#used to occasionally ask me if i took the trash to the curb until i told her i left him for good and then she CHEERED for me

[swagbitch666]

my relationship w the employees at the megasaver by my house is everything

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Four

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, swearing, guilt, arguing, light fluff

Your grip on the wheel was tight as you parked along the curb, the pressure behind your eyes having been near unbearable as your eyes glossed over with new tears. Tears of complete and utter frustration as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your car in park and got out, slamming the door behind you. Your footfalls were hurried and you paid no mind to the way you’d jammed your keys in the door, twisting the knob before pushing it open.

You drew a startled look from Sam who’d been sitting on the living room couch, textbook in his lap and his hand running through his hair. He sat up straighter, brows furrowed in an instant as he looked at you. Angry, frustrated you.

“Everything okay?” He asked, though he finds the question pointless the second it leaves his lips because it’s very clear what the answer is. “What happened?”

“Your brother’s an idiot, Sam,” you huff, lip quivering despite the anger in your words.

The crease between his brows deepens at your words, confusion in his expression as he thinks it over just what Dean could have done now. He knew his brother had a way of getting on your nerves, of pushing your buttons in a way Dean Winchester did—but he’s never seen you this upset from any of that, never seen you this worked up.

You saw the way he’d opened and closed his mouth a couple times over, trying to figure out just what to ask first, where to even start. But you spoke up before he did.

“I think,” you start, heaving a sigh as you settle your racing heart a little more, easing the anger in your tone for Sam’s sake. It wasn’t his fault after all. “I think I need to be alone for a little while.”

He nods then, gaze on you as he watches the emotions flicker across your face, exhaling a sigh of his own as he watches you turn on your heel and leave. You disappear around the corner and toss your keys on the kitchen table, headed straight for the door to the back porch.

You sat in your usual seat, tucked in the corner of the porch as cover yourself with the blanket you’d snagged on your way out the door. It’d been quiet out there, peaceful despite the noise in your mind, the events that happened not even half an hour earlier having been caught in your thoughts in a loop.

You thought it’d been obvious, with the way you’d grown closer to the older Winchester over the last few weeks. You found yourself realizing you hated him less than you thought you did for a long while, and maybe you didn’t hate him at all. It took coming back home to see that maybe there was something there between you for longer than the time you’d been back home.

You thought it was obvious, thought so the moment you realized things were different between you two.

But apparently it hadn’t been, not with the way jealousy had wrapped around his every feeling, the way anger had been a close second that day. Never mind the fact that he almost kissed you at Benny’s barbecue, or the way he seemed to enjoy your company.

He was too oblivious to see it the way you felt, too jealous to think rationally about it.

Meanwhile, Dean remained at the garage, simmering in his overflowing frustration. His mind was stuck on the words he’d spoken to you, taunting and woven with anger. He’d told you to go ahead and leave, he encouraged it even. He paid no mind to the hurt so clear in your eyes because he was jealous when he shouldn’t have been, so wound up in the overwhelming idea that he had feelings for you, true feelings that he’d gone and pushed you away.

The idea terrified him, to genuinely care for something, to enjoy their presence, to seek them out and to miss them when they’re gone. The thought of the feelings he had for you, vulnerable and fond, it scared the life out of him. So, he did what he always did and found a way to sabotage it.

He truly did feel as though you had fond feelings for his brother, there was no reason for you not to. But now, as he stands there by himself with his hands dragging down his face, standing with a mess of tools having been splayed and scattered across the concrete of the garage, he’s starting to think that maybe he was wrong.

He’d gone and let his temper get the very best of him, his mind running a mile a minute with thoughts all revolving around you. But he found they always did, they always did for a long while and he knows it.

He’d hovered over the idea of calling you at least a dozen times that night, deciding against it each and every time.

You don’t know just how much time had passed as you sat there on that porch, the sun dipping deeper and deeper into the horizon. The lightning bugs had flickered across the lawn, crickets chirping and filling the quiet in the evening air.

But soon they’d been accompanied by something else, by something more familiar as your heart skipped a beat.

You heard that engine, could tell just who it belonged to from a mile away. You heard it rumble and roar as it approached your apartment. Heard it continue to rattle lowly as it sat there for a minute or two. Your heart hammered as you sat in your chair, the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

He knew exactly where you’d be, knew you were on that porch without even seeing you. It was a place you always went to when you were stressed or upset, sitting in that chair for a good while until you felt better. Now it was him that was the cause and he hated it, he hated that feeling more than anything.

He sat there for another brief minute before you heard that rumble once more, before you heard that ever familiar roar as he pulled away and drove down your street. Your jaw tensed as you felt the tears burn and gloss over your eyes once more, a huff puffing out through your nose.

Instead, he’d gone back to the garage, gone back to clean up the mess he made despite the fact that he knew he should have cleaned up the mess he made with you.

You stayed out there in your usual seat, stayed until the sun had gone down completely and the drowsiness crept up. Stayed until fatigue weighed heavy on your eyelids until they fell closed, and stayed until Sam had come to check on you, finding you fast asleep in the chair. His shoulders slumped at the sight and a sigh left his lips, lips that purse for a moment at the sight of his best friend having looked so miserable.

He scooped you up, blanket and all, and put you to bed for the night before disappearing into his room.

You had one day left at the garage, one day before you left. The past week had been just as you’d imagined, the tension thicker than ever with each passing shift and it became harder and harder to bear.

You hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Dean, not more than that outside of work talk anyway. The tension set the tone for the entire garage—for Benny, for Bobby, for the customers who’d been lucky enough to come in when Dean was in close proximity to you.

There wasn’t much of any small talk, the days having gone by with just the noise of the radio and the occasional string of curses from Dean when something went wrong on a car. It drove you nearly crazy to be so close, close enough that it had your heart aching and your jaw tensing in an attempt not to cry, in an attempt not to shout at the older Winchester for breaking it.

You should have known better, you should have known better than to let yourself fall for him. He was stubborn as ever and there was no changing that but you knew it’d be a long while before you got over it.

It was a week full of lingering stares and long pauses as one tried to fill the silence with some sort of conversation before the other left with the excuse of having something else to do. It’d been a week of angry huffs and a week of Benny driving you crazy with the suggestion of talking to each other in a way that wasn’t so much of a struggle.

It was your last day of it, and you can’t decide if you’re relieved or dreadful, or both.

You sat in your chair at the front desk, head leaning on your hand as you rested your elbow on the counter. Nobody had said a word in the past hour and a half, the rest of your lunch having gone cold until you’d called it quits and dumped it in the trash.

Now, you were sat at your desk with your book cracked open, having very obviously been stuck on the same page for the last fifteen or twenty minutes because you were too busy thinking about green eyes over there. It was bad enough he knew you hadn’t actually been reading. He knew it because his gaze wandered over to you and lingered more than a few times in that span of time.

It almost got him in trouble, almost having him cut his palm with his inability to pay attention to the task at hand, grabbing the wrench he had clasped between his teeth and putting it to use as he tried to keep his mind on his work.

It was another few minutes until he spoke up.

“Would you mind giving me a hand over here?” You lifted your head from your palm, gaze shifting over to him as you narrowed your gaze slightly. He could sense your hesitation. “Benny and Bobby left and it’d be easier if I had an extra set of hands.”

You breathe out a huff after a moment and close your unread book, standing from your chair. When you stood just a mere foot away he held out his hand, the lug nuts to the last tire he had to rotate having been in it. You opened your hand with a sigh and he dropped them in your palm.

“You did the other three by yourself, why can’t you do this one?” You ask, brow raised and lips pursed.

He chuckles then, humorless as he shakes his head. “Like I said, easier with an extra set of hands.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he squats down, lifting the tire with ease as his jaw tenses under his weight. You give him the first one when he’s ready for it, and you try your hardest to ignore the way his hand brushes against yours. You try to ignore the way your skin feels like it’s been set on fire in the wake of his touch no matter how brief it’d been.

You turned your head and looked away for a moment as he worked, swallowing thickly as the radio did its best to ease the quiet tension.

He took it upon himself to grab the next one from your palm when he saw you hadn’t been paying attention, the tips of his fingers brushing against your skin. You straightened your stance and had the rest at the ready after that, desperate to avoid those moments of contact otherwise your heart just might burst with agony.

He grabs his impact drill from the workbench and tightens them in place, securing the tire once more. He spins the wheel for good measure, giving it a pat or two before he snags the rag from his pocket, swiping it across his forehead and the back of his neck and wiping away the sweat.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says.

You notice the way his words falter for a moment, unaware that sweetheart was on the very tip of his tongue just ready to be spoken until he’d caught himself.

You simply nod and his jaw tenses when you walk away, his hand running through his hair before dragging down his face. You barely make it halfway to your desk before he’s speaking up.

“You want me to drive you home?” He calls after you.

He’d driven you this morning, something he offered when the battery to your own car had died. He’d stopped by to drop something off, something trivial and he knew it was stupid. He knew it was far-fetched but he found he just wanted to see you, even if he was being that stubborn idiot he knew himself to be right now.

But he gave you a ride this morning, a quiet drive filled with side glances to the other and the radio put on low, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he drove the two of you to work that morning.

You thought it over for a few fleeting moments, your gaze on your feet before it lifted to him. “Sam’s picking me up.”

You look away just as quickly as you walk behind your desk, stuffing your things in your bag as you grab your sweater from the back of your chair. You fail to see his nod and the way his jaw tenses, you fail to see the way he swallowed thickly as he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s angry at himself and he’s the one to blame for it, he knows that and that blame simmers in the forefront of his mind.

His gaze lingers on you as you sling your bag over your shoulder, pushing the door open and walking out. He looks at the space you once stood in, watching as the door closes behind you with a click.

You hadn’t been there for six days, nearly a week. It was your last day in Kansas and he knew it. He knew it and he wouldn’t let himself forget it no matter how hard he tried to. The very thought of you leaving had weighed heavy on his mind, heavier with each passing minute, hour, day.

He couldn’t let you leave, didn’t want to, but he doesn’t know if he can find the words to say.

It’s noticeable when you’re gone, more than obvious. The garage is dull and quiet, no matter how loud he played Zeppelin on that radio. It didn’t have your smile and it didn’t have your laugh to remind him to lighten up when a tough repair had him frustrated. It didn’t have the sound of your voice whether it’d been you throwing lighthearted jests and quips his way, or if it was when you answered the phone with that smile that makes him forget what he’s doing for a few fleeting moments.

There wasn’t the sound of your voice when you sang along to the songs on the radio under your breath as you sat with your feet up on your desk, your book in your lap when things were slow. Or the way you patched him up when he busted up his hands when he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing because he was too distracted with you. The way you know your way around a car and make him look like a fool sometimes when he’s working on a repair he can’t quite figure out.

It’s far beyond noticeable that you’re not here, it’s always been noticeable when you’re gone and he can’t think of anything worse of a feeling than looking over to that front desk and finding it empty. Each and every time he looks over there it’s always the same and every time it has his jaw tensing.

He tries his hardest not to fall for anyone, not to get attached for this very reason. He feels like if it were anyone else it wouldn’t be half as bad, but you’re not just anyone. You’re so much more than that and damn does this hurt.

“Dean,” Benny calls out for the third time, his brows furrowed at him.

Dean looks to him from where he stands hovered over the hood of the car he’s working on, the crease between his brows returning. He clears his throat as he stands up straight, brushing his hands off.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been callin’ your name for that past two minutes,” Benny says, brow raised in curiosity.

“Oh,” he says, nodding his head as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth in hopes to stave off the brunette’s curious gaze, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess I didn’t hear you.”

He nodded, lips puckering in thought as he eyes the older Winchester with a squint.

“Guess not.” His gaze remained on Dean as he looked back at the task at hand, the one he hadn’t been paying attention to for that last who knows how long. “Darryl called. You got an inspection appointment tomorrow for his truck.”

“Great,” Dean says, tone indifferent and on the cusp of being distracted as he wipes down the bit of oil he spilled.

Benny’s lips pursed, his eyes lingering on Dean for a moment as he took in his expression. Dean could feel his stare, knew full well that Benny caught on to the way he was acting. To the way he was too distracted for his own good. It’s not like it wasn’t painfully obvious, he was sure that anyone in the world who looked at him could tell his mind was elsewhere.

Benny knew and that much was obvious, but Dean had been hoping he’d drop it, had been holding his breath in hopes that he’d leave it at that and move onto something else.

A wave of relief went through him when he’d seen Benny turn and walk away out of the corner of his eye, huffing out a quiet sigh through his nose. It was something that was short lived though, because after a few beats of silence he turned back on his heel with the words on the tip of his tongue, questions just ready to be asked.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked, Dean’s eyes closing as he leaned his hand on the edge of the front end.

He can’t say he didn’t see this coming, he saw it from a mile away. He dipped his head down a fraction as his tongue swiped over his lip, taking it between his teeth for a moment as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Benny,” he says, turning his head to spare him a glance with pursed lips.

Benny tilted his head to the side and gave him a look, his arms crossing over his chest and Dean mirrored it. “It’s taken you an hour to finish a twenty minute job, Winchester. That ain’t like you.”

“Every car is different, it’s not gonna be a piece of cake every time. Stuff goes wrong sometimes,” he shrugs, irritation simmering in his tone.

“I know damn well that’s not the case.”

“Do you, Benny?” Deans asks, voice raising a fraction as he tosses his wrench on the workbench to his left.

He’s quiet for a moment then, heaving a sigh as he looks at the green eyed mechanic with a squinted look. He sees how touchy Dean is, how easy it is to get under his skin. He’s been like that the past week and a half, nearly two. He’s known him for a long time, knows him better than he thinks and he knows exactly what’s for him acting so differently.

He knows.

“It’s Y/n, isn’t it?” He asks, straight to the point and it has Dean stiffening, has him tensing at your name.

“What?” He asks, and his defensiveness is clear as day.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy,” he starts, watching Dean’s jaw clench, watching the crease between his brows stiffen. “I saw you two that night, I saw you by the fire and it doesn’t take a genius to know that there’s something there. You can lie to me all you want and act like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about but I know she’s on your mind.”

Dean rolls his eyes now, a humorless laugh leaving his lips as the anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He cares about Benny, he does, but right now all he’s doing is pushing his buttons in a way that’s fueling his frustration.

“You know what, Benny? You can go right ahead and think what you want, that’s fine by me. But it’s not really your business. You’re wrong,” Dean says, finger pointed at him before his hand drops to his side.

“She told me what happened, Dean.”

He freezes in his spot, jaw more tense than ever as he swallows thickly. His stare is narrowed on Benny, hard and angry as his fists clench and relax and he finds he has to look away otherwise he just might crack.

So he does. He turns away from him and runs a hand down his face, thoughts of you flashing through his mind as if they hadn’t done so all day every day for the past who knows how long. He doesn’t need that lecture right now, doesn’t need to be told of the colossal mistake he knows he’s made because it’ll only light the fuse and make everything worse. It’ll only deepen the anger and regret he’s got searing within him till he bursts.

“You miss her, don’t you?” He asks, voice quieter than before.

Dean laughs again to himself, quiet and bitter as his hands stay planted on the workbench. He swallows as the question taunts him, replaying in his mind in a loop. He misses you more than anything, hell, he missed you since the moment you walked out that door that day.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say a single word as he turns in his heel, laying down the stand to the car’s hood before letting it fall closed with a slam. He can hear Benny’s chuckle, one in response to just how stupid he’s being, to just how stubborn he really is. He can’t say he’s surprised, he’s been this strong willed and stubborn for as long as he can remember. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, and he’d be stupid not to give it one more try.

He eyes the older Winchester with a narrowed glance, a sigh leaving his lips as he watches him busy himself with work that didn’t need to be done.

His gaze lingers for a moment, lips pursed and brows furrowed. Benny moves to turn away, even takes a step or two away from him before he turns back around.

“Dean?”

He turns his head, avoiding Benny’s gaze as he waits for him to talk.

“What you do is your choice, you know that. But I suggest you stop bein’ so damn stubborn and realize what you’ve got before it’s gone. Do me a favor and quit bein’ an idiot.”

With that he walks away, leaving Dean to stand by himself. That anger is still very much there, that frustration stronger than ever as the regret eats away at him. He’s got the urge to sweep all those tools on the floor once more, his chest tight as he jaw tenses. And that glance over to the clock on the wall didn’t make it a single bit better.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, crossing the garage with quick steps as he snags his keys.

You sigh as you look around your room, scratching the back of your neck as you try and see if you’ve got anything else to add to your bags, to see if you’re missing anything. A part of you is stalling, you know you are. You don’t want to leave home and you don’t think going back to Stanford is in your best interest, not really.

Half of your decision is fueled by your spite towards the older Winchester, to leave just because you said you would. The other half is filled with indecision, filled with the worry that you might regret not finishing your degree. You felt like you owed yourself that much, you did. But you felt that dread in the pit of your stomach at the thought of putting yourself through another year of it, another year of something you didn’t have your heart set on and you knew you couldn’t do that.

It was another conversation to have with Sam, another decision you’d have to make that had your stomach knotting with nerves. Something that’d been the last thing you wanted to do, the last thing you wanted to think about.

But you couldn’t put it off, couldn’t do that forever.

You spun on your heel after giving your room another once over with a sigh, knowing full well there wasn’t anything more you needed for Stanford that wasn’t already over there. Nothing more that you needed other than the clothes and belongings you brought with you when you came home all those weeks ago.

You paced through the hall and down the stairs, your last duffel bag in your hand as you make your way to the living room. All of your bags and suitcases had been stacked by the front door, packed and ready to go as Sam’s had sat there with them.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of them, biting the inside of your cheek in a nervous habit. It only made things all the more real, only solidified the idea that you were leaving again for another few months until you’d come back to visit. Only solidified the thought of going back to law school for one more year.

You exhaled a shaky side as you shook out your hands, pacing around the living room. Sam was gone to say his goodbyes to everyone, something you’d already done the night before. He was gone and he’d be back any minute with Bobby. Then you’d go to the airport and get dropped off together and go back. You’d go back to your second home that just didn’t feel quite so good as this one.

The thought had your nerves swirling in your stomach, twisting and churning as you ran your hands down your face. You were twenty-four still acting like you were eighteen, acting like quitting law school would be the worst thing in the world. You knew there was no rush, no timeline, but the stress of it all was weighing heavy.

The thought of leaving home again, leaving everything for a little while, the thought of the older Winchester was weighing heavier on your mind.

You quit your pacing and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. You filled it with water and drank it down, your teeth sinking into your lip as you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

The ring of the doorbell had your heart jumping in your chest, had it hammering once more. It was time to go and you knew it, there was no more stalling, no more thinking it over. No more putting it off because it was happening now. You were going back for a little while and this was it.

You exhaled a shaky breath as you put your empty glass in the sink, making your way to the door as a couple knocks sounded. Your gaze lingered on your bags by the door for a moment longer, a moment longer before you had to put them in the back of Bobby’s car.

After a beat of hesitation, you twisted the door knob, swinging it open. Your breath hitched in your throat, mouth going dry as your gaze falls on him, his stare moving up from his boots as you meet those green eyes you’d get to stop thinking about. You swallow thickly as your heart flips once more, lips parting.

His expression is hard to read as he stands there with a look to mirror yours, his tongue swiping over his lips in a nervous habit. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck before his hand falls back down to his side. You glance around him to the Impala parked haphazardly and crooked along the curb, a rushed attempt at parking. And then your eyes flicker back to him, back to the Winchester who’s mouth had been opening and closing a couple times in an attempt to figure out just what he wanted to say.

You were ready to go, as ready as you’ll ever be—and now your plans were put in a tailspin as your mind and your heart spiraled in a frenzy as Dean Winchester stood in front of you once more.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms- In the Flesh.

Part 16

No editing, we die like men: ill prepared and confused. Did I read this over even once before posting? Nope.

Warnings back fully into effect. Have triggers? Just go ahead and avoid this. Don't want to spoil anything, so I wont say which, but guys, you've seen my other chapters for this. You know better.

This was actually fun to write with my weird view point that's both in the moment and yet so disconnected.

CLOSED list of hooligans: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Following Damian back into the living room, she saw the group all gathered around their phones, whispering amongst themselves. Approaching soundlessly, she peeked over Juleka's shoulder, catching sight of the screen at the same time Jason did. 

The Joker. He had escaped Arkham once more and now held a broadcast, obviously attempting to get the attention of the Batman. Apparently he set up a new game for them to play. To make matters worse, the prize for winning? The return of Robin. A young looking boy in a different form of the Robin suit was shown for only a moment, glaring at the camera in his face. The timer was set and the broadcast cut. 

That location, it was far closer to their own location than the Wayne manor. Bruce wouldn't make it. It was her and Jason all over again. 

Jason.

Turning on her heel, she took a deep breath and swallowed hard to settle the anger rising in her throat and took command.

"Damian, see to Jason, keep him calm. The pit is about to take hold," she spoke calmly, Damian nodded and lead the taller man away as she turned towards the group watching her every move, "I'm setting out. Jason is likely to come with me. You'll watch over Damian in my absence. I do not expect any of the kwamis to wish to transform with me, but if you decide to, you'll need to be morally ambiguous unlike Tikki or Plagg. Neither of us will be held back or redirected. You'll have to accept whatever comes of this," looking away from the kwamis and to the bristling teens in front of her, she hardened her gaze, "Unless one of you has experience with the Lazarus Pits and their effects, you will stay away from either of us or that building. Judging by the gasps I hear from the kwamis, they will enforce this for me if you decide not to heed my words."

Stalking into her room once more, she started to drag out bags, open compartments in drawers, pull off seemingly decorative pieces from the walls. Longg approached her carefully from the side.

"I will transform with you. The others would feel more comfortable if one of you were superpowered and I'm morally gray unlike the main set."

Nodding, she took his piece carefully, "I need you to make my suit stealthy. I will not be caught due to bright colors."

"The suit will match your will," he reassured.

Transforming, she took in the multiple shades of grey and black lining her body in waves, selective holding pouches hidden within the fabric. Placing her knives about her body, she found a retractable bladed staff along her thigh. Perfect, one less large piece to carry. 

Grabbing a mask, she slipped out to find Jason mostly calm. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the bathroom and handed him his own clothes back from the league missions.

"He won't be transforming?" Marc inquired.

"His body is more riddled with madness. It's less than it would be had his soul been dipped as mine has, but I've had time to tame and curb the insanity. He hasn't. Add superpowers to the mix?"

"He'll level a city," Plagg spoke up.

"Exactly."

"And you're taking him with you?" Kagami growled out, obviously against the idea.

"Would you rather I leave him here so he can accidently kill one of you and hate himself for the rest of his life? Besides, he has no attachment towards Damian yet. I'm not risking it," her tone brokered no arguments and Jason emerged in that moment. He immediately went into her room and pulled out a gun from her side drawer, muscle memory letting him navigate the place as his own. He put it in the holster on his thigh and went towards her equipment, still out and waiting for him, sifting through until he found a larger set of machetes, grabbing them and a second mask before rejoining her at the window to the fire escape. With just a glance towards the other they knew their minds were in sync.

"Damian, stay and watch them," Jason ordered, the kid nodding at his given mission, turning towards the team with crossed arms. 

With that, they climbed out and took off across the rooftops.

…

The run went by in a blur of motion neither could remember. Now they crouched on the edge of the building the Joker was supposedly in, scoping out the entrances. She could feel Jason practically vibrating at her side and traced spirals along his spine to keep him mentally in place.

"Shhh, focus on my instructions Jason. Those voices aren't as important as our own," she murmured, finding an unguarded door. The idiot never used obvious doors, so of course the clown wasn't focused on them as much as the windows, basement and roof access. The door she found looked like an old employee entrance, easily overlooked. 

"Jay?" Before she could finish the inquiry, he moved forward and picked the lock, letting them in, keeping in front of her.

"Based on the lighting in that video, I'd guess they're keeping him further up. What do you think?"

"Likely midway up, seventh or eighth level."

They skirted their way up staircases, quietly knocking out anyone they found on their way up. Occasionally they stopped to practice deep breaths, as the further up they went, the more vivid the green in their eyes glowed. Both could sense the impending catalyst and tried to press the insanity back. They wanted this to be on their own terms.

At about the sixth level, Jason found himself having to hold Mari back, having almost torn out a guys throat for simply struggling too much in the takedown. 

"Not worth it. Not yet."

Breathing heavily, the voices dropped back to reasonable levels, allowing their continued movement. Mari found herself meditating as they went, recentering herself. One of them had to stay fully self aware and she knew it had to be her. Jason needed someone to watch out for him in his first true rush, not to panic in the middle when no one could hold them back. She would be there the way Talia had been for her. As Damian normally was.

At the ninth floor, they found their target.

Marinette felt borderline insulted at the difference in treatment.

The current Robin was swinging upside down, bound in rope and gagged. 

They had been chained to an operation table, beaten to a pulp with every moment too long the bat took. This boy didn't even have a guard on him. Sure, there were boobytraps set all over the damn place that they painstakingly dismantled one at a time, but even still. Not a scratch on the kid's face. Shaking the thought, Mari chided herself. Her anger was reserved for the people who put them in this situation, not some boy that was obviously dragged into the adults' personal issues. She knew when they escaped and the madness leveled out, relief for his unharmed state would course through her like a tidal wave. For now, she felt contempt and resignation. When the last trap finally fell apart, they heard his voice.

"Batsy! So you finally decide to show on time for one of your pretty birds?" It called, still not in view.

Jason bristled in her peripheral and she yanked him around quickly to focus in on her, aware of the hanging kid's eyes trained on them.

"Save Robin. He can't. He won't. We know this. Do what he didn't for us. Save. Him."

Jason's pupils blew under the mask and a growl tore from his throat as he turned towards the masked child, letting the anger direct itself into righting the injustice done unto him.

Marinette turned back towards the voice, creeping forward, bladed staff withdrawn and extended. She watched its shadow as it twisted along the walls. Finally, it turned the wrong corner and she slammed the side of the staff against him, letting the staff glide along their body as they were forced back, the tip catching their chest and opening a gash through his suit.

Joker jolted, gasping and confused, "You're not Batsy."

A feral grin grew upon her face, "No, but I'm so much more fun, wouldn't you say?" she activated wind dragon, blowing him further back across the room until he stumbled and fell onto his back. He quickly grabbed up a device and smiled maniacally, holding it up to view, starting a spiel about what it would do if he pressed this particular button, blah blah blah. She wasn't here for his rambling. Activating electric dragon, she launched herself into the device, shorting it out into a useless hunk of metal. Reappearing in front of him, she drew out her blades, only to hear quiet feet land in the room over. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, girly?" He asked, licking at the corner of his mouth in a weird tic sort of a way. 

Placing a grin to rival his own across her face, she tilted her head, "It is not what I'll do that should concern you. Rather, what I'll allow him to do," she watched annoyed confusion flicker across the clownesque features as Jason appeared at her side, a second set seeming to approach her from behind. Reaching back, one hand grabbed a thin shoulder in a harsh grip to keep the kid in his place, the other went to her side to grip a broad shoulder in a more crushing grip to keep Jason from moving too soon. She turned and looked into masked, violently green eyes.

"Do you want to?" A nod. "Will you regret it?" A shake. "Will you take back your mind when it's over?" Another nod. "He's all yours, Bird. Get it out of your system, find me when you're done." A growl.

She let go and turned towards the kid, bodily backing him up into the other room, out of view.

"You don't want to see this."

"Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I'll figure it out either way. Be nice if you made it easy though."

"Hmm, how does one become a Robin? Oh yeah, the previous one either leaves or dies."

"You don't mean," the kid's eyes widen.

"He shouldn't of allowed another one. Isn't one child dying for his cause enough?"

"It's not like that," he grew defensive.

"Isn't it though? Whether you wanted it or not, if anything happens to you, it's because he decided another child could fight actual murderers."

"That's beside the point, I need to stop them," he tried to push past her only for her to activate wind dragon and pick him straight up and out of the building to another rooftop, letting him go at the top, though grabbing his grapple as she reformed.

"Do you recognize this part of the city?"

"What are you doing? Let me back in there," he sounded panicked.

"Breath, little bird. Do you recognize where we are?"

"I- yes. I recognize it."

"Do you know how far it is from Wayne Manor?"

"What does that-" he attempted playing dumb.

"Do you?"

"Of course I do!"

"I know you do. You're a smart little bird. Very well learned. You know how long it takes to get here from the Manor as well don't you? And what time the broadcast went up?"

The kid's face darkened, and while he obviously didn't want to admit it, he could obviously make the calculations.

"He wouldn't have made it on time."

"It was on purpose. Joker wants to remind him of his greatest failure," the teen, she realized, rationalized.

"Batman isn't the only one Joker reminded. People don't take kindly to reminders of their dying day."

"So you two are?"

"Undead? In a funny way, yes. And absolutely riddled with destructive insanity."

"You don't seem it."

"I've had time to repress it. Learn control and stability. Him, not so much. This is his first relapse. There's no preventing it. Only directing it. I figure taking out an actual child murderer, who has tortured and ended the life of hundreds, including the sick and dying would be an alright outlet."

"It's immoral."

"We both know the only reason Bruce won't kill is that he wouldn't stop once he started. He'd lose control entirely. It's nothing to do with morality. Otherwise he wouldn't turn a blind eye to the select hits Alfred made in his time."

"How do you know so much?"

"How do you?"

"I figured it out on my own and decided for him."

"Very clever of you. But you didn't decide for him, he let you and took advantage of your determination. I'm sure in more ways than this one." She picked his arguments apart, remembering the way Talia detached Damian from herself. She didn't like the idea of manipulating a kid into disowning his own family, but a toxic situation was still toxic. She'd contact Alfred later to get back in touch as well as a better read on the situation.

As the teen became frustrated once more, he moves towards her to get back his gear only for Jason to drop next to them, breathing heavily with blood dripping down his arms and from the blades across his back, down onto his legs and the ground surrounding.

He seemed to slowly come back from the insanity, leaning into her, "I killed him. Fuck, I killed him," he gasped. 

Marinette reached up and stroked his head in soothing motions.

"It's okay, Jay, it's okay. He deserved it. You hate taking another's life and feel the weight of it, but it wasn't a life that was regrettable to end," she whispered, remembering the words that assuaged her own guilt.

"The-the Joker is dead?" The teen before them whispered.

Jason peeked up at the little Robin before them, the green sparking for another moment, "He made another? Replaced us? The mantle should have died when you did. Dick should have stopped him," he groaned out, hatred and fear pulsing in waves.

"Oh shit, you're the last Robin. Jason," the teen's breath caught, half in awe, half dread.

"Yeah, the last. Why? You shouldn't be here," his voice quivered.

Mari handed the grappling gear back over, looking him directly in his hidden eyes, "I know you're going to tell him Jason's back. That he killed the Joker. I'm sure you'll even mention me. But I'm sure he'll notice our own message."

"And what would that be?"

"We were the ones to save you. Not him. Let me know if you ever need an escape from that nightmare."

With that, she lead Jason away, having heard his breathing even out and calm moments before.

"Let's go home," she whispered in his ear, getting a soft nod and taking off back across the roofs.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

health rambling

because it occurred to me that i post when there are Serious Problems but haven’t updated in a while, for those following my adventures from afar:

so my ankle fracture appears to be healing well :) for the past five days that i was home alone, i watched a lot of tv, but i also did basic household maintenance chores and fed kinnie and the outdoor cats--and i succeeded at my top priority, which was just feeding myself and taking all my meds every day. while i could barely walk on my ankle, i relied on a LOT of delivery food, so the past five days of making toast and frying potatoes and slicing apples without terrible pain felt joyful in a ‘normal everyday life’ way. i iced my ankle at least once a day, too, to help with being on it so much. but i was able to pull the trash can out to the curb (necessary as the only one home on trash day), also for the first time since i broke my ankle, and it went okay, so i should be able to take that chore back onto my usual list. 

i lost muscle strength so quickly once i had to stay off my feet for a few weeks! getting back to chores this week and doing some overall cleaning yesterday, as well as having my first good shower since last month, was very soothing. but i could also feel my muscles, such as they are, strengthening up a little bit, and i’m really happy about that. i’ve still got a lot of fatigue going on, which makes it hard to stand at a counter and prep food for any length of time, but 1) i think that might be a return of my vitamin b deficiency unrelated to my convalescence and 2) when i push through the fatigue to cook, it feels healthy and like my body’s remembering how to do stuff--rather than like a straining, painful ankle sensation i was getting whenever i did things in the early weeks of recovery. i have to hope that’s a good sign for my monday ankle appt. if that appt goes well in terms of how an expert thinks my ankle looks, then i’m going to assume i can resume things like the occasional grocery trip, all regular chores, and even light walking soon. 

i’ve had basically the worst year ever, in my whole life, in terms of basic physical condition, from last fall to this one: after spending a summer getting in better shape and enjoying the benefits of that during my week in north carolina, i crashed into a surprise vitamin b deficiency so bad that i lost the ability to stand and walk. that didn’t get figured out until january, and took a couple of months of supplements to get fixed--at which point we were in a pandemic, and the lockdown followed soon after, and i was scared to leave the house, let alone walk my neighborhood to get back in shape. i finally felt like people here were following more of the safety guidelines and like i understood how to minimize risk as summer turned to fall...and then i broke my ankle. so at this point i’m really eager to move more and strengthen back up, and before the ankle i even made sure to buy some clothes so i won’t have to do all my outdoor exercise in jean shorts (better than long pants, in california, but still not very comfy!)

so that’ll be my main goal if my ankle is looking okay on xrays and keeps feeling stronger this month--as much as possible, to get back to the shape i was in last summer, when i could walk to the nearest grocery store and back, when walking a mile was possible on a regular basis. when i’m at my worst, just getting to the mailbox and back feels like a major accomplishment, and it’s wild how large the range is, of what i’m physically capable of. last year it took an awful manic phase to get me in shape...i wasn’t walking more because i enjoy it (i hate exercising here, it’s deeply boring, i miss living in a city where going places on foot was routine and fun) but because if i sat still at home i felt like a danger to myself. i had to move, so i did. convincing myself to go for walks will be a lot harder this time (i’ve been unsuccessfully trying to do so all year during the pandemic tbh) but actually losing the ability to walk (for a SECOND time! in one year!) is a great motivator to appreciate what i have and to make better use of it. 

mental health wise, i’m still in a bad way. it’s hard for me to stay in touch with anybody i care about, i’m barely posting on my blog cuz i’m drifting in my head too much to have words like i normally do...the pandemic has made all of my mental disorders worse, while simultaneously making it harder to get care for them. on top of the treatment i get for my adhd and bipolar disorder (that stopped being effective during the pandemic), i’m finally ready to try something for the anxiety, and i only learned this year that my food issues are an actual eating disorder with a name...but while my previous problems aren’t being successfully treated right now, i don’t feel i can also take on trying to fight the other stuff too. i’m still here though, pressing onward, and i’ve found the headspace to not be upset at myself for getting little done, being unable to write and focus, etc. for now, that’s a win. and having the household return to normal for a while, after all the chaos of september, is letting my brain settle down too, at least a little. so that part does feel better. just like putting the house to rights makes me feel a little better--more stable. 

i don’t have a grand conclusion for this post like i normally would? i’m not posting for a reason, other than thinking somebody who’s followed my personal posts for years now might wonder what’s going on lately, when i don’t post about it and am barely speaking to people. especially since i’m way behind on my asks as well, so i can’t just say ‘if you ever wonder how i’m doing, feel free to ask!’ so...this is how i’m doing. :) i’ve got 4 episodes of black sails left and i plan to start 12 monkeys next, so that should be fun. having house time to myself was fun but i’m thrilled to not be the only one home anymore. i like my normal.

[izzy-b-hands]

You Send Me: Chapter Eight

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe

Did I seriously include the song this fic is named for in the fic? Of course I did lol. Part of this fic is self-indulgence, another bit is wanting to write good fic y’all will enjoy, and the other part is getting more people to listen to Sam Cooke. 

Also, much like Freddie, I’m a gay who can’t drive. I’ve had a few lessons on an automatic, was too terrified to learn stick at all, so if the driving in this chapter is questionable...yeah. There’s a reason I made description in that section brief lol.  In my defense, Freddie is also involved in that portion, so this is the blind leading the blind here, but doing their best. Points if you notice the real life driving mistake I made when I had lessons that I included in this fic!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Come dance!” Freddie, usually shy in public, was officially drunk enough to be less shy, and it was adorable. 

Until now.

“I don’t dance,” you insisted. “I’m content to watch you lot go.” 

“You said you like Sam Cooke,” he protested, pointing at the jukebox, which at this bar held almost exclusively ‘50s and ‘60s sock bop sounding pop music. “That’s what’s playing, and what we have queued up. Come on, let yourself have some fun!” 

Blessedly, it switched to a slower favorite of yours, You Send Me, as Freddie pulled you out of your seat. This, you knew you could manage. 

And with no one there aside from the bar staff, the band, and the crew, you could actually enjoy it, letting your arms wrap around Freddie to hold him close while you swayed. It maybe wasn’t ‘dancing’ exactly, but it was lovely, and his smile was well worth it. 

“I bet you can sing this well,” Freddie mumbled. “I want you to sing it for me. Go on.” 

“Freddie,” you blushed. “Maybe later.” 

“Later,” he nodded. “Fine. In the next hotel room, you’re going to sing for me.” 

You shook your head and laughed. “Sure. If we’re both awake by then.” 

Even though you were refraining from drinking more than a sip of whatever Freddie was having, you figured you would still be exhausted from running about with them. They were fun, but energetic fun, more than you were used to from working the same venue each night. 

The crew fell away from their professional personas as well, and you chuckled as you drifted with the group to the next bar, one arm holding Freddie close and mostly upright, the other tugging John in line, as he would turn to look at whatever caught his eye as you went down the road, and would occasionally forget to continue walking as he did. 

Crystal and Roger were mostly holding each other up, and Brian was trying to tally exactly how much each of you had already had to drink, in what seemed to be an attempt to ensure no one got any drunker. Adorably, he kept getting distracted by the sky, desperately working to point out various stars and constellations to whoever was closest to him, disparaging the brightness of the city lights that made them hard to see. 

You could only compare it to kittens, or puppies, let loose in a yard for the first time. Interested in everything, with unsteady legs, barely able to recall exactly what their original goal in moving was.

Somehow, the next bar still agreed to serve you all, though you again found yourself not wanting to drink much at all. It was more fun watching everyone else get sloshed, the playful barking at each other over the drinking competitions that started over already half-drunk pints of beer. Besides that, someone would need to have most of their mind present to get everyone back to the van. 

The idea was to drive right away, and make the two or so hours to Kalamazoo so everyone could rest before the show. However, the more everyone partied, the more you wondered if that was an achievable goal. 

Sure enough, getting them back to the van was chore enough. 

“I’m not ready for the van,” John mumbled. “I hate that thing.” 

“You helped pick it out,” you giggled. 

He was draped over your shoulder, feet stumbling along, trying to hold hands with Freddie behind your back. “I know. It was cheapest, and safest, but it’s so ugly. You know, you know, it won’t even be the booze that makes me sick, it’ll be the interior of it.” 

“It’ll be the booze for me,” Freddie said cheerfully, before patting you on the back and stumbling to the nearest trash can on the corner. It sounded painful, but he grinned even as he stumbled back. “No more for me. Too much, much too much already. That’s a funny word, much...” 

John groaned as Freddie continued to rhapsodize about the word ‘much’, and you focused on keeping them both walking. 

Granted, the trail you were following was an odd one, with Brian and Roger and the crew leaning on each other just ahead of you, laughing and walking in anything but a straight line. More importantly, you didn’t recognize anything around you.

“Lads?” you asked.

No response, everyone was in their own little world.

“Guys?” 

Nothing, but Freddie let his face fall against your neck and mumbled something that sounded like “What?” 

“Are we going the wrong way?” 

Brian was the one to stop dead, so fast that Roger smacked straight into his back. “This isn’t where the van is.” 

“No,” you said slowly. “I think it’s back the way we came. I think, at least.” 

Had Brian been sober, you figured he would have led the charge back the other way. But drunk Brian was easier to panic, and panic he did, dropping to sit on the nearest curb. 

“How’re we going to get back? I don’t know where we are, and if you don’t know where we are,” he threw up his arms in apparent frustration. “Then we’re done for.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you said, and tried to swing John and Freddie with you to a payphone on the other side of the road. “How about I call the driver, hm? Maybe he can just drive and find us.” 

“Y’mean me?” the crew member that usually drove popped out from behind Crystal, nearly tripping as he did. 

“Oh for pity’s sake,” you muttered. “Did you all forget we have to drive to Kalamazoo before the morning?” 

Mentioning the next city’s name was a mistake, because it utterly destroyed them. 

“What a stupid fucking name,” Roger laughed, slipping to sit down by Brian. “Like kazoo. Or harmonica. I’m going to name a city Timpani.” 

“You’re going to buy a city just for that?” Brian asked. 

Roger shrugged. “What better reason to buy one?” 

“Property taxes,” John said decisively, earning another round of laughter, but as far as you could tell he was deadly serious. 

“Okay,” you said. “I technically have a license. I’ve never driven a van, or much at all, but I can do this.” 

Only Freddie seemed to glom onto what you were going to do. “Are you going to leave us here, and go get it?” 

“Don’t have a lot of other choice, love,” you replied, and helped him and John to the curb. “Just stay put, make sure no one is sick all over themselves, and soon enough we’ll have you on the van, alright?” 

“I should come with you,” Freddie insisted, struggling to his feet. “I’ve only had...I didn’t count the drinks, but that’s fine. You can drive, I’ll just help you drive well.” 

“Freddie, you don’t know how to drive at all!” Roger called. 

“Well, technically I don’t either,” you admitted. “I mean, my granddad bribed the instructor to pass me...and I have been in a car, behind the wheel before...for an afternoon, at least...” 

You looked down at the sensation of John’s hand on your leg. 

“I believe in you,” he said, again so serious you would have thought this matter was life-or-death. “Bring us our ugly fucking van.” 

“It isn’t that bad, John,” you sighed. “You’ve got to forgive yourself for that, my man. You really do.” 

You left them then, Freddie stumbling along beside you, and pondered exactly how different a van might be compared to a car, and hoped to god it wasn’t a stick. 

“Driving is overrated,” he mumbled as you took him by the arm, keeping him close so he wouldn’t get lost in the small crowds on the sidewalk. “But flying is expensive. How do people get around in this country?” 

“You drive, or you find the money to fly, or you hope there’s a train or subway in your area,” you replied. “Or in my case, you walk when you can, and are incredibly thankful and kind to those who provide you with rides when you need them.” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “That’s why your thighs are so big. I mean I like that, that they are. But it’s the walking. Lots of muscle. Good thighs, those. I wish we had a hotel room tonight, so I could appreciate them properly.” 

You blushed, grateful that the people out and about didn’t seem to give a shit about the two of you wandering, and Freddie speaking less than quietly, though you didn’t think he was aware of that in his current state. “Maybe once you’ve sobered up, hm? If we make it to Kalamazoo on time, and all.” 

He nodded, only to suddenly dash away from you as you approached the venue, lurching towards the van. 

“Please be careful!” you called, patting yourself down for the van keys. 

The keys that were not in any of your pockets. 

Because they were with the driver, back many streets away. 

“Freddie,” you said softly as you watched him struggle with the van door. “Have you ever picked a lock?” 

----

“We owe Roger one,” Freddie sighed as you finally clambered into the van. “I’ve never been so glad he liked breaking into my hotel rooms.” 

Roger’s method, at least part of it taught to Freddie, had been enough to crack the lock and let you in. As a bonus, it has also sobered Freddie up a decent amount. 

He settled into the passenger seat and watched you sit behind the wheel. “So. You have driven before, at least once?” 

You nodded. “It didn’t go great, but I have.” 

He nodded slowly, matching your nods, as if that would somehow make the van go on its own, as the two of you stared at the steering wheel. “By didn’t go great...” 

“I was supposed to do a three point turn on a really narrow dirt road, and sort of ended up more in the ditch than on the road. My granddad had to help me get it back on the road, yelling the whole time, it was horrid, honestly.” 

“Can sort of see why you don’t drive more, knowing that,” Freddie said. “But you’ve got this.” 

You sighed, and then realized that, without the keys, the van would not go anywhere. “Oh fucking hell.” 

Freddie fumbled with the glove compartment, and tossed an extra set of keys to you. “Thank god we paid extra for those. Never thought we’d need them, but here we are.” 

Getting out of the lot was easy enough; it was a big open area with no other vehicles in it at the time. 

Detroit traffic, however, was a different beast. 

“I literally would kill to be doing anything else,” you muttered. 

“As long as it isn’t me you would kill,” Freddie chuckled. “But I get it, this is...not great. Let’s not say bad.” 

But it was bad. You crept forward as much as you could manage, only to get not a single spot you were fast enough to drive into so you could join the traffic. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Freddie said gently. “I don’t know that this is really right, but next time you see an opening, just gun it? I suppose?” 

“Anything is better than sitting here,” you replied, and the next chance you got, you took. 

Thankfully, it seemed Detroit drivers weren’t unused to sloppy driving. Sure, ninety percent of them were flipping you off, but you were in your lane, obeying the speed limit, and braking with enough room (maybe too much, at a few stops, but you preferred that to accidentally hitting anyone.) 

Even so, you had to nearly ask Freddie to pry your white-knuckled hands off the steering wheel once you’d reached the rest of your group and parked in the lot of the bar nearest to them. 

“Are you good to drive?” you asked the driver as he led the rest over. 

“Sure,” he replied, while you watched everyone else make their way into the van. 

“No, really,” you said. “Traffic is terrible here, if you aren’t sober enough, then we need to wait.” 

He muttered something under his breath, too low for you to hear, but nodded. “Fine. We’ll be close on time, but we’ll see if we can sleep it off here for a bit.” 

You headed for the van, only to dash away as John came running back out of it, making it a good few feet away before he lost his stomach over the pavement. 

“I told you it would be the interior,” he said, as he tried to wave away your hands. 

“Let me at least help you up,” you insisted, and it was a relief when he let you grab him and carefully pull him up. You managed a quick wave to Freddie, who watched as you helped John back onto the van. 

He looked tired, and like the beginnings of a hangover were starting to claw at him, but he smiled as he looked on, and that made the whole situation better. 

Though you were still incredibly glad you wouldn’t have to drive the van to Kalamazoo yourself. The streets of Detroit had been more than enough, thank you very much. 

[bettsfic]

I've just reread "Riptide". It's so good and heartbreaking ;-; are you still planning on writing that Kylux sequel or have you changed your mind? :) have a lovely evening!

i am going to be completely honest with you. i have started this fic over and over again. i don’t know what my hangup is. it’s all in my head. like. all of it. but i just can’t write it down.

here’s the most recent iteration:

The reality of the situation is this: Ben has just undergone a massive breakup with a girl named Rey. He cries all the time now. He lazes about watching action movies back to back even though the glare from the window obscures the screen. He writes lovelorn poetry sometimes on a goddamn typewriter whose keys clack loudly enough to rattle the house, and leaves the tattered shreds of it on the floor beside the trash can. A nest of potato chip bags, Oreos, empty beer cans, and tiny hot sauce bottles make a half-circle around his permanent perch on the couch. He smells. He’s annoying. He’s undisciplined. He’s crass and oblivious and pedantic and cruel and ignorant.

And Hux has been in love with him since they were fourteen years old.

Hux finds Ben’s hulking form curled onto a barstool in the kitchen, tiny iPhone in his massive paw, shoveling Honey Nut Cheerios into his mouth. He’s wearing a rumpled t-shirt and boxer shorts and his pores emanate whatever booze he consumed last night, likely enough to kill most of the population but just enough to put him to sleep.

Hux lumbers past, three-fourths still dozing, and says, “You’re not on the couch.”

This apparently does not warrant a reply. Hux fills the kettle with water, puts it on the stove, and flips the burner on. Ben did the dishes, it looks like--the counter is spotless except for the open box of cereal hiding Hux’s view of whatever Ben is doing on his phone.

It’s been a little over a month since Ben took up residence on Hux’s couch. And it’s not as if his presence is entirely unwelcome; Ben does have some redeeming qualities. He puts Hux’s dirty laundry in with his own and then folds it and puts it away. He pays for all the rented movies they watch with his mother’s emergency credit card (“She’s not going to notice three and four dollar charges,” he says, for the twelfth night in a row). He stays up late with Hux after the movie is over and they talk about it and whatever else until he has one too many beers and starts crying about Rey again, and Hux puts his grandmother’s afghan over him and goes to bed. Some nights after dinner, they sit on the porch and watch the fireflies bumble past while the sun sets, not saying anything at all. Ben cooks decently healthy meals compared to Hux’s norm of take-out, makes playlists for Hux on Spotify to introduce him to new music, and asks questions about, or happily listens to, Hux rant about his job. Ben is the only person alive that Hux knows--with every atom in his pitiful body--loves him.

Ben picks up the bowl and slurps the dredges of his milk. Hux leans against the counter waiting for the kettle to boil, arms over his chest, eying him.

“You look different,” Hux says.

Ben finally looks up at him over the cereal box. “How?”

“I don’t know. Something’s different about you.” Hux reaches over and plucks the cereal box out of the way. Ben slips his phone under the table, still doing something on it with one thumb, swiping one direction and occasionally the other.

“What are you doing?” Hux asks.

“Nothing,” Ben mutters.

“You’re never on your phone. You let it die between the couch cushions most days and I have to plug it in for you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Hux lunges forward and tries to grab the phone. A wrestling match ensues where Ben falls off the barstool onto the ground, Hux manages to straddle his stomach, all four hands are on the phone (which does not have a case because Ben is a fucking savage), and there’s maybe a bit of biting extremities involved. Eventually Ben rolls Hux to his back, and they’ve made their way to some dusty corner of the kitchen where Hux can feel cobwebs in his hair, but Ben’s hips are crushed between Hux’s legs (“Stop it, stop it, just give me my fucking--” “Let me see it, I just want to--”), and Hux realizes:

This is a very bad idea.

Ben seems to come to his own realization and freezes. For one glistening moment, a slat of light shines through the kitchen window into a simulacrum of glass, dusty specs dancing between them, and Ben’s hair is falling out of its ponytail around his face, and their eyes are locked, limbs tangled, wide-eyed and raw.

Then Ben’s face clouds over (or reddens?) and he lets go of the phone.

Victory. Hux presses the unlock button (no password, the idiot) and finds--

“Tinder?” Hux asks. “You’re on Tinder now?”

Ben, settled on his haunches, grabs the phone away from Hux again, who lets him have it. “I just. I need--something. I don’t know. I can’t handle this, okay. This--this emptiness.”

Ben. Ben Organa. Benjamin Lucas Organa. Ben, whose mother forces the most up-to-date iPhones into his hands for Christmas every year, who made a Facebook in 2013 at the insistence of his family and never uses it, who refuses to read eBooks because “paper books are important, Hux,” who only buys and listens to vinyl records except when fiddling with Hux’s Spotify account, who pluralizes “Twitters.” This is the man Hux sees before him, probably swiping right on girls who claim to be laid-back, adventurous, love to travel! Just looking for some fun!! Last pic is my dog!!!

Hux is about to say something when the kettle goes from a whistle to a scream. He climbs to standing, pajamas in twisted disarray, something crumbly falling down the back of his neck, and goes to the stove to take the kettle off the burner.

Once the kettle falls silent, Hux says, “You’re not going to find anyone on there.”

He takes a coffee cup down from the cupboard. Halfway to the counter, he notices Ben hasn’t replied. When he closes the cabinet door, he sees Ben scratching the back of his neck.

“You already have a date, don’t you,” Hux says.

Ben nods. The phone is on the table. It lights up but doesn’t make a sound. Ben picks it up and checks the message.

“What are you expecting, Ben? You’re going to bring her back here to Netflix and chill on my couch?”

Ben types a reply and then says, “No, we’re just grabbing a beer.”

“But--but what if she’s a psychopath? What if she’s luring you to her apartment where some dude twice your size is waiting with an axe to murder you and take your wallet? If you get kidnapped, I’m not paying your ransom. I’d have to take out another mortgage on the house. I’d--”

“And you think I’m obsolete? Jesus, Hux, welcome to the future, where people use the most convenient and readily available technology to find sexual gratification.”

Hux’s lips purse as he puts the filter in the pour-over lid and measures out a tablespoon of coffee.

“Just because you haven’t gotten laid in a thousand years doesn’t mean I have to restrict myself to the same fate,” Ben says.

“I’m not interested in one-night stands,” Hux says. He lifts the kettle and pours the steaming water over the grounds. “I’m looking for a connection, a spark. I’m looking for…” someone better for me than you, he thinks. And he’s not sure that’s possible.

The reality of the situation is this: Benjamin Lucas Organa is a heterosexual who has been in a long-term relationship for nearly as long as Hux has known him. In this time, Hux has dated mostly men but also the occasional woman or non-gender-conforming individual. He’s been on more double dates with Ben on Rey than he cares to count, and eventually in the last few years, dwindled into just hanging out with the two of them as what he perceived to be the third wheel at first, but was in actuality something like being in the presence of a relationship so codependent it was as if Ben and Rey were just two halves of one whole person. Hux never consciously took sides between them, but seeing as how Rey ran off to Europe for a while and Ben ended up on his couch, his loyalties now lie with Ben.

He’s been in love with Ben since the beginning--this beautiful ethereal boy with an uncanny sense of whimsy, an innocent obliviousness, endless love for the most mundane of things, it’s the way he sees the world, Hux thinks, years later, like everything is art--since the three of them were freshmen in homeroom together, and Hux has put up a long-suffering struggle against the feeling, the falling, the this is love, this is love, this is love. Only in the last few years has he given up that struggle, after relationship upon failed relationship where Hux expected his partners to live up to his adoration of his best friend yet fell miles short, and it just never seemed worth it to continue pursuing such a lost cause.

So he’s resigned himself, not to getting over Ben, but getting over the idea of romantic partnership. Curbing his want, like eating less overall so you don’t need to consume as much to feel full. He doesn’t need Ben’s heart, he thinks. He should be grateful enough to have him in his life at all, in any form that takes.

“Looking for what?” Ben asks. His thumb is poised over his phone, paused. Hux can see the glaring white smile of a blonde girl wearing a baseball cap and holding a pomeranian. Left? Right? Outside of Rey, Hux realizes he has no idea what Ben likes.

“I wish I knew.”

[springpinwheel-blog]

I’ll hold you to that (Jeonghan x Reader)

Fandom: Seventeen

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: slight angst, fluff, romance, mystery

Disclaimer: mentions of kidnapping and violence

A/N: Hello! >< This was inspired by their single trailers for AL1! I hope you like it! Enjoy! Credits belong to the owners of all gifs and pictures here!

 Short Summary:

 Jeonghan rarely leaves his house.

 He enjoys photography and staying at home where it’s safe and sound.

 There’s a reason why he never leaves his house - it was what started his years of solitude.

 You’re the mysterious new neighbor that moved into the empty house across the street.

You’re in trouble though.

Someone wants to get rid of you and there’s only one escape you can run to.

   Day 1.

 Jeonghan’s mornings usually started off quiet and serene. He would get out of bed, maybe let out a yawn or two, walk over to his window to pull back the curtains and enjoy the scenery for a good minute.

 Beyond the horizon, there were houses scattered along the green hills, some with brick red clay roofs and others with lemon yellow walls. From his view, Jeonghan could see the top of neighboring trees and the greenery that grew all around the area.

 There weren’t many people and cars that go through his neighborhood since it was well hidden from the main roads. Most of the houses around him were vacation houses that belonged to people who had more than one home - their owners would visit from time to time but they didn’t actually live there. Other houses were either vacant or belonged to elderly people who preferred to stay indoors like him. Occasionally, Jeonghan would see some runners or joggers, but that was the only activity in his neighborhood.

 That was what he loved about it - it wasn’t loud and the air was much cleaner than other places.

 He did his usual morning routine and changed into new clothes before going downstairs to pour himself a cup of green tea. As the water was heating up, Jeonghan walked into the living room to update his calendar. He crossed off the first of January and was about to grab his camera to take a quick photo of the landscape scenery from his wide viewing window when he heard a loud crash.

 Jeonghan froze in confusion and walked out to his balcony to see a huge moving truck at the front of his house. Staring at it, he started to wonder why it was there until he saw you rushing out of the house across the street to make sure the box one of the movers dropped was okay.

 You pressed your hand to your chest in relief when it wasn’t one of the fragile ones and just told the mover to be careful. You had a lot of antiques stored in some of those boxes and you didn’t want any of them to break since all of them meant something to you. You ran your fingers through your sweat-drenched hair and used the hair tie around your wrist to tie it up - you didn’t expect it to be so warm that day.

 Another car drove up to the curb and parked behind yours. The realtor lady got out of her car and approached you, give your hand an excited shake. She handed you some papers and you read through them before handing them back to her.

 Jeonghan couldn’t hear what you were saying, but you looked slightly concerned. The realtor shook her head and her smile didn’t budge from her face. He watched as you hesitated and said four words he managed to read from your lips.

 “I’ll look into it.”

 Suddenly, Jeonghan heard his tea kettle whistling loudly.

 His eyes widened when you turned your head to his direction. Both of your eyes made contact and his heart slammed against his chest before racing wildly. He immediately turned around and hurried back into his house, closing the balcony doors behind him. Jeonghan let out a shaky sigh and walked into his kitchen to turn off the stove.

 W-What was that…?

 The entire day, he couldn’t shake you off his mind.

 Who were you?

 Day 2.

 Jeonghan’s mornings weren’t the same after you moved into the house across the street. Apparently you brought a dog with you and in the mornings you let her out to roam around the enclosed front yard. She liked barking at the colorful birds that lived in the tall trees and jumping up at them. He was slightly bothered that it was so noisy in the morning, but for some reason he didn’t mind the change of scenery.

 He leaned against his bedroom window sill and his heart started to act up again when you came out of your house. You were carrying out/pushing and dragging some furnitures that came with it when you bought the property and patting all the dust off from all of them. Every time you sneezed, Jeonghan would stifle a little laugh.

 You’d carry or push the furnitures back in yourself and each time, you had to give your back a good couple hits to ease your strained muscles before stretching. Once you went back inside the house with your dog, Jeonghan immediately snapped out of it and started his daily routine, trying to shake off that weird feeling he had.

 Jeonghan made his cup of tea and went over to one of the windows he’d open for fresh air or to take pictures at. Even though he had a balcony to go and do all of that, Jeonghan didn’t really like being so exposed outside. He couldn’t hide as easily as he could if he were standing at the window.

 He took a sip from his cup and placed it on a tall wooden stool beside him.

 You were taking a break from cleaning and was out in the front yard playing with your dog.

 Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder why you moved into that house. It was empty for about five years now - the last owner he remembered living in that house was an elderly couple who actually enjoyed being outdoors. They would take walks in the neighborhood often and whenever they’d see him taking pictures, the couple would greet him. Jeonghan would smile back and greet them politely. He felt bad whenever they’d ask him to come over to have dinner with them sometimes and he’d refuse - it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was more like he couldn’t.

 Only a few people knew why.

 He was about to take a picture of you smiling brightly while petting your dog when all of a sudden he heard the roar of a motorcycle. Jeonghan saw a stranger in all black speed up to your house. He watched as that person threw something into your front yard and loud noises went off. The small firecrackers burst once they were thrown to the ground near you and you let out a terrified scream.

 Jeonghan’s eyes widened and his grip on the camera loosened as you covered your head while bent down. Your dog was barking loudly and it was trying to sniff out the firecrackers before running to comfort you. The stranger on the motorcycle was long gone by the time you recovered.

 Once again, both of your eyes met. Your eyes widened when you saw Jeonghan at the open window and before you could react, he ducked to hide from you. You blinked in confusion and then looked down at the firecrackers on the ground before sighing in frustration. You picked up your dog and carried her into the house to make sure she wasn't hurt from the incident.

 Jeonghan couldn’t stop his heart from beating so fast in his chest. His mind went blank and the strange feeling was driving him crazy. He slowly stood back up and when he saw that you were gone, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

 Who was the person on the motorcycle?

 And why were they trying to scare you?

 You were more than beyond curious about your neighbor across the street. The realtor told you that he never left his house and all of the things he needed like supplies and food were delivered to his front door. Apparently he suffered from some sort of trauma that prevented him from going outside. You didn’t know get a name from her, but all she said was he liked to keep to himself so everyone left him alone.

 There were many times where you contemplated on going over to say hi at least but you, too, had your own fears of stepping into the street alone - the firecracker incident was an example of one. It was part of the reason why you moved in the first place.

 You were a journalist working on a case that involved some missing girls. It turned out to be a lot bigger and more serious the deeper you dug into it. Soon enough, you got yourself involved and now you were being targeted. You decided to move, thinking that they wouldn’t find you.

 There was nothing you could do.

 You invested almost everything into that house already and you couldn’t go anywhere.

 “Are you okay, Bingsu?” You bent down to pet your three-year old collie. She just licked your cheek comfortingly, making you smile. “It was scary, wasn’t it?”

 Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be the only incident. You knew it was going to get worse after that until the people behind the kidnappings got what they wanted - you knew too much and you were going to reveal much more than that if they didn’t find some way to shut you up. It was a horrible nightmare coming true.

 You made sure Bingsu wasn’t covered in any cuts or anything before going into the kitchen and grabbing a broom and pan. You went back outside and started cleaning up the mess in the front yard.

 Your neighbor wasn’t at the window anymore but it was still open. After putting the firecrackers into the trash, you leaned against the broom, still staring at the open window. Then a sudden idea came into your mind.

   Jeonghan had finished breakfast and washing the dishes when he remembered that he didn’t close the window earlier. He made his way over to it when he noticed something on the ground - it was a paper airplane. Staring at it in confusion, Jeonghan bent down and picked it up. He slowly unfolded it to see a short message written on the paper.

 My name is Y/N. I’m your new neighbor! Don’t be shy!

 His eyes widened.

 He looked out the window to see you standing at the gate with a big smile on your face. You waved and he hesitantly waved back. You pointed at the note in his hand and he turned his gaze to it.

 Ah… She wants me to write back.

 Jeonghan grabbed a pencil and wrote down his short message.

 He folded the paper back into an airplane and then threw it towards you It flew over your head and landed behind you. He started to get nervous as you unfolded the paper.

 You read the message and chuckled to yourself.

 I’m Jeonghan. It’s nice to meet you.

 You looked back up at him and smiled.

 Jeonghan.

 Day 5.

 For the past three days, you and Jeonghan would send paper airplanes back and forth whenever you two wanted to talk to each other. You learned that he really liked taking pictures and drawing. He had been living alone for about ten years ever since his parents passed away.

 You asked why he couldn’t leave the house and he said it was because he had a trauma - you didn’t want to ask what it was though until he was ready to tell you himself.

 Surprisingly though, nothing bad happened after that incident. It was peaceful around the neighborhood and you managed to make a few successful trips to the grocery or supply store nearby.

 That day you decided to make something sweet - it had been a while since you had cake so you baked one, hoping to share it with Jeonghan.

 Getting dressed in one of your cutest outfits, you made sure Bingsu had water and food before leaving the house to go across the street.

 Jeonghan had no idea you were coming over, so when he heard the doorbell ring, his heart stopped for a split second. He started to get nervous as he went down the stairs to answer the door. When he saw you standing in front of him, Jeonghan was speechless.

 You were incredibly beautiful and it took his breath away.

 You smiled shyly and nervously rocked back and forth slightly.

 “I-I made a cake.... I was um...hoping to share some with you.”

 Jeonghan’s cheeks burned hot and he just smiled happily - he was usually hesitant on inviting people over to his house, but… you were an exception.

 “C-Come in.”

 You were surprised to see the first floor so clean and almost bare. There weren’t many furnitures around and it was like a brand new house.

 “I live upstairs…” Jeonghan said softly, leading you up the stairs after locking the front door. You followed him and it was a surprise to see everything changed.

 The second floor was so much different - there were framed pictures on the wall, a couch with throw blankets and pillows, sketches and books all over the coffee table and a wall filled with polaroid pictures.

 “You can have a seat on the couch,” he smiled at you and walked into the kitchen to grab some forks. “-I’ll be there in a bit.”

 “You know, you’re not as shy now that I’m in your house with you.” You chuckled softly, placing the plate of cake on the coffee table. You stacked some of the books on top of each other and gathered up the sketches he drew.

 “Well… I don’t usually get people coming around and talking to me. At least not anymore.”

 “What do you mean?” You looked at him in confusion.

 “There used to be an elderly couple that lived in the house you’re living in now,” Jeonghan walked over with two forks and sat down beside you carefully. “-they liked taking walks and every time they do, they’d say hi to me. But I didn’t see them anymore.”

 You just smiled softly, staring down at a sketch of a mockingbird he drew.

 “That’s because they passed away.”

 “What?” Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he turned to you.

 “My grandparents used to live in that house. They passed away five years ago. That house was actually a vacation house my family invested in together for my grandparents to retire in. But they decided to move back into their old house in the big city and I guess left everything here. No one in my family wanted to move in or sell it. That’s why it’s been empty for so long. I decided that it was time for me to move and I invested in the house.”

 “Why though?”

 “... You remember that guy on the motorcycle that threw the firecrackers into my yard?” You turned to him, hesitant on whether or not to tell him your story. He just nodded, listening carefully. “Well… He’s part of this organization that wants to make me disappear…”

 “What do you mean?” Jeonghan’s eyes widened.

 “I’m a journalist,” you explained to him. “-I was working on the case of the missing girls around here. I got in too deep and… they found out. Now they’re after me. That’s why I moved… to get away, but… I guess I can’t escape anywhere.”

 Jeonghan heard about the news about the missing girls - he had a friend who was an undercover agent and he was looking into the case as well. There was actually someone in his small group of friends that was involved in it as well - but that friend went missing along with the next girl.

 “I have a friend who is an undercover agent,” Jeonghan frowned. “-I can call him to come over if you want.”

 “You don’t have to worry about me, Jeonghan,” you just chuckled softly, taking the plastic wrap off the cake and picking up a fork. “-I don’t want to bother you…”

 He shook his head.

 “Y/N, we’re neighbors. I want to help you if you’re in any trouble.”

 You just smiled at him, cheeks turning slightly pink.

 “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

 Both of you started to eat the cake and at that moment, Jeonghan figured out what it was that he kept feeling whenever he saw you.

 It was love.

 Day 8.

 Jeonghan stirred in his sleep, knowing that it was morning already but refusing to get out of bed. For some reason he just wanted to stay in bed. His eyes slowly opened when he felt movement beside him. The left side of the bed was heavier than usual and there was something touching his leg under the blanket. He yawned and turned to the side to stare at the back that was facing him.

 At first Jeonghan was really confused as to who the person sleeping in the same bad as him was until he remembered that it was just you. The past couple nights you’d been staying late at his house, feeling more comfortable and safe with him than in your own house. You would fall asleep and end up staying the night.

 He was very flustered at first since it was the first time any girl was in his bed, nonetheless his room, but he eventually got used to it. With you beside him, his life wasn’t as black and white as it was before. Jeonghan didn’t realize it, but his life was actually pretty boring before you came along - it was the same routine over and over again.

 “Are you staring at me again?” You groaned softly, slowly opening your eyes and turned around to face him. You smiled when his cheeks turned bright red. “I caught you red handed.”

 “You can’t blame me for being attracted to your beauty.”

 When did he get so bold and flirtatious? He was so shy when you first met him.

 “You were staring at my back, Jeonghan. Stop lying,” you rolled your eyes and slowly sat up. “-if anything, you’re the only one here with stunning beauty. You could literally be a girl.”

 “I liked you better when you were asleep,” Jeonghan pouted and sat up too with a yawn. “-I don’t want to get out of bed today.”

 “Well that’s a first,” you chuckled and swung your legs over the bed. Before you stood up though, Jeonghan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back. “Ah! Jeonghan!”

 “Let’s just stay in bed, hm?” He grinned teasingly.

 “Who are you?! What have you done with the shy and quiet Jeonghan?!”

 “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

 Jeonghan pulled you against his chest and hugged you tightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder and closed his eyes with a smile. All he wanted to do was give you all of his affection - he just loved you that much.

 You had budding feelings for him too - both of you just didn’t tell one another that. You guys didn’t know each other for that long yet; you were afraid it might be too rushed.

 “Jeonghan, I have to go let Bingsu out to use the restroom,” you frowned when he wouldn’t let you go.

 …

 “Jeonghan? Did you fall asleep again?!”

 “I heard you.” He chuckled softly.

 “Then let me go.”

 “I don’t want to.”

 “Jeonnngghhaaannnn, pleaaaseee.” You leaned against him, hoping your aegyo got to him. Jeonghan just pouted and slowly released you. “Thank you!”

 “Should I just make a doggy door for her? She’s a big girl, she can use the restroom by herself,” he frowned.

 “She’s not a child, Jeonghan,” you laughed, sliding into your slippers. “-and you can if you want. But you’ve never gone outside before since I’ve met you.”

 You were right.

 Jeonghan was still afraid to go outside and you knew that, but you didn’t want to force him to do anything.

 “Do you want to know why?” He asked you.

 “Will you tell me?”

 Jeonghan nodded.

 “I’ll go make us some tea and I’ll tell you.”

 You just smiled softly and nodded before leaving the bedroom to go let Bingsu, who was sleeping in the living room, outside.

 When Jeonghan was fifteen, his parents had gone to a wedding, leaving him with his grandmother. They rode the train to the venue, but when they were on their way back, the train crashed. Something happened to the brakes and it lost control. There were no survivors and many families lost their loved ones.

 After the funeral, Jeonghan refused to leave the house for anything. His grandmother tried to help him, but it was no use. She eventually passed away three years after his parents’ death and that was the only time he left the house. When he was at his grandmother’s funeral, it was revealed that she had a will - she left behind all of her savings to Jeonghan, along with the house they were living in. His other relatives thought it was unfair and tried to blame him for the deaths in their family - they tried every legal way to take the money from him but weren’t able to.

 They eventually tried to hire people to hurt Jeonghan or get rid of him, but weren’t able to.

 “Do you remember about how I mentioned my friend who was an undercover agent?” Jeonghan asked you and you nodded. “His name is Seungcheol. He saved me before anything bad happened and I owe him a lot. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have ever trusted anyone ever again.”

 “I guess I have him to thank for being able to be friends with you,” you chuckled softly before hugging Jeonghan. “-I’m sorry those things happened to you. I’m sorry you had to live like this for the past ten years... “

 “Thank you, Y/N, but you don’t have to apologize for anything,” Jeonghan smiled and hugged you back. “-I will try my best to go outside again. I want to go on walks and be able to go to the store too. I think that anything is possible now after I’ve met you.”

 “Of course anything is possible! You just have to believe it,” you pulled away and cupped his face with a wide grin. “-I’ll help you through it all so you don’t have to be alone anymore, okay?”

 Jeonghan placed his hand on top of yours and hummed softly.

 “I’ll hold you to that.”

 Thank you for bringing her to me.... I wish I could’ve thanked you for all those times you two were nice to me. Thank you, Y/N’s grandparents.

 Day 11.

 Jeonghan crossed off the 11th of January off his calendar and leaned against the window sill of the living room, hoping to see you come out of your house. Something tugged on his pants and he looked down to see your dog, Bingsu, holding her food bowl in her mouth. 

 “I just fed you though,” Jeonghan chuckled softly, bending down to pet her head. “-you want more food? You’re just like your Umma. Cute and always hungry.”

 He took the bowl out of her mouth and walked into the kitchen with Bingsu at his heels.

 “Alright, I’ll give you some more, but don’t tell Y/N, okay?”

 Bingsu just sat there patiently with puppy eyes while he filled up the food bowl. Jeonghan ruffled the top of her back and noticed a red cardinal flapping its wings in front of the balcony door. He watched it fly into one of the trees before landing on a nest. Grabbing his camera, Jeonghan walked outside on the balcony and tried to take a picture of the red cardinal - he wanted to develop the picture and make an album of all the photos he’s taken for you.

 But before he could take the picture, Jeonghan noticed something was wrong.

 He looked up from the viewing lense and saw a familiar motorcycle in front of your house. The front gate was open and so was the front door. His eyes widened and panic rose inside of him.

 Suddenly, he heard your screams.

 Jeonghan immediately ran inside and tossed the camera onto the couch before running down the stairs and out the door. Without thinking, he ran across the street and into your house.

 “Y/N!!”

 “Jeonghan!!”

 He saw a strange man holding a knife in front of you. The man turned to face Jeonghan and you took that opportunity to run past him.

 “Hey!”

 You ran towards Jeonghan who grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him.

 “Hand her over,” the man growled.

 “I don’t think so,” Jeonghan glared at him and pulled you out the door. Both of you started running down the street as fast as you can. He didn’t have his phone on him and he had no idea where to run to. But if he was lucky, there was one person he needed to find.

 “Jeonghan, I-I don’t think I can keep r-running…” You were quickly out of breath, slowly down the further you ran. Jeonghan stopped and he quickly bend down. “W-Wha-”

 “Get on my back, Y/N. We need to find Seungcheol. He’ll help us.”

 You nodded and hesitated before getting on his back. Jeonghan didn’t know the first place to find Seungcheol at, but he took a wild guess and ran towards one of the houses on the hills.

 “Where are we going?” you asked him.

 “This house belongs to a friend of ours… His name is Mingyu,” Jeonghan breathed heavily as he tried to push himself to go up the hill. “-he went missing trying to prevent a girl from suffering the same fate as the other girls in your case. Seungcheol has been trying to find him. I’m hoping he’s at the house…” 

 Once you guys arrived at the house, you got off of Jeonghan’s back.

 “Seungcheol!” Jeonghan called out. “Are you here?!”

 “Jeong...han…?” A young man appeared at the opened front door of the house.

 “... Joshua? Where’s Seungcheol?” Jeonghan had no time to be confused as to why Joshua was there. “I need his help.”

 “He’s not here…” Joshua’s eyes saddened.

 “What do you mean?!”

 “Another girl went missing, Jeonghan… It’s Seungcheol’s sister.”

 Jeonghan’s eyes widened and he turned to look at you. You looked up at him with fear in your eyes - then he saw his worst nightmare. 

 He didn’t want to lose you.

 Suddenly, they heard the roar of a motorcycle.

 Jeonghan immediately turned around, shielding you behind him as the man on the motorcycle appeared. He turned off the engine and took off his helmet before getting off the motorcycle.

 “I warned you,” the man growled, eyes darkened. “-I will get her.”

 “Joshua…” Jeonghan murmured, moving you towards Joshua. “Whatever happens. Promise me you’ll take her.”

 “W-What?”

 “I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect the woman I love,” his eyes became serious as he tightened his grip on your hand. Your eyes widened and they welled up tears when Jeonghan looked back at you with a small smile. “-I love you, Y/N.”

 “J-Jeonghan...I-”

 “You’ll be sorry you didn’t listen,” the man pulled out his knife and approached Jeonghan.

 “I think you’ll be the one who’ll be sorry.” Jeonghan stood his ground while Joshua pulled you away into the house.

“Wait! No! Let me go! Jeonghan!”

 Before you could tell him that you loved him too, the front door closed between the two of you.

 I love you too.

 “You don’t even know how to fight, why did you even pretend to be a hero?” Joshua sighed softly, bandaging up Jeonghan’s right arm from the cut he received from the fight.

 “Who said I didn’t know how to fight?” Jeonghan chuckled, arching a brow.

 “I thought you weren’t going to make it, you idiot…” Your eyes were filled with tears as you sat beside him, holding his left hand. “Don’t ever do that again…”

 “I’ll do it a hundred more times if it means I get to be with you forever.”

 “Don’t joke around like that!”

 “So wait, what did you do with him then?” Joshua frowned after finishing up the dressing.

 “I knocked him out and threw him into the pool.”

 “I’m joking. I tied him to his motorcycle,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes before grinning. “-he won’t be going anywhere.”

 “What are we going to do now?” You asked softly, hugging him gently.

 “Seungcheol needs our help,” Jeonghan said before kissing the top of your head. “-we should go find him.”

 “You’re right. My car is out back. I’ll drive,” Joshua nodded and the three of you piled into his car.

 “Jeonghan?” You turned to him while sitting in the back seat. You helped him put his seat belt on and he hummed in response. “I love you too.”

 His eyes widened and then a smile grew on his face. Jeonghan leaned in and gave you a soft, gentle kiss on the lips before pulling away.

 “After this is all over, I promise you there’s more where that’s coming from.”

 “I’ll hold you to that then,” you grinned and leaned your head against his left shoulder.

[fixedxpoint-archive]

✩ //-gently sends this-

( this took me too damn long i’m so sorry )

disagreements:

WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO RAISE THEIR VOICE? Jack gets very agitated quickly no thanks to past problems with relationships. He isn’t always one to start the fights but he escalates them while usually starting the screaming.WHO THREATENS TO LEAVE BUT NEVER ACTUALLY DOES? I don’t think they’d ever threaten that. Jack has had one too many people leave him and Ricky’s been kicked to the curb by his own father so this sort of threat would never happen intentionally.WHO ACTUALLY KEEPS THEIR WORD AND LEAVES? Since neither would threaten leaving lets go on just leaving ( temporarily ). Depending on what it was Jack would only step out of the house to take a breather before going back in. I think Ricky would leave to their bedroom or maybe even the bathroom but neither leave the house past the balcony.WHO TRASHES THE HOUSE? Oh my gods neither??? Jack is Mr. Anger™ but he wouldn’t go so far as trashing the house. What if something Ricky loves gets destroyed? As for Ricky I wouldn’t think he’d trash the house either. The most the boys would possibly do was throw whatever non-dangerous, breakable, or valuable on the ground.DO EITHER OF THEM GET PHYSICAL? I would hope neither boy would. They’ve both had some sort of abuse in their lives they could never inflict on the other so why would either start beating one another just because they’re angry?HOW OFTEN DO THEY ARGUE/DISAGREE? They have tiny spats but never huge fights that result in anything asked of above. I would say at least twice a week for stupid little fights?WHO IS THE FIRST TO APOLOGIZE? Jack hands down. He does usually start the arguments and may blow some out of proportions but he is also the first to apologize. Though I will say Ricky is in the process of saying how sorry he is right as Jack word vomits out his apology.

sex:

WHO IS ON TOP? They switch often enough but Ricky likes being topWHO IS ON THE BOTTOM? ^ same except Jack likes being bottomWHO HAS THE STRANGEST DESIRES? I say Jack since he’s my special boy from the future. But surely Ricky isn’t as innocent as he plays to beANY KINKS? Well yeah but they’re secret!WHO’S DOMINANT IN BED? There’s not much in the sex department but I would say they’re equally dominant when they have their fun.IS HEAD EVER IN THE EQUATION? Sometimes. Depends on Jack’s mood.IF SO, WHO IS BETTER AT PERFORMING IT? Surprisingly Jack is very good at it even though he’s never done it much before.EVER HAD SEX IN PUBLIC? Jack has always wanted to but he doesn’t know how to tell Ricky about it.WHO MOANS THE MOST? Jack is very vocal.WHO LEAVES THE MOST MARKS? I think Ricky would because he’s secretly kinky as hell.WHO SCREAMS THE LOUDEST? They both probably scream so there’s no way to tell who is louder as they equally drown each other out.WHO IS THE MORE EXPERIENCED OF THE TWO? When it comes to the actual deed it’s probably Jack but there are things Ricky knows that he doesn’t.DO THEY ‘FUCK’ OR ‘MAKE LOVE’? They make love because they’re super gay and in loveROUGH OR SOFT? A little bit of both?HOW LONG DO THEY USUALLY LAST? If it’s really getting good possibly between an hour and a half to two with some breathers in between before they both completely collapse from exhaustion.IS PROTECTION USED? Always!DOES IT EVER GET BORING? No but Jack just can’t get behind it 99% of the time.WHERE IS THE STRANGEST PLACE THEY’D HAVE SEX? At Torchwood Hub in a storage room at one of the Christmas parties.

family:

DO YOUR MUSES PLAN ON HAVING CHILDREN/OR HAVE CHILDREN? Originally he never did as he’s had so much heart break with babies he couldn’t bring himself to have kids. Then came Ricky and they’ll later have twin girls and a little boy.IF SO, HOW MANY CHILDREN DO YOUR MUSES WANT/HAVE? Jack wants a bunch of kids with Ricky but they’ll likely only have their three as said in the previous answer.WHO IS THE FAVORITE PARENT? Excuse you they’re both the favorite.WHO IS THE AUTHORITATIVE PARENT? Jack’s more paranoid than authoritative but he does have rules for his babies.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO ALLOW THE CHILDREN TO HAVE A DAY OFF SCHOOL? Depending on what it is I’m sure both of them would.WHO LETS THE CHILDREN INDULGE IN SWEETS AND JUNK FOOD WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND? Jack is way too guilty for that but he also does it when Ricky’s around in secret.WHO TURNS UP TO EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES TO SUPPORT THEIR CHILDREN? Both do no matter what because they love seeing their babies do great things.WHO GOES TO PARENT TEACHER INTERVIEWS? They alternate who goes to the interviews unless they both are needed.WHO CHANGES THE DIAPERS? Jack was so terrified that he’d hurts his girls that Ricky did it for the first two weeks they were at home.WHO GETS UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO FEED THE BABY? Jack is the resident insomniac though he will let Ricky do it once in awhile if he wants or if Jack needs to get some shut eye.WHO SPENDS THE MOST TIME WITH THE CHILDREN? Jack did for the first several months until he had to go back to work. Then Ricky stepped in until Jack strictly did paperwork at home unless there was a serious emergency where they needed him for a mission. Now it’s equal time being spent.WHO PACKS THEIR LUNCH BOXES? Ricky likes getting creative for the kiddos. Jack helps by handing their babies the lunchboxes then taking pictures.WHO GIVES THEIR CHILDREN ‘THE TALK’? Both do it awkwardly until they have Gwen come talk to their girls while they somehow tackle talking to their son.WHO CLEANS UP AFTER THE KIDS? Ricky does much of the time as Jack is a bit sloppy and doesn’t see the mess around very often. He will help Ricky if he needs to.WHO WORRIES THE MOST? They both do but Jack has had a lot of panic attacks over worrying.WHO ARE THE CHILDREN MORE LIKELY TO LEARN THEIR FIRST SWEAR WORD FROM? ........do I even need to answer this?? And is it even worse that it’s in Welsh so Ricky is praising them on learning a new language until he notices Jack’s face being stark white with his mouth wide open in surprise?

affection:

WHO LIKES TO CUDDLE? They both do!WHO IS THE LITTLE SPOON? Jack loves to be the little spoonWHO GETS NAUGHTY IN THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE OF PLACES? Jack likes to graze Ricky’s butt with a hand sometimes. Or tugging on the belt loops of Ricky’s pants with a shit eating grin only to see his boy get flustered as all hell.WHO STRUGGLES TO KEEP THEIR HANDS TO THEMSELVES? Jack is pretty handsy but I think Ricky has him beat. HOW LONG CAN THEY CUDDLE UNTIL ONE BECOMES UNCOMFORTABLE? Not so sure they ever get uncomfortable. It’d be broken if someone’s hungry, needs to use the restroom, or they have to go out to be adults. Otherwise they just lay around the house and cuddle a bunchWHO GIVES THE MOST KISSES? They both do. Though Jack’s notorious for cheek and head kisses while Ricky does quick little pecks or cheek kisses.WHAT IS THEIR FAVOURITE NON-SEXUAL ACTIVITY? All non-sexual things are their favorite activities. Other than taxes, they mutually agree taxes are horrible.WHERE IS THEIR FAVOURITE PLACE TO CUDDLE? Anywhere in their house.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO PLAYFULLY GROPE THE OTHER? Jack but Ricky does it in the privacy of their home or car.HOW OFTEN DO THEY GET TIME TO THEMSELVES? They try getting enough time for themselves as they

sleeping:

WHO SNORES? I don’t think they snore? Unless they’re sick or have allergies cause that what happens with me but you never knowIF BOTH DO, WHO SNORES THE LOUDEST? I think they’d both be relatively quietDO THEY SHARE A BED OR SLEEP SEPARATELY? They share though Jack is almost never sleeping thanks to nightmares and insomnia.IF THEY SLEEP TOGETHER, DO THEY COZY UP TOGETHER OR LAY FAR APART? They usually start off apart but someone always end up curling around the other not even halfway through the night. Jack never leaves the bed unless he’s really restless.WHO TALKS IN THEIR SLEEP? Jack does with nightmares. If Ricky does talk in his sleep it could be too incoherent for Jack to discern what’s being said. But when there are easily heard sentences Jack will totally record him for shits and giggles while trying to keep his boy talking.WHAT DO THEY WEAR TO BED? Jack will cycle between pj bottoms and a shirt, just pj bottoms, boxers, or sweats with a jacket on when he’s feeling cold. Ricky would be the guy to wear sweats and a shirt to bed or only boxers/pj bottoms.ARE EITHER OF YOUR MUSES INSOMNIACS? Jack is a hardcore insomniac. Though he never used to have that problem until he was brought back by Badwolf Rose. He has nightmares so bad he’s made himself an insomniac.CAN SLEEPING PILLS BE FOUND BY THE BEDSIDE? Present medicine doesn’t work for Jack so he doesn’t use it. And Ricky may use it occasionally but it’s melatonin and not actual sleeping pills.DO THEY WRAP THEIR LIMBS AROUND EACH OTHER OR JUST LAY SIDE BY SIDE? It’s a toss up as they will be pressed so close with the arms and legs tangled together or they can be laying far away from each other on opposite ends of the bed.WHO WAKES UP WITH BED HAIR? Jack’s hair is ridiculous. Definitely got silly looking cowlicks all over his head. Ricky just has curls galore which is super adorable paired with a sleepy Australian.WHO WAKES UP FIRST? Jack is always awake so its him. If on the rare occasion he does sleep it’s basically 10 hours so Ricky is awake long before the captain.WHO PREPARES BREAKFAST IN BED FOR THE OTHER? Ricky is the only one that actually knows how to cook breakfast foods. Plus there was one little incident with Jack trying to make breakfast so Ricky is the only one allowed in the kitchen early in the morning.WHAT IS THEIR FAVOURITE SLEEPING POSITION? Jack loves having Ricky nestled into his side when he’s having sleepless nights. Now if Jack sleeps he’s all over the place so don’t be surprised if he’s found sprawled out at the foot of the bed passed out. Ricky would be the one to have at least an arm or leg touching Jack most of the night.WHO HOGS THE SHEETS? Ricky cause he’s a blanket stealer. Jack does have a back up sheet on his side if he can’t get some back from his boyfriend.DO THEY SET AN ALARM EACH NIGHT? Ricky usually has one set when he knows he’s working. Jack doesn’t really need one since he never knows when he has to go in to work but he has his phone on low underneath his pillow so he can still hear it but not bother Ricky.CAN A TELEVISION BE FOUND IN THEIR BEDROOM? I don’t think they use to have one when they first moved in together. Since they were roommates before becoming a thing there was a tv in the living room and one in Ricky’s room. Jack doesn’t like to have one in his room thanks to a freaky nightmare but he doesn’t mind the small one that’s in their shared room now.WHO HAS NIGHTMARES? Jack is always having nightmares but there’s occasions he has a peaceful sleep with no dreams at all. Ricky might have some about his dad or even things about Jack though they are inconsistent.WHO HAS RIDICULOUS DREAMS? Ricky is the resident dreamer in the house and I’m sure he’s had some crazy dreams.WHO SPRAWLS OUT AND TAKES UP MOST OF THE BED? Jack is a bed hog to the extreme.WHO MAKES THE BED? They both do. Sometimes it gets mussed up again thanks to heated kisses or Bear playing with the sheets.WHAT TIME IS BED TIME? Whenever they get tired. They at least get ready for bed by 8 then get in bed by 9 and watch something on tv until Ricky falls asleep.ANY ROUTINES/RITUALS BEFORE BED? Normal nighttime routines? Shower, brush teeth, get changed into sleepwear, then finish up any little chores they need done before getting in bed.WHO’S THE GRUMPIEST WHEN THEY WAKE UP? Jack is always grumpy in the morning no matter what before his morning coffee. Ricky is more grunting grumpy cause he has no idea what’s happening but feels better after telling his boyfriend good morning.

work:

WHO IS THE BUSIEST? Ricky is likely the busiest during the holidays being a bellhop. Though there are certain times that Jack can be busier but it all depends on if he gets called in to go out in the field for Torchwood.WHO RAKES IN THE HIGHEST INCOME? Jack does but he also gets a lot of money from his “grandpa“ thanks to all he did during the wars he’s fought in and from different companies he invested in. Isn’t it great to be your own ancestor?ARE ANY OF YOUR MUSES UNEMPLOYED? Nope. Jack was decommissioned for several months thanks to his gorgeous children. Ricky has kept a steady job ever since they’ve known each other.WHO TAKES THE MOST SICK DAYS? Not sure either really take sick days? They’re the type that go to work sick and try. staying as long as they can.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO TURN UP LATE TO WORK? Jack...........he’s notorious for just laying in bed trying to kiss his way into being lateWHO SUCKS UP TO THEIR BOSS? Jack is his own boss so no. Ricky doesn’t really suck up but make sure they notice how well of a job he does.WHAT ARE THEIR JOBS? Ricky is a bellhop at a hotel and Jack is basically an alien police as well as alien detective though he does sometimes the regular authorities with things that seem unsolvable to them.WHO STRESSES THE MOST? Jack has had more than one anxiety attack thanks to his work. Ricky would since he deals with customer service but I’m not sure.DO YOUR MUSES ENJOY OR DESPISE THEIR CAREERS/OCCUPATIONS? It’s a toss up for Jack. He hates how long he can be away sometimes but loves how he’s making a difference in the world. Ricky must love it enough to be in the same place for however long he’s been there.ARE YOUR MUSES FINANCIALLY STABLE? Let’s just say there’s enough money between the two of the that they can be able to buy their own house, cars, and even a whole new wardrobe with lots of money to spare.

home:

WHO DOES THE WASHING? They both do. Jack does wash his work clothes because the foreign stuff on them could possibly be harmful to Ricky.WHO TAKES OUT THE TRASH? Jack isn’t allowed. He’s the reason why Ricky created a list of things Jack is never allowed to do ever.WHO DOES THE IRONING? Not really sure either even have an iron to iron their clothes. Though Jack does have things he brings into a shop because they’re too delicate and he doesn’t want to ruin them.WHO DOES THE COOKING? 99.9% of the time it’s Ricky. That rare 0.1% Jack makes food.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN JUST TRYING? Must I remind you of “The Breakfast Mishap“?WHO IS MESSIER? Jack’s the sort of messy where he doesn’t acknowledge the mess before it gets slightly out of hand. ( bachelor life has ruined him )WHO LEAVES THE TOILET ROLL EMPTY? Jack’s lazy as shitWHO LEAVES THEIR DIRTY CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR? They both throw a shirt on the ground when they’re changing but they have to pick it up immediately so Bear doesn’t destroy their clothes.WHO FORGETS TO FLUSH THE TOILET? Damn that’s gross. I hope both never forget to do that.WHO IS THE PRANKSTER AROUND THE HOUSE? Jack likes to place harmless little traps but nothing enough to really scare Ricky. There is some playful tricks between them both but Jack’s the initiator.WHO LOSES THE CAR KEYS WHEN IT COMES TIME TO GO SOMEWHERE? It’s more or less where it keeps getting put. One person has them on the hook then the other moves them to the kitchen counter. Then it can go from there to the living room and a million other places before the keys get found.WHO MOWS THE LAWN? They bought a ride on that is a favorite of the boys so they’re both jumping at the opportunity to mow the lawn.WHO ANSWERS THE TELEPHONE? Ricky gets around to it more as Jack ignores the annoying ringing.WHO DOES THE VACUUMING? They switch off thanks to the chores list they made.WHO DOES THE GROCERIES? It’s safer to have them both together so neither one overindulges in the bad things.WHO TAKES THE LONGEST TO SHOWER? Shared long showers are the best. On a normal basis Ricky would do it to wake up in the morning.WHO SPENDS THE MOST TIME IN THE BATHROOM? Jack puts too much time in his hair.

miscellaneous:

IS MONEY A PROBLEM? No.HOW MANY CARS DO THEY OWN? One actual car then Jack brings around the company SUV often.DO THEY OWN THEIR HOME OR DO THEY RENT? They haven’t found the right one just yet so it’s a rental.DO THEY LIVE NEAR THE COAST OR DEEP IN THE COUNTRYSIDE? More coastal because of their jobs.DO THEY LIVE IN THE CITY OR IN THE COUNTRY? City.DO THEY ENJOY THEIR SURROUNDINGS? Minus the loud cars and the annoying neighbors it’s a cute placeWHAT’S THEIR SONG? Love you now - John LegendWHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE AWAY FROM EACH OTHER? Jack get sad and texts Ricky a lot or calls. Ricky would enjoy the texts too but he’d be the one to be melancholy and count down the minutes to get home.WHERE DID THEY FIRST MEET? The pool.HOW DID THEY FIRST MEET? Jack was sunbathing and reading a book when he noticed Ricky didn’t have a towel. Jack let him use the extra one on the chair WHO SPENDS THE MOST MONEY WHEN OUT SHOPPING? They try to be tight with what they buy but when Jack sees toys or candy he’s out. With Ricky it would be things for their kitchen and chocolate.WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO FLASH THEIR ASSETS? Jack when he’s drank way too much or even if he’s being cheeky.WHO FINDS IT AMUSING WHEN THE OTHER TRIPS OVER? They both chuckle a bit unless one of them actually falls.ANY MENTAL ISSUES? Jack’s got a list. PTSD, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and insomnia. Ricky I think has depression but I’m not sure about anything else?WHO’S TERRIFIED OF BUGS? Jack hates them but he’snot afraid of them. Unless it’s a spider the size of his hand he’ll run away screaming.WHO KILLS THE SPIDERS AROUND THE HOUSE? They try not to kill the little ones because they kill the other annoying bugs but the huge ones are definitely gonna die.THEIR FAVOURITE PLACE? Jack likes their backyard. Ricky likes the kitchen.WHO PAYS THE BILLS? They’ve split them up so Jack pays some of them while Ricky pays the others.DO THEY HAVE ANY FEARS FOR THEIR FUTURE? Ricky’s could be how he’s afraid that Jack will up and leave him one day or how the captain’ll just forget about him long after he’s dead. Jack’s definitely will be how awful it’ll be when Ricky dies and he’ll be still living forever.WHO’S MORE LIKELY TO SURPRISE THE OTHER WITH A FANCY DINNER? Ricky definitely would!WHO USES UP ALL OF THE HOT WATER? Since they usually share showers they both waste it. When Jack’s back from a mission in the early morning hours he uses it up to get the grime off of him WHO’S THE TALLEST? Ricky is by an inchWHO’S MORE LIKELY TO JUST RANDOMLY HOP INTO THE SHOWER WITH THE OTHER? They both do. If they could share baths together it’d be the same thing.WHO WANDERS AROUND IN THEIR UNDERWEAR? Ricky does it more often. With Jack’s scars he tends to keep a shirt and pants on at all timesWHO SINGS THE LOUDEST WHEN SINGING ALONG TO THE RADIO? Ricky actually sings while Jack just screams the lyricsWHAT DO THEY TEASE EACH OTHER ABOUT? Ricky could possibly tease Jack about the small height difference. Jack would tease Ricky about how embarrassed he gets around him.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO CRINGE AT THE OTHER’S FASHION SENSE AT TIMES? Neither have bad fashion so this wouldn’t happen. Though Jack will cringe at other people’s fashion faux pas.DO THEY HAVE MUTUAL FRIENDS? Besides the people from Torchwood no actuallyWHO CRUSHED FIRST? Jack did in a friend way super hard.ANY ALCOHOL OR SUBSTANCE RELATED PROBLEMS? Jack used to be the worst alcoholic before meeting Ricky. After they started living together he cut back some then completely when they got together. Not so sure about Ricky though.WHO IS MORE LIKELY TO STUMBLE HOME, DRUNK, AT 3AM? That’ll only happen when both of the know that they have no work to do the next day and they’ll both go out to drink.WHO SWEARS THE MOST? Jack is the most colorful curser. Being bilingual he can swear in Welsh and English.

THE ULTIMATE RELATIONSHIP TAG | @theregoesthebellhop

[carolinesgrandadventure]

Everything is going great! | culture shocked

That is a big, fat lie.

This post is long overdue. In which I talk about what’s been happening these past two weeks in Vietnam and try not to lose my mind retyping x3 a post that I accidentally deleted x3 because I’m working on my phone and the Tumblr app is very glitchy. 

A guide because this post is so long: Basics covers my homestay famiy and daily schedule. The City covers my thoughts on Hanoi. Challenges describes my misfortunes of travel and lessons learned.

Disclaimer: This post might seem a little over-dramatic. Let’s begin.

Basics

I share a homestay with one roommate, Frankie. My host family is friendly, comprising of a professor father, accountant mother, a 13-year-old host sister (our main translator), and a 10-year-old host brother. We live in a 5-story tube house in an back alleyway of a network of alleyways. It is so tucked away that even my local Uber drivers get lost trying to find it!

Frankie and I share a room with two hard mattresses on the floor, two mosquito nets, two fans, one shower toilet bathroom, and no AC. Despite Hanoi’s heat and humidity, it hasn’t been too much of a problem to sleep without AC. However, those mattresses are incredibly uncomfortable despite supposedly being good for the back.

Taking a shower has become my favorite time of day. What I mean by a “shower toilet bathroom” is a bathroom the size of a small walk-in closet containing a sink, shower head, toilet, and drain with no dividers. One must take care not to get the sink or toilet wet while showering. This type of bathroom is incredibly space efficient, but one must be okay with a wet bathroom floor for the next several hours after showering. There’s also no hot water, but it’s refreshing to take a cold shower after a long, humid, and sticky day.

Everyday I wake up anywhere between 6:30-7:00 a.m. usually because of loud jack hammering from the active construction site next door. Whether I’m rudely awakened by construction, cats meowing, babies crying, or motorbikes, I always am delighted to enjoy a breakfast prepared by my host mother. At around 7:50, Frankie and I leave the house and walk to the bus stop where we take a short 10 minute ride to our classroom at Hanoi Medical University. We then attend class more or less 8:30 a.m.-4:00 p.m., our exact schedule varying day to day. Our local instructor and country coordinator are both members of Vietnam’s Institute of Population, Health, and Development. They have been very informative, teaching us about Vietnam’s health challenges and system. Some interesting topics we have covered include the prominence of traditional medicine, the health differences between rural and urban Vietnamese populations, and the inaccuracy of government reporting. One of the main takeaways for me from these past two weeks is the issue of development on health outcomes in Vietnam. Many rural populations have poorer health outcomes than urban populations because they lack equal access to healthcare due to the limited number of clinics and resources (among other things). After classes end, I’ve done everything from shopping to getting a massage to going back home to study (read: nap). I return home by 7:00 p.m. to have dinner with my host family, which is always fun to see what we get to eat. After dinner, my host family, Frankie, and I chat for a while. Sometimes the neighbors come over to chat, too. The neighborhood kids enjoy running in and out of the house to say hello and stare at Frankie and I. The parents like coming to practice their English and bring their kids to force them to practice their English with us, too. In school, grammar and written skills are prioritized, and, as a result, many Vietnamese’s English speaking skills are not as developed. I admire their desire to practice speaking English with native speakers because I’m scared to do so with Chinese speakers… It’s quite a lot of work to communicate with people who do not speak the same language because even though you don’t understand, you make an effort to understand by processing the many context clues available. When Frankie and I get upstairs to our room, it’s often 9:00 p.m. or later and I am exhausted. I’ll take a shower and then try and do some work before falling asleep. I haven’t really been successful in doing homework after dinner… (hehe yikes) Last weekend our host family took Frankie and I out to the night market in downtown Hanoi to eat ice cream and walk around. Personally, I expected more of the night market, but it was still nice to walk the streets around the lake without motorbikes and cars whizzing by. We also paid a visit to the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum.

Ice cream at Kem Trang Tien in Old Quarter. I got a yummy “rice flake” flavor.

Frankie and I also made spaghetti for our host family, the one American dish they occasionally cook at home. My host sister sprung this upon us saying, “Ok, you can make us spaghetti tomorrow night, right?” And Frankie and I were just like, “Oh, okay.” I don’t think we had a choice; it turns out our host mom had already bought the spaghetti noodles before our host sister asked us to cook! We went to the grocery store, found some canned pasta sauce, and made damn good spaghetti, if I do say so myself. Thankfully, our host family loved our cooking. I thought it was pretty hilarious to be eating spaghetti in Vietnam in rice bowls with chopsticks for dinner. My host sister keeps mentioning how she wants to try eggs Benedict… 

Let two American girls cook you the best spaghetti of your life! :)

Lastly, a shoutout to Shom, my Duke friend also on an SIT IHP program, who I was able to get lunch with in Hanoi. I’m so glad we could follow up on our 5 month plans to meet up. It was really nice to see a familiar face. :’) 

This weekend we are in the midst of typhoon Daksuri so our planned weekend activities are more low key. Possibly a movie, possibly a trip to Hanoi’s silk village, and with any luck, a day trip to see some scenery outside the city.

The City

Hanoi is the capital of motorbikes. It is humid, hot, noisy, dirty, and in my opinion, not particularly charming. There is the constant grumble of motorbikes. The air always smells of gasoline. Hanoi's got a lot of rough edges such as its ceaseless traffic, lack of public trash management, and pollution. The small river in my neighborhood is navy and its odor of rotten eggs and feces can be smelled 10 feet away.

I think Hanoi is best described as organized chaos. For the most part I cannot discern the order that the Hanoiians maintain except when I cross the street. Crossing the street is quite the adrenaline rush. 

Start by stepping out from the curb. You can't choose a good moment to start crossing, you just have to do it. Turn to look in the face of oncoming traffic. Stare down the motorbikes that barrel towards you and shake an outstretched hand at them. Walk slowly. The honks are only to communicate that they see you. Get to the middle of the road. Look the other way and do the same thing: stare and shake. And when you finally get to the other side, don't forget to breathe. In those moments of crossing the street, anyone simultaneously becomes part of the order and chaos that is Hanoi. 

Downtown Hanoi, also known as Old Quarter, is cleaner and is home to many of the best restaurants. Old Quarter surrounds Hoan Kiem Lake. Some parts of Old Quarter remind me of Shanghai's French Concession, with tree covered streets. But this is unsurprising given that both cities have strong French influences. Again, I can't romanticize about Hanoi too much though... One afternoon while enjoying a view of the lake, I noticed an old man peeing on a tree right next to me, out in the open.

Hanoi is also a city of alleyways. There are so many alleys to get lost in but there are no dead alleys; something is always happening whether that be a waiting trinkets seller or another pho stand. I have also never been to a city with such a dense concentration of food stands. Every family in Hanoi must own a food stand, there are so many of them!* 

Challenges 

In the past two and a half years that I've been in college, I have never experienced a serious case of homesickness... until now. This was unfortunately spurred by a stressful situation of multiple technology failures. This past weekend my perfectly working laptop spontaneously broke. Like broke broke. Like serious, needs-a-motherboard-replacement broke. At first I thought I couldn't turn my laptop on because of an ant infestation. It just so happens that when my laptop broke, I also had a mild ant infestation. Sugar ants were crawling out of my keyboard and I was panicking, recalling a similar story of a broken laptop and a bunch of ants. Then I went to a computer store that night with my host family and it started working again. And then I put it away for the night. And then it really wouldn't turn on anymore. 

I took my laptop into Hanoi's top rated computer repair store on Monday. Against my better judgement, I left my laptop at this small, unprofessional looking shop for them to look at further. It was a great test of believing in the good will of people for me. 48 hours later I was devastated to learn that my computer was seriously broken and would need a $330 fix.

This ordeal was rather stressful for me because every graded aspect of my study abroad program relies upon a computer and I was without one. I actually finished an assignment on my phone using Google Docs. It also didn't help that the day after my laptop broke, my phone started acting up, possibly because of the humidity. I had to stick it in rice; thankfully my phone still works except I now have a dead area on my touch screen. I'm guessing part of my phone's digitizer broke. Don't ask me why my important tech decided to all break without warning in the span of 3 days because it is beyond me. 

I decided not to get my laptop repaired here in Hanoi. I'm in this awkward transition time right now relying upon other people's laptops. I probably can't get a replacement laptop/tablet until I get to South Africa because complicated customs processes. I guess we'll just have to see how things work out, but for now I'm making do and trying not to think about my broken laptop.

Going through this episode of intense stress really highlighted to myself my discomfort in Hanoi: it's dirty, loud, I don't fit in, and I can hardly communicate. I really, really wished to be at home this past week for the convenience and familiarity of going to an Apple Store, receiving comfort from my family (and dog), and sleeping in a soft bed.

I'm mostly over that now. I’ve realized that it is what it is and I am handling the situation to the best of my ability. In the end, I can't really change much; I can only be resourceful and rely upon the generosity of my host family and classmates. C'est la vie. I'm grateful I still have the support system that I have available. I knew to expect some challenges and discomfort but I did not realize it’d be like this!

St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a late 19th-century Gothic cathedral in Old Quarter.

This next week my group travels to Lac village in rural north Vietnam. Next weekend we're taking an excursion to Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO world heritage site. I'm excited to get out of the city and explore other parts of Vietnam! 

Bus count: 11 

*By the way, of course I will write about the food in Vietnam within the next two weeks.