezing his eyes shut.

How could I have been so dense?

How was he unable to see that you were absolutely in love with him? Even with the bento boxes, birthday gifts, constant compliments, he still only ever thought you liked him as a friend. However he never did. He likes you more than that. Way more. Yes, he thought, and still thinks you can be annoying at times, especially when you nag at him about not eating enough or being rude, but it was undeniable that there was something else he felt. But his stupid ass shitty ego would never let him admit it. And now that you finally confessed, he freaked out and fucked up. Even then, he didn’t think it would affect him to this extent.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you (Y/N).”

He says that over and over again, desperate to cloud out the disagreeing thoughts in his head that scream otherwise.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

The guilt didn’t go away.

In fact, now that he’s said all that, he feels even worse. Oh how much he wants to find you right this second, wrap you in his arms, tell you how incredibly sorry he is, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to do that. His heart is begging for him to just get out of the house and run to yours as fast as he could, but his body won’t move. He wants to cry. Scream. Shout. Throw something. Shatter something. But most of all, he wants to get another chance.

Picking up his phone, he hesitates, before typing in your contact, the cleared out, empty chatroom showing up on his screen. Going as fast as his fingers could, he typed out the one sentence he’s been dying to let out.

“It was a middle school crush, but I’m still into you. I always have been.”

Is it just me, or is this bad-

Idk man it seems like all my fics are pretty much the same and I hate it😌

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @justachillgirl @trashcanweeb @just-another-bored-writer @poppirocks @majorfangirl37 @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @tiger1719 @tiredgr3mlin @itmekisuu @skyeackermans @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @shoutsukii @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @kuroo-thought-of-a-better-un @sneezefiction @bokutokoutarou @thirstyvolleyballhoe @iwaixiumi @iwaigroomi @inlwlevi

Feel free to comment or pm to be added to taglist!

I’m back to writing lmao I’m bored in two week quarantine rn

Edit: cue me realising I was half asleep and missed something in the request don’t be surprised if I repost this💀💀💀💀

Btw the hq manga just ended time to cry

💕💕💕💕

[wonderlustlucas]

four - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt They say good things come in fours. Who? Couldn’t tell you, but they especially do during Christmas. Maybe that’s just Saint Nick. ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 11.7k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. mentions of alcohol & s e x. teenagerz being teenagerz. insane amount of fluff & stupidity. kind of ends w a smutty cliffhanger. ⇢ summary After suppressing how you felt about Hyunjin back in high school, you thought you were done going back on your feelings. Turns out, a little time apart, the spirit of Christmas, and an accidental nap is the perfect cocktail for falling in love with your best friend.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n hello & merry christmas! here is a gift for you all on this very merry day. also, thank you for 1,000 followers! that in itself is one of the best presents i could ask for. thank you for all your kindness & support on my blog & for following me in the first place! it truly means so much to me. i hope you enjoy reading! ♥︎

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Sorry! I just woke up

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Whats wrong fool

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Did u rlly think 12 texts were gonna wake me up?🤦🏻‍♂️ godt damn u on some WACK shit

You roll your eyes in time with each consecutive text that Hyunjin sends, waiting for the lock screen of your phone to blacken after reading them. He’s about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair, you think, ignoring the texts and forcing the device into the snug back pocket of your jeans before transferring the last two excessively packed grocery bags into the trunk of your car with an exhausted huff. Christ, if the bagging lady put one more item in those bags, she would be the one to blame for six cans of soup rolling about the parking lot.

The license plate rattles when you slam the trunk lid closed before hurrying around to the driver’s side and anxiously hopping inside to start blasting the heat. It is obnoxiously chilly for the first of September. Well, not really. Your body is just beginning to get used to the ungodly wrath of summer’s sweltering heat leaving you in a constant state of sweat and nausea for the past three months. Not that you’re complaining, of course. You nearly did somersaults of joy when the morning news reported a temperature of sixty-one degrees with some wind gusts and welcomed the beginning signs of autumn with open arms.

You would never admit to Mom who told yo uon the way out to change out of a tank top or at least wear a jacket, but yes— you are, in fact, cold. But now you have godsent warmth blowing from the vents and the seat warmer on its highest setting beginning to thaw away the goosebumps painted on your skin. Giving your arms one last rub, you lean up enough to retrieve your phone and open the conversation with Hyunjin.

[2:37 PM] YN: please. smell my balls

[2:37 PM] YN: nothings wrong btw. i was GOING to ask if u wanted any specific snacks for tn buttttt someone didn’t answer

[2:37 PM] YN: and excuse u i called too. i may be an idiot but im not stupid

[2:38 PM] YN: ik u would never hear a text when ur having wet dreams of yeji

You stop there with a smug smirk when the three dots on his side appear, knowing you’ve hit his funny bone with this one.

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Bruh

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇 :I’ve literally never have had a wet dream ab Yeji pls stop

You cannot fight your shit-eating grin, thumbs circling over the keyboard in thought as he apparently deletes whatever other text he was going to send when the three dots disappear.

[2:38 PM] YN: mmhmmmm

[2:38 PM] YN: because last time you slept over you weren’t whimpering her name in ur sleep

[2:38 PM] YN: sureeeee

You decide to end your teasing there and continue once you’re home. It is starting to get late, after all, and Mom will begin to worry that the creepy employee always in aisle sixteen has abducted you. Plus, you’re cruel and like to watch Hyunjin suffer. Switching the ringer off, you throw your phone into the cupholder and drastically lower the heat and turn off the seat warmer. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here, and not in a fun way. Can’t understand how anyone enjoys hanging out in a sauna to begin with anyway, but to each their own, you guess.

In the five-minute drive it takes until you are pulling into the driveway, Hyunjin calls three times. He is incredibly peeved at your lack of a response to his distressed texts and still wound up from your text about Yeji. As if! You’re already a clown not realizing his ever-growing affections for you, but to think he had a crush on Yeji? You’re the whole damn circus!

By the time he calls a fifth time, now sat up on his elbow in bed and strumming an annoyed beat of his fingers at his thigh because he really just wants to yell at you for being the most annoying person alive (and maybe to hear your voice, too), you have brought in the last of the bags and look to Mom who has started to put the groceries away and expects you to half-heartedly do the same.

“It’s Hyunjin. He’s having an existential crisis because I haven’t answered his texts,” you explain to her, unenthusiastically holding your phone as it vibrates against your palm. Half of you wants her to ask to finish putting everything away first just so you can torture him even longer. Alas, such extravagant wishes are denied, because when it comes to Hyunjin, your parents would undoubtedly throw you under the bus just to keep that boy happy. And so, just like any other time, Mom’s undying love for Hyunjin has her dismissing you from the kitchen with a hearty laugh.

“Jesus Christ! What?” You hiss, halfway up the stairs when you tap to answer his call on the last ring.

“Wow! Look who finally decided to answer!” Hyunjin shouts back, the swoosh of his sheets once he finally falls back against his pillow again rustling all too loudly through the phone. “I was driving,” you spit, marching into your bedroom and collapsing against your bed, the same rustle of your blankets sounding loudly into his ear. “There’s a thing called the speaker, ___. Ever heard of it?” He retorts, evidently shutting you up and he knows he won this round if your silence is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” you groan, using all your toe strength to kick the sneakers off your feet by their soles, “what was so important that you couldn’t wait and had to call me five billion times?”

“I had a question. And you hurt my feelings.” Well, shit. You can practically hear and see his pout through the phone and your heart positively swells in your chest at how undeniably, unjustifiably cute he is. You sigh.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you about Yeji. I’m going to do it again but next time I promise I won’t pull the wet dream card,” you apologize frankly; because, in all honesty, it would be worse to say you are not going to do it again when you most certainly will. Bullying Hyunjin is fun, what can you say?

Hyunjin heaves an exasperated breath from his lungs because he knows there is no point in arguing with quite possibly the most sarcastic human he knows and that’s the best form of an apology he’s going to get. Whatever. He’ll make sure to wipe his morning snot and droll on your shirt in the morning. “Anyway,” he grumbles, in the background you hear Kkami bark from a few rooms over, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over my place instead? I know your parents probably want to see me and stuff but mine are out of town for the night so we can sleep in my bed until like three without Mom waking us up to force feed breakfast.” You roll your eyes. Of course your parents want to see him.

“Plus, Mom just put that grey comforter I know you really like on my bed so we can cuddle all night and watch stuff on YouTube,” he quickly adds as a convincing afterthought. He’s really got his sales pitch going on this one. Truth is, you have only slept in his bed with that stupidly soft blanket twice last winter break, but it’s still sweet that he remembers how much you loved it (aka how quickly you fell asleep and how grumpy you were being woken up because it’s just that darn cozy). Either way, you would never pass up an opportunity to snuggle up with Hyunjin in the comfort of his own bed with his citrusy, floral scent on the pillows luring you to sleep.

“My Mom is going to be heartbroken, Hyunjin,” you tease, “but who cares. You had me sold at sleeping until three. Do you still want me to bring the snacks I got?”

“Oh, thank God. I love your Mom’s cooking but I haven’t left bed all day and I really want to keep it that way. And yes, please. I’ve been eating dry cereal for the past two hours.”

“Hyunjin, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No. Didn’t you just hear me? I said I’ve been in bed all day. Eating cereal. When would I have brushed my teeth?”

“You’ve officially taken breakfast in bed to a whole new level, Jin. I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and please, you have no concept of personal space so make sure you brush your teeth before I come over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love ya, bye,” Hyunjin promptly hangs up, probably eager to get back to binging whatever drama he’s watching before you lecture him about his hygiene again. Not that it matters, anyway; chances are, it went in one ear and right out the other and you’re going to drag him out of bed later to brush his teeth.

Damn. You didn’t even get the chance to say love you back. Not that it matters.

It doesn’t, you quickly shut down the pesky thought that keeps you up at night and force it back into the storage part of your brain labeled ‘Deal with Later,’ because, really, you’ll have to think about that later. It’s not that you don’t want to think about it yet… you just don’t have the time to stop and really figure out what your feelings toward Hyunjin actually are. Yeah. That’s it.

And now isn’t the time, you tell yourself, scooting up the mattress in order to bury your face in the pillows to suffocate the pounding throb in your head. Hyunjin is nothing special.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Everything about Hyunjin is special. Anyone with eyes, ears, even a nose can sense that. You had quickly found out just how wonderful he is when you met him freshman year of high school. At the time, he was everyone’s sweetheart by the first day, but it just so happened his eyes were all on you.

He was obviously adorable, and every class you had together he always made a point to talk to you and returned your sarcasm with an impressive level of expertise. So, when it came to him asking you to the first homecoming, the answer was yes without a second thought. But during the last slow dance of the night, with his hands gently holding your waist, he at last listened to his conscience and revealed that as much as he liked you, he truly did not want to date in high school. Or right then, at least. And honestly, you were glad; Hyunjin was quite possibly your favorite person you had met thus far, and you would have rather kept him as a friend than commit to a relationship the second month of school and risk losing him later down the road.

And boy, keep him as a friend you did. As it turned out, Hyunjin grew to be your truest, best friend in high school. Sure, you each had your own friend groups, but the two of you were the iconic pair everybody knew. But strictly platonic, despite the rumors and wishes that went around for the next four years. You like to think that neither of you ever developed feelings past what everyone feels toward their best friend— an innocent, wholesome sort of love.

But when had things changed? Hormones, as always, were definitely a big part of it. Hyunjin was always a cutie, but it wasn’t until he grew into his own skin and developed a newfound confidence did you start to see him differently. Until everyone saw him differently. Neither of you missed the way people stared him down, pupils dilating every time he ran his fingers through the black tufts of his hair, hearts aching for some sort of interaction. Or when you started attending parties, groups of girls would fling themselves at him in a blundering disarray, most of which he would turn down with a gentle dismissal that flew over their heads, too drunk to actually care.

But then there were times his dick made the decision for him, desperation and deprivation weighing in on him and you’d watch with a tight jaw as he’d leave the room with the pretty girl of the night skipping after him. You never realized it was only on those nights did you wind up in the back seat of Han Jisung’s car.

But even after the physical attraction sizzled out over time, things were not the same. Hyunjin wasn’t your hidden little treasure anymore. All eyes were set on him and it took more than a glass of water to swallow your jealousy. But why? Why were you so resentful all of a sudden?

It’s hard to share Hwang Hyunjin, you decided. Once established that you were his main hoe and he was yours, it became a significant burden watching others try and get in between. Not that they did it with a malicious attempt to separate you, but it still hurt. You’re selfish, and you admit it— Hyunjin, quite frankly, is the love of your life. Romantic or not, nothing could change your feelings toward him. It goes beyond his unfathomable beauty and spunky personality. Everything about him from his nose to his hands, to his distaste for onions and the way his face scrunches up when he lets out that giggle of his and even to the way he prefers to sleep against the wall but will force you to when you’re over so he can “protect you in case there’s a monster” all mount into this big, giant section of your heart set aside for Hyunjin.

So despite your efforts to ignore the pang of jealousy each time he would find a potential someone or the joy whenever he’d find his way back because “they kept wanting to hang out in the morning even though I said I don’t wake up before noon,” this Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart seems to only grow the longer you ignore it. Kind of like every medical condition out there: the longer you ignore it, the worse it gets. So, basically Hyunjin is your heart disease.

Yikes. Sounds a lot worse when you try putting it into words.

Well, he won’t be your heart defect for long if he keeps ruining those pearly whites of his by only brushing once just before bed, you chuckle to yourself, rolling to your side at the sudden lack of oxygen between your face and the pillow. There’s a fleeting moment without thought when you unconsciously reach for your phone to check for any notifications before the fattest revelation of them all falls from the ceiling and smacks you right upside the face.

Shit. Looks like you’ve gone right ahead and totally dissected each and every fiber of your feelings for Hyunjin.

Blinking up at the ceiling, the weight of your emotions isn’t as heavy as you expected them to be. Instead, it’s more of a breath of fresh air, as if you have finally accepted the way things fell instead of ignoring them. Your feelings for Hyunjin have always been there. It just took a little effort to get them out.

Nevertheless, it is going to be difficult hanging out with him in a few hours with your exposed emotions still needing to be processed. Especially when he will pull you to his side and keep you nestled there the entire night. Rubbing your temples, you realize it will take some serious self-control to put everything on the back burner and just enjoy the time spent with Hyunjin.

Sighing, you check the time on your phone again. 3:21 and a text from Hyunjin asking if you could bring green tea.

“Mom!” You yell, defeated. “You were right!”

You used to think Hyunjin lived far away. Truthfully, he’s only fifteen minutes away if you go ten over the speed limit. But the only way to get to his house entails driving through the chaos of the mall and town center, which adds an extra ten minutes sitting through traffic no matter the time of day.

Now, Hyunjin’s college campus is two hours away. Well, technically five from you, since you’re almost three hours away in the opposite direction. So you’re lucky if you get to see him once a month with how hectic school becomes and how difficult it is trying to plan to come home the same weekend. Fortunately, it has worked out this semester. And while you should spend this time with your families, they know how much you crave one another’s company as the weeks drag on. The twenty-two minutes it takes getting to each other’s homes is totally worth it.

You expect Hyunjin to tell you to use the key hidden underneath the resin meditating frog statue in the front garden to unlock the front door when you text him you have arrived, but to your utmost surprise, he’s there, awake, to open the door for you.

“Stinky!” You yell, dropping your things on the floor to burry yourself in his embrace, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck in order to really get the full experience of hugging your favorite giant. “Poopy!” He shouts in return, long arms winding tightly around your waist and even going so far as to lift you up a few inches. God. Hate when he does that.

“Why are you up? I thought I’d have to let myself in with you sleeping all your problems away,” you ask, smiling gratefully when he bends down to pick up your bag. “I realized Kkami hadn’t been out all day, so I came down to let him out and find actual food,” Hyunjin explains as he makes way into the kitchen, opening the back door to let said dog back inside. “Aw, poor thing,” you pout, squatting to scratch at Kkami’s neck when he zooms faster than the speed of light to you, “does that mean you brushed your teeth?”

“I did, actually,” Hyunjin snorts right back, scrunching his nose at you before turning away to open the fridge. Sitting on the floor with Kkami in your lap, you take the opportunity to finally get a good look at Hyunjin now that he’s distracted. And of course, he looks good. Really good. Last time you saw him he still was a brunette, a look he rocked during the spring and summer months. This is the first time you’ve seen the freshly dyed black hair in person. Even though he always looks handsome, something about Hyunjin with black hair completely changes his aura. Brings back memories of how badly you wanted him in high school. You shiver at the thought.

And, to top it all off, how he manages to stay in such disgustingly good shape despite his atrocious eating habits never ceases to amaze you. Like, come on. The boy eats worse than a raccoon seven days out of the week, lives off boba, works out maybe five times a month, dances in his free time and still keeps his body in tiptop shape. God, you hate him. His pediatrician probably hates him, too. You even go as far as to sniff the fries in your dining hall and you gain five pounds.

Even now, he looks unnecessarily regal in the baggy material of his sweatpants and flannel. And the warmth of his kitchen’s ambient lighting does nothing to suppress the heavy thumping of your heart. So casual is his dress, yet how immaculate he looks rummaging the cabinets for a snack.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, the familiar softness of his voice shaking you from your daze as he closes the refrigerator door after his unsuccessful search. Here’s the thing: you really aren’t hungry, but Hyunjin clearly is, so if you say no then all he will be thinking about is food until you decide that you are hungry. “Yeah,” is what you say, nudging Kkami off your crossed legs to stand, “I brought green tea and a few snacks, but we could order Chinese food or something. The place near Dunkin’ and the gas station makes bubble tea now, too.”

Hyunjin’s brows shoot up, flashing his boxy smile. “Is it good?”

“I mean, I’ve only had their pork dumplings and mango tea before, and it was pretty good. I don’t know about their noodles or anything, though,” you shrug, moving to stand beside him at the kitchen island. Distracted by Kkami trying to jump onto the sofa in the living room, you don’t look to Hyunjin until the poor dog is successful in doing so. Startled to find him already gazing down at you, your heart truly is not prepared for him to go right ahead and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Totally not freaking out or trying to overthink his need to constantly cling, you justify his actions by quickly recalling the time he said, “My head is too godtdamn big for my godtdamn body.” More like his head is too heavy because instead of a brain it’s just a chunk of cement up there. He just needs to rest his head sometimes.

Yeah.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Hyunjin hums, swaying your body with his to an unheard tune. By now, any coherent thought has dissipated into thin air and all you can do is melt against him. “Why?” You manage.

“’Cus if we order anything that means I’ll have to get up and get it.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, really?” You laugh. Your hands naturally glide to where his are linked at your stomach, pressing to interlock your fingers overtop his. “If that’s the only reason for your uncertainty than I could always come get it, idiot.”

“No! It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, jumping back before you can even process it, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” you laugh breathlessly, whiplashed by the whole thing. Good thing you aren’t hungry, because when was the last time Hyunjin turned down food? Blinking at him precariously, he doesn’t seem to notice until one too many seconds of silence pass by.

“C’mon,” he demands excitedly, jumping back into reality, “my roommate told me to watch this anime called Soul Eater but I wanted to watch it with you.” Once again, before anything can even register past every single That Was Cute™ alarm ringing in your brain, Hyunjin is grabbing your bag and reaching for your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You and Hyunjin binge aforementioned anime until he falls asleep first around 2 AM, only stopping to order food an hour in (he’s an indecisive man indeed), to get up to retrieve it, and to actually eat while catching up. For most of the night, you are able to forget the way his heartbeat against your back mirrored your own in the kitchen. But then, a little while after you fall asleep yourself, Hyunjin unconsciously shifts closer and you spend another hour blinking at his relaxed hand twitching against your abdomen, trying to keep the hurricane inside your heart at bay.

You can’t make it home October. Hyunjin texted you to let you know he was going to be the third weekend in, and you tried desperately to manage your time in order to make it work. But one group project in chem lead to another paper in psych and before you knew it, your roommate was listening to you sob over a boy and curse out your classes.

September left you emotionally wrecked, to be totally honest. You hate Hyunjin and you hate the way he makes you feel and you especially hate how realizing you have a crush on him makes you unsure if everything he does is his way of hinting he feels the same or if he’s always been this touchy and you are just now recognizing it. So, missing a month of seeing your favorite human being essentially means missing another day of trying to decipher which actions of his go in the Friend list, and which go in the Questionable list. And that, my friend, is unacceptable.

You absolutely cannot not go home this month. November is the calm before the storm (the storm being exams looming the second week of December), and while it would be beneficial maybe staying on campus to continue preparing, you tell yourself going home will be just as helpful. Mental breaks, and stuff. Totally not just to see Hyunjin.

Either way, Hyunjin asks you if you would join him on the seventeenth to go to his second cousin’s christening and you absolutely cannot say no when you know how bored Hyunjin gets at family events when they aren’t for him. And so, fast forward to the third Sunday of November and you are ready to pass out ten minutes after entering the church.

“I’m so happy for you two! I always knew you would last into college,” one of Hyunjin’s aunts exclaims, pinching your cheeks but the only pinch you feel is that of your heart.

Clearly she is misinformed, or just prone to jumping to conclusions but yet again, you can’t really blame her with how couple-y you and Hyunjin are. Past the single tunnel vision of your gaze, you watch her smile falter when Hyunjin goes rigid beside you and oh my God this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, his whole family thinks we’re dating and here we are still stuck in each other’s friendz—

“I’m glad you think so, imo,” Hyunjin suddenly picks up, sneaking an arm around to rest his hand on your hip, tugging you close, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever decides to leave me.”

It’s nice to think that he means it, to imagine that you are here not as a tag-along but to join him in a family ceremony because you are part of the family. The thought turns your blood to sugar and everything surrounding you falls apart; you listen to the rest of their conversation without processing it, the precise detailing in the marble pillars blurs into a mass of white, and you still feel his strong hold on the curve of your waist yet you are lost in the swam of possibilities.

How lovely it would be to live up to her assumption. To ‘last into college’ as a couple, not as best friends. To be able to call him yours even when you’re not together, to come home and kiss his lips, to sleep in his bed and it mean more than the laziness of blowing up the air mattress. At some point, he leads you into the third pew to sit beside his parents, and when you greet them with a hug all you can think about is them viewing you as more than their son’s friend.

God, you hate it.

You’re not as religious as Hyunjin and his family. But for the first time in years, you find yourself looking to the crucifix during the service and praying to whoever is up there to give you some strength and patience, because Lord do you need it.

Hyunjin is a funny guy.

Or so he thinks.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. It’s just— compared to your friends Minho or Changbin, he isn’t at the top of the list. When you think of Hyunjin, the first words that pop up are soft, loud, and dramatic.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. He’s just weird.

Insanely, ridiculously weird. For example, the time he called Jeongin a vitamin. Or the time he slapped half a bottle of sunscreen on his face. Or his random bouts of dancing at inappropriate moments. Just to name a few.

After the Baptism, Hyunjin acted like nothing happened. Didn’t even bring it up. Not even a joke. After the ceremony, you joined his family for a luncheon, which just involved the two of you being weird and making peculiar dancing videos on SnapChat with the swirly filter and complaining about school for a few hours until he drove you home. Obviously you stopped for food again on the way.

But that was it. Things went on as normal, and you returned to campus later that night and forced the whole experience to the back of your brain. It was officially grind season, and grind season meant studying for exams. No parties. No boys. And certainly no Hyunjin.

You both were home for winter break in the blink of an eye. And in normal Hyunjin style, he sort of vanished for the first week. Probably catching up on his strict sleeping schedule, you presumed, and accepted the fact that it was going to be a few days before you saw or even heard from him. The only anticipation you felt was wanting to give him his Christmas gift.

After what seems like an eternity away from Hyunjin, you get out of the shower on this fine Saturday before Christmas to find a slew of texts from him.

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Aloha mamacita

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: How do u feel about getting froyo tn

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can get fat and then u can sleepover aaaand

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can stare at the wall for a few hours

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: And

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: *cough*

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Exchange Jesus gifts

See? Weird. Who wants froyo when it’s thirty degrees out?

[5:53 PM] YN: “aloha mamacita”

[5:53 PM] YN: uHmmmMMM

[5:53 PM] YN: im down mr president

[5:54 PM] YN: why do u want ice cream in winter tho. don’t u want like

[5:54 PM] YN: hot chocolate or seomthing

Obviously not. Two hours later, Hyunjin arrives to pick you up for froyo despite all your efforts in convincing him maybe you could take the train to the city and watch a light show, or simply drive around and swoon over the rich people houses and their Christmas decorations. He didn’t budge. This leads you to your second question of the day: why is it that when you threw on sweats for the occasion you called yourself a hag, but upon entering Hyunjin’s car you make a mental note of how hot he looks when he’s wearing the same exact thing? You groan at the thought. It’s because it’s Hyunjin, of course.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he greets, flicking your forehead once you settle into the seat of his Subaru WRX because he’s a hotshot and likes to flex that he can drive a manual. Not really— the car is absolute garbage by now, having been his Dad’s old car (his Dad likes to flex too, apparently). However, Hyunjin takes care of it enough for it to seem five years old instead of ten, and, either way, watching him work the stick shift is unexplainably hot.

You swat his hand away. “Drive, bitch,” you huff, twisting to buckle yourself in. Once he’s reversed out of your driveway, you glance back to find him fighting against a devilish smirk.

“So,” you start once he has navigated out of your neighborhood. His brow twitches up. “Are you taking Hawaiian and French at school? You’ve been throwing quite a lot of languages at me recently.” Hyunjin shoots you an unamused look. You return it with a wrinkle of your nose.

“Anyway,” he ignores your teasing, pausing to switch gears for whatever reason so he can make it through a yellow light, “how did your exams go?”

“Well, you know…” You trail off, looking to your window. It feels a lot later than eight o’clock. With it getting dark so early in the evening nowadays, it feels as if nighttime is always following you.

“You know… what?” Hyunjin interrupts your daze, concern laced in his voice. “They were fine. I passed everything, I’m just worried about my major,” you explain sadly, barely glancing at him before you are turning back to the window to stare at the moon. Must be nice being a moon. Just get to hang out in the sky watching everyone and being watched.

“I mean, if you want to switch, now’s the time. Better do it now before the second semester,” Hyunjin advises, wise as always. Not really, but he’s right. “What are you thinking of going into?”

Yikes. He’s going to kill you.

“Nursing,” you blurt.

“Oh my Lanta, ___, are you serious?” He groans, stopping at a convenient red light presenting the perfect opportunity for him to smack his forehead on the wheel. Dramatic. “How are you gonna manage that? You’ll practically be two years behind everyone else!”

“I know,” you sigh, throwing your head back on the headrest, “that’s the problem. Bio just isn’t doing it for me. I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in a lab watching mitosis. I need something more rewarding, so theoretically nursing is a perfect start. I don’t know, though.”

“Why don’t you switch to interior design or something? We could get our own HGTV show, ___,” he says, but you don’t meet his gaze when he glances over because beneath his words, you can sense some serious hopefulness. Interior design would be cool, but you’ve never considered that as a career choice. You once helped your parents pick out everything when they redid a bathroom at home and that turned out great, but as a major?

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it, I guess,” you shrug, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and tightening the drawstrings until the material covers your eyes, “why can’t you audition to be a K-pop star or something? I could be your manager. Heck, even your makeup artist. I’ve done your makeup before, remember?”

Hyunjin laughs, loud, and the sound sinks deep into your heart and makes you feel warm all over. Stress? Gone.

For the next few minutes or so, the ride is comfortably quiet. At some point, he turns on the radio and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” floods your brain and reminds you to look forward to exchanging Christmas gifts later. God, you hope he likes it. You really went out on the sentimental gifts this year.

Hood shielding your vision, you jump when his large hand suddenly comes to grab the top of your head, squeezing hard and you imagine he’s trying to press some hopefulness into your brain. “Hand on the penis stick, Hwang,” you bark, blindly reaching for his own head across the way and pulling his ear when you do so. Good Lord, you hope no one can see into the car because… what.

Hyunjin lets out a giggle this time, reaching to pull you into a headlock and even though he’s got your head shoved up against his sturdy chest and goes on to give you a noogie, you’re stuck being all high and loopy on the sound of his happiness. And hey, it’s nice to know you’re the cause of it.

“We’re literally parked, idiot. If you had your hood down you would’ve realized,” Hyunjin snickers, releasing you after watching you struggle for a few seconds. Jerking away from him, you swiftly pull back your hood. “Oh,” you laugh, reading the flashy Yogo Factory sign above the building in front of you, “you could’ve just told me instead of watching me bask in misery.”

Hyunjin suitably ignores your moaning and groaning by getting out of the car and standing in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. Why? Why must he look so scrumptious in his black hoodie and grey sweatpants and four-year-old white Nike sneakers? He has no gosh darn right!

After fixing the mess he made of your hair, you at last join him outside the car, shooting him another glare and moving ahead of him to open the shop’s door without waiting for him. “From now on, we have to start texting each other what we’re wearing before we go out, ‘cus this looks a little ri-donk-ulous,” Hyunjin whispers in your ear as you make your way to the cup selection, trying to ignore all the stares you— no, he is getting along the way.

“What do you mean?” You ask, plucking two medium sized cups up before turning to look at him. Then you look down at yourself. Oh. Looks like you’re both wearing the hoodie from junior spirit week. “Nice.” Just Couple Things™!

Back to Hyunjin being weird— why did he drag you all the way out here just to get a cup of chocolate frozen yogurt and maybe half a scoop of peanut butter chips?

Meanwhile, he watches in absolute disgust as you blow through your own dessert. Vanilla yogurt with probably every topping offered because you physically cannot make a decision, especially when they have chunks of cookie dough up there.

“So,” Hyunjin starts, trying not to look you in the eye considering you look like a goblin shoveling globs of diabetes down your throat, “have you talked to Jisung recently?”

You choke on a Fruity Pebble at his inquiry, prompting him to reach across the table and slap your back a few times until your esophagus is cleared. “Ugh,” clearing your throat one last time, you take a few sips of water while shooting him a glare. Jisung? Really? “How dense are you?” You hiss unintentionally.

Hyunjin raises his hands in defense. “Just a question.”

Yeah, just a question. Dumbass. “I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, “not really. We have a streak on Snap and sometimes we’ll talk occasionally but I don’t text him every day or anything. How about you?”

He shrugs, concentrating instead on stirring his yogurt into a goopy mess. “Eh. We still use our group chat a lot but that’s it. He’s too busy making music in Malaysia.”

You chuckle at this, picking out the boba from your own cup and leaving the rest now that it has started to look like something sold at the Chum Bucket. “That sucks,” you offer, not the best at giving him consolidation, you opt for linking your feet around his own in some weird act of intimacy, “isn’t he coming home for the holidays, though? I’m sure you can all have a reunion soon.”

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunjin hums, suddenly too focused on trying to escape your trap under the table. Annoyed Hyunjin is cute. “Stoooop,” he whines, kicking at your shins before breaking into boisterous laughter at your relentlessness, “I will not hesitate to throw this cup at your face.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, “I’d like to see you try.”

At this, Hyunjin drops his stupidly long arms beneath the table and easily captures your foot by the ankle, pulling hard enough for you to slip down your side of the booth. “Hyunjin!” You shriek, panicking slightly at your sweaty hand’s insecure grip against the leather. You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall flat on your ass underneath a table at a frozen yogurt place because the boy you like pulled your foot too hard. Fantastic. Ignoring you, he starts to wiggle your shoe off your foot no matter how hard you try to squirm out of his relentless grip. “Stop trying to eat my toes in the middle of Yogo!”

Finally, he releases your foot, letting it fall limp against his thigh.

“God,” you huff, breathless as you squirm back up your seat, cheeks burning ferociously, “you are such an ass.”

Behind the playful smirk he fails to hide, something darker glints in Hyunjin’s eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat. Then, “We should go.” The suggestion makes the heat of your blush scorch even hotter down your neck and you instinctively turn away, only to find the customers on the other side of the shop watching you with just as perturbed looks. Fantastic, part two.

“Okie,” you squeak out, blinking after him in complete and total bewilderment as to what just happened when he gets up to throw his trash away. Whatever. Following after him, you too toss your cup out before quickly finding your hand engulfed by his larger one as he leads you back outside, the sudden sharpness of the cold air bringing tears to your eyes. You desperately want to ask him what that was about, or why he’s acting so sneaky, but you stay silent, too afraid your voice will come out shaky and vulnerable. Instead, you let him tug you into his side and try to keep up with him no matter how badly your knees threaten to buckle with each glance you sneak up at him.

It’s silent when you enter the car, watching warily as he reverses out of the parking spot and maneuvers through the lot. Your heart rate seemingly cannot slow itself down, adrenaline taking the place of oxygen the longer you stare at him, at the concentrated scrunch to his face, at the cute tip of his button nose and at the swell of his lips and you distantly wonder what would happen if you pulled him into a kiss at the next red light.

In the midst of your daydream Hyunjin clears his throat, bringing you back to reality and you realize with a startle that he has caught you. Jesus Christ! What has gotten into you? You mentally smack yourself upside the head, instantly turning away from his cocky little gaze and staring straight ahead in search of something else to focus on. “___,” he sing-songs, slow and sensual and entirely demolishing the walls you have built around yourself. It is at this red light you wish to simply open the door and run.

“Yes?” You manage, wincing at how small your voice sounds and while looking out his window instead of into his eyes, you notice him grip the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The tension is insurmountable, weighing in heavily on your chest and you desperately wish to arrive home, even though that means having to survive the next twelve hours with him. Anything is better than the small confines of his car.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. You pale. It is a dangerous question and you do not know if he realizes that. “Um,” you cough, scooting to sit up straight, “whatever you want.” You whisper the last part, genuinely petrified because you have absolutely no idea if your brain is twisting everything to make it seem like Hyunjin is flirting or if things are totally normal. No idea.

“Hm,” he offers, tilting his head in thought, “we shall see.”

Yeah. We shall.

The rest of the ride is quiet, comfortably or uncomfortably you cannot say because you are too busy trying to calm the Spongebob burning office scene occurring inside your own head, hopelessly telling yourself that everything is fine, Hyunjin’s fine, you’re fine. Just pretend like nothing happened, you tell yourself when Hyunjin pulls into his driveway with practiced ease. “Ugh,” he groans after retrieving your bag from the back seat, and you watch with a raised brow as he skips up to his porch, yelling, “I have to pee!”

“Begone with you, piss boy,” you tease, holding the screen door open for him as he struggles to unlock the storm door and pulling on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings just to annoy him. “Stop,” he growls, low and playful but nevertheless sending a swarm of butterflies to your tummy. You ignore him. Finally unlocking the door, Hyunjin shoves the keys into his pocket and seizes your wrist, yanking your arm down with enough force to nearly topple you into him. “Why are you being so annoying tonight?” He frowns at you, nose and brows scrunched in irritation and it is only because of his proximity do you finally soften up.

“Sorry,” you pout back, bringing your other hand up to boop his nose, “I just missed ya.”

“Ew,” he snorts, stepping past the threshold and kicking off his shoes. You follow suit, closing the door behind you and clicking the lock into place as Kkami comes sprinting over. “B-R-B,” Hyunjin announces, presumably bouncing away to the bathroom.

“Oh, boy,” you huff, squatting to pick up the fluffy little dog and hugging him close to your chest, “your dad is making my life very difficult.” Pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, you put Kkami back down and grab your bag before heading upstairs, knowing Hyunjin is going to take his grand old time and probably take a shit while he’s at it. Plus, you’re impatient and dying to take your bra off.

Aside from what light his Gudetama nightlight offers, Hyunjin’s room is ultimately left dark. Here’s the thing: he used to have a lamp on his dresser, but then he took it with him to college and only brings it home for summer because he’s lazy and sleeps the majority of the time he’s home, anyway. Instead, he put up his little remote-controlled Christmas tree in addition to the lava lamp he has beside his bed. Perfect. For Hyunjin, at least.

Switching both of these on, their subtle glow offers just enough to keep you from banging your toe against something. It’s happened one too many times. Hyunjin’s room isn’t messy— he really isn’t a messy person to begin with, but he will reorganize the furniture in his room fifty times a year and you never know where the crooked leg to his bedside table will be to ambush your pinky toe.

Setting your bag onto his bed, you excitedly fumble past all your layers and unclasp your bra, maneuvering out of it with a delighted exhale just as Hyunjin begins his ascent up the stairs, steps creaking loudly under his heavy trudging. “I’m an idiot,” he grumbles, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

You don’t bother to look at him, opting to quickly retort instead, “We been knew.”

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans, exasperated, and you finally turn to him after successfully jamming aforementioned undergarment into your bag, “anyways. I don’t know why I didn’t just come up here, because I have to wash my face anyway and you do too and now we’re both going to have to share a sink.”

“Aw,” you coo, tone dripping with sarcasm as you pat his arm, “poor baby has to share the bathroom.”

“I’m actually going to strangle you,” he sighs, nevertheless following after you into the bathroom.

“Kinky.”

Hyunjin glares, unamused as he opens a drawer for his pink bow hairband and your striped pink and blue one that he bought for you, but keeps here for sleepovers. Yeah. He throws it to your face. “Sorry,” you offer, pulling the soft headband up to hold your hair back, “I’ll try to stop. I’m just so used to annoying you.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, flashing his stupidly cute teasing smile and in your head, you imagine raising a white flag in surrender— he’s got you, he’s won, it’s over. Time to call it quits and head home. Evidently shut up (for now), you offer him a roll of your eyes before turning on the sink to wet your hands before pumping out some of his scrumptious watermelon face wash. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you’ll manage to rinse away all the overwhelming thoughts of the night, too.

Barefaced Hyunjin is immaculate. Well, Hyunjin is immaculate twenty-four hours out of the day, but barefaced, freshly washed, hair messy, ready for bed Hyunjin is immaculate, and you are one of the few people lucky enough to see this eighth wonder of the world as often as you do.

Now, maybe it has something to do with the unexpected ambiance the light from his laptop, Christmas lights, and lava lamp have created together that makes him look so unfairly beautiful at this given moment. Or, you’re just insanely pussywhipped and looking for an excuse. You try not to think about it.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” He asks, frustrated enough to interrupt Kermit singing ‘Shawty I don’t mind’ playing from his laptop. “I’m not,” you defend, a weak argument indeed, given that you have just finished adjusting your position beside him for the umpteenth time.

“I mean, four female Ghostbusters? The feminists are taking over! I’m an ad—”

“___, you’ve touched my dick like four times. Don’t try and tell me you’re not squirmy. What’s wrong?” Hyunjin interrupts a second Vine, and even goes on to talk over ‘I have the power of God and anime on my side!’ like a lunatic. Oh Christ, you have? Surely you would have noticed. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed as you bury your face into the curve of his pectoral and instinctively move your leg settled between his away, “I’m just hot, to be honest.” Technically, it is not a lie. Hyunjin’s family definitely keeps their thermostat at a higher temperature than yours and you always manage to sweat your ass off every time you come over. This time, however, you are certain it has more to do with the assault your heart is facing rather than your sweat glands.

At the sound of his tap against the spacebar to pause the video, you wordlessly and reluctantly sit up from your comfortable spot beside him in order to rid yourself of your heavy sweatshirt. Now, here lies the problem. Sweatshirt: off. Nipples: out. Realistically, Hyunjin has seen your boobs a number of times over the past few years, and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. But right now, your heart is on the line, you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to play it extremely safe.

You toss the hoodie to the floor and nestle right back where you were anyway, slinging your right arm over his torso and ignoring his sharp intake of breath when you snuggle closer. “Better?” He asks, voice strained and it literally makes you nauseous. “Yep.”

He resumes the video. You had started early in the night watching Pom Poko, which unsurprisingly ended with the two of you crying at the bittersweet ending, then moved to TikTok compilations on YouTube to cheer up before moving on from them and onto the classic Vine compilations. You paid good attention for the most part, chuckling along with him to ‘What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read,’ ‘Bruh chill, I don’t know why you in a big time rush,’ and all the other absolute comedic masterpieces. But after the fourth or fifth video of the same six second clips with an occasional rare one, you began to grow bored and decided to do what you do best: admire Hyunjin.

Sure, ‘Come get yo juice!’ followed by the loud smash of the oven made you smile, but you found the flashing lights casting shadows beneath Hyunjin’s eyes and lips much more fascinating. Of course, this is not the first time you have been held so close to him. But it is, however, all too easy to get lost in the sight of him and you’ve noticed recently that you are in desperate need of a map. Whether it’s due to your time away from him or simply an appreciation for untouched beauty you do not know.

Even now, your gaze flickers to his laptop once you hear ‘Get to Del Taco,’ but having already watched it five thousand times you tilt your head upward to catch Hyunjin’s silent giggle at ‘free-sha-voca-do.’ It’s a vicious cycle, really, going back and forth between wanting to simply enjoy the night and realizing enjoying the night lies totally in Hyunjin’s presence. And so, you continue to fall into this trap each time until you pay no mind to the videos at all, basking in the brilliance of Hyunjin’s joyous smile and the warmth his happiness makes you feel. It is this thought that slowly tugs you to sleep, a fight to keep your heavy eyelids open lost until finally, you give in to the comfort and allow yourself to drift off to the sound of ‘Step the fuck up, Kyle.’

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

“___,” the softness of Hyunjin’s voice at the crown of your head eases you from the clutches of sleep and you stretch your locked limbs before curling further into his side. “We didn’t open presents.” Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his pout, and you realize you must be awake to hear the disappointed words caught sluggishly between his lips so vividly. You hum, hesitant to open your eyes because you really want to go back to sleep. Just for a little while. And so, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past two,” he whispers.

You hum again, trying to formulate a sensible sentence in the parts of your brain still asleep, “We can… wake up at four. And open gifts. Okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Hyunjin chuckles to himself, sliding lower down the mattress after shutting his laptop.

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

You can’t remember ever falling asleep facing each other. But yet again, your brain is clouded beyond capability and now, you know for certain you are dreaming. Hyunjin never faces you.

Blinking slowly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness and you struggle to make out the features of Hyunjin’s face. You know you are dreaming, and so you tug him closer, throwing a leg over his thigh and an arm over his waist. Even in your sleep, you feel the sadness pricking at your heart, for even it knows this is only what dreams are made of. You like to make the best of it.

“You know I love you, Jinnie, right?” Your voice comes out funny, drawn out and mumbled like your tongue is numb and you fight the urge to feel for yourself.

“Of course I do. I love you too.” His reply surprises you. You thought he was asleep and, either way, hearing such fond words from him puts your heart at ease. He must be misunderstood.

“No. I mean like… I like you, love you. Like I want to kiss you… kiss you good morning and before bed love you. Send you hearts and take stupid couple pics and… go on dumb dates love you. You know?” Your words feel garbled and incomprehensible the longer you go on, trying to express how you feel when nothing is real proving to be increasingly difficult. God, if only you could do it when things are real.

You start to feel yourself slipping as he mutters a reply, mind in free fall and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s whispering and you can’t hear him but you are too tired and helpless to wake yourself up to hear it. No, too lost in the next dream to go back. You can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Christ, were you awake? You can’t tell. All you know is that you are warm, so, so warm and letting sleep take over you once more is the best answer to all your questions.

Hyunjin always says he hates waking people up. Because he’s normally the one needing to be awoken, whenever the roles are swapped he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

This time, however, he takes it upon himself to repeatedly smack your face with his pillow. Not a fun experience when it’s coming from someone who fails to recognize his own strength. “Jesus, fuck! Okay!” You hiss, the cloud of sleep abruptly ripped away from you with the slap of his pillow against your skin. Arms raised defensively in front of you, you catch his next swing and tear the pillow out of his grasp to shield yourself all before you have even opened your eyes. When you do so, with the blatant intention just to find where he is and hurl the pillow at him, you are met with the harsh light from his ceiling fan and have to squint past the stinging white light to see his shit-eating grin.

“Was that necessary?” You groan, undeniably annoyed and wanting to glare at him more but needing to rub the ache out of your eyes. “Yes,” is all he says, reaching for your bag and catapulting it to you. He is incredibly lucky you are quick enough to catch it before it thumps against your head. What has gotten into him? Did he eat an entire bag of Pixy Stix while you were asleep? You watch, still dazed from sleep and reeling from the whole pillow smacking attack, as he flings open his closet door and turns back around with two neatly wrapped boxes. You squint to make out the dancing Santa T-rex wrapping paper.

“Oh,” you chirp, understanding, and you unzip your bag to retrieve the large box taking up the majority of space, “thanks for waking me up. I’m surprised you remembered. Did you stay up?”

A rosy blush burns its way across his cheekbones. Odd. “I, um— yeah. No, actually,” he stutters, really odd, given he was bouncing off the walls not even thirty seconds ago, “I set an alarm. You made me sleepy.” Hyunjin sits beside you once you have scooted over, leaning against the wall and crossing his long ass legs. He keeps his eyes trained on the boxes in his hands. “Oh,” you hum, looking to your own gift and suddenly wishing for the mattress to swallow you up, “sorry. I haven’t gotten as much sleep as you on break so far.”

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he jokes and you finally look to him, sharing a cheeky smile before he gets all shy again, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “um, Merry Christmas, ___.”

It’s a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hyunjin.” Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders in an awkward side hug, but still end up feeling all drunk and loopy on love when he eagerly returns the gesture, arms curling around you.

“Okay,” you huff, sitting back, “me first.” You dramatically hold your gift out to him, jittery and nervous all over. Buying for Hyunjin is always hard. He’s just so easy to please, but when you want to do more than just please him it’s a constant battle trying to decide how far out you are going to go for him each year.

You watch impatiently as he tears the wrapping paper open first, and then finally lifts the flaps of the box up. “Aw,” he whimpers, pulling out the quokka plushie and attached certificate, “you adopted a quokka for me?”

You grin when he hugs the soft stuffed animal to his chest, the weight on your shoulders partly lifted from his positive reaction. He reaches back into the box, brow scrunched in thought as he regards the framed picture. “The First Day…?” Hyunjin asks, perplexed as he reads the title above the constellation poster. You scoot closer, leaning over to look it over once more. “This was the constellation of stars on our first day of freshman year. The day we first met.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin sniffs, “that’s really awesome, ___. Thank you. This is coming with me to school.” At this, he hugs you again, probably to hide the tears you know are threatening to spill because Hyunjin is Baby and cries every year. “Anything for my favorite fake Aussie,” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as he reads through the quokka adoption letter.

“Okay! Your turn!” He exclaims, setting his gifts back into the box and passing you the smaller one of his. He catches your curious glance to the second one he keeps by his side. “We have to open this one together.”

“Christ, okay. Looks like I’m gonna be crying tonight, too,” you sigh sadly. “Ooh,” jumping ahead of yourself, you wiggle your eyebrows at the white box before you, “Hyunjin if you bought me a Fitbit… I swear to God. How many times have I said I am not working out with you?” However, once you finish tearing open the wrapping paper you find it is not, in fact, a Fitbit.

“It’s not a Fitbit, idiot,” Hyunjin scoffs a second too late, waiting for you to slip the lid off the box. “They’re bond touch bracelets.”

“Explain,” you murmur, enamored but confused at the two little house arrest looking bracelets.

“So basically, we each wear one,” Hyunjin starts, taking one of the bracelets out and a burst of color blooms across its small screen at the motion, “and if you touch it, mine vibrates and I ‘feel’ your touch.” As he explains, he buckles it around your wrist, twisting it so it lies correctly. You silently take the second one and help it on him, brain too caught up to actually say anything.

“Try it,” Hyunjin whispers, suppressing his excitement.

You gingerly bring a finger to the little screen, tapping it once, twice. Nothing happens. Frowning, you try again, tapping and holding, then a second time, and finally— a strip of pink light appears and the bracelet gently vibrates as you tap and hold a random pattern. In response, the bracelet on Hyunjin’s wrist lights up blue, buzzing in the same pattern.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sniffle, fighting back your own tears because you refuse to let yourself ugly cry in front of him, “this is amazing. Now I can annoy you year-round. Thank you so, so much. I love you so much.” He hums, pulling you close when you turn to give him a proper hug. To your utmost surprise, however, instead of letting go he curls one fist into your side and helps swing your legs over to straddle his lap. “Oh.”

“___,” Hyunjin sighs thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeves of your tee, “I love you, too.”

You nearly spit up your coffee. If you were drinking coffee. Instead, you’re left with a dry mouth and a slack jaw at his words. Huh?

Glancing to the constellation picture peeking out of his box, and then to the matching bracelets you both wear, you find your mind reeling trying to make sense of it all. Yeah, you say the forbidden L-word to each another all the time, but most certainly not with you on his on lap and his lips mere centimeters away. The answer is so obviously clear as day you have trouble believing it.

“Fuck,” you laugh all of a sudden, as soon as the realization hits you, “I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”

Hyunjin lets out a joyous giggle, hands linking behind your back. Unable to hide his smile any longer, he clarifies, “You were not, madam. We literally just finished talking about when we were going to open gifts and then I got ready to sleep. Two seconds later you dumped your heart out to me, but when I answered, you were asleep.”

“Bruh,” you wince, hiding your face with your hands, “I am so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No, don’t be,” Hyunjin comforts, reaching to tug your hands away. Your gut does somersaults when he intertwines his fingers with yours. “I was actually, uh, planning on doing some sort of confession to you anyway, but then you went right ahead and did it for me. So thanks for that.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, trying to wrap your mind around it all, “does that mean you, ahem, perhaps like me too?”

“No, I just got us really couple-y long distance relationship bracelets, pulled you onto my lap, and kissed you because I just want to be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss m—”

The sly little fucker interrupts your retort by quickly dipping down to press a fat smooch to your lips, missing miserably and you don’t know if he did it on purpose but you quickly fix the problem, releasing his hands to cradle his jaw and tilt his head the right angle. Finally, finally you kiss him, breathing in the smell of him like some sort of aromatherapy and whimpering into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your own. It is like nothing you have ever experienced, the taste and feel of him making you tremble and igniting a burst of electricity through your veins. You could kiss him forever, you think, sucking on his plump bottom lip greedily until he finally pulls back, desperate for air or trying to reel himself in you can’t say.

“You have to open your other gift,” Hyunjin reminds, chest heaving, and your gaze follows his long fingers as they comb his hair away from his forehead. Automatically, as if kissing Hyunjin once grants you some kind of free pass to do the same, you brush a few stray strands away from his face before leaning back to admire him. “Stoooop. You can’t do that and not expect me to kiss you again. Open. Your. Gift.” Hyunjin whines, squishing your cheeks and turning your head away.

“Okay, don’t blame this on me,” you huff, reaching for the second box before jabbing a finger into his chest, “you, sir, need to stop being so beautiful for like, two seconds.”

He scoffs, helping you rip off the wrapping paper, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, most certainly not used to Hyunjin dishing out such compliments, “this is too Hallmark Christmas movie for me. Let me open my gift in peace, ugly.” This box, unlike the bracelets’, is simple cardboard and when you lift open the lid, a brown leather book looks back at you. “You remember Up?” He asks.

On the leather, it reads Our Adventure Book in mismatched colors. “Yeah,” you whisper, flipping open the cover to find two baby pictures glued on the paper, one of Hyunjin, and one of you. At the top, it’s labeled ‘Before Shit Went Down.’ You laugh.

On the next page, there are random photographs from middle school, and then finally each other’s eighth grade graduation portraits. Then, written at the top is ‘Here It Begins,’ followed by a selfie he randomly took with you a few weeks into school freshman year, and then some from homecoming. Silently flipping through the rest of the book, your tears flow freely now, touched beyond comparison at all the photographs and all the memories accompanying them. Some are from large events like prom, others from random moments you don’t even remember, but each and every one comes together to form a special mold fitting perfectly into that Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart.

The last picture is from the christening last month. Of course, it isn’t one of the nicer photos his mom took of the two of you, but a SnapChat selfie with the flaming sunglasses filter. He’s mid-laugh and you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek. Funny thing is, you don’t even remember taking it.

The page next to it is blank, aside from what’s written at the top of the page. “Togetha Foreva,” you read aloud, voice choked up and God, you cannot fathom how gross you look right now. “What the fuck, man!” You sob, punching Hyunjin’s shoulder before wiping your nose and cheeks with the back of your hands. “I didn’t sign up for this cock and ball torture.”

Hyunjin laughs loudly at this, pulling you into a hug and giving you a few seconds to recover. “Hyunjin, this is like… seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me, holy shit. God, you Pinterest son of a bitch, this is such a good idea,” you groan, flipping back through the pages and getting teary-eyed all over again, “I can’t express how much this means to me, Jinnie. Thank you, really.”

Flashing that toothy grin of his, Hyunjin tugs you to lie back down with him and tilts your head up to press a much more accurate kiss to your lips. “I meant what I said before, ___,” he murmurs, “I don’t know what to do without you, and I know we only get to see each other once a month but I can’t keep living as just friends. You’re so much more than that. And I hope all the pictures we add from now on will show this new chapter of our lives. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just burn the book.”

“Are you asking me to be Kkami’s official poop-picker-upper?”

“Yes. Wait— what? No!”

You break into a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted with him pinching your side and causing you to let out a yelp. “Hey!” You bark, jumping closer to him and away from his hand until, finally, you give in to your self-indulgence and go right on ahead in swinging a leg over his hips and pinning him beneath you.

“You ruined my serious love speech, ___,” Hyunjin pouts, face scrunched up at you.

“I’m sorry, baby, go on.”

You pause, blinking slowly at him. He blinks back, the silence in the air weighing in heavily as both of your two brain cells bounce around trying to figure out what did you just call him?

“Never mind,” Hyunjin says, voice a low rumble of thunder as he reaches for your hips and easily flips positions, “I think you’re on the same boat.”

You laugh, tilting your head back and eyeing him indignantly. Fuck, he looks unfairly delectable hovering above you.

“Okay, how many more times do I have to tell you I love you for you to formally ask me to be your girlfriend, stupid?” You scowl, bringing your hands to cradle his neck, thumbs brushing delicately against his jaw.

“Call me baby again and we’ll see about making that happen.”

You raise a brow, tugging his face closer by the chain of his necklace. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, baby.”

[ask-artsy-oncie]

So I’m kinda in a meh/apathetic headspace in regards to my mental health right now. Maybe it would be best to just let some thoughts out. 

Firstly, I do want to apologize for making stupid, borderline inflammatory posts and throwing them out there onto tumblr dot com, I know that’s never the best course of action. However, I really, really do not appreciate anons sending vague “are you okay”s at me. If you’re not close enough to me where you can’t PM me (relatively) face-to-face, then I really wouldn’t like random inquiries about my mental health from you. Maybe it’s just because I don’t 100% trust anons (I’ve been here for a decade, I’ve seen some shit, can you really blame me?) but I think I ought to make myself clear on that. Are we clear on that? cool. 

I don’t know... I’ve felt so lost and tired recently, moreso than usual.

I’ve always had a massive complex about annoying people, being too self-indulgent, not having good ideas or opinions or what-have-you. People who have known me for a while almost definitely know that. I don’t think it all necessarily exists in a vacuum, either I have a genuinely hard time coming up with objectively good ideas. Sometimes I’m just straight-up “head empty” mode. I’m also often really opinionated and sometimes intend to die on hills that people aren’t really meant to die on (or are even necessarily worth dying on). I can get way too wrapped up on meaningless things because my brain is too hyperfocused on this one thing, or maybe something I rely too heavily on for comfort is... I don’t know how to put it.... put at risk? Challenged? I have a lot of mental issues and real life issues, though I’m not claiming to be massively oppressed or anything, but I tend to cling to comforts a little too desperately. And I’m not just talking about like. Media. Just comforts in general. Sometimes I’ll spend too much of the day laying in bed. Sometimes I cling to old relationships or old forms of relationships or I constantly worry about the day I’ll inevitably no longer have the same relationships I have now. 

I’ve known I needed therapy for a while now. I’m waitlisted and everything, but I need to go about actually choosing a therapist to see and I’ve been dragging my feet on that so I guess that’s my bad. I’ll get to it. Shit’s overwhelming, yknow? 

Anyways I know I have a lot of these flaws and problems and I think my horrible anxieties about being too annoying and whatnot is just a really extreme form of self-reflection. Maybe. Not entirely sure. Maybe a therapist could tell me.

I get way too passionate, way too easily, and it’s almost always followed by a super intense period of shame, like, to the point where I’m desperate to isolate myself and destroy my relationships with other people, because then at least I’m actually trying to destroy a relationship by being a bad person, rather than someone leaving me for... I don’t know, being too happy? Caring too much? Talking too much? Just. Shit I have less control over. 

I’ve tried putting a cap on it, suppressing everything. Trying not to indulge too much, trying not to be so happy and talkative, straight-up deleting messages I think might be too annoying the second I send them. Trying to be inoffensive through being unnoticeable. I’m trying to do that now, honestly. It’s why I joked about deleting my blog. All it does is hurt and make me go fucking nuts because I’m bottling up a lot in doing that, I know. I’m just not fully convinced I don’t just deserve to feel that way.

There are a lot of points in my life where I’m convinced that my best course of action in succeeding or keeping people from being put-off by me is to just sit down and shut up and draw what I’m told to draw. To just completely lose my agency in drawing. It makes sense, when you feel like you don’t have any good ideas of your own, you just illustrate others’. And there are many, many points where I have done this out of a place of love. Fuck, most of what I’ve drawn for Lolly’s writing has come out of a place of genuine love, not just for her work, but for her. A lot of what I’ve drawn for Bethany (for any REAL long-time followers reading this) has been like that, too. But there are also points where it honestly just feels like my only purpose is to be a tool through which others may visualize their whims. That if I dare inject too much of myself into things, they’ll be permanently ruined. And then there’s the shame I feel in having wanted to impart a piece of myself into a work - a demerit for being too selfish or self-important to deem my whims anywhere near good or important enough to be included. 

I have so many ideas. So many opinions and thoughts and feelings and genuine insight that I’ve suppressed or deleted because I either feel like that’s what’s expected of me, or I’m straight-up told that my thoughts and opinions are bad and wrong. Like. Fuck me for having opinions on animated media levels of being shut-down. And you know, I’ve noticed something in the past decade of being an insufferable opinionated prick about things like that - that it’s actually easier for me to enjoy media when I’m allowed to be negative and critical of it. When I am allowed to just share my thoughts. And I don’t mean like, without being disagreed with, I mean like, in an environment where I’m made to feel like I actually can share these thoughts. When I can pinpoint and analyze what I didn’t like or what made me upset, it can be a lot easier for me to then move on and be able to focus on aspects that I genuinely do like. Like, holy fuck, it is SO much easier for me to pick-and-choose aspects of a certain sequel film that I actually like and feel comfortable saying I like than it was for me to do with the original, because I no longer have an incredibly toxic person in my life (or at least, in my life as much).

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had this kind of experience since then, like. There are STILL things I struggle to move past because I have been made to feel like I just can’t fucking talk about them without being insufferable (sorry if I’m overusing that word - it just feels like the best word the feeling I’m trying to describe) or just straight-up ruining something for someone I care about. Keeping shit like this in does crazy shit to me, for real, and there’s still a large part of me that tells me “Fuck you. Suck it up. None of this shit matters.” Y’know? Because in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn’t. And then there’s the shame that comes from having cared so much in the first place. It’s a fucking cycle. There’s some shit that’s just irreparable ruined for me because of this and that SUCKS.

I don’t like losing comforts. Fuck, I hate it, really. And I’m not talking about new comforts coming along and catching my attention as an old comfort begins to wane, I’m talking like. Destroying relationships, feeling SO MUCH shame surrounding a comfort media that it’s too difficult to enjoy it no matter how hard I try, or having too hard of a time disassociating a comfort with a horrible event or person. And it’s feeling like at LEAST one of these is starting to happen to me again and Good Gods it’s just. It’s so terrifying. 

But who do I tell? When my primary worry is annoying or offending or hurting people? Y’know? I can’t just vent to one single person to this all the time, that isn’t fair. But it gets to a point where my brain tells me “No, you can’t talk to ANYONE about this because that’s rude and wrong and a true friend wouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why you can make any number of concerning posts, messages, private ramblings, whatever, and the people you’re closest to won’t ask you what’s wrong.” 

And, yeah, honestly, I do think it’s true that the people I consider my closest friends won’t read this. I actually don’t believe the average person will read this, or at least get this far. I genuinely do just talk too much and it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Otherwise, I talk too little, and probably enter the “you should be able to read my MIND” level of expectations, which, of course, isn’t far. I understand, I swear I do, it just takes some time to come to terms with every time I get wrapped up in my stupid mental stuff. And I also promise that I try to give these people the same kind of response I want, y’know? I try to look out for any worrying behavior and try to offer an ear and help in any way that I can. I don’t think expecting the same in return is fair, I just worry about any of them being like me, and I’m willing to play to that if it’s necessary. I’ll break quiet streaks for that shit, y’know?

Honestly, these stupid quiet streaks are probably more unbearable for me than they are even noticeable for most people. It sucks. I just wish my mind was normal so I A) wouldn’t have these insecurities to begin with, because B) I would never end up exhibiting the behavior to warrant such insecurities.

There’s so much shit I want to talk about, to analyze, or explore, that I want to share with the world, or at least with people I love, that I probably never will because my stupid brain has already decided that all this stupid shit is better kept to myself where it can rot and be forgotten eventually. Which is fine, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, because I functionally have never really been the guy who comes up with ideas (at least, good ideas) I’m just the pencil, the one who I guess makes things visual? I can’t even bring myself to say “I bring the ideas to life” because that’s pretentious and untrue. These ideas are already alive because they come from brilliant minds. 

I don’t even think it’s fair for me to call myself a character designer unless the characters are my own. Otherwise, I’m just following the directions of a much more competent conceptualizer (there’s a reason my characters barely have any... well, character). That’s the reason why I removed my unearned credit as the character designer for Ty from Swindle’s description, because I really don’t deserve that kind of credit. It’s why the asks about the designing process of Ty have been left unanswered, because, fuck, what do I even say? “I just did what Lolly told me to do, just like I did with all of Swindle. Please don’t give me that kind of credit, I know I falsely ascribed it to myself earlier, and I want to rectify that”? I guess I could have, actually, now that I’m typing this. But people always get fucking upset with me when I try not to take credit, even when it’s shit that isn’t mine!! So I don’t know what to do!! I don’t know what to fucking do!!! Because I just don’t fucking want to make people upset or unhappy!!!!!!!

I’m sorry, this post is too long and I’ve worked myself up and I’m no longer apathetic. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep so big win for my complexion, honestly. 

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I guess getting this shit out of my system is probably best to do in a big tumblr post no one will read. 

I don’t want anons about this. If I can just ask one thing. Please.

[crow-writes-stuff]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: takes place after Dazai left the PM, Chuuya calls Dazai, Voicemail, Caring Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Swears (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs) Summary:

Messages Chuuya left on Dazai's phone during the two years he spent in hiding before joining the ADA.

"You have thirty-one new messages." Two years. It's been two years since Dazai last opened his voicemail. He thought that there might be a few from the beginning, but this is certainly more than expected.

He presses play, and a familiar voice snarls at him: "Hey, asshole, where the fuck are you? The meeting starts in two minutes, get your ass over here!" Oh... this is actually from the day he left the Port Mafia.

The next few messages are all from that same day. "Are you fucking serious? Since when do you just not show up at all? I had to cover for your ass."

"Seriously man, where are you? You can't just make me do all your work, you know. I'm coming over to your place once I'm done here."

Chuuya is quieter in the last one: "Dazai, where are you? Did you even get home last night? Don't tell me you actually fucking killed yourself. Call me."

There are two messages from the very next day: "Fuck, are you even getting these messages? Or are just ignoring me? I had to tell the boss that I don't know where you are. I think he's pissed, but, you know... kinda hard to tell."

"Dazai, are you actually gone?"

The day after, Chuuya's voice is quiet: "The boss officially branded you as traitor today... Are you?"

The next messages are spread over a few days. "They went through your stuff. I think the boss thought for a while that I know where you are. He's stopped asking now..." There is a pause before Chuuya continues: "Fuck, if I knew, I would have already come and kicked your ass."

"You're such a fucking asshole, you know that? Just disappearing like that." A pause and then a quiet: "You're still alive, right?"

"I think the boss has people tailing me. Thanks, asshole. This your fault."

"They stopped watching me, I think. I guess, the boss actually believes that I have no clue now."

There is a significant gap in time between this and the previous message. "The search for you has officially been called off. We're still supposed to keep an eye out, but no one's actively looking anymore." Chuuya pauses for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know if I should be relieved or pissed off." He laughs dryly. "Fuck it. You still piss me off."

There is nothing on one message. Just the quiet static the phone generates.

The messages get fewer and fewer over time.

"Ha... I'm an idiot, huh? Don't even know why I keep calling; you're not listening anyway."

This message starts with heavy breathing before Chuuya speaks: "Ngh, don't listen to this, I just need a distraction. ...Fuck, this hurts. I'm blaming you, by the way. Wouldn't have happened if you hadn't fucked off." He takes a shuddering breath. "Shit. I probably should get this looked at, huh? ...Fuck."

It takes a while before Chuuya starts speaking, his voice oddly quiet: "Dazai, are you still alive? Do these messages go through? I... I don't know why I keep asking. It's pointless anyway. " He sighs. "Even if they did, you don't care, huh? You just left... Left all of us. And I have to deal with the mess you made... As always." There is a slight rasp to his voice as he continues: "Akutagawa's been a fucking wreck, not that you'd care. You really messed him up." There is a long pause, and Dazai almost wonders if Chuuya forgot to stop the recording. "I don't know how to deal with any of this... Fuck, why am I still talking?"

"Hey... it's been a while. Ha, I say that as if you'd listen. It's stupid, I know but... It's been almost a year since you disappeared. I don't know why I feel so... so... I don't know. Conflicted? Ane-san said that's to be expected. I don't get it. I should be fucking glad that you're finally gone for good." Chuuya sighs. "Sometimes, I am. Mostly, it's just weird. The boss tried to get me a new partner for a while. That, uh, that didn't work out. I don't need one anyway. It's not like I needed you in the first place. So... " He stays quiet for a moment. "I just wanted to say, if you're still out there... Fuck you."

The next message follows almost half a year later. "You, you bastard." Chuuya is clearly drunk in this one. "You fucking asshole. You just left. You seriously just left." There is the distinct clinking of glass on glass. Perhaps Chuuya has put down his drink. His voice gets quieter after the initial outburst. "You left without a fucking word. Did I really mean nothing to you? Did, did these years mean fucking nothing?" He sniffs quietly. "I thought we were friends, asshole." Chuuya sighs. The glass makes another sound before Chuuya audibly swallows. Probably drinking wine. "Guess I was wrong. You didn't give a shit about me, did you? No, you only cared about Oda and yourself. That's why you left, right? Because the one person you gave a shit about kicked the bucket. Doesn't matter what the rest of us think or feel." The glass shatters. Chuuya stays quiet for a while. "Fuck. Well, at least it was empty." He laughs humorlessly. "Just like everything else." He sighs. "I guess... I guess I'm glad you're gone. I know the boss did some shit to you. You never talked about it, but I'm not as stupid as you think, asshole. Sometimes I just wish..." There is a long pause. Very quietly, Chuuya adds: "I miss you sometimes."

There is another message from the day after. Chuuya sounds worn out when he speaks: "Fucking hell. My phone says I called you last night. Can't remember a thing. And I can't delete whatever I said." He sighs. "I mean, I guess you won't listen to it anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Whatever."

Time passes until the following message. "-it. That's not-" Chuuya sounds frantic, there is gunfire in the background. "Fuck, I need to-" The message gets cut off.

A second message from the same day starts only with breathing and a steady dripping sound. "Ane-san? Can you- can you hear me? Fuck, I can't see. Is this even the right number? Shit. Where even-" Chuuya coughs, causing a quiet splattering sound. "Fuck, she's gonna kill me if I die here - Wait..." He pauses. "I think I lost more blood than I thought..."

Two days later, Chuuya has called again: "I'm alive, not that you'd care. I'm only calling because I've got nothing else to do. Got put on bedrest. Ane-san's gonna bring me some books later but right now I'm bored." There is some quiet fabric rustling. "And I'm alone, so no one else to talk to. At least I can pretend that I'm talking to someone like this. So..." Chuuya trails off for a moment. "Crap, now I don't know what to say." He sighs. "I guess, I'm wondering once again if you're still alive. Which sucks, because I'd honestly rather not think about you at all. We've got some reports that claim to have spotted you, but no follow-up worked out. Which doesn't surprise me." He grumbles something unintelligible. "I still sometimes get people asking me about you. As if I'd know anything! Akutagawa actually tried to threaten me at one point for information." Chuuya snorts. "He didn't try that again, that's for sure." There is a knock in the background. "Huh?" Chuuya startles. "Uh, yeah, co-" The message ends abruptly.

There is only one message left. It's barely a week old. "Hey," Chuuya says, voice calm. "It's been two years since you left. I think I'm used to it by now. Fucked up that it took me so long, honestly." He pauses. "You know, wherever you are, I hope you feel better than you did here. It was probably for the best that you got out when you did. I know, you would have never admitted it, but you were falling apart. I don't think many people noticed. But I did. Because, I think, that's what partners are supposed to do. Not that you were good at that." He huffs a quiet laugh. "Maybe I'm not giving you enough credit. You noticed way too much stupid shit. But I think you missed some important stuff, too. For instance, the fact that I did actually care about you. I know, surprised me too!" Chuuya hums quietly. "So, if you're still alive, take care of yourself. You always sucked at that. I won't leave another message. It's time to move on." After a short pause, he adds: "Goodbye, Dazai."

Dazai keeps staring at his phone for a while after the last message has ended. Chuuya had tried to reach him over these past two years. Multiple times. Perhaps, Dazai really did overlook some things. He smiles, as he types in the number he's heard so often in the past few hours.

He's greeted by a familiar recording: "Can't talk right now, leave a message if it's important." "Hey Chuuya~," Dazai says, voice cheerful. "Check out the Armed Detective Agency."

"You have one new message." Dazai grins a few hours later as he looks at his phone.

"You fucking asshole. Welcome back."

[spaced-out-imagines]

Your Feelings Matter (Shinsou x reader)

Warnings: some depressive themes I guess but it doesn’t get too bad

A/n: not a request but I went through a similar experience a couple of weeks ago and I really wish I had someone to comfort me in that moment and who better to provide comfort than my favourite boy. And so this was born. I hope you enjoy!

You sighed as you looked at your phone. Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the texts from your friends.

(...)

(Fn/1): yeah we should hang out soon. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out. (Yesterday 10:20 am)

(Fn/3): ohhhhh sounds fun I’m in! (Yesterday 10:21 am)

(y/n): I’m in too (Yesterday 10:30 am)

(Fn/2): me three ( Yesterday 11:00 am)

(y/n): ugh I really feel like shit right now. Is anyone free to talk? (Yesterday 6:01 pm)

(Fn/2): so what are we gonna do for our hang out? Does anyone want to go somewhere specifically? (Today 3:02 pm)

(Fn/3): I don’t really have a preference (Today 3:24 pm)

(Fn/1): I have to buy some new clothes so why don’t we go to the mall? (Today 4:00 pm)

(Fn/2): sounds good! (Today 4:03 pm)

(...)

You turned off your phone and flopped onto your bed in your UA dorm. You lay on your back and placed your arm on top of your eyes. Your chest hurt and you could feel the pain spread throughout your body creating a tingling sensation. You took deep breaths to try and compose yourself but it was hard.

Your friends had ignored your texts again.

You were used to this. Whenever you tried to confide in your friends they brushed you off. As if you never said anything or as if you didn’t even exist in the first place. It made you feel like you couldn’t talk to your friends, as if your feelings weren’t valid or important.

You continued to try and squash your feelings, to control the waves of sadness that seemed to hit you again and again, as well as the bad thoughts that seemed to flow along with the current.

You were blinking away tears when you heard a knock on your door. Confused you weakly called out, “who is it?”

“It’s me kitten.”

Your breaths came a little easier and you felt your heart warm a little. Of course your boyfriend decided to visit you right when you were feeling sad. You appreciated it but at the same time you didn’t want him to see you like this. You quickly sat up and grabbed your phone again, turning it on and scrolling through one of your social medias, to try and appear casual.

“Come in,” you said.

Shinsou walked through the door, closing it behind him. You looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back as he made his way over to you. He stopped in front of you and you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his stomach, his hoodie feeling soft against your face.

“Hey Toshi,” you said quietly.

His fingers found their way to your hair, running through the tresses. He was careful to never pull too hard, as he didn’t want to hurt you. You almost purred at the feeling, your body relaxing even more and you struggled not to turn into a puddle of goo.

“Something wrong kitty?” he asked.

You remained quiet for a few moments, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to bother Shinsou with your problems, didn’t want to burden him with stuff you should be able to deal with on your own. So instead of saying anything, you simply shook your head.

You felt Shinsou’s fingers stop moving and his hands grabbed the side of your face instead. You whined a little as he lifted your face and you saw he was frowning. 

“Are you sure kitty? I can tell something is wrong,” he said, his worry being conveyed through his tone.

You looked away, his purple eyes too intense for you to look at. It was like he was stripping away all of your mental defenses, leaving you vulnerable. “It’s... it’s nothing really. It’s dumb,”  you muttered, hoping that would be enough for him to drop it.

Unfortunately he didn’t.

His fingers stroked the side of your face softly, prompting you to lean into them. He pressed his forehead to yours, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Y/n. If something bothers you it’s not stupid. I don’t want you to bottle up your emotions. I want you to be able to confide in me. To tell me all your worries and doubts. All your troubles you can tell them to me,” he whispered.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands gripped his hoodie even tighter. All of the emotions that you had bottled up, that you had forced down, were starting to bubble at the surface. You felt like you were bursting at the seams, the pool of emotions welling up inside you getting bigger and bigger until it all came out in a flood. 

The tears rolled down your face as you finally let your feelings out. Little hiccups and whimpers escaped from your throat as Shinsou cooed at you gently. He began to run one of his hands through your hair once more, patting the top of your head trying to comfort you.

“Let it out kitten. You don’t need to bottle it up anymore, not around me,” he said gently, making you cry even more.

“I-it’s just I was talking to m-my friends and I tried to talk to them about my feelings again but they j-just ignored me,” you wailed, “it makes me feel like my emotions don’t matter Hitoshi! Like I don’t matter!”

Shinsou’s hand stopped moving once more and you almost whined from the loss of the comforting motion, but he quickly sat down on the edge of your bed and grabbed you by your waist. He gently, but swiftly, pulled you onto his lap and hugged you tightly. Shinsou buried his face in the crook of your neck before he spoke.

“Darling no. That’s not true at all. Your feelings matter, they will always matter. It’s not your fault that your friends ignored you, that’s on them for being bad friends,” he told you. As Shinsou said this you felt your neck get wet and it took you a second to realize he was crying.

“If your friends continue to ignore you then maybe you should confront them about it. They might not know they’re hurting you,��� he continued, “but even if they keep blocking you out know that your feelings are always important. You should never feel like you don’t matter because to me you are everything.”

At Shinsou’s comforting words you couldn’t help but cry more. You threw your arms around his neck and his hold around your waist tightened. The two of you sat there for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence, loving each second of it. It was like you could feel Shinsou’s love coming off of him in waves, filling your entire body with warmth.

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, laughing a little at the end.

 At the sound of your laugh Shinsou pulled away from your neck so that his eyes could meet yours. He smiled gently, even though there were still remnants of tears in his eyes. “On the contrary my dear, it is I who doesn’t deserve you,” he said.

You giggled again at his choice of words before leaning in to give him a peck on his nose, causing his face to turn into a rosy pink. “Why don’t we just say we’re both perfect for each other,” you suggested as you smiled back at him.

“Mmmm that works I suppose,” Shinsou replied before kissing you all over your face causing more laughs to escape from your mouth.

“Hitoshi?” you said after he was done attacking your face with kisses.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for being there for me.”

“Anytime kitten.”

Bonus:

“So do you want to cuddle?”

“Do you even have to ask kitty?”

“Hm that’s a fair poin- ah! Toshi get off me you’re heavy!”

“You love being beneath me just admit it.”

“...Shut up you pervert.”

“Hey you’re the one who twisted my words to sound dirty.”

“Just be quiet and cuddle me Hitoshi.”

“Of course my love.”

[caretaker-au]

Subterfuge

Interlude: Kindness

Spring 2031

—

Today should have been a wonderful day. After all, it was a day that Chara had been dreaming about for the past 3 years, loading and reloading, hoping fate would deliver to them another human soul. And today, it had. Lounging comfortably beneath the gnarled black tree in the ruins, the human was practically waiting at their doorstep. They were female and older than the previous children, somewhere in their early teens. Some sort of fabric was wrapped around their leg where blood was seeping through, but otherwise they seemed unharmed, an unfaltering smile gleaming beneath their green eyes and long lashes.

But of course, Chara could not be so lucky.

Spoiling the sight was the human’s monster companion. Probably still in grade school, Chara recognized the monster as being the son of the Whimsun family. Undoubtedly responsible for the human’s survival, the fairy monster seemed to realize his guilt and hid behind the shoulder of the human.

The teenager hadn’t seemed to notice the monster’s discomfort, instead acknowledging the caretaker’s arrival with a cheery, "Hello! You must be Chara!"

Chara bristled at the familiarity. "You. What is your name."

"Oh!" the child chimed, "My name is—"

“Not you.” Chara interjected, pointing past the human, “Him.”

The winged monster poked his head into view, eyes downcast. “Wh--Whimsy. I’m sorry, Chara, I know I’m not supposed to be here... please don’t tell mom and dad.”

“We will see about that. Come here.”

Whimsy fluttered towards Chara, casting an apologetic look back. Arching an eyebrow, the human leaned forward as if to stand, to which Chara barked, “No. Stay.” They winced a little at the order but complied. Chara turned their attention to the monster and spoke in a hushed voice, while keeping an eye on the human behind him.

“When did you come here, Whimsy?” Chara asked.

“Lunch time… around noon.”

Chara checked their watch with a frown. It was already past 2:00 pm, and they had created a save point only an hour ago, not early enough to stop Whimsy from trespassing. 

“And the human. When did it arrive?”

“I don't know. I found them under the big hole in the ruins, calling for help.”

The timing couldn’t be worse. No matter how many times they reloaded, Chara was stuck in this uncomfortable confrontation between the three of them. Unfortunate save times happened occasionally, but rarely were they this bad.

Fidgeting in the silence, Whimsy continued, “They’re hurt, Chara..”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s hurt,” Chara said, lowering their voice further, “You know what happened to Asriel.”

Whimsy’s eyes widened, “What happened to Asriel?”

Lovely. This monster was too young to have witnessed Asriel’s injury or to be told the gory details. Chara sighed, exasperated. Later they would have to make an appeal to the education department to include such information in schools. Speaking of, the young human was watching them, brow furrowed as they tried to listen in.

Chara pulled a key out of their pocket, locking the front door of the house they had passed through to come here. “Walk with me, Whimsy,” they said, gesturing for him to follow. Whimsy nodded as Chara walked toward the human beneath the tree, then right past them. “Remain there. I will be back for you.”

“Goodbye, Whimsy!” the human called out, “I’ll see you soon?”

“Good… goodbye…” Whimsy responded. If he was going to add anything else, he didn’t get the chance. Chara reached out their hand to lead Whimsy toward the southern exit. Together, they walked down the hall on their left, where another open doorway led to the city of Home.

While the Ruins had been left to crumble, Home was still bustling with life. In this room, they could overlook the glowing city scape under the vast cave ceiling. Unfortunately, the glittering view was obscured by a heavy metal gate that wrapped around them like a cage. Chara knew that small monsters like Whimsy would be able to fit through the bars, but they didn’t think anyone was brave or stupid enough to enter the Ruins without permission. Not only was it against the law, but the gate was erected to protect Home from humans. Entry through the gate was only permitted with Chara serving as a scout and escort.

Now out of earshot of the human, Chara scolded Whimsy for entering the Ruins, explaining in morbid detail what happened to Asriel. Unsympathetic to Whimsy’s look of horror, they went on to threaten reporting him to the authorities and his parents for breaking the law. As Chara hoped, Whimsy collapsed like a house of cards, apologizing and begging Chara not to tell. Chara made the young monster a deal, promising not to report if him if he swore not to tell anyone about going to the Ruins or seeing the human. Using one of their keys, Chara opened the gate for Whimsy, who solemnly passed through.

“Wait…” Whimsy said, eyes pleading, “Don’t be mad at them, okay? I know humans are dangerous, but this one is really nice…”

Chara opened their mouth to argue, but stopped, changing tactics instead, “I will bear this in mind. If it-- if they are as harmless as you say, I will let them go.”

“Really?” 

Chara smiled, “If I deem them worthy, then of course.”

Whimsy sighed in relief, but his assurance was short lived as Chara reiterated that if anyone found out about their trespassing, there would be severe consequences. Whimsy headed home, and Chara locked the gate, waiting until the small monster was out of sight before letting out a sigh.

Finally. Back to business.

Chara startled upon returning to the black tree in the yard. The human had raised themself to their full height, and they were tall. Freakishly tall. From a distance, Chara would have mistaken the child for an adult if their face and gangly limbs hadn’t given them away. Wrapped around their waist was an apron, dirty with food and mud, and the child fidgeted with a heavy cast iron skillet. Did they always have that? More importantly, why did they have such a thing?

Chara took a moment to smooth out their robe. They considered setting a save point, but decided against it, in case they would need to reattempt the talk with Whimsy. Chara approached the child with their best smile, but judging by the skeptical look the child gave in return, it must not have been convincing.

"Hello child," Chara said, "I would introduce myself, but it seems you already know who I am. Nevertheless, my name is Chara, the caretaker of these ruins. It is unfortunate that I was not the first to greet you."

The child shifted their weight, eyes glancing to the doorway behind Chara, "Where is Whimsy?"

"Home."

"The town called Home, or his own home?"

Chara's smile faltered. Just how much had Whimsy told her?

"Both." they answered, their tone short, "And it is time for you to go as well."

The child's eyes widened, "You can take me home? But Whimsy said--!"

"Whimsy does not know what I know." Chara turned on their heel, facing back to the ruins, "Follow."

The teenager hesitated for a moment before choosing to obey, catching up to Chara in a few paces. Their stature put them a few inches taller than Chara. Troublesome.

There were several rooms between them and their destination.  Chara would have been content to walk in silence, but their curiosity got the better of them. They spoke without turning around. "Tell me. Why do you have that."

"Have what?"

Isn't it obvious? Chara glared over their shoulder, eyes fixed on the pan the kid was swinging as they walked. "In your hand. Is it a weapon?"

"A weapon?" the teenager repeated incredulously, "No, no, this is for cooking, obviously! Though I probably look pretty strange carrying a pan around, huh?"

Chara doesn't answer, setting their eyes back on the path. Out with it already.

"You see, I was camping with my friend and we wanted to try cooking over an open fire. We'd never done that before so once the fire was going we were trying a bit of everything: potatoes, chorizo, even pancakes! Most of the stuff got burned pretty bad, but we managed to eat a few treats before… before…"

Chara heard the human’s steps slow to a stop. They looked back, and the young camper was hugging the pan to their chest, eyes downcast. For the first time since they arrived, the child looked small.

Chara resumed walking. "Keep up."

The child did as ordered, following without a word until they reached a wide room covered with cracked floor tiles. The floor was still intact, evidence that Whimsy did well guiding the child through it. Considering the circumstances, it was probably for the best. After all, Whimsy was not strong enough to witness the death of a human. Few monsters could.

Chara faced the child once more and pretended not to notice that the human’s eyes were red and puffy. "You already know how this puzzle works. Follow carefully."

The teenager nodded, stepping into each of Chara's footprints as they lead the way, "Hey, Chara..." 

The child didn’t notice Chara wincing at the unwanted familiarity, "You sort of remind me of my friend. You're both so serious and quiet, and to be honest, you two have this weird sort of resemblance. Like, of course you don't look the same or anything, but you feel familiar because of it, you know?"

"I don't."

"Oh… okay, well…" the child exited the puzzle of broken tiles after Chara, tilting their head to the side to look at the caretaker’s face, "Either way, it's… it's nice,” they smiled again, nervously looking away, “I keep telling myself, if you are anything like my… my partner, then I know that even if you don’t look it, you’re actually a really good person deep down."

Chara was a bit taken aback by the sudden compliment. For the first time since their meeting, they returned them a sincere smile, "That's kind of you to say. I think I am as well."

The teenager relaxed, relieved to get a positive response from Chara, "I'm sure you are! Should we keep going? My friend needs me, and I've spent too long here already."

"Of course," Chara hummed, "But first, take a look back and say your goodbyes. After all, this will be the last time you see the Underground."

The child gave Chara a quick quizzical look, before turning to face the puzzle, "Yeah, I guess you're right," mindful of the cracked floor, they stepped to the right to better see through the doorway on the other side of the room, "I was so focused on leaving I didn't really appreciate it here. You know, I wish I could have stayed a little longer. Maybe do something nice for Whimsy."

"That can be arranged." 

The human’s head began to turn—perhaps to ask Chara what they meant—but before they could open their mouth, Chara pushed them forward by their shoulders. The child sprawled across the cracked floor which shattered like thin ice, revealing the ten foot drop underneath. A shriek escaped the teenager's lips before momentum and gravity dragged them into the field of spikes poised below.

Chara would never get used to the sound.

Not wanting to get pulled in with their victim, Chara had backed away from the edge, safe against the wall behind them. They watched the dust curl around the broken chasm in lazy spirals, and noted that while their heart rate was elevated, they felt strangely calm. Like killing a rat that had been tearing apart the pantry, completing the grisly act was a welcome relief.

Combing their hair back with their fingers, Chara took a few slow measured breaths, basking in their victory.

Four souls. No—five, including themself. Salvation was nearly within reach.

interlude: kindness // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #29)

(cw: drunkenness, heated verbal fighting, blood) ----------

01/15/88  1:12 PM

Hey.

Writing all this down hasn’t been easy, you know.

When I started, it was hard to even get anything from my brain to paper. It seemed even more pointless than it does now, for one thing, but for another, it forced me to remember things I’d rather just forget. All these memories are still raw. I haven’t been able to bury them yet, as much as I’ve tried, and writing about them, thinking about them, just feels like ripping open dirty scabs. There are memories so awful that they keep me awake, they infect my dreams, they make me physically ill. Those are just the bad ones.

The good ones hurt about ten times more.

That’s why, sitting down to write this entry now, it feels like I’ve taken nearly half an hour just to get this far. I remember everything, down to each minute detail, so it’s all here in my head, already written. Believe me, I read it all the time. I can hardly put it down, despite my best efforts. I can’t say whether it’s good or bad for my well-being, when it comes down to it. I will say that every word I read feels like its own tiny dagger in my heart.

I’m not sure whether writing them down will feel like pulling the daggers out or twisting them. Best I can figure is, I’m gonna bleed either way, right?

So, let’s take a look at what is, without a doubt, the worst good memory of my life.

Before walking through your door, I paused. I don’t know what I was waiting for. I just wavered a bit and listened to the distant and dissonant riffs of your game’s theme that was nearly drowned out by my heartbeat in my ears. I’d been in your trailer not moments before, and left with the intention of really leaving, of going back to my game and presumably drinking more, breaking stuff, or most likely, both. But I didn’t get a few paces away before I stopped short and turned around. Something tugged at me and urged me to go back in. Like I had unfinished business, or I’d forgotten something. Apparently, it was important enough to call me back into a situation that I had clearly wanted to leave not moments before. 

It took something pretty bad for us to part ways while still drunk. Whatever ugly situation I’d just left, I was about to make it uglier. On purpose.

I’ve got a talent for that.

Biting the bullet, I pushed through the door, slammed it shut, and locked it.

It was dark. You’d cranked the blackout shutters just a bit shy of closed, so it was still bright compared to a dark room in Niceland, but shady enough that the glow of your eyes really stood out when you turned to look at me. You were braced against the kitchen sink, and you were holding a bottle that you’d just pulled away from your mouth. I got the impression that you’d just drained most of it in one go by the way you smacked your tongue, and, honestly, you looked way too rough to be sipping anything. Your hair was a disaster (an unintentional disaster), and the distinct pride in your posture was just drowning. You looked slower and heavier than I ever thought I’d see you. I didn’t like it.

You didn’t like what you saw, either, if the blunt glare in your eyes was any indicator. You took another hefty swig, sighed wetly, and growled, “You said you were leavin’.”

I held my ground at first, but I could feel something awful pushing up from my chest. “I did,” I growled right back, “and I’m back now.”

“You forget somethin’?”

“Yeah. I forgot to tell you--” I paused, as my sentence had tumbled completely out of my drunken head, “I decided I can’t leave, ‘cause someone has to tell you how ridiculous you’re being, and ain’t nobody else here to do it.”

Your glare sharpened, and you stood a bit straighter. “‘The cuss you just say?”

I stepped forward. “You heard me. You’re being stupid. You’re making such a huge deal over nothing.”

“I--” you pointed to yourself, “haven’t been doing anything! You’re the one who’s been acting weird all night! What is with you?! Did your sense of fun just fly outta your pocket, or what?! Go on n’ just scram ‘til you find it again!”

I took major offense to that. “I’M not being fun?! I’m always fun, dickbag! You’ve been a mopey, grouchy, pissy, boring, complete and total drag all night, and I know why!”

“Oh, do freakin’ tell.”

I swiftly struck a nerve.

“You’re all hung up on this-- this Roadblasters garbage! It’s got you all--”

“Are you KIDDIN’ me?!” you snapped, stomping over just short of me, “That’s what you’re on about!? You think I’m some kinda pathetic, jealous loser?!”

“I’unno, you sure are acting like one! Over nothing! This is not a big deal!”

“I am not a loser, and I’ll never be a loser, because guess what? You’re right,” you dismissively backed off, strolling back to the sink to lounge against it, still reeking of barely-reined-in rage. “It’s not a big deal. You think I’m worried? No one’s ever even come close to stealing the crown from me. The gamers love a shiny new toy now n’ then, but they love me more. They’ll get bored and come back to me before the week is out.”

“You said that last week.”

Your eyes took on a threatening glint. “Yeah, so?”

I scoffed, “So, you gonna say it next week, too? I hate to be the one to spell it out for ya, buddy, but, those gamers? Odds are? They ain’t comin’ back.”

You paused, and there was something in your eyes that I hated. Well, not that I hated you for looking that way. I hated that I put that look there. There was a hint of this wretched sort of disbelief in them. They were angry, they were indignant, but they couldn’t believe I would say something like that. They couldn’t believe I would think something like that.

I hated that look. But I still felt I was in the right to say it. At the time.

You were too thrown to counter right away, so I continued. “The sooner you get that through your head, the better. You keep waitin’ for something that just ain’t gonna happen, you’ll only get more n’ more miserable.”

The shock in your eyes burned away into something far more hostile. You fired back sharply, with so much venom in your voice, “Right. Uh-huh. And is that what happened to you?”

It was my turn to be caught off-guard. I was expecting you to push back, of course. But when I caught a glimpse of where the argument was headed, my insides just twisted and boiled. I was angry. I wanted to finish you off before you could get into my head. I just… wasn’t ready to go down that road with you, down to things that could only be used to cause me pain, even if you weren’t wasted and pissed off. I needed to defend myself. That’s just the way it felt.

I know you were doing the exact same thing.

I stood, frozen solid, glaring daggers at you, just waiting for anything useful to come into my head. “No,” I began sloppily spinning lies, “but it could’ve. I got wise to it real quick once I realized that it doesn’t freakin’ matter.”

You wheezed a short, spiteful laugh, downed the rest of your drink, and tossed the bottle unceremoniously onto the counter. “‘Got wise,’” you spat, “what a joke. I bet the punchline is that you think you know what this feels like.”

It took me a second, but I decided to bite. “Yeah, T. No freakin’ crit, I do.”

“No,” you growled, slapped your palm back against the counter, and pushed yourself towards me. You imposed into my space, leaning in close, but I refused to budge. “You don’t. An Easter Egg couldn’t possibly get this. I’m the Good Guy.”

You knew how often I heard stuff like that. The steaming rainbows of crap I’ve gone through for who I am. And still, you went there. I know you were just angry, and I know, like me, you tend to say things you don’t mean when that happens. But damn if I didn’t feel betrayed. And damn if it was not about to get worse.

I prompted you quietly, “What’s that got to do with it?”

“So,” you hissed, “you don’t know what it’s like to have the gamers love you since the moment you were plugged in.”

Yeah. With that one sentence, you hurt me in ways I’d always feared you would. 

My gut reaction, my first reflex, was to hurt you back. I can say and do some really terrible things when I’m hurt. I realize that more and more as I look back on all I’ve done in this story. But I think right around here is the worst of it. You struck deep enough to break out the ugliest part of me. So I struck back with the intent to cut even deeper.

“No!” I shouted, actually startling you a bit. “No, I don’t! And neither do you! The gamers DON’T LOVE YOU! They never HAVE!”

I’ll never forget the look on your face when I said that.

I continued, “They don’t love ANYBODY! They only like you ‘til they get BORED, and then they DITCH you! You wanna tell me that’s LOVE?! You wanna tell me that’s anything I should WANT?! Why do YOU want it?! Why do you let them HURT YOU like this?! A gamer’s love is worth nothing! It’s not real! Why can’t you GET that?!” 

You couldn’t retort. Not right away. You were just reeling for a second. Your drunken self staggered back a step and wavered a bit while you stared at me with a look I wish I could wipe from my memory.

Then that look was gone.

“Oh,” you nodded, straightening up and stepping back on your heels. “Oh, okay. I get it. I hear ya loud n’ clear, baby. You think just ‘cause the gamers never loved YOU, that means they can’t love anyone, right?”

You sort of already said that. Hearing you say it plainly hurt way more. Then, just when I thought you couldn’t cut any deeper, you sliced me down to the bone.

“You know not everyone’s coded equal, don’t you?” you began. “Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry to say you’re the only walkin’, talkin’ Easter Egg in this joint, but that’s the thing. You’re one of a kind. You can't act like the way the gamers see you is how they see anyone else. You keep sayin’ it doesn’t matter if the gamers love you or not, and you’re right! It doesn’t! It matters if they love the Good Guys! That love’s everything! Our very games depend on it! Litwak’s not gonna unplug a game just ‘cause the gamers aren’t in love with the cute little surprise that probably won’t be seen anyway, so what’s the point? Don’t tell me that gamers can’t love anyone just ‘cause they’re not wasting their love on you!”

...Yeah. 

You sure did say that.

That shook me. Literally. I tensed up and felt myself quaking all over. I didn’t know what I was feeling -- it was some sick, haphazard attempt at anger, but it hurt so bad. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break everything. I just wanted to turn over the entire trailer, throw you out on the grass, spit in your face, and leave you to rot with the misery that I knew you couldn’t handle alone. 

But that would be a surrender, wouldn’t it?

So, I limited myself to screaming.

I stuttered, lagged, gripped onto my hair and actually tore out a sizable clump of it. “You-- YOU--” I shouted, moving in close to you, “You IGNORANT, STUBBORN, CONCEITED, steaming heap of GARBAGE! Will you just LISTEN TO ME, for ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?!”

“I AM LISTENING,” you snarled right back, “All I hear is some RAVING LUNATIC making a complete ASS of herself, talkin’ about crap she doesn’t understand!”

“I’m not an ASS! You’re just TOO STUPID to realize I’m TRYING TO HELP YOU! Help you stop WALLOWING in your own DENIAL and realize THEY’RE-- NOT-- COMING-- BACK!!”

“YES!” you advanced with enough force to make me begin to stagger backwards. “THEY ARE!”

“No, they’re NOT, TURBO! Even if SOME of them do--”

“ALL! OF THEM! WILL COME BACK! ROADBLASTERS IS JUST SOME RUSTY BOX OF SCRAP METAL -- I’M THE TOP DOG! I’M KING OF THIS ARCADE! THEY CAN’T LEAVE ME!”

“So what if they DID?! Why do you NEED THEM?!”

“I DON’T! I DON’T NEED ANYONE!”

“You JUST SAID you do!”

“Not ME! My GAME! My GAME needs them!”

“Your GAME?! You think-- YOU--” I seethed, “You’re so-- I can’t freakin’ STAND you! Why do you have to be KING OF EVERYTHING?! Isn’t there ANYTHING more important to you than your EGO?!”

“Oh, you think--” you pointed a shaky finger, “you think this is just about my PRIDE?!”

“Yeah! I do! Literally NOTHING else is at stake, here!”

“EVERYTHING!” your hands curled into claws, “EVERYTHING IS AT STAKE! Aren’t you LISTENING?! My GAME is at stake!”

“Oh, for the love of-- You’re not getting UNPLUGGED! Maybe it’s hard to see from your pedestal way up above our tiny world down here, but being second best DOESN’T get your game killed!”

“Doesn’t it?” your voice dropped suddenly, into nearly a whisper, and your eyes went as wide as saucers. A clipped, strained laugh slipped out of you. “Doesn’t it, though?”

I had no idea what you were going on about, but your sudden shift disturbed me a bit. I just furrowed my brow and stared at you, at a loss, waiting for you to make sense.

You continued, speaking very quickly, “One day, a game’s at the very top. Everyone loves it. It’s Litwak’s favorite. Gamers crowd around and laugh and fight over who’s next, just for a chance to play. No one could ever picture the arcade without it. And then the very next day, this newer, shinier hunk of machinery--”

You threw an arm out, as if gesturing to it, and your voice began to quake. “This usurper with ‘better graphics’ and ‘better music’ and freakin’ guns on cars just waltzes right in and yanks the crown right off the king’s head. Then what? I’ll tell you what. The crowds, the laughter, the fighting over a turn? Gone. Now it’s just a couple gamers at a time. Time passes, now its one gamer at a time. Soon, hardly any come at all. Some other even newer game takes the crown from the usurper, and by then, even that game is old news, so what does that make the very first king?”

Uneasy volume crackled into your voice. There was a distinct note of urgency. You were just stressing yourself out the more you spoke. But, still, you continued, without allowing a breath for me to step in. 

“Nothing. It makes him nothing. He’s not old news. He’s no news at all. Litwak finds a new favorite. Gamers don’t even glance at him. They don’t even LOOK. He just drives in the same Dev-forsaken circle all day ‘til his cabinet’s so covered in dust, no one even RECOGNIZES it anymore. Then-- Then when that day comes, when Litwak needs space for some new, exciting idiot cabinet, no one even CARES when he-- when he finally--”

You crumpled into yourself a bit. You plainly shook, like you were about to burst. I knew what I was looking at. I never thought I’d see it in you, but I knew what it was. I knew what it’s like. How it feels.

Truth be told, I realized that watching you break down... felt like looking in a mirror. That’s when I really figured out just why I’d come back into your trailer in the first place.

I won’t say that I wasn’t at least a little nervous. But I also knew it could never be as scary to anyone else as it is to you. I’m sure plenty of sprites would have told me to run, but I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. And if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have hurt you either. So, like hell was I going to leave. I resolved with iron-clad stubbornness to stay. I backed up against the front door and tried to dial myself back from the hurt and rage I’d been in seconds ago. I had to keep calm and keep still. As long as you knew where I was, I knew you would steer clear.

And I watched uselessly as you had a good ol’ fashioned Mavis-style meltdown.

“WHEN HE FINALLY UNPLUGS THE DAMN THING!!”

You whirled around and slammed your fist against the fridge. Magnets clattered to the floor.

“BAM! GONE! WHEELED OUT THE FRONT DOOR INTO NOTHING!”

You whipped open the fridge door and slammed it back with enough force to send things falling and clattering together inside.

Blindly, drunkenly, with no rhyme or reason, you paced the small space, stumbling into things and attacking them in frustration. It was the first time I’d seen someone else freak out the way I do. I’ll admit that it wasn’t fun to watch. I did freeze up with more anxiety than I thought I would. Not over what you might do, but over what I should have done. I felt like I should have known what to do, since I had so much experience in this field. But I didn’t. I had no idea how to react or respond, let alone help. I barely know how to handle it when I break down myself, and I know that when I’m in a blind rage, I definitely don’t want help. So how could I help you?

My first, feeble attempt took the form of me just saying, “Hey-- Hey-- Turbo-- C’mon, cool it--!”

You carried on, not even hearing me, “SEE-- YOU DON’T GET IT! YOU COULD NEVER GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW THE PRESSURE! I HAVE TO KEEP MY GAME ALIVE! THE SECOND I STOP FIGHTING TO STAY ON TOP, I’VE ALREADY LOST! MY GAME’S GONE -- I’M GONE!”

You tore a cabinet door off its hinges.

“I’M GONE IF I GO DOWN WITH THE SHIP! I’M GONE IF GO GAMELESS AND WASTE AWAY! IS THAT NOTHING?! ISN’T THAT A BIG DEAL?! AM I BEING STUPID?!”

You swiped a stack of plates to the floor -- it was loud, but they didn’t break. Plastic.

Not to say you were faultless, but guilt just writhed around in my gut. I was the one who upset you enough to make you break down like that. I know how much it sucks, and I hate that I was the one to trigger it in you. Like I said, I turned an ugly situation uglier. My drunken, upset, hideously miserable brain just couldn’t quite fathom why I did it. I knew why I really came back in. I just wished I hadn’t taken so long to figure it out, and that I hadn’t set us both back so freakin’ far before I did. I’m really quite adept at making huge, huge messes, but cleaning them up escapes me, even when I’m sober. So, completely inebriated, unable to just stand by any longer, I made a mistake.

I tried to move closer while you weren’t even looking.

“I’D BE HISTORY! NO-- NO, I’D BE MYTH! N-NO -- EVEN MYTHS ARE REMEMBERED! HISTORY, LEGENDS, MYTHS -- ONLY WINNERS END UP THERE! WHO’S GONNA REMEMBER A LOSER?! I WON’T BE A LOSER! I WON’T!”

You swept your arm across the counter, throwing all the empty bottles from a long night of drinking everywhere, and those that fell did actually break. A couple didn’t quite make it to the floor. Shaking hard, your hand just barely managed to grab one, and you turned your back to me. For a second, your voice jumped into a sort of sing-songy wheeze. 

“Hey, remember that game, Turbo-Time? Huh? What’s that? Turbo? Never heard of him. Doesn’t ring a bell. Who’s Turbo? Huh?”

I moved a little bit closer, trying to side-step the broken glass on the floor. I was way too far from my starting point. You couldn’t have known, in the state you were in. You weren't even facing me. I knew that. Why did I move? Why did I sneak? Why didn’t I say anything?

You went eerily quiet for a minute, quivering over the sink, holding your head with one hand, like your mind was going to fall out. Then, whatever was holding you back snapped.

“WHO’S TURBO?!”

Without a glance, you whipped around and threw the glass bottle with all your enraged might. You didn’t know I was there. You thought you were aiming away. 

All the same, you threw it right at me.

It didn’t hit, not directly. I dodged just in time to avoid a broken nose, shredded face, and probably a concussion, but I didn’t go unscathed. The bottle exploded on the wall behind me, and a hefty shard ricocheted and slapped me hard across my right cheek, slicing a long gash as it went.

I didn’t yelp. You didn’t notice. But that pain triggered something awful.

The lines between memories and buff hallucinations began to blur and intertwine. A memory I never wanted to see again suddenly began cutting into the one that was playing. My vision glitched. My ears popped with static. My heart started going absolutely nuts. The pain on my cheek multiplied as I felt jagged metal scratch score marks all over my face. My head began to split, my legs felt clamped in traps that squeezed tighter and tighter, and the clothes on my chest ripped into strings as letters started to carve deep into my skin. I heard barking, and I heard shouting. I don’t think I’d ever felt that scale of panic hit me so quickly. It took me right to the brink of total hysteria.

But, just like that, it was all sucked away from me. In a staggering shift, the grip of your hands and sound of your voice snapped me out of it.

You had grabbed onto my shoulders. My head fizzled and ached and my heart burned as my mind tried to settle back into the main memory. I stared at you blankly. I had my hand pressed to my cheek, so you didn’t see the cut. You just looked at me with these wide eyes, and… I’d never seen fear like that in your face before. 

“WHO’S TURBO?!” you demanded, as the cold realization washed over me that you weren’t yelling at me anymore. “Who’s-- Who’s Turbo?!”

You were really asking. 

Not just asking, but begging for an answer. Your face was desperate, and your tone was pleading, but I still had no idea what to say. Or what to do. I’d never been faced with an emotion like that before, and, honestly, you almost… sort of looked like a stranger. I’d never formally met that side of you before. There was nothing I could think to do but stare back at you, dumbfounded, and try to keep my footing while we teetered together.

I managed to barely breathe, “T… What...?”

“Who’s Turbo?” you asked again, your voice breaking down, your eyes searching mine like they’d lost something in them. Your grip on my shoulders urgently tightened a bit. “Who am I to them? Who am I to the arcade? Who am I to you--?!” you squeezed painfully tight for half a second, but after that, your grip loosened. “...If I’m not a winner? What if I lose everything?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Say I won’t…” you insisted. “Mavis, say I won’t. Say they’ll come back.”

I couldn’t.

“Wh--...” your eyes squinted at the edges with this… awful, fearful pain. You hissed pleadingly, “Say something!”

I wanted to. I wanted to say whatever it was that you needed to hear. I wanted to say even one single word. But what could I have said that would undo the damage I’d done? I’ll keep saying it, but this was beyond anything resembling my realm of expertise. I was useless. I’m still pretty ashamed of that, to this day.

Just then, you let up a bit. Eyes wide, staring right through me, you straightened up slowly and rubbed my shoulders where you’d been squeezing. “No,” you breathed. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to. ‘Cause I know they will. I’ll get ‘em back on my own.”

You backed off from me, stumbling on a bit of glass (thankfully, your shoes were on) before you made it back to the sink. You turned away from me and braced yourself against the counter, trying to catch your breath. For a minute, I thought you were going to puke right into the sink, so I looked away. I pulled my hand from my cheek wound to assess the damage, and saw a familiar sight that threw little glitches in my vision and sharp pain into my head.

White glove. Red streak.

In all those trips, this was what I’d been remembering.

At the time of seeing it, though, my only clear thought was that it was bleeding way too much to hide, and I was not looking forward to whatever drama it would add to the situation. There was enough already.

And it just kept getting better.

I heard wind begin to whistle in your throat. You tried to keep talking, but your breath was coming too rapidly. Your sentences were cut into jagged pieces.

“It’s fine-- It’s fine-- I’ll get ‘em back somehow-- I always do-- I always do-- They won’t leave-- They won’t-- I’ll win ‘em back-- somehow--” your breathing grew so sharp, it rattled your whole body, “but-- how-- they won’t-- they won’t even-- even look at me-- I’m right-- right behind them-- and they-- they-- they won’t-- even LOOK-- how can I-- get ‘em back-- if they WON’T LOOK-- LOOK AT ME?!” 

Dread pooled in my stomach. In every other situation, with every other sprite, with any emotion even a fraction of what you were throwing at me, I’d have been clear out the door, on the other side of the arcade, acting like it never happened.

But, no.

You’re always the Dev-damned exception.

So, I tried to do… something. I put my hands out a bit and slid closer. “T, it’s okay. It’s-- Just breathe. You gotta breathe.”

You crumpled against the counter, and half-wheezed, “They-- I’m-- I can’t--...”

And your knees buckled. I envisioned you fainting right back onto the minefield of broken glass you’d created. 

So, finally, finally, I really did something.

Before you could fall, I jumped to your rescue and managed to catch you under your arms. I think, in the heat of the moment, I forgot how heavy you were, and how drunk I was. I fell too. Not on the glass, though, thankfully. I managed to turn us around enough for me to stumble back hard against the fridge and slide to the floor, with your weight pinning me back. You made feeble attempts to struggle away, but you were losing strength fast. You were hyperventilating so hard, you couldn’t talk anymore. You just stared straight ahead, your hands slipping and squeezing my legs on either side of you.

I’d saved you from the glass. But I was still lost. I was so, so lost, and way too drunk. I knew you would faint if I didn’t manage to help you. So, what did I do?

I started panicking too. ‘Cause that helps.

“Okay,” I said, my own breathing coming too short. “Okay. Okay. Stop. You need to stop. This is really bad.”

Amazingly, telling you to stop didn’t work.

So, out of deep-rooted reflex, I told you louder. “Stop,” I insisted, “stop, stop, stop--” and I started yelling, “STOP IT, STOP IT! YOU’RE GONNA PASS OUT!!”

Even more amazingly, that made it worse. Bits of your voice rode out on your rapid breaths, but there were no words. Just distress. I think you were trying to sound angry, but you just sounded terrified. And I felt like I’d just kicked you while you were down. Like an asshole.

But, right at that point, something else took over. I realized that this was one of those problems I couldn’t solve by yelling (I hate those). I had to calm down if I was ever going to help you. I’m not even exactly an expert at calming myself down, but I’d wager that I knew more than you did. So, I just thought… I’d do what I had to, and make you do it with me.

I took a deep breath, put my hands on your chest and my head next to yours. “Okay,” I told you quietly, but definitely urgently, “okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. Take deep breaths. Deep breaths.”

You didn’t.

“T… T, come on,” I said, embarrassingly close to tears. “Listen to me. Please. You’re okay. You can do this. You’re gonna be okay -- just breathe-- just breathe--” I needed to take my own advice. I buried my face in your shoulder and tried to slow my breathing against the fabric, and then it hit me. I snatched my hat off my head and brought it over your mouth and nose. Your heels scraped against the floor and you tried fruitlessly to pry me off, but I wouldn’t budge. I was a little afraid of smothering you by mistake, honestly, but thankfully, that didn’t happen.

I told you, “Just-- shut up for a second-- Just trust me, okay? I promise it’ll help, but just-- just breathe. Deep breaths…” I thought for a second as I tried to steady myself. “Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe with me, I’ve got this. It’s okay.”

I inhaled, “In…” waited, and exhaled, “...out.”

It took a moment, but you surrendered. I felt your jumping chest try to rise and fall as I instructed, and it was working. The moment you realized it was, your hand flew up to mine, the one holding my hat to your face. I expected you to tear it off, to insist that you could take it from there, but you didn’t. If anything, you pushed it on tighter. Apparently, you didn’t want me to let go. I didn’t try to.

Eventually, I didn’t have to say anything. You just followed the slow rhythm of my chest pushing up against your back. And finally, we reached steady breathing together. For a while, that’s all we did. We rode that fragile, awkward silence after a screaming fight, probably the worst one we’d ever had. 

“Okay,” I sighed again, and hung my head back against the fridge. “Okay. It’s okay.”

As we began to relax, our grips against the hat on your face let up. Your fingers were still laced over the back of my hand as you brought it down slowly and tiredly, but when I felt my hat slip from my fingers and into your lap, suddenly, you stopped. You paused, and looked closely at my palm. My stomach dropped. The blood. Of course you saw the blood.

It took a minute of staring, but once it clicked, you twisted your head back to look at me, looking… alarmed, I guess. Even more so once you saw the weeping gash on my cheek. I tried to avoid your gaze. I didn’t want it to be a big deal.

“Was…” you muttered, the pieces falling together. “Was that me?”

“...Well, I didn’t do this,” I muttered back, “but whatever, y’know. It’s just a little cut. Who cares?”

You didn’t answer. You just watched as I leaned as far away as I could. I saw your hand rise to the side of your face I’d been pushing my own against, and your fingers came back slick with my blood that had been smeared there.

You were silent. And then something about that silence went cold. You let go of my hand. You hung your head.

And you said bitterly, “Get out.”

I replied slowly, “...What?”

“Get out of here, Mavis. Go.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you here,” you growled.

My insides burned a little bit, but I pushed back without hesitation. “No.”

“You heard me -- I said get out!” you snapped and leaned forward, away from me, but didn’t look back. “Take a freakin’ hint, sweetheart! I got nothin’ for you here anymore! It’s over! Now, beat it, and don’t come back!”

Man.

I didn’t enjoy that.

It seemed like, in a single evening, you were making it your goal to check off every possible thing I’d always been afraid you would say to me. You just kept digging deeper into bleeding cuts, hitting harder on broken bones. 

But, lucky for me, I’ve got a lot of HP. And for the second time that night, I found myself looking in a mirror. I wasn’t about to fall for my own tricks.

“No,” I insisted again, my voice shakier than I intended, although a lot of that must have been anger. “No. Screw you. I ain't leaving.”

You tried to shoot a sharp look over your shoulder, but I could tell you didn’t want to look at me. “Why?!”

“Because I know what you’re doing!”

“Throwing you out on your ass?! Yeah! What was your first clue?!”

You moved to stand, to leave me sitting there on the floor, alone, but I hooked my arms around you again and trapped you back against me. You fought, but I could tell your heart wasn’t in it.

“Let go of me!”

“No!” I snapped, “Stop it! Shut up! Don’t bullcrit me -- I know you don’t want me to go!”

“Have you been listening?!”

“Yeah! ‘I hear ya loud n’ clear, baby.’ You screwed up, big time! You didn't want me to see all that, and hell, I didn't want to see it either! But now you think I’m gonna ditch you over it! So you’re trying to leave me before I leave you! I know! Don’t try to pull that move on me -- I invented that move, okay?! Just stop!”

You went quiet. But you didn’t relax. You were tensed as if you would try to jump up the second I let go.

After a breath, I continued a bit softer, “You really think I’m gonna leave you? Just like that?”

You countered, your voice just burning with pain, “Well, I never thought that THEY’D leave me, either, and look how that’s turned out! So, why don’t you save us a lot of time and trouble, and just--”

“NO.”

You stopped dead. I squeezed you like a vice, definitely enough to ache at least a bit. I’d never been so offended in my life.

“No,” I said severely, “no, don’t you dare lump me in with them. Ever. I’m not one of them. I’m not just one of your adoring fans. I’m not gonna just suddenly get bored of you and replace you with some other racer. And I’m not gonna run away just because you freaked out. I’m not scared of this--” I half-lied, “--and I’m not scared of whatever else you don’t want me to see. I know why you don’t want me to. I know. Trust me. But I don’t care. It’s not gonna make me ditch you. So cut the crap. You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

You said nothing.

I felt you give up, let yourself sink back against me again, your whole body shaking. You brought your palm up to your face and didn't lower it. Some of the thickest, heaviest misery I'd ever seen in another sprite emanated from you. 

I hate how I could hardly stand to be close to you, right then and there.

I broke the silence and continued softly, more from exhaustion than gentleness, “I'm not leaving. Keep trying to push me away if you want. Be mean. I'll be mean back. But I won't back down, no matter how hard you make it for me to stay. Because, believe me, you're making it really hard. But it doesn't matter. You can't shake me, now.”

You still said nothing.

I decided the fight was over. It was time to carry on like it never happened, as per usual. I'd had enough emotional toil for the day. For a whole month, probably.

“Okay,” I told you slowly, “I’m gonna get up now. I need to deal with my cheek. But I'm not going anywhere near that door. I'm just gonna patch myself up and go the cuss to sleep.”

You leaned forward and freed me from your weight. I got up on unsteady legs and headed to the bathroom. The moment I turned on the light, your voice stopped me from going in.

“Mav.”

I paused and braced myself on the doorframe. Looking back, I saw you still sitting against the fridge where I'd left you, your face hidden in the crook of your elbow draped on your bent knee. You asked me a question in a voice so drowned and low, it almost didn’t sound like you.

“Why'd you come back in at all?”

I didn't want to answer. Of course I didn't. But I also… kind of did.

I looked into the bathroom, and locked eyes with myself in the mirror. There was no glow in my pupils. Just big, beautiful blue eyes, flowy brown hair, and rosy, sun kissed cheeks. One of which was streaked with an open, bleeding wound that looked so much worse than it actually was.

Unlike me.

Maybe it was just my morose, drunk brain talking, but it struck me right then how unassuming I was. How no one would expect me to be capable of what I am. There's so much bad in me. So much more than you'd ever see on the surface. That's never bothered me too much. I'm not the protagonist or the antagonist or even an NPC. I can be whatever I want. And I can't honestly say I have any desire to be good for the arcade.

But in that moment, it shook me just how badly I wanted to be good for you.

Keeping eye contact with myself, I carefully confessed.

“The first time the gamers did this to me… I was alone. I guess I came back in because… I just didn't want you to be.”

I stepped in and closed the door.

[our-time-is-now]

May, 24 2019 (1): At least you got the signatures

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Friday, 6:05 pm:

David: *went back to Laura’s and his apartment sometime in the afternoon with Matteo and has been chilling with him on the bed playing some computer game* *is totally concentrated when Laura suddenly comes into the room without knocking* *looks at her indignantly because she usually never does that and is just about to complain when he sees and hears her talking on the phone: “Yes, Mama… no, otherwise everything is okay with us… no, he didn’t forget. He’s right next to me and waits for his turn on the phone… okay… yes… say hello to Papa… see you”!* *sees Laura hold out her phone to him with an apologizing look and immediately grimaces and shakes his head* *hears Laura whisper: “Today’s the 24th, it’s her birthday”!!!* *sighs and grimaces even more* *knows that if he doesn’t talk to her now, she will hold it against him in every future conversation* *briefly looks at Matteo, who is looking at him questioningly, and briefly shrugs – is going to explain all of that later – takes a deep breath and then takes Laura’s phone, who immediately disappears from his room* Hello Mama… Happy Birthday!... *listens to her for some time while she thanks him and tells him which of the relatives visited and who she celebrated with and what a shame it was that he and Laura weren’t able to come* Hmmm… yes, maybe again next year… No, I’m not really done… I still have to study in case I have to go to the oral exams… went quite well… yes… no… no… no, I think I’ll stay in Berlin… *sighs and tries to not sound annoyed* … still filmmaking… or art… *only adds the latter to annoy his mother* … yes, there are a few good ones… it’s Berlin, after all… *looks over at Matteo and slightly rolls his eyes* … quite good, actually… yes, like always every three to four weeks… no, I’m still waiting for the answer from the insurance… yes, I’m sure… *sighs* … yes, I thought it through… I know, that’s the point… *tries to change the topic* … and how is Papa? *listens to her for some time and hums every now and then* *at some point clears his throat* Listen, Mama, I have to go… I have a visitor… you don’t know him… Matteo… from school… *hesitates, but eventually says* We’re together… yes, together together… no, he knows… yes, imagine, he’s okay with it… *can feel again how much it hurts him that apparently it always surprises his mother that someone could like him even though they know that he’s trans* … I don’t know yet… yes, I’ll ask him… we’ll see… okay, see you… *ends the call, closes his eyes for a moment, groans, lets himself fall on the bed backwards and takes a deep breath* *always finds it really exhausting to talk to his mother* *looks at Matteo, who looks at him questioningly, and shrugs* Sorry… *grabs some chocolate from the nightstand and breaks some off* *needs either that or some beer right now* *holds the chocolate out to Matteo questioningly*

Matteo: *just like David, is surprised when Laura comes into the room without knocking* *realizes quickly that it must be their mother on the phone and tries to not make any noises* *listens to him and realizes that it must be about his injections* *would love to hug him but doesn’t want to interrupt or distract or make a sound* *grimaces slightly when David has to emphasize again that he has thought it through* *realizes that he doesn’t even know what David’s parents think about the whole thing* *bites on his bottom lip when David says his name and immediately shakes his head in case David looks at him* *doesn’t expect David to immediately tell his parents about it* *suddenly feels some anger rising when David says that he’s okay with it* *briefly has the urge to grab the phone and give his mother a piece of his mind* *sees David hang up the phone and fall back on the bed* *leans on his elbow, head on his hand, and looks at David* *would really like to say exactly the right thing, something nice, encouraging* *can only think of a stupid joke and simply tells it* I thought you killed your parents? *smiles a little and pushes some hair from his forehead with his free hand* *keeps his fingers in his hair and hopes that David knows that he’s there for him in case he wants to rant*

David: *looks at Matteo when he basically lies down beside him* *has to grin broadly at his next words* In my mind at least 50 times… *closes his eyes for a moment when he feels Matteo’s hand in his hair and realizes that he slowly relaxes again* *is used to such conversations but usually it takes longer to come down again* *opens his eyes again and looks up at Matteo* *then notices that Matte doesn’t know anything at all about his parents and explains* Don’t know… my mother somehow still questions all of that. I believe she’s been thinking for 10 years that it’s only a phase. And my father… he doesn’t really say anything. Really nothing. And if he does say something then I feel like he ignores the fact that I’m trans. He’s not really okay with it, at all… *shrugs* *is actually really glad that he doesn’t have to put up with it on a daily basis since he came to Berlin*

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Who hasn’t? *can practically see David relax a little and is somehow proud that he has that effect on him* *tilts his head a little when David starts to talk and listens to him attentively* *grimaces* Ugh, only a phase… sounds exhausting… *shakes his head* *carefully asks* Did you move in with Laura because of that? Well, I mean… a father who doesn’t talk to you, a mother who doesn't understand you… or… *shrugs*

David: *nods when Matteo says that it sounds exhausting and laughs drily* Oh yes… *hears his question and thinks* *would probably have to explain much more for Matteo to understand how it was really like with his parents, but first starts with answering his question* One of the reasons… it didn’t go that well in general. In school, everyone witnessed the transition and… well, they didn’t really know how to deal with that to say it nicely… and my mother always acted a little bit as if it was my fault and that I should show understanding that not everyone can accept it and always suggested that I should adapt a little bit more and stuff like that… the only one where I felt like she really understood me was my therapist. She has really strengthened me. But the situation at school didn’t get any better and then the sleep problems came along and… I had a couple of light panic attacks. And Laura had already been living in Berlin for a few years and suggested to my mother that I could move in with her. My mother was totally against me changing schools so shortly before Abi and we were arguing about it for a long time and at some point it was especially bad at school again and… well, you know my flight instinct… I simply got on a train to Berlin and showed up at Laura’s. *had been looking at the ceiling while he talked to be able to concentrate better, but now looks back at Matteo and smiles* *is glad that all of that is over now and that he mostly doesn’t have to deal with most of these things here in Berlin* *simply continues while looking at Matteo and grinning slightly* … and then… both Laura and I told my mother that I won’t come back… and then… I went to the new school here… and there I met this guy… and fell in love with him quite hard… and since then I’m really well distracted and only on birthdays do I get forced by my sister to talk to my parents…

Matteo: *listens to him* *frowns more and more while he talks* *feels the urge to protect David from al these stupid opinions and views flame up inside him* *is incredibly thankful right now that Laura exists and that she welcomed David with such open arms* *hasn’t taken his fingers out of David’s hair all this time and “squeezed” him a little more during some parts* *sees David look at him and hopes to have stopped his frowning and grimacing in time* *has to grin automatically when David is obviously talking about him and gets a little embarrassed* *under different circumstances would joke and ask who that guy is and that he would finish him off, or how insulting it is that he’s “only” a distraction, but somehow he doesn’t feel like it right now* *simply smiles and leans down a bit to give him a quick kiss* *quietly says* I love being your distraction. *smiles carefully* And I think it’s great that Laura helped you so much… and hey, you’re 18 now, now they can’t do anything anymore, anyways…

David: *smiles up at Matteo when he kisses him and declares that he loves being his distraction* Fits perfectly! *gets a little more serious and nods* Yes, Laura is awesome! I’m really grateful to her… *reaches for Matteo’s hand in his hair and entwines their fingers* *sighs quietly* Yes, but it still doesn’t stop my mother from arguing… *grins slightly* What do you think how long I had to argue for my mother to finally agree that I could get puberty blockers prescribed?! Or testo… *laughs quietly* … or the constant discussions why I cut off my hair!? *in hindsight and with the distance he has to his parents now, actually finds these discussions amusing, but back then it was a different matter* *sighs quietly* But at least now I don’t need their signature anymore… *plays a little with Matteo’s fingers while he talks*

Matteo: *keeps hold of his hand and keeps looking at him* *nods slightly and grimaces* *thinks it’s shitty that David’s parents didn’t think of the wellbeing of their child and only considered their own problems with that topic* *therefore asks* Didn’t they do research? *sighs quietly and shrugs one shoulder apologetically* And you haven’t seen them since you moved out? They don’t come here?

David: *thinks for a while about Matteo’s question and shrugs* I don’t even know… they did realize that I wasn’t totally the typical girl… and I went to therapy relatively early. When I finally knew what was going on with me and I told them, they didn’t really know what to do with it. They weren’t mad or anything, but they didn’t really take it seriously, either. And back then, there was a conversation with my therapist every 3 months where my mother had to come along. And she really talked to her about the topic together with me and gave her flyers and addresses. I do think that she did research, but I think that she was still hoping that it was all only a phase… *turns to his side to better look at Matteo and smiles slightly* *even though it’s a difficult topic, he likes telling Matteo about it* The doctors also gave her a lot of information… she did have to come along to the consultations and for the consent forms for puberty blockers and testo. *presses his lips together for a moment and continues* … but sometimes I think she only gave in so that the discussions would stop and because she was scared that otherwise I would pull back even further… *stops for a moment and then continues* And my father… I think he doesn’t want anything to do with it… he suppresses it somehow. He also avoids calling me by name or to use “he” when he talks about me. *shrugs again* No clue if he ever read anything on that topic. *turns back on his back, looks at the ceiling and shakes his head at Matteo’s question* They haven’t been here, yet… but I think it’s better like this. Laura and I went back once with a friend of hers, who owns a van, to get some of my stuff… Then, my mother was somehow… I don’t know… overprotective or something like that… but it somehow felt wrong. Laura says that she often asks when we’ll visit… she also just asked on the phone… *grins slightly* … she even said that I should bring you… but to be honest, I’m glad that I don’t have to argue anymore and that I’m left alone. And she isn’t serious about it, anyway! *looks back at Matteo to see if he has any more questions*

Matteo: *listens to him attentively* *in the meantime plays a little with his fingers* *nods and grimaces at the appropriate spots* Like I said, at least she signed… *is surprised that his mother said he could come along* Well, if you have to go there, I’ll come with you… as a distraction… I’ll wear run-down clothes for the occasion and only give short answers… then they can get upset about me… *grins slightly*

David: *smiles when Matteo says that he’ll come, but shakes his head* Believe me, you don’t want to do that to yourself… *then laughs at his next words* The way she is at the moment, she probably wouldn’t even get annoyed if you came naked… at least not in my presence… No idea what Laura then gets to hear because of that… *pushes his arm between Matteo’s propped-up arm and his head to pull him closer and to put his head on his shoulder and kiss him on his forehead once he has Matteo lying in the position he wants him in* *murmurs* But it would still be nice if you came along one day… at least we can complain about her together afterwards… *smiles at the thought of not having to face this alone anymore*

Matteo: *laughs slightly when he says the thing about being naked* I would distract them from you… *lets himself get moved by David and presses his nose against his neck* Of course I’ll come if you want to… and afterwards we’ll go get some ice cream and vent together… *looks up at him and presses a kiss on his chin* *then there’s a knock on the door and Laura comes in* *doesn’t move, Laura sees them on top of each other constantly, anyway* *sees her look at David worriedly and eventually say: “Wanted to get my phone back… and? How was it”?*

David: *smiles* Sounds good… *looks at Laura when she comes in but doesn’t move and only wraps his arms around Matteo more, so that it won’t even cross his mind to move* *points his head at the nightstand where he put Laura’s phone and then says with a shrug* Like always… school, university, if I’m sure I want the surgery… *huffs quietly* Oh, and she was surprised that I’m with Matteo even though he knows that I’m trans… and now I’m supposed to bring him along, one day… *sees Laura lift her eyebrows: “Seriously”!?* *nods and shrugs* *sees Laura address Matteo: “Think about it, if you want to do that to yourself… it’s not without reason that we fled to Berlin…”*

Matteo: *laughs and shrugs* Sure I’ll do that to myself… I’ll prepare a lot of bad jokes… and mention in every other sentence that I have no use for girls... it will be fine… *sees Laura laugh a little and look at him thankful: “Sounds like a plan… oh, by the way, are you guys going to stay? Do we want to cook something later”?* *nods* Yeah sure… I’ll be there in a minute to help you, ok? *sees Laura nod and grin and then leave* *looks at David when the door closes behind Laura* Everything all right?

David: *grins at Matteo’s answer to Laura and nods to the cooking* Oh, yes, I’d love that! Conversations with Mama are always so exhausting that I’m starved afterwards… *smiles when Matteo says that he’ll come help and adds* And I’ll come to watch you… *laughs quietly and looks after Laura before looking back at Matteo* *smiles when he sees his look and nods* Everything’s all right! *slightly smiles to himself when he thinks about the conversations from yesterday and today and says* Well, we wonderfully checked off the parent-topic within two days… and now we can turn our attention back to nicer things… *tries to pull Matteo on top of him and searches for his mouth to kiss him*

Matteo: *smiles when David says that everything’s all right* Okay, then… *also grins* Yes, you’re right… well done… *rolls slightly on top of him when he pulls and kisses him back* *pushes his leg between David’s and makes out with him for quite some time until he can hear Laura call from the kitchen* *lets go only reluctantly but does it anyways* I’m afraid we have to go help…

David: *enjoys the closeness to Matteo and even forgets for some time that they wanted to cook but then also hears Laura call* *at first tires to ignore it and grumbles quietly when Matteo lets go* *sighs* Okay… *waits for Matteo to climb off him and then gets up* *goes to the kitchen with him to help Laura*

(next play)

[1-800-channie]

Cigarettes & Mint | Chapter 2

→ Chapter: 1  |  2  |  3  | 4 |  5

→ Genre: Very Angst / Fluff  / Highschool!Au

→ Warning: Strong language; slight eating disorders; cursing; bullying;  smoking; 

→ Pairing: Badboy!Hyunjin x Innocent!Reader;

→ Summary: When your ego is bigger than your brain, you don’t mind breaking someone’s heart. As soon as the smell of cigarettes and mint invade your nostrils, your heart starts beating faster and your life starts falling apart. I bet you will end up broken.

→ Playlist for the Chapter:

   ↳ Concentrate - Demi Lovato  ↳ Lies in Dark - Tove Lo ↳ Think about you -  G Easy ft Quin ↳  Perfect ten -  Red Velvet  ↳ Distraction - Jack and Jack

→ Words: +3K

→ N/A: Hiii everyone! So, how was the first chapter? Did you like it? Any theories? Any ships? I just wanna say… This will get intense from now one…Prepare your heart ;)

[Previous] [Next] [Masterlist]

[09:20 AM    DAY ONE OF THE BET]

You stepped inside the large and airy classroom full with sleepy students with your yellow headphones loudly playing BTS new album “map of Seul: persona”. You gazed around, your eyes barely open due to the sleepless night, and noticed two things: first, the boy that usually sits next to you wasn’t there, he never gets late, because he is a perfectionist nerd with his face covered in acne, he loves classes; the second thing you noticed was how Hyunjin was isolated from his friends. Changbin and Minho were sitting on the back, casually listening to music and flirting with girls, as usual, but the boy with the shiny lip ring was alone some tables ahead of them.

Hendery, your best friend, is in another class, so he can’t be your company. Of course, Hyunin knew it, that’s why he is pretending to be angry at his friends, so he could get closer to you.

The clock is ticking and his ego needs to be fed.

The smoker boy admired every tiny detail of your face as you walked in front of him. Your rosy lips were gently moving, making him deduct that you were whispering the lyrics of the music you are listening. He wondered, what type of music you like? From the calm expression in your face, maybe pop, kpop or RnB. He noticed how your eyeliner was thinner today, accenting your dark eyes on a perfect way. He noticed the new earing you bought, with a small pearl in them. He noticed that your hair was straighter than conventional, falling on your back like a dark waterfall.

What he loved the most about you was your perfume. Everywhere you walked in the fragrance would leave an enjoyable smell behind, making it pretty easy to identify your presence, it smelled like roses, cliché but fresh and pure.

By the time he was admiring your pale neck, that had a sparkling necklace resting on your skin smoothly,  you caught him. Your eyes locked with his for a mere second, the time stopped at it was only you and him, his lovely eyes stared at yours intensively. The surprised look of your face made him laugh, but you didn’t witness it because you were too busy hiding your red cheeks.

The old female teacher walked inside the classroom, her expensive red high heels hitting the floor and making the sound echo inside the classroom and immediately everyone shut up and sat on his respective seat.

“Good morning class lets finish analyzing the poem we started yesterday.” Her calm voice was barely audible, and you did exactly what she told you to, excited to finish the love poem.

Your Korean book was full with colorful notes and reminders, everything that seems important, you write down, it’s way easier to make notes to study later. As you opened your pencil case, looking for your blue pen, your name was mentioned, you lifted your curious gaze from your pen to the teacher:

“Miss. Lee, i can’t see properly from here, can I sit next to Kim Sun?” A gentle voice asked politely, you turned your head back, and as soon as your eyes met his you felt your whole body get hot again, embarrassment taking advantage of your heart and mind.

“Yes dear, go ahead.” She answered back not caring at all, turning her back to the class as she started to write on the whiteboard the metaphors present on the romantic poetry.

Hyunjin’s tall frame sat next to you composedly, he leaned back on the chair and opened his legs in a manly way. Too afraid to talk or touch him, you pushed your chair just a little more far away from him, your whole body in tension, you were afraid that if you tried to talk, nothing would come out due to the knot forming in your throat.

“Hi.” Hyunjin greeted you with a warm smile. Jesus, help this poor girl, you may faint right there.

You are Kim Sun, the best student in the class, you have a smart mouth and hate to be shushed, but the moment this sinful man sat next to you, you lost your voice, just like Ariel when she sold her voice to the ocean’s witch.

He laughed at your freaked-out expression, your eyes widened, and you forced a smile, visibly awkward.

“I… Hmmm… Wanted to apologize for yesterday…” Hyunjin plays to be embarrassed, his orbs stare at your face, and he notices how you furred your thick eyebrows together and glanced at him, for the first time, without feeling shy.

“Oh… Well, it’s alright. I’m sorry i stared at you to point of making you uncomfortable, I was listening to music and got lost on the beat.” You answer him in a low voice.

“Well, I’ll forgive you if you go out with me…” Hyunjin states, licking his bottom lip, his lip ring making the thing way hotter than what already is. You laughed right on his face.

He must be playing with you… that can’t be true, he does not want you to have a date with him.

“Hyunjin, for real, dont need to embarrassed me again, i know i was a creep and I’m sorry.” You answer, copying down on your book what the teacher was fastly writing on the board.

Minho was carefully judging his friend act, from far away, kind of amazed how good he was at lying.

“You think he can win the bet?” The blonde asks the bored boy sitting next to him. Binnie rolls his eyes, visibly tired of this game.

“We should stop this before it gets us in trouble…” The black-haired boy adverts his foolish friend.

“Always so boring… That’s why no girl  wants you, man.” Minho attacks without realizing what he just said. Changing looks at him visibly hurt, but it doesn’t seem to catch the attention of the blind male sitting next to him.

“I’m being serious… I want to apologize for being bad to you yesterday. Its nothing formal or very expensive, just walking by the Han River together. Talking, knowing each other better.” Hyunjin explained in a low voice, the teacher was getting pissed from all the whispering, and he was trying not to get caught.

“I’m sorry, but no. I’m not going anywhere with you…” You said, as soon as you finished talking the loud and noisy bell rang and you started to pack your stuff.

“I’m not leaving you alone until you say yes!” He yelled, watching you walk away from him with a dumb smile stuck in your face as you shook your head negatively.

Dont you like him? Why would you say no?

Then Hyunjin’s brain clicked, this is dumb, immature. He can’t play you like this. And with the last amount of decency in his head, he got the courage to tell his friends how this was stupid, but when he arrived closer to them, Minho had a disgusting grin on his face, and Binnie was just… Sitting there.

“I could hear from here how she denied you.” His blonde friend tells him. The blood inside of Hyunjin starts bawling and his hands turn to fists, madness taking over him.

He is going to make you his no matter what!

[06:00 PM/  DAY ONE OF THE BET]

Your whole body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. The sun outside was setting, a beautiful palette of yellow, orange and pink painted the sky and the cold wind made you smile, you love to feel it against your tired hot body.

Your hair was tied up in a ponytail and you were wearing some white shorts, and a yellow t-shirt, the colors of your school ‘s basketball team, that you were the caption of. Yelling at the girls that the practice time was over and they could go, you smile. You loved basketball, ever since you were little.

As you crossed the red school training field you noticed two people sitting on the benches, very far away from each other. And as you got closer, you noticed who they were: your best friend, Hendery, and your stupid crush, Hyunjin.

You ran towards your best friend, missing his presence more than everything, but he pushed you back because of all the sweat that made your skin glisten at the very soft sunlight.

“What is he doing here?” You ask the sweet boy, pointing at Hyunjin.

“I thought you knew?” Your best friend answers with a question.

“Oh god- dont tell me he still has that stupid idea on his head…” You whisper to yourself, but of course, your best friend heard you, and immediately got curious.

“What idea?”

“He asked me out one hundred times today, even though i tell him no, he continues bothering me.” You confess shyly. “I mean it’s not like i dont want to have a date with him… I’m just afraid…”

Hendery knows something is wrong, that request certainly has a second intention. He just needs to find out was it is…

Hyunjin approaches you both looking heavenly, a smile on his handsome face and the keys of his car on his hand.

“So… did you change your mind?” He asks eyeing you from head to toe, your shorts were tight and the shirt too, accenting your body just enough to make him feel excited about the bet, shyly you hid behind Hendery.

“Man, what are you doing huh?” The black-haired boy asked the brown-ish one, his eyebrow arched and a suspicious look on his eyes.

“I just want to apologize for being bad to her… It’s not a big deal,” The bad boy lied.  “I felt bad for hurting her ok?” Hyunjin said feeling shy. Now he told you the truth, you didn’t leave his mind all day after what he did to you.

You look at him with a soft smile, his embarrassing truth was making you give in. Hendery was intrigued. Why would he apologize, when he doesn’t care about you?

“Ok, fine!” You throw your arms in the air quitting, your heart drowning in joy. “I’ll go with you, just let me go shower. Give me, hm, ten minutes.” You said looking at the clock on your wrist mindfully.

“Sun, dont do it. He will hurt you.” Your bestie warns you, his heart ached just by imagining you besides the smoker. He felt that something was wrong, but you foolishly kissed his cheek and told him not to worry about you, disappearing inside the female balneary.

You chose Hyunjin over him, how could you do that? Even after what he did to you?

The smirk on Hyunjin’s face made it pretty clear he enjoyed the little show he is putting on, the cigarette between his lips made him look so toxic, how could you think he looks hot?

“She will be mine in no time Hendery, accept it,” Hyunjin says cockily. A devilish smirk taking advantage of oh his plump lips while he releases the smoke.

“What did you just say?!” Your best friend asks while taking steps towards Hyunjin, his hand wrapped around his neck.

But Jin didn’t even flinch, he was not afraid of Hendery because he knows that inside, he is a weak bastard. “If you lay one single finger in her body i will kill you, you understand? If you break her heart i swear, you won’t be the only one paying for it.” The tall boy assures the smoker between his teeth, angry.

The black-haired boy leaves after, his body was trembling with anger and he felt like he could kill the first person that talked to him, but, it was just the madness speaking, he is not that strong. Not when it comes to you… He loves you… The tears started to form at the corners on his orbs and he hated it, he hated to cry.

When you came back Hyunjin was surprised, you weren’t wearing the same clothes as you wore all day. You had a white shirt under a strapless floral sundress, that moved freely, following all of your movements, you were wearing sandals making you look clean and simple.

“This is … what i wear after practice every time, it’s comfortable… I’m sorry if it looks bad…” You mumble the words low, but Hyunjin interrupted you quickly.

“What? No… You look absolutely flawless…” Even he was surprised by his action. You blushed, looking at your feet.

“Shall we go?” He asks, extending his arm so you can hold his large hand.

Hesitant, you take his hand in yours, the feeling of this simple action made your heart skip a bit. His hands are soft and warm, the opposite of yours, that is always freezing.

“Are you cold?” Jinnie asks with a worried look in his eyes. “Your hands are freezing.” You nod.

“I always have my hands cold.” You state sitting on the passenger seat of his car. The smell was a mix of cigarettes and mint, but it was actually really nice.

The ride was quiet and calm, he drove carefully and with full attention, stealing some glances at our face sometimes, noticing that you were examining his car and probably freaking out on the inside.

As you arrived the sky changed colors to dark blue, purple and pink, making you amazed at how beautiful it was.

The time you passed with Hyunjin walking by the Han River was blissful. He was playful and gentle, complimenting you every now and then, telling you how he loved the calm sound of the water and trying to convince you that he was sorry.

“Why were you alone today?” You ask him, your body turns to face his. His tongue plays with his lip ring nervously.

“Hmmm… You know, sometimes they act really childish. I dont like it… it bothers me the fact that I’m always the one saying no, and then they say I’m a pussy or boring.” Hyunjin spills disappointed, but he only realized what he said when the words were already heard. You pouted at him and held his hand, caressing it. “Or something like that..” He laughs awkwardly.

Your delicate hands really are soft, and he wonders if the rest of you is as soft as your hands… He wants to touch you so bad. You stare at him when he turns his face to the side, admiring the view in front of him.

The people that were walking here would feel confused about you two because in one second he would treat you with love, and in other, he would close himself and turn cold.

He looked just like an angel on the poor natural light,  he was wearing black trousers secured with an elegant black belt, his shirt was red and black, the first two buttons were undone and the front part was stuffed under his pants, a gold necklace hanging around his neck, his lip ring was different today, colored in black.

You looked sweet and innocent, but he looked badass and sinful, and you thought it was unfair to you, he looked so good. He is way too good for you…

“This spot is amazing.” You confess him as you admire the view of the sun seating being reflected on the immense water.

When you looked back at him he was dangerously close to you, and it made you gasp. Hyunjin was just centimeters away from you, his nose almost touching yours. Your heart started to beat fast, and you bite your bottom lip nervously.

“Princess dont do that, it makes me want to ruin you completely…” You were taken back at his words, your face heated up and you freed your lip while staring at his eyes.

He moved forward, tilting his face so his sinful lips brushed against yours. The feeling of his cold lip ring contrasted the warm feeling of his lips felt so good… Your hands gripped his wrists, your mouth opened in a gasp and he brushed his nose with yours, while his lips graze over yours again, mouth slightly open.

Your body was almost giving in when something inside you made you wake up and you pushed him away from your body by gently forcing his wide shoulders back.

“Hyunjin…” You whisper needy and totally drunk in love.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You just looked so beautiful with that smile on your face… I  couldn’t help it.” He tried to lie, but it was the truth, for moments, he forgot this was just a dare, and he was enjoying the time with you.

Shyly, you take his hand on yours, surprising him, and then you smile at Hyunjin, without saying a word. He used the pleasant silence to bring you guys back at his car, so he could drive you home securely.

The ride was more comfortable this time, both of you singing the songs that played on the radio, while you smiled like and idiot. This was one of the best days of your life, being with Hyunjin, hear him, know him better was enough to make your heart jump in love and daydream about can happen next.

When he reached your house the car was quiet. His huge hand rested on your knee, causing you to take a shy gaze at him, watching him grin. He came closer to you, still with his hand on your knee, and he susurrated against your lips:

“I will see you tomorrow, princess.” A peck was placed at the corner of your mouth, your whole body feeling the arousal present on the air.

You nodded yes and smiled at him before getting out of his car, your legs felt like jelly and you could barely walk. With a stupidly happy face, you made your way to your front door, praying that Hyunjin didn’t saw you moving strangely.

But he did and thought it was adorable, especially because he knew he was the only one that could make you feel like that.

The next step is making you his, make you moan his name so loud, that you forget completely about Hendery, so Hyunjin can leave you right after. Heartbroken and played, just like the bet was about, so his ego could grow bigger and Minho could have his revenge.

[Previous] [Next] [Masterlist]

[tiaragqueen]

Hello there! Could you write an obsessive yandere jungkook (who has an oppa kink) stalking his mechanic crush (that’s younger than him) and wondering what she keeps her so busy whenever he asks to hang out with her and come to find out, she turns out to be a yandere too after placing tracking devices in the majority of his posessions? This doesn’t make any sense tbh T^T

Hidden Blessing

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Jeon Jeongguk x Yandere! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,7k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Obsessiveness, toxic relationship, stalking, reader being a yandere for the first time

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Donot re-upload my writing to another website or use it without mypermission.

[Edited]

***

Yandere reader, huh? I’ve certainly never tried this before, but I do think about it once in a while. And also, I don’t know much about mechanical stuffs. So, pardon me if this came out strange and Jungkook wasn’t obsessive enough. I feel a bit tired recently.

If you like mywriting, please support me on ko-fi!

“I want you to want me. I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me. I’m beggin’ you to beg me.” – I Want You To Want Me [Cheap Trick]

[11.25 am] Jungkook: Hi, wanna hang out today? :)

Seen.

[12.10 pm] You: Hey~! Sorry, oppa. I’m busy today. Maybe tomorrow??

Seen.

[12.11 pm] Jungkook: Oh, okay then. Don’t forget to text me, kay? ;)

Seen.

Declined. Again.

Jungkook sucked a breath through his gritted teeth and threw the device in frustration. On to the bed, of course, because he couldn’t afford to break his precious phone. It was the only way he could contact you outside the campus, being a broke college student he was.

It was a hassle, having to text you first just to hang out together. Sometimes he wished he was more than a senior to you – more than someone you occasionally met in a passing – so he could freely visit you anytime he wanted.

But you never thought of him that way, did you?

Sighing, Jungkook plopped on the edge of the bed and rested his forehead against his palms. The urge to ‘claim’ you had never been this strong ever since you started declining his invitations. Jungkook didn’t understand what went on in your life until you couldn’t possibly spare an hour or so to hang out together. Yeah, everyone had their own businesses to deal with, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to spend a bit more time for him? He never asked much besides your company, and now you were too ‘busy’ to do that.

Or maybe he could come to your apartment and pretended to help you with whatever you were working on…?

No, he shook his head. That would be rude of him to show up in your doorstep unannounced. He should’ve waited a little longer. Didn’t you tell him that you would text him again tomorrow? Well, you didn’t since you only saw his message, but that counted as one right?

God, how did a simple hangout could be this complicated? Why couldn’t you just agree to his fucking invitation? Didn’t you know that he couldn’t be away from you for too long?

Jungkook simpered bitterly. Of course, you didn’t. You were too busy to notice that, anyway.

Well, there was no need to stress himself even more. You already promised him that you would hang out tomorrow, and Jungkook planned on keeping that promise.

Tomorrow…

In less than twenty-four hours, he would be able to be with you. Laughing, chatting, eating, touching. All the affectionate things that only lovers could do.

Lovers, not friends.

Boyfriend, not senior.

Jungkook grinned giddily and rested his head on the pillow. Staring up the plain ceiling, he imagined you laying on top of him with that angelic smile of yours. Your hand stroked his cheek tenderly, [e/c] eyes admiring the dark constellation that scattered around his face as he did yours. Then, after you finished marveling at each other, you would slowly lean down. Jungkook closed his eyes, pressing himself further into the bed.

However, instead of the kiss that would take his breath away or make him see the stars, only cold air greeted his lonely lips.

Fluttering his eyes open, Jungkook sighed in disappointment.

When would the day come until those imaginations materialize right in front of his sight like he always dreamed of?

***

You didn’t text.

Jungkook had waited and waited, since this morning, for the anticipated message. Permission from you. However, even after the hours fleeted to noon, his phone still showed your selfie that he secretly saved as his lock screen a few days ago.

Did you forget about your promise? Did you forget about him already? No, you didn’t. You must be doing something and you probably were waiting for the right time to text him.

No, he refused to believe that you forgot about your promise or him. You weren’t that cruel, right?

Then, why did you still haven’t send him a single message? It didn’t matter if it was a curt ‘yes’, Jungkook would still be happy. But apparently, you opted to ignore him instead.

Maybe you didn’t care about him as much as he liked to believe. Maybe it was all just his imagination, yet again. Maybe he had tricked himself into thinking that you cared about him.

Maybe you had been leading him on all along, and he was just too stupid to realize it now.

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook thrashed his room like a madman on the loose. After all the things he had done to gain your attention, after all the money he had spent for you to the point of near poverty, you had the guts to lead him on? What kind of a man did you take him for?!

You were a brave one, he admitted. No, not brave. Bold would be a perfect word to describe your attitude. Jungkook might have fallen head over heels to you, but it didn’t mean he would let himself be made a fool. Especially to some weak, lovely woman.

A glint in the upper corner of his closet caught his attention. It was tiny enough that he would have missed it, but somehow, his senses increased during his mini rampage. Perhaps, it was a sign from the above that his current situation wasn’t a predicament at all. Either way, Jungkook was glad that he noticed that alien thing.

Because he soon discovered that it was, in fact, a camera. And the flickering light indicated that it was on and recording.

Jungkook inspected its shiny appearance, face stony. It seemed brand new, from the looks of it. He was entirely clueless about that fact, but he knew that he should do the thing he had been procrastinating until now.

Cleaning.

Grabbing the cleaning equipment, Jungkook began to clear up the mess that littered around his room whilst searching for other hidden cameras. He found many tracking devices concealed in his bags, hoodies, the back pockets of his pants, and snapbacks. Dark was certainly Jungkook’s favorite color, thus camouflaging those devices that were also dark in color. They were active, as seen from the red lights that flickered intermittently. Aside from that, the stalker must have known that he tended to be careless.

But the question was, who would stalk him? There was nothing remarkable from him. Sure, he had a handsome, boyish face and bunny-like teeth that many people found a charm in. However, he wasn’t the only person who possessed such features. His grades weren’t high enough to attract attention, too. Average enough to pass the tests, yet not enough to be the top-third.

All in all, Jungkook was a normal college student that liked to procrastinate and played video games until late at night. Oh, and a normal guy that had a seemingly unrequited ‘crush’ on his junior.

“I want to be an artisan someday. I just like creating things, you know? Especially electronics devices, such as cameras and the like…”

You. You were his stalker. Oh God, how did this happen? Since when have you been stalking him? He thought you weren’t interested in him. And how did you manage to slip those–

“Glad to know that I’m not the only messy one here, Oppa. Don’t worry, I won’t judge!”

Jungkook’s tensed shoulders slowly slackened as the epiphany dawned on him.

“[Name], I’m gonna go to the bathroom for a bit.”

“Sure! I’ll look around in the meantime. Don’t pee on the floor, ‘kay?”

Happiness erupted within his swelling chest and manifested itself with a smile that became wider in each second. Jungkook didn’t know why he felt this way when he was supposed to be creeped out at the fact that you had stalked him for a month now. But one thing for sure was that his feelings and efforts weren’t waste in vain. In fact, you had been secretly reciprocating them by ‘keeping an eye’ on him.

You had been appointing yourself as his bodyguard, and Jungkook couldn’t be any happier.

What did he do to deserve such an attentive woman like you? He felt like the luckiest guy in the world, even though you both had yet to get married.

But there was no need to rush, now that he knew about your love for him. Jungkook always noticed that despite your playful attitude, you had a difficulty in expressing true feelings. And while he was a little disappointed that he only realized them just a few seconds ago, he understood and appreciated your efforts. Little things were what he cherished the most, although he certainly wouldn’t mind if you showed more forthright and grand gestures.

Whatever suited you better; Jungkook already accepted you as a whole, anyway.

The screen of his phone suddenly lit up, displaying the very name he had been waiting to see. Swiping the green button upwards, he put the phone near his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Oppa! Oh, God. I’m so sorry I forgot to text you!” Your frantic, yet heavenly voice filled his hearing. “I was so busy watching and–”

“I know,” Jungkook beamed, gazing out of the window. The sky was cloudy, and there were already several drops of water against the windowpane. Yet, an inexplicable warmth filled his heart as he listened to your sputtering across the call. “You were watching me, weren’t you?”

“W-what? Of course not! What are you talking about, Oppa?” you tittered and tried to cover up the truth, but Jungkook knew better. Besides, you weren’t very good at lying, anyway.

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge.” He used your own words to see if you were able to catch the hint. “Glad to know that I’m not the only one who works hard here. Thank you, by the way. I was surprised to see that camera inside my closet.”

“Oppa, can we go out?”

You sounded weary, and Jungkook didn’t like it. Not one bit. So, to cheer you up, he decided to say the sentence that you probably wanted him to say.

The three words that he had been yearning to say.

The three words that would change your lives drastically, either for the best or the worst.

For other people, it would certainly be the worst. But for him, it would be best. Because life with you was heaven in itself.

“I love you.”

There was a momentary silence before you replied in a soft voice. The kind of voice whose speaker had already surrendered to their fate, yet couldn’t have it any other way.

Because this was for the better.

“I love you too, Oppa.”

Satisfaction colored the happiness in his smile as he realized that hidden blessings existed in every kind of predicament. He just needed to look deeper and be patient.

For he would reap what he sow.

[evohealed]

◀ LITTLE TALKS ▶

(( here’s an old mini fic i thought i should post. rex goes to the rebooted zagrs because it has his mother’s voice, and it’s … comforting, in a strange way. it’s the closest confidant he has. enjoy – it’s under the cut. I may write more like this in the future. ))

Rex doesn’t know what to do. He’s feeling so pushed over the edge, and off his shit’s that he doesn’t have a single coherent thought running through his mind, and he’s really, really fucked up. He’s bloody and broken, and even though Providence tried their best to patch him up and his nanites usually helped him heal faster … not everything could go away in an instant. He’ll be fine soon enough, he’s just … scared, and so alone. They wouldn’t even let him leave the building to get some fresh air after the horrific EVO attack he’d just had to deal with occurred – something had totally let some from the petting zoo’s isolation chamber free, and, well … he doesn’t wanna talk about the injuries he sustained from it. He’s got his phone out, and through tear-glazed eyes and a shaky hand, he types out a message to Noah. But … he just can’t find it in him to hit send.

He’s typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted, typed, retyped, deleted … but no matter how many times he does this, no matter how much he wash, rinse, and repeats, he just can’t send it to Noah. Wouldn’t he come off like a total baby? Doesn’t he have better stuff to deal with? Wouldn’t he just be wasting Noah’s time? There’s nothing on his mind but Noah, and how Noah could make him feel better, and how he wants to just hear him … so, while he’s totally out of it, the thumb that’d been hovering nervously over the call button presses down. It’s barely even ringing before Noah picks up, and he’s saying hey, and asking him what’s up. But when Rex doesn’t immediately respond, and all you can hear is him clearly sniffling like he’s gonna cry, Noah starts to ask what’s wrong.

He doesn’t really answer, and it’s not til Noah’s trying to beg him to talk because he can hear Rex crying ( which must be … alarming, because he knows Noah’s never seen or heard him cry before, and he’d always wanted to keep it that way ) that he really realizes Noah’s on the other end. Oh, god he’d heard him sobbing.  He can’t bring himself to say anything but a quick somewhat muddled sorry and hangs up the phone, trying to keep back his sobs until he can stop fumbling with his phone enough to hang up, and … when Noah calls back, he just rejects it. He can’t stand rejecting his phone over and over again, and he just wants it to stop. Why did he do that? That was so stupid of him! Sure, he wants Noah around more than anything right now, and he really, really wants to be consoled by his blonde friend, but … he feels too guilty for making Noah worried.

He feels guilty for showing any kind of feelings when he KNOWS better than to do that. He’s just a weapon, he shouldn’t be burdening anyone else with his issues! There’s nobody he should even be talking to about this. So it’s with a bitter sniffle that he turns off his phone to avoid the calls and texts from Noah, and just … sits there, alone in his dark room, alone with his thoughts, and suffers silently. Nothing new to the tall teen, unfortunately – it’s what Providence has ingrained into him, after all.

Honestly … what was he thinking? He couldn’t even go and see Noah, and Noah wouldn’t want to see him like this anyways .. not when Providence was scolding him for how much of a baby he was being, and how he should have done better in handling the attack than he did.  They expected him to heal fast, because he usually heals fast, but he’s really fucked up, and he just… can’t! He’s injured way too much and the injuries are way too extensive to even let him function right for a few days, and sure, Providence had great pain meds and medical access, but nothing the med-bay could offer could stop this … painful feeling he had all over his body. There’s no scars or anything ( okay, well. no BAD ones ) but some things were DEFINITELY  broken, and .. well. They hadn’t been treated ASAP, so it’s no wonder that everything in his body hurt so fucking badly.

And on top of this all, he’s got a distinct sense of being a burden, and he just knows it has to be true. If it wasn’t true, then … why would they be treating him like this? He knows he should have been better, he knows he should’ve fought better, he knows he shouldn’t have called Noah no matter HOW distressed he got … and yet he did. So … where was he gonna go? What was he gonna do about this? He doesn’t know, so he’s curled up on his bed and looking like a kicked puppy. He buries his face in his knees, just staying in a ball, and … that’s how he stays, for hours on end. He’s sure he’s fallen asleep and cried himself out at one point, because suddenly, he’s waking up, and … Bobo is already asleep. All the lights in Providence are turned off ( well, except the night light rotations .. those are dimmer lights turned on by nine PM so people can sleep here ) and .. well, if those are on, then there’s a good chance that means Cesar is out of his lab. Or, at the very least, asleep – that man sleeps like a rock, so if he was in there, and was still asleep? It wouldn’t matter, he wouldn’t wake him up. So,

Rex, still feeling miserable as ever, decided to get himself up and out of there. He needs something to talk to, something like a parental figure to tell him everything will be okay – but Holiday had already gone to bed for the night, and he’s not about to wake her up. And .. Six was. Six. He wasn’t a very good dad figure at all. And he hated being woken up for anything pertaining to emotions … says he should just get over them. Okay … what does he do, then? Well … he’s decided in an instant, something that just clicks and makes him feel absolutely at peace.

He’s going to talk to ZAGrs.

Honestly, Rex couldn’t say he’d expected the revelation that ZAGrs used his mother’s voice, but … it made a whole lot of sense. The voice, it’d sounded so … eerily familiar from the get go, and now Rex knows why. Cesar had managed to kill her self-aware programming and reboot her since the last time they’d dealt with her, and … well, while Rex certainly felt silly he hadn’t even recognized his own mother’s voice, everything made so much more sense. Now, he knows that it’s not really his mom talking to him, and that she’s not really self aware anymore, but … it’s as close as he’s gonna get to his mom. I mean, it has her voice, doesn’t it?

So … it might as well be the same thing as talking to his real mom. He doesn’t think he’s weird for what he’s about to do with this information and thought process, but he wants someone to speak to, and ZAGrs is as close as he can get to having a parental figure at the moment. ( it’s wack logic, but he’s going to choose to run with it anyways. ) Slowly peeking his head through the door, he checks around for any signs of Cesar in the room. He sees his brother passed out at his desk, drooling everywhere over his papers ( gross, he thinks, but mood ) and the computer turned off. He slips into the room as quietly as he can, if he feels like he can barely move without causing a mess through the room ( seriously, he’s bumping into everything… he really shouldn’t be walking ). And, once he’s in, he takes another look around ( yup, Cesar’s still asleep ) before he puts his hand to the monitor and turns it on with his nanite abilities. ZAGrs ( or  … er, computer? isn’t that just what she’s called now? ) is alive and well and functioning, and it greets him.

“Hello, REX. SALAZAR. What is your query?” 

Rex, miserable as he is, tenses up, and then … relaxes. He has to remind himself that he’s not gonna be killed by this thing anymore, it can’t try to murder him or genocide all the world’s Nanites … so, he decides to finally try and speak. “Um … Computer, can I … talk to you?”

“Of course you can talk to me, REX. I have many commands you can execute.”

“… Right, um .. I actually wanted to talk to you about .. my feelings. Is that .. okay?” He sheepishly rubs his neck, offering a little forced grin. Wow, okay, he feels like a fool for doing this, and that motion alone hurts to do, but .. he’s still gonna keep it up. So, with a deep breath, a side glance, and pulling a spare chair out, he sits down, and asks his question.

“Computer … Have you … ever felt like you don’t actually matter much?”

“QUERY not recognized.” 

“I mean, it’s just … I know I’m not totally worthless, but … it’s hard not to feel that way when you’re someone like me.”

“Your body will likely have value on the black market, if that is what you are inquiring.” “What’s a black market? I don’t – you know what? Whatever, okay. Um.. I just – I’ll just talk about what I came here to. Just .. listen, okay?”

“OK.”

“Okay, w-well .. god, everything hurts, for starters.” He complains, melting into the seat he’s found and leaning back. He lets a pause hang in the air before he continues, only the sounds of the computer’s whirring filling the background, and then he breathes in deeply. He’s just gotta … take a second to breathe. His body still aches, and his head and thoughts are still foggy and he’s still very sleepy, but … he’s gonna continue anyways. “But … really, um .. I’m …” He struggles to find his words, and for a second he really does believe all is lost, and then, all at once, the words start pouring out.

“I … messed up. I know I’m supposed to be a machine. I’m supposed to be a good weapon, a-and I’m supposed to not feel anything. But .. sometimes, the stress can get to me, you know? I don’t know, I know I should be keeping my biometrics up, but … I d-don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I mean, I wanna help people, and I w-wanna help save the earth and stop EVOs from hurting each other, and cure everyone I can, but … b-but I’m not .. good enough! I can’t be a good weapon, but I’m n-not even a normal person, either. And if I’m not a good w-weapon, and I’m useless as a human, then … who am I? What am I? It’s not – I just don’t understand. I know Providence tells me – that Six tells me – that I’m not s'pposed to have emotions, I’m not supposed to get upset like this, and I should just focus on doing m-my job … but I can’t help feeling like I’m a failure because … I am feeling! I have emotions! No matter w-what I try, I just can’t get rid of them! I’m trying my hardest not to, but they’re here, and they’re… I can’t just ignore them!”

He forces himself to pause – he’s back to silently sobbing again, trying his damndest to keep his tears as quiet and hidden as he could. It’s … the first time he can remember crying in a long time – he can usually shove it all down, but now it’s all bubbling to the top. This whole situation just sucks, he just wants to be a normal kid, but Providence wants him to be a pure weapon! Why does he have to have emotions if he was meant to be a weapon? If he has emotions, why is he a weapon? Weapons shouldn’t feel, and humans shouldn’t be able to do … this! “… People tell me I’m a freak. Everyone at Providence is always yelling at me that I’m a weapon, everyone I try to help tells me I’m a freak. I’m getting mixed signals and I – I don’t know what to make of it. I just want to be normal, I wanna be able to talk m-my emotions out, but … But who would I even talk to? Bobo?” He lets out a bitter laugh before continuing, his voice little more than a whisper as he talks to himself.

“I love him, but … He doesn’t take that stuff seriously, he’s not an emotions guy. A-and Holiday can only afford to waste so much time on me, plus I don’t wanna look LAME  for her. Six is outta the question, he says I shouldn’t even have emotions. A-and … Noah, he’s … I know he says I can talk to him, but I know I don’t do anything but stress him out. I don’t w-want to ruin anything by telling him everything I’m upset about, I’m probably just being a baby about it. I just –” he pauses, and then … when he sees his brother finally stirring, his words speed up.

“I’m t-tired of being hurt. I don’t w-want to be, but … it feels like nobody cares if I get hurt. ‘Cept maybe Holiday. I heal quickly anyways, m-my nanites will fix it … and if anyone even notices, obviously they don’t care. It’s always about gettin’ back to work as soon as I can. I just wanna... I wanna feel appreciated, I--” He hiccupped again, taking a moment to calm down his sobbing and letting the tears all run out, and then … A pause. He was totally silent for a good few minutes. He gets an idea. It’s not really his mom, but again, it’s … close, right? Maybe hearing her say this would help him feel better.

“Computer … ?”

“Yes, REX?”

He’s cautious as he speaks his next words, “Can you .. say, ‘Rex, I love you’?”

“REX, I love you.”

And that … robotic as it may be, as aware as he is that it’s not really his mom, and that it’s not really anyone real.. it placates him greatly. It’s enough to get him to stop his crying entirely, and it’s not long before he’s taking deep breaths to calm himself down. When he’s finally not crying anymore, he wipes at his eyes with the heel of his palms, and he smiles.

“.. Thank you, Computer.”

“You’re welcome, REX.”

He uses his nanite powers to shut off the computer, and with that, he leaves the room. And, hell, he’s still in immense pain, but honestly? He’s cried himself beyond the point of caring. He simply walks out of the room, and starts to head back to his. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks like absolute shit because of how tired he is and how sleepy that crying made him, so he just kind of planned to go to bed, so he made a beeline for his room. However, just inches away from the door, he heard his name be called out – and he looked around, confused, but saw Noah standing in the hall. Why was his crush friend here?

He doesn’t know, but before he can even say a single word, Noah’s charging at him and tackling him in a hug. He’s surprisingly got enough force to tackle him to the ground – if only probably because Rex was in such horrible shape, and he was clearly beaten up pretty bad, so he winces hardcore when he hits the ground. But Noah’s still clinging on his midriff, saying that he scared him, and clearly, he’s been crying – asking what’s wrong, and why did he hang up? Was he mad? Rex just kind of forced an awkward chuckle as he threaded his fingers through Noah’s hair, and then sighed. “It’s … nothing. I’m fine.” He says, unconvincingly. Noah’s trying to ask something, but Rex just waves it off, smile growing strained.

“Dude, I promise, I’ll be fine. Now, did you … bike all the way here? At like … eleven pm?” A pause, and a very red-faced Noah nods, and then … Rex laughs. He can’t believe the blonde did that, all for him! He feels a little bad about it, but he still ushers Noah into his room, and then … the night isn’t so shitty after that. Noah really helps, but knowing he could talk to Computer and that it couldn’t wouldn’t judge helped even more.

Maybe everything will be fine after all.

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 17: heartbreak

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds Relationships: Peter Parker/Ned Leeds Rating: T Warnings: none Words: 1.9k

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[Loser #1, 4:22 PM] can you come over

[MJ, 4:31 PM] why

[MJ, 4:32 PM] i mean sure but why

[Loser #1, 4:40 PM] i think ned and i just broke up

[MJ, 4:44 PM] i’m outside your apartment

[Loser #1, 4:44 PM] its open

True to form, the door swings open when MJ tries it, and she slips into the apartment to find Peter sitting on his living room couch, staring at nothing. He’s not crying, a fact MJ is eternally grateful for, because she’s already out of her element and definitely cannot deal with tears on top of it all.

MJ’s not really sure why Peter texted her, of all people. It’s not like she’s good at comforting - on the contrary, she’s skilled in the art of making herself scarce when someone is upset - and while Peter might not have many other people to call, there has to be at least one other person who could handle this better than she can.

A quick once-over tells her that Peter probably hasn’t left the house today, if the old sweatpants and ratty t-shirt are anything to go by, so whatever happened must’ve happened here. Likely within the hour, since Peter doesn’t seem to have gotten past the shock phase of the breakup.

Breakup. Damn.

MJ’s not exactly the romantic type, but even she was pretty sure Ned and Peter were going to last forever. Or at least until graduation. They’re that couple who makes other couples wish they had what Ned and Peter had, that couple that everyone loved to hate because they were always so blatantly and obviously in love.

Were that couple, apparently. Is this going to make things weird in their group?

Jesus. Six months ago, she wouldn’t have cared if Thing 1 and Thing 2 broke it off - she would’ve noticed, because she notices everything, but she wouldn’t have cared - and now she’s worried that this breakup is going to ruin the balance of their group’s friendship.

Whatever happened, there’s no way she’s picking a side. Unless someone was clearly, unequivocally in the wrong.

She has principles, after all.

Peter doesn’t look up at her as she walks over to join him on the couch. The only indication that he’s moved since Ned left is the texts on MJ’s phone.

It’s odd. Of everyone MJ knows, Peter’s the one with the most energy, the one who’s always moving or fidgeting, the one who’s always talking a mile a minute about anything and everything.

Seeing him this still and quiet is a little unnerving. She’ll never admit it, but it is.

“Parker,” she says, perched carefully on the armrest of the couch. When he doesn’t respond, she snaps her fingers in front of his face until the glazed-over look in his eyes dissipates and he turns to stare blearily at her. “Parker, you with me?

He nods, index finger and thumb of his left hand pinching the fabric of his sweatpants.

Fantastic. Progress.

One hand rubbing at her other wrist - one of her very few nervous ticks - MJ asks, “What happened, then? Did you and Ned have a fight about which LEGO set to build today?”

Shit, that’s mean. Normally, she prefers to toe the line between witty and rude, but the line always moves when people are already upset and she’s not the best at toning it down before she accidentally makes things worse.

She’d backtrack, but Peter doesn’t even seem to notice. MJ’s willing to bet he checked out as soon as she said Ned’s name.

“I, uh - we had an argument?” Peter says, almost like he expects MJ to confirm this. “I think we broke up.”

All things she had gathered, circumstances considered.

“Details, dude,” MJ prompts, since apparently Peter’s not going to do anything without provocation.

Peter’s forehead wrinkles, brows knitting together. It’s evident that he’s not processing at full speed, or even at half speed, which means that this is going to be grueling.

There’s a ridiculously long pause before Peter says, “I’m a shitty boyfriend.” This is not only not a real explanation, but also objectively untrue. Seeing as Peter and Ned are her only friends, MJ would know. Peter treats Ned like he hung the moon and the stars, looks at him like he’s the only person Peter ever wants to see.

If MJ believed in soulmates, she wouldn’t hesitate to say that Ned and Peter are each other’s soulmates, one way or another. No one who’s ever even laid eyes on the two of them would hesitate.

As is, soulmates aren’t real, but she still thinks Peter and Ned are meant for each other.

“You’re not a shitty boyfriend, Parker,” MJ tells him, and means it. “Did Ned say you’re a shitty boyfriend?”

No. She knows the answers before she even finishes the question, because Ned would never say that to Peter, even if he thought it. Which he definitely doesn’t, what with the constant gushing about Peter he does. MJ’s had to sit through way too many mostly one-sided conversations about how Peter said this or Peter did that or my boyfriend is the best person on the planet and no one will convince me otherwise.

(The last one actually happened, word-for-word. MJ doesn’t even remember what Ned was on about that time, but it was probably something stupid and mundane. It usually is.)

“No.” Peter scratches at the inside of his elbow. “No, he didn’t, but it’s true.”

“And you say this, why?”

“I don’t make time for him. I don’t give him as much attention as he deserves. I don’t tell him things that I should. I don’t -”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

“That doesn’t make you a shitty boyfriend, loser. That makes you a high school student who moonlights as a superhero,” she says, because even if they haven’t talked about it, they both know she knows.

Peter shakes his head, frustration palpable. “That’s not - that’s not an excuse -”

“For not having all the time in the world to hang out with your boyfriend? Yeah, I’d say it is.”

Peter actually rolls his eyes. She’d laugh at him if she wasn’t so damn uncomfortable right now.

“Okay, scoot over.” MJ slides off the armrest and into the space between it and Peter, who shifts to his right to accommodate. She considers throwing her legs over his lap, like she tends to do when they’re studying together, but that feels insensitive here. Instead, she leans an arm against the back of the couch and rests her chin on her hands. Peter shifts again to face her better. “You’re busy. Of course you’re busy, you’re a high school junior with a secret identity who spends one evening a week in a lab with Tony Stark. Are you telling me Ned broke up with you because you’re busy?”

That doesn’t feel right either. MJ likes to think she’s good at sussing out people’s problems, even though she couldn’t care less about most of them, and she’s pretty sure she’s not on the money yet.

In a small voice, Peter says, “No. I...I did.”

“What?” “I…broke up with him because I can’t be the boyfriend he deserves.”

For the love of God. Seriously? Does Peter even know what he’s like around Ned? Does he even realize how fucking disgustingly in love with him Ned is?

It doesn’t matter how busy he is, not to Ned. Not if the amount of time the boy spends talking about Peter is anything to go by.

“Peter. You have to be joking.”

He shrinks in on himself, just a little. “It’s for the best! Ned deserves better and -”

MJ smacks him with a throw pillow. Peter jumps, then shoots her a look that’s two parts affronted and one part abashed. Good. At least he still has some sense. “Who are you to decide what Ned deserves? Or what he wants?” “I -” Peter’s hands wave around as he tries to figure out what to say. “Look, he was mad because I didn’t tell him that I got hurt on patrol, again, and he hates when I’m not upfront about this stuff, and I just - I got defensive and then we were fighting and I kept thinking...”

Here it is, whatever’s really going on.

“I kept thinking that all I do is - is fuck up, in this relationship and in general, and I’m - I’m stupid, and I’m not funny or cool, and I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend, and no one should be stuck with me -”

Oh.

That’s what this is.

Peter’s not a dumbass, he’s just insecure.

(Well, no, he’s still a dumbass. But that’s unrelated.)

MJ’s not good at comforting people, but she is good at telling it like it is. And she’d never say this to Ned, because all it would do is enable him, but Peter’s objectively the best person she’s ever met.

“You know I’m not one to sugarcoat, Parker, so believe me when I say that every single word that just came out of your mouth is false.” When Peter opens his mouth, she raises her eyebrows as if to say do you really want to fight me on this? His jaw clamps shut. “Well, except for the bit about being cool - you’re not, but you make up for it.”

Peter lets out a short laugh.

“Do you know how much Ned talks about you?” she continues, lightly kicking Peter’s ankle. He kicks her back and MJ barely refrains from shoving his shoulder just hard enough to make him fall back on the couch. “He literally never shuts up about you, it’s kind of annoying. Actually, it’s really annoying, because he’s not even saying anything big or important. It’s just Peter’s so wonderful, he brought me a Hershey’s Kiss today or Peter caught a spelling error in my English homework, I love him so much.”

Her imitation of Ned is spot-on, if she does say so herself. Peter’s seemingly too caught up in blinking away tears to notice, though.

“He adores you, Peter. Like, it’s gross how much he adores you. I’d say I don’t understand why, but I kind of do.” It’s almost definitely the nicest thing she’s ever said to him. “So don’t be an idiot and lose him because you somehow think you’re a bad person or something, even though every single person you’ve ever met thinks you’re a saint. Even Flash does, he just won’t admit it.” This gets a real laugh. It’s sort of teary and harsh, but it’s a real laugh.

Hm. Maybe she’s not so bad at this after all.

Peter leans forward, gently dropping his cheek onto the top of MJ’s head. He doesn’t try to hug her, fully aware that MJ doesn’t do hugs, but he presses a kiss into her hair and murmurs, “Thanks, MJ.”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem, loser. Now go call your boyfriend.”

Peter stays for just a few seconds, then moves, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and wiping tears from his eyes as he heads to his bedroom.

MJ hears him say, “Hey, Ned, can we talk?” before he shuts the door, and thinks, My work here is done.