#so maybe they think I’m sketchy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 11 months

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DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader. content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI). w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change? warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut ( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net. )

note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass. ( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )

smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).

—————

He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday.

As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.

The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.

His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house.

The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure.

Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.

He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back.

—————

You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.

Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.

Variety.

Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch.

He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.

This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.

They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.

“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over.

Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.”

He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.

“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit.

That’s when he sees you again.

He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.

By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.

“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”

—————

Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.

Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.

It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.

To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.

He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.

“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice.

“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.

A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.

You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.

He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.

It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.

He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.

Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat.

He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.

To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.

It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open.

“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?

“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly.

Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.

“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).

It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.

“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…

“Hm?” he questions.

You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning.

“Oh. Right.”

He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.

He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”

You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.

“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.

“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”

You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.

“I guessed you could,” you say.

Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.

“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”

He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life.

“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.

“Mm. You can tell.”

Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.

He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.

Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”

What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.

“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”

“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.

You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do.

With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”

Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.

He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.

“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”

“How long is too long?” you ask.

“All my life,” he tells you.

“No way?”

“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”

“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”

“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.

Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.

“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.

But you don’t.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.

“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day.

But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?”

He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.

“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”

You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.

“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly.

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself.

“See you around, y/n.”

You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone.

—————

He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks.

For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays.

It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?

Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something.

Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts.

The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served.

Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.

Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to.

You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.

“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today.

He can hazard a guess at your predicament.

After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress.

But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.

“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.

“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.

“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle.

He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”

“How… have you been?” you ask.

“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question?

“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”

Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”

The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you.

“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.

“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.

“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.

“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”

A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —”

His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”

The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”

Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.

Except the obvious.

“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.

Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.

“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them.

“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring.

“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.

Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”

“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”

You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen.

Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm.

His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.

“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”

“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.

Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.

“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”

“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”

“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table.

More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.

“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”

You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun.

“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him.

“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”

You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though.

“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?”

He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one?

“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”

—————

Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.

Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers.

He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten.

All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon.

Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.

It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since.

He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other.

jihoon: fine. you’re right.

seokmin: ?

soonyoung: probs true, does need context

jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right.

soonyoung: OH

seokmin: Hahahahahaha

seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude

soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao

jihoon: they what?

jihoon: how do they know?

jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!

soonyoung: because we told them?????

seokmin: So, we might have told everyone

jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.

seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it

seokmin: When do we get to meet her?

jihoon: blocked.

Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks.

At least he’s admitted it now.

He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters.

So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

—————

Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.

As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty.

All this before he even gets to work.

He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.

It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.

Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else.

Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway.

A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.

So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.

It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.

He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus.

“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this.

“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”

“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.

Slim, he decides. But not zero.

There’s hope.

“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin.

He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”

“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”

“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”

“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.

“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”

“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.

He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach.

“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”

He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.

Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time.

And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?

You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel.

“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”

“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.”

Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs.

“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”

“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest.

“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.

“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.

You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.

For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.

How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?

“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”

——————

That Friday, you finally text him again.

His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.

y/n: hey :)

y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?

He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.

jh: well…

jh: what are you trying to put together?

y/n: a bed :(

y/n: today’s your rest day, right?

y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)

Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no.

jh: apparently yes, you can.

jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.

He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.

The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away.

“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.

“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”

He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.

You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside.

You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in.

“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.”

“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”

“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.

“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.

“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”

——-

Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.

“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”

“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that.

“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”

A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.

Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.

One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.

The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.

He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him.

Any. Fucking. Minute.

“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”

“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”

In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you.

“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”

He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…

He leans forward and kisses you, instead.

He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”

You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold.

Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.

“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.

“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.

You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.

Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too.

And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.

“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point.

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”

“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”

“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”

“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”

You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…

“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”

Oh, so you can read his mind now, too?

You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.

“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”

You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”

“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”

“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.

“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor.

He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.

“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.”

You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.

“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.

At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely.

“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard.

“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”

He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”

“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”

“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”

“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”

“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”

His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.

“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.

“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length.

“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.

He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.

“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.”

A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.

Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing.

“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.”

Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”

“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”

“Mm, says you.”

It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.

The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.

You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.

“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”

So, you do.

Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.

“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”

You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.

It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth.

—

You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms.

You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.

“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”

“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers.

“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”

“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.

“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks.

“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”

“Of course I want to.”

So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

——————

He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again.

All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.

“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.

Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.

“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.

“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.

Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.

He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly.

“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”

“Not important enough,” he sighs.

“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.

Seungcheol.

The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.

“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers.

“Take all the time you need.”

He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows.

“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.

“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.

“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”

The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.

“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”

“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”

“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”

“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”

#woozi smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #lee jihoon smut #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #??? how do i tag anything lmao #running away now it's nearly 2am lmao BYE #j writes.#*

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shankschewtoy · 6 months

Note

Can I request Zoro, Luffy and Sanji reacting to their partner having an allergic reaction, like it’s so bad they can’t breathe. Perhaps it’s a new dish sanji had made and their partner didn’t know they were allergic to something in the dish until now. :D

a/n - this is supposed to be serious but if you know me I can’t be serious with one piece characters most of the time 😭 sorry anon but there’s crack in zoro’s and luffy’s💀🫶

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, reader has allergies, crack (zoro and Luffy’s part)

- lunch is Luffy’s favorite time of the day, nothing can stop him from eating lunch (it’s important to have 5 meals a day obviously 💀)

- there’s breakfast, breakfast 2, lunch, after-lunch meal, dinner, and then dessert (there’s like two deserts but he doesn’t think it counts as a meal)

- today, Sanji decided to use a sea king Luffy absolutely destroyed (it tried to steal his breakfast, rip sea king)

- it looked a bit sketchy, but Sanji can cook anything and make it taste good-

- but even as he was cooking it, the smell of it that filled the sunny made you a bit woozy, causing you to become quite fatigued

- luffy was too focused on how excited he was to eat it, so he didn’t notice your symptoms. He was literally drooling all over the poor sunny. it was gross asf

- bro couldn’t wait so he ate the ladle Sanji was smacking him with 💀💀💀💀💀

- “LUFFY SPIT OUT THE LADLE I NEED IT.” -Sanji

- “I GOT A SPLINTER IN MY THROAT AGSJBSISBDJFNC-“ -luffy (he’s choking on the wood)

- “LUFFY NOOO-” -chopper

- when the time finally came to eat, you were only starting to feel worse, that stench of the meat was making you even more nauseated than before

- you had started to cough more frequently, having a constant itch in your throat that just wouldn’t go away

- “Are you alright y/n?” -robin (shes so caring 😭🫶)

- “I’m ok robin- thank you.”

- you tried playing it off as nothing, but it was getting hard to breathe, your vision becoming blurry as you sat down next to Luffy at the table

- you tried to take a bite, barely being able to swallow it, struggling to get the food down

- “Y/n.. Do you not like it?” -Sanji

- you stared down at your hands, and you noticed that little red dots had started to form on your knuckles, spreading down your wrists

- you couldn’t breathe.

- “Y/n…? Helloooo?” -luffy

- he tried waving his hand in front of your face, but you ended up passing out onto the table face first

- “OH MY GOD Y/N DIED.” -luffy bro you suck 💀💀💀

- chopper immediately rushed over, having to literally shove Luffy away from you so he could inspect you

- cue Luffy running around in circles freaking out about how you died in front of him (like ace)

- “IM SUCH A BAD BOYFRIEND I LET Y/N DIE IN FRONT OF ME-“

- it turned out you were allergic to this specific type of sea king, and chopper managed to give you some medicine to help you feel better

- Sanji kept apologizing, making sure that he would never cook this again in the future

- “ARE YOU OK Y/N?! HOW MANY FINGERS AM I HOLDING UP?” -luffy (he’s holding four fingers up but this dumbass can’t count)

- “Four.” -you

- “CHOPPER Y/N’S DYING SHE THINKS IM HOLDING UP 4 FINGERS AGSOWBDOSNDJNFOXNC-“

- omfg Luffy pls 😭

- you love this guy but he’s dumb af

- Sanji absolutely adores cooking for you, he’d do it every minute if you wanted 🫶

- he practically knows every single dish you like by heart, and can recite all your favorite fruits and vegetables

- he always loves making new recipes for you to try, you’re his most trusted taste tester! (It’s not luffy- bro would eat the food and the plate too so he’s disqualified)

- today, he wanted to try a new take on some foreign food items he got from the market

- he hadn’t ever seen these before, but he had a knack for knowing which things would be delicious and rich in nutrients

- ever since the smell of the food traveled onto the sunny, you noticed that it was harder to take deep, full breaths.. but maybe it was just because the air was thin

- it didn’t go away. It only continued to worsen as Sanji kept cooking

- soon you started to cough, and have shortness of breath

- Sanji quickly stopped smoking, thinking that perhaps it was because of him. And he took you outside for a moment for you to get some fresh air

- your symptoms just wouldn’t go away! Irritatingly lingering around like some insect

- the time came to test out the new food, and your cough had worsened, your heartbeat racing from your lungs struggling to breathe

- it tasted good.. But the moment it traveled down your throat, you could feel it closing, as if your airways were completely blocked

- Sanji noticed it right away, and ran off in a panic to get chopper, supporting you from behind as chopper inspected your throat

- Sanji didn’t know what to do.. He wasn’t a doctor. But he knew he had to do whatever he could to make you feel better. He hated seeing you in pain!

- his hands carefully held you up as he allowed you to rest against his chest. Chopper confirmed that it was a severe allergic reaction to the food… And Sanji couldn’t believe that he was the one that caused this

- he immediately made Luffy scarf the food down to get it away from you, and made a mental note to get mad at the merchant that sold him the meat later (anything for y/n 🫶🫶)

- he did whatever he could to make you feel better.. Water? He’s already got it. Take you to bed? Of course! A nice blanket? You don’t even have to ask

- he felt so guilty! He never meant to make you have an allergic reaction like that.. He kept apologizing- over and over

- “Y/n- I’m so sorry.. I didn’t know you were allergic to that. I swear I’ll never cook it again, do you need anything? Water? I’ll get it for you! I’m sorry- you don’t have to forgive me- it’s completely my fault.”

- poor guy was ranting about how he doesn’t deserve you anymore 😭

- you had to reassure the man that it was alright, and that you turned out to be alright in the end!

- “No but seriously please don’t cook that again I think I almost died.” -you

- “IM SORRY Y/N IM SO SORRY-“ -Sanji

- bro is literally on his knees begging for forgiveness 💀

- zoro’s solution to anything health related would either be to sleep, drink, or take a shit

- stomach hurts? Take a shit

- feeling stressed? Take a shit

- need a break? Take a shit (copyrighted by zoro)

- he’s a tough guy, and he’s not very smart sometimes 💀

- but you love the marimo nonetheless 🫶

- he had just finished his 29th fight with Sanji today, and it was right on time for lunch

- you were amazed by how Sanji could argue and still try to kick zoro’s head off at the same time

- today, you felt oddly stiff and uncomfortable, were you getting sick?

- you didn’t start feeling under the weather until Sanji started cooking lunch… But you didn’t pay attention to that, you tried to press on and bare through it with a grin

- it got harder and harder, and your head started hurting next.

- “Your head hurts? Did you shit today?” -zoro

- “What the fuck does my shit have to do with my head zoro?”

- he’s dumb just leave him be

- of course he’s concerned for you, he just doesn’t know how to help you 👍

- he continued eating his lunch, and you managed to take a bite of yours after a couple minutes of mustering up the strength

- you couldn’t breathe

- you started panicking, grabbing zoro’s arm to tell him something’s wrong. This wasn’t just a cold- this was something BAD

- “Y/n? What the hell? You look horrible rn-“ -zoro (did he just insult you 😭)

- he finally realized that something was really wrong- and he started freaking out-

- he started slapping your back to try and get you to spit out the food- he thought you were maybe choking

- “Y/N? ARE YOU CHOKING? STOP CHOKING.” -zoro (wow zoro you’re so helpful 💀💀💀)

- you thought he’d be helpful? Yeah nah 😭

- bro was literally abusing your poor back, you swore he broke some kind of muscle back there

- chopper ran over, quickly inspecting you before deducing that it was an allergic reaction to the food

- “What the hell’s an allergy??” -zoro

- “It’s when people’s bodies don’t like a certain object or thing- it makes them cough or sneeze and maybe even does what it did to y/n.” -chopper

- Mosshead is so confused right now (he’s never been sick 💀)

- You started feeling better after chopper gave you some medicine to clear your system of the food.. And thank god- you felt so much better than before

- “Y/n you could’ve just shit out the food.” -zoro

- “I CANT SHIT ON COMMAND YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER-“

a/n - Luffy can’t count 💪

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Kit to Ty

Ty,

I need someone to talk to and I don’t want it to be Julian or Emma. Or Jem or Tessa. So it’ll have to be you. Which means I can’t ever send this and you can’t ever read it. I’ll burn it in the garden when I’m done writing it so I’m not tempted to send it.

The gardens here are really excellent, by the way. I guess you know that since you’ve been here. There’s an old Georgian greenhouse, and a little pond with lilies and frogs and benches to watch them, and a walled garden, and it’s just very nice to walk around here with Mina. I never had a sister or brother before, you know that, but being with Mina makes me realize more about how you felt about Livvy. Still feel about Livvy I guess. I’m not saying I forgive you. Just maybe I understand more.

Blackthorn Hall is still being restored, of course, and there are faeries everywhere doing the restorations. They’re brownies, apparently, and even though they aren’t doing anything that interesting—weeding and carrying wheelbarrows of dirt and whatever—I can’t stop watching them. I have hardly seen any faeries at all since—well, since we were in that battle with them. I guess I didn’t realize how strictly I was being kept apart from them. Until now.

I should really stay away from them, because every time I get close enough for them to talk to me, they do something to freak me out. The head builder, this guy Round Tom— he’s not even that round, honestly — anyway the first time Round Tom saw me he did a little thing where he jumped in a circle and made some odd gestures in the air, and then bowed in my direction. I just turned around on my heel and walked off in the other direction like I had just remembered I forgot something.

And then General Winter, like Kieran’s General Winter, was there helping out—Julian says he’s there to keep all the workers in line since they are scared of General Winter but not Round Tom—and he knew I was the First Heir. Like the Riders did.

The Riders whose horses I made disappear. Or something. I don’t know if they ever came back. No one seems to know.

I tried to pretend I didn’t hear General Winter either but we were just out in the open and it would have been way too obvious. So when he addressed me as First Heir all I could think of to say was, “That’s me. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

“If you’ve been told,” he said, “then it is true, since we do not lie.”

I wanted to say buddy, I worked at the Los Angeles Shadow Market for years. Faeries do all kinds of sketchy stuff. Instead I just said, “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do about it.”

General Winter watched me with this thoughtful look on his face, and said, “You need do nothing about it, yet. Indeed, at this moment that might be the wisest course of action. For things are strange in Faerie.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“There are disturbances,” he said slowly. “Rumors swirl about the Seelie Court. And Mother Hawthorn walks again.”

BEfore I could ask him what any of that meant, Round Tom came rushing over. “Cousins.” (I had forgotten faeries sometimes addressed each other like that, and it gave me a little shiver, like he was saying, you are one of us.) “I have found something. Please come with me.”

He led us around to one of the big plane trees. A little ways away from the trunk was a huge hole, and then on the other side of the tree were two sawhorses across which balanced a coffin.

At least I think it was a coffin. It was really busted up, half-rotted, cracked everywhere, caked in dirt. It was obviously the thing that had come out of the hole.

“A tomb?” said General Winter as we got closer, but Round Tom was shaking his head.

“We would not have disturbed a tomb,” said Round Tom. “But none lie buried here. Only magic, of a dark and powerful kind.” He stepped back. “Look inside.”

I came closer. There was indeed a bunch of random stuff inside the coffin. It looked like—well, you know how old Egyptian pharaohs were buried with all their belongings? It was like that, I assume for a Shadowhunter, except the belongings were a weird assortment. It was dirty and falling apart and mostly just junk—papers and little jars and bits of fabric and the hilt of a sword with no blade, that kind of thing.

“How old is it?” I said, and Round Tom reached it and fished out a liquor bottle. The label was pretty faded and ripped but it was a printed label, in a Victorian style. I wondered if Jem or Tessa would have any guess whose stuff it could be.

“You said there was magic here?” I said.

“Dark magic,” Round Tom said gravely. “Wild magic.”

“The curse?” said General Winter.

Round Tom’s expression cleared and he shrugged. “Perhaps not. It’s actually much less demonic in nature than the curse on the house. But emanating from the foot of an unremarkable tree it bore exploration. There are two items that might be of further interest.”

He cleared away some of the mess and revealed a scabbard. It was a very nice scabbard. Sorry, that doesn’t really capture it. A very very nice scabbard. It needed some cleaning up, but it was obviously beautiful and, I’m sure, valuable. It was steel but covered in gold inlay all over in the shape of leaves and birds. There were some runes on it, too, so it was definitely a Shadowhunter’s at some point.

“Nice,” I said.

“It is more than ‘nice,’” General Winter said. “It is clearly the work of Lady Melusine herself. See how it has not deteriorated at all?”

Round Tom looked important. “And yet it is the less interesting of the two pieces,” he said. With a great dramatic gesture that he had clearly practiced ahead of time, he pushed all of the junk to one side in the coffin, leaving—

“Is that…a gun?” I said.

“One of those mundane weapons, yes,” said Round Tom. He picked it up as though it might go off, though it was rusty and covered in dirt. It was a revolver. It didn’t look any different than revolvers from a million gangster movies, or Westerns—I guess if I were really sending this to Ty I would have to explain what a Western was.

Anyway the big difference was this gun was covered in etchings and runes and words and was obviously magic af. (Which means . . . oh, never mind what it means.)

“But Shadowhunters don’t use guns,” I said.

“They never have,” General Winter agreed. He picked up the gun with a surprising amount of familiarity, and sighted along it in the direction of a nearby tree. He tried to fire and it just clicked — the cylinder didn’t even turn.

“Rusted shut, probably,” said Tom. General Winter handed it to me to look at. I’m not good enough with runes to know any of the ones that were on it. I pointed it at the same tree, kind of as a joke, kind of just to feel how heavy it was, and pulled the trigger, and there was a huge BANG and a bunch of wood splinters exploded from the tree.

My arm kicked back from the force of the shot. And we all stared. My ears were buzzing, but I thought I heard Round Tom say something to General Winter. I’m pretty sure the words First Heir were in there.

Certainly when I looked at them again, at Round Tom and General Winter, their expressions were guarded. Closed.

“Perhaps we should take this item inside and see if the other Nephilim recognize anything about it,” General Winter said flatly.

“I’m sure it just only works for Shadowhunters,” I told General Winter, but he just gave me kind of a troubled look and said nothing. “Anyway. I’ll bring it in.”

I could feel General Winter and Round Tom watching me as I ran across the lawn and into the house. Jem and Tessa were sitting on a couch in the drawing-room, watching Mina coloring with crayons on some butcher paper.

The moment I came in holding the gun both of them looked utterly shocked. Tessa got to her feet and moved between me and Mina. I told myself she was standing between the gun and Mina, but it still felt rotten.

“What—” said Jem, standing up, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He just stared at me, and the gun.

“Round Tom found it in the garden,” I said. “Is this a gun for Shadowhunters?” I could feel my voice getting tighter. “Shadowhunters don’t use guns.”

“Long ago, Christopher Lightwood tried to create a gun that Shadowhunters could fire,” said Tessa. She was still staring at the gun.

“It was in a coffin,” I said. “With a bunch of other stuff. A broken sword, and a fancy scabbard.”

“I wondered what he did with it,” said Jem. He? Who was he?

Jem and Tessa exchanged a look. “The gun belonged to my son James,” she said. I felt kind of sick. Tessa hardly ever talked about her children with Will. “He was the only one who could use it. It would not fire in anyone’s hands but his.”

“I fired it,” I said.

They both looked stunned, and not in a good way.

“You are very special, Kit,” Jem said. “You are the First Heir. We don’t yet know the extent of how that power works in you.”

“Or perhaps it is just that he has faerie blood,” said Tessa.

I could have said that it definitely wasn’t just faerie blood because General Winter couldn’t use the gun and he doesn’t only have faerie blood, he has a full faerie body with faerie organs and everything. But I didn’t say anything. I just felt a weird feeling in my stomach. I said I would put the gun away and not use it, and Jem and Tessa seemed to feel that was the best thing I could do, and Mina piped up and said “Gun!” and then I felt like the worst person on earth.

So now it’s late and I’m up writing this letter to you that I am going to burn when I’m done, because I can’t sleep. Because I don’t want to be the only person in the world who can fire a magic gun. I don’t want General Winter to straighten up when I’m nearby like I outrank him. I don’t want any of this. I had five minutes where I got to think, oh neat, I found this cool-looking gun and I bet there’s a story behind it, I wonder if they’ll let me keep it or if it needs to go to a museum or something. And then I fired it and instantly—just another thing that’s weird about me.

Good night, Ty. I’ll never send this, and you’ll never read it.

Kit

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fairyhaos · 11 months

Text

✰ seventeen as boyfriends: joshua edition

event taglist (send ask to be added): @rubywonu @cinnamoroxie @belladaises @wheeboo @minhui896 @slytherinshua @kokoiinuts @jun-of-love @dandycharmer @sweet-like-caramel @hannyoontify

pairing: joshua x gn!reader

genre: fluff, headcanon, mini scenario

word count: 534

warnings: none

notes: joshua edn. of the 500 event

if young love was a person, it would be joshua.

i’m thinking flicking flour at each other while baking, picking up and throwing one another into the swimming pool, playing tag while running along the beachside with feet sinking into sand, clambering up the roof of your house to watch the sunset just because.

living and loving and doing things just because you can?

vv josh coded, actually.

quality time is also soooo his love language

takes you on outings n dates whenever he can, be it at your house, the park, a cafe, anywhere at all

makes it part of your routine that when you’ve finished dinner, you’ll take a walk to anywhere, talking animatedly or not saying anything at all, hands intertwined, people-watching on the evening streets

because simply just having you by his side fills his heart with so much warmth and joy.

joshua is vivacious, bright, like acrylic on canvas,

but he’s also soft and calm and gentle like watercolour.

“You know what? That old lady over there is definitely plotting something,” Joshua mutters, and you snort quietly.

"You can’t say that about everyone on the street,” you say, but he just tugs your hand insistently.

“No, no, look at her, she definitely looks sketchy,” Joshua insists, pointing to the woman sitting on a park bench. “Why’s she knitting in the evening? And that scarf she’s making looks suspiciously long. Like a snake. Maybe it’s a snake in disguise.”

That makes you burst into laughter, throwing your head back, and Joshua is so pleased with himself, ignoring all of the passersby who look at you like you’re crazy, because he’s managed to make you laugh like that and it’s wonderful.

“Shua,” you sigh, shaking your head, once your laughter has subsided. “It's obviously a long centipede she's hiding, not a snake. You saw all the woolly appendages.”

“Ah.” He nods gravely, as if what you said made perfect sense. “Of course.”

You walk back to your home in relative peace, punctuated by Joshua’s nonsensical remarks and your own incredulous laughter. Eventually, you’re standing at the doorway, and he turns to you.

“Well,” he says, and he lifts up your hand to his lips. The very same hand he hasn’t let go since leaving the restaurant. Delicately, he brushes his lips over your knuckles, and smiles. “Tonight was wonderful. We should do this again sometime.”

You giggle. “Indeed we should. Thank you for walking me home.”

“Of course.” He releases your hand and steps back, grinning as you unlock the door. “Goodnight, Y/N. Will I be seeing you again?”

“Hm, perhaps,” you say, smiling. “Goodnight.” And with that, you wave and close the front door, leaving him standing there on the porch, grinning.

There’s a beat.

Slowly, the door creaks open again, and you’re looking at him with such exasperation and fondness. “We really don’t need to do this every date,” you say, opening the door wider. “We’ve lived together for months now. How are you not tired of this?”

Joshua laughs and bounds up the porch and inside, kissing your cheek. “Because it’s fun. Because it’s with you.”

And that sentence right there— well. Story of his life, really.

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zepskies · 3 months

Text

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal.

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly.

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it.

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them.

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath.

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently.

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses.

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice?

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.”

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks.

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.”

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump.

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper.

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong?

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip.

“Shall we continue?” he teases.

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips.

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss.

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed.

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention.

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before.

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips.

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV.

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says.

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back.

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask.

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers.

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease.

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you.

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips.

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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small-sinclair · 10 months

Text

Rings and Keeps

@fluffy-little-demon and @sketchy-rosewitch, I give you, your husband—

Bo Sinclair x reader

“Are you sure you haven’t seen him in the shop?”

“Sorry, y/n,” Lester said over the phone. “Haven’t seen Bo all day. Promise.”

You sighed tiredly and said, “Okay, Les. Call back if you hear from him.” You hung up and looked nervously at the front door again. It’s not like your fiancé to up and leave Ambrose without telling anyone, let alone, not tell you. So, why’d he left? What made him up and leave?

Is he getting milk and cigarettes like my dad did? You thought jokingly to yourself, but that didn’t help you at all.

Still, dinner had to be finished and put away. You didn’t want to eat without him, and you felt too nervous with him gone. So, you started pacing to keep your mind off things. Back and forth in the house you tried to keep your thoughts on something else. Baseball. Football. Weather. Vincent. Lester and his raccoon army (don’t tell the twins). Bo’s ass— but noting. You flopped down on the couch and hugged a throw pillow as you looked at the door.

Maybe he doesn’t love me? Maybe he up and left to figure out the best way to kill me?

“No, don’t think about that,” you told yourself in a whisper. “Bo’s fine. He might be getting something.”

When 10:30 struck on the clock, Bo’s truck lights lit up the front of the living room, but you were already asleep, cuddling Bo’s sweatshirt, when he walked in the house. He bit his lower lip nervously as his eyes found you sleeping on the sofa. Quietly, he took off his jacket and hung his hat next to a picture him and you, where he’s hugging you from behind and your laughing in the summer’s glow. Vincent took this gem and had it framed next to his hook on purpose, but Bo’s not one for complaining. It just reminds him what his aching arms are for when he comes home to you, to his beloved.

He kneels in front of you and kisses you gently to wake you up. “Sweetheart,” he drawled tiredly. “‘M home.”

He watched your sleepy eyes flutter open as he thumbed your cheek. “Bo? Where have you been?” Your voice is so soft and tired it reminds him of a kitten.

“Was gettin’ somethin’,” he hummed.

“What?”

“Gimme your right hand.”

You do as your told and showed him your hand. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a little black box. Your eyes brighten as he slipped on a simple silver ring with a small white diamond in the center. “It ain’t much,” he started, “but I thought ya need somethin’ better than ‘at paper ring.”

“Bo,” you sigh, getting a better look at it. “You didn’t—“

“Hush,” he said. “I wanna do something right for ya. So, I, well…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I sold the ‘86 Dodge.”

“But,” you sat up and held his cheeks. He rested into your touch and closed his eyes. “But that’s your baby!”

He shrugs. “I know, y/n, I know, but,” he kissed your palm, “I wanna to do something good for you. Somethin’ right.” He leaned back and took your hands. “I wanna to give ya somethin’ better than Mama’s ring. Shit,” he eyes shines as he looks up to meet your eyes, “when I saw ya looking at that ring the other day, I knew I had to get it for ya because…” his voice trails as his head fell. “I’m afraid to lose you. I have so much blood on my hands, so how? How can you even stand me? Let alone, love me?” You’ve never heard him talk like this before, and this side of trust was so valuable that you felt like he was glass waiting to shatter. “Just wanted to do something right for once.”

Your shoulders fell, and you pulled Bo into your chest, rubbing his back. “That’s why you’ve been nervous lately,” you sighed. “Beauregard, I love you no matter how bloody your hands get.” You curled your fingers through his hair. “And I love this ring because you got it for me.” You lifted his head and kisses his lips. “You never have to worry about me not loving you. I’ll always love you.”

Bo smiles and lays a kiss on your neck. “Even if I lose control?”

“Even if you lose control,” you reassured. Then your face turned serious. “But, promise me one thing?”

“Anything, y/n.”

You looked at him dead in the eye and said, “Don’t sell the T-Bird? I love that car.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Promise, darlin’. I’m keeping that like I’m keeping you.” He placed a passionate kiss on your lips, rocking into you. “Now, on t’bed, sugar,” his voice rumbled like thunder in his chest, “been missing you all day.” He pulls you up and carries you bridal style. “Lemme make up for leavin’ ya alone like that.”

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ramshackledtrickster · 11 months

Text

Major major MAJOR across the Spiderverse spoilers under the cut

Just an idea for Spiderverse 3 ,,,

Ok possible idea for Spiderverse 3: bc the spot is so powerful now what if he can manifest his own dimensions? So he utilizes that to break apart the spiderpeople that try to take him down he sends them into their own pocket dimensions, and Miguel gets trapped in a dimension where everything is right and he has Gabriella.

Miguel in this movie is a well rounded character but he hasn’t undergone major change in thinking or philosophy yet (though hints to towards the end). His major barrier in the film is his refusal to accept anything other than tragedy not only being inevitable but be an absolute defining trait of what makes a hero, even when tragedy can and could be prevented. He’s grieving, he’s guilty, yet refuses to call himself the first anomaly and shoves that title onto miles, and he projects all his grief and loathing out on a fifteen year old that has no control over what happened to him (wow what a hypocrite).

Miles’ unpredictability and limitless potential is in direct conflict with the philosophy that he maintains which gives him purpose, that makes his losses more acceptable.

And Miguel lets that pain completely define and rewrite him, instead of that acknowledging that pain as just a part of him— an essential part, like everyone else’s losses, but not the *only* part. Because the true core of Spider-Man that often comes with that pain is choice. And he has yet to internalize that for himself. Though he’s the leader of the spider society, he himself isn’t a true Spider-Man yet (note how while his suit is polished, his face and skin still carry a sketchy quality,, like construction lines and all that). I believe he should get closure in the third film, and his final design would reflect that.

So, in this pocket dimension, Miles and Gwen and maybe some other spider people have to find Miguel and show him the truth that none of this is real it’s a trap— but the onky person that can truly free him from the prison is himself. Miguel has to remember that while he shouldn’t forget this event or let this happen again, he should recognize life and the future is flexible, and not shut yourself or anyone else off from those chances, despite what the numbers or the canon dictates.

He finally understands, and sees Miles for what he represents— Free will, limitless potential, and the choice that makes a Spider-Man. And he has to follow in his lead to get out.

As the world around this pocket dimension is falling apart as the truth becomes clear though, Miguel is still holding onto Gabriella— and Gabriella, though she’s a simulation, feels so real to him. He senses her fear and confusion and he refuses to let his baby girl go.

But they exchange a few final words.

And miguel promises not to let her memory be in vain.

And she’s gone.

Miguel is alone with his thoughts.

Miles reaches out, offering him another chance to get back up— like Spider-Man always does

And Miguel does so and finally chooses that path.

Now they’re going to do it Miles’ way.

Alternative images In case Miguel is getting lost in that zone and he’s deteriorating art wise n getting broken down like Spot was if he’s there for too long

Or maybe he stays solid and Gabriella’s the one who degrades! Who knows!

Super tempted to board this out maybe but I’m not particularly good at dialogue so who knows

#spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spider verse spoilers #spoiler tag #major spoilers I’m not kidding #my art #fanart #marvel #spiderman spoilers

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drak3n · 2 months

Text

THE BEST FRIEND

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: perhaps you shouldn’t have waited so long.

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: unrequited love, mostly angst, hurt & some sort of comfort? best friends trope, one mention of murder at the beginning, a little bit of baji x reader

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“it’s impossible for anyone not to love you. has anyone ever told you that?”

there were times in which even a district like shibuya — always vibrant and full of life — was eerily quiet and void of people.

people you’d want to be around with, at least. people who made you feel safe roaming the streets at this hour. right now, you didn’t feel all too comfortable walking past streets with alleyways looking awfully sketchy.

every tiny sound made you walk faster than before, it be a cat scratching at a trashcan, a breeze howling against buildings, or leaves crunching under your shoes. you just wanted to get this over with and head back home into your trusted four walls.

you grunted as your ran face-first into someone you hadn’t seen, which you wanted to blame your terrible night vision for.

the figure didn’t move and you tried to stay calm. you uttered an apology and tried to rush past them, careful not to draw too much attention.

maybe they were just minding their own business. they didn’t have to be a murderer or anything.

“you shouldn’t be out here by yourself at this time,” the person suddenly called out. you halted. “someone got murdered right over there two days ago.”

the shiver that ran down your spine at the husky words was inevitable, your eyes darting over to where he pointed to show you the place was just a couple feet away from where you were standing. it didn’t help that the boy said it with so little emotion.

“thanks for telling me… i just really need to drop by at the nearest local duty pharmacy,” you responded. under the halfway functioning street light, you recognized a very tall boy, perhaps around your age, so 15 or 16 years of age.

the dragon tattoo on the side of his head drew your attention. it didn’t necessarily elicit bad thoughts, it just looked very unique.

“i’ll accompany you.” his offer took you by surprise; it wasn’t like you had been used to others being nice to you before. when he continued walking towards your destination, you quickly joined him, barely able to catch up with his long strides.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“how could a person be a best friend, mentor, older brother and father all at the same time? you made the impossible possible.”

hanging out with the boys was exhausting, to say the least. there wasn’t anyone you particularly disliked, but they could be a lot. you didn’t really mind that they were all part of a gang, all that mattered to you was that none of them had ever made a move to hurt you or others.

“i’m saying, that’s not how you solve that question!”

rolling your eyes at the first division commander discussing with you, you threw your arms in the air. you were currently all lounging off in the warehouse, with you having joined them after they had finished a meeting.

draken always insisted on you never, ever joining a meeting of the tokyo manji gang. he would never want you to get involved with their business.

“baji, are you seriously telling me i’m in the wrong?” you shoved your purple flip phone out of the pocket of your school uniform skirt, unlocking it to click onto the calculator function. “you must be stupid if you think that three times 24 is 72–”

the whole warehouse went quiet after that. blood rushed to your face, your entire head and ears feeling steaming hot as the brunette started laughing at you. the others were too immersed in their own thoughts to listen.

“who’s the stupid one now?” bending down to your height, baji flashed you his cocky smirk, revealing sharp canines. your eyes stung with tears of humiliation.

before he could tease you a little more, because you were so easy to tease, a hand shoved the boy with long hair back to create a distance between you and him. it was him.

“baji, that’s enough.” draken’s firm voice made said boy shrug and back off. “it’s just a dumb mathematical equation.”

when you sniffled and crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning away deliberately to hide your embarrassed self from the others, a palm settled on the top of your head.

looking up, you saw draken grinning down at you ever so gently.

“don’t worry about it, everyone makes mistakes.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i failed to tell you. i thought my actions would be enough to prove what i felt. perhaps you knew all along, but decided not to talk about it. you were always thoughtful and considerate. but i wasn’t special.”

it was a gloomy day for you today. you were excited to see draken, putting in a lot of effort while getting ready and wearing one of your best outfits, just to see that he hadn’t joined the otherd at the usual group hangout today.

“wasn’t it emma’s birthday today?” mitsuya recalled. mikey wasn’t there either. unbeknownst to you, baji’s eyes wandered to look at how you’d react.

as someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, you were terrible at masking how you felt. he didn’t miss the way your face fell.

draken and emma were always close to each other. of course they were, as her brother and draken have been inseparable since middle school. you couldn’t compare to her. you’d just met him not even two years ago.

you were slowly realizing that despite him doing a lot for you and always being there for you, you perhaps didn’t mean as much to him as emma did.

after all, draken was nice to everyone.

“someone’s grumpy,” baji commented slyly, and this time, you didn’t have it in you to bicker with him. this time, there was no draken to tell him to stop either.

the two missing blondes joined you hours later, with mikey nudging his taller vice’s side teasingly while talking about how sly kenny was for having found that plushie emma had wanted for the longest time.

it made your mood even more sour than it already was, and you pondered about an excuse to leave, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget about it.

forget about your stupid feelings for someone whose heart was already taken, and who saw you as nothing more than a friend.

“hey (f/n), that’s a pretty outfit,” mikey commented, “you going somewhere?” draken glanced down at you curiously while you forced a tight-lipped smile on your face. you inwardly thanked the leader of toman for saving you like this.

“yeah. i’ll see you guys.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“would things have been different if i’d just confessed to you while i still had the time? it would have been selfish. she was the first to know and love you, after all.”

ken and mikey had dropped out of high school at 17. they had big plans of opening a workshop for cars and motorcycles. by the time you graduated high school, they already had their small, cozy shop. toman was no more, and everything was well.

objectively speaking, it was. but subjectively? you weren’t too sure about that.

by the time you entered the italian restaurant, the table that caught your eyes was already pretty crowded. it wasn’t a surprise anymore, you were always late, after all.

too late. those two words echoed in your head as you looked at emma and draken sitting next to each other, her blushing feverishly when he removed something from her hair.

that could have been you.

“let’s go.” hearing baji’s voice behind you surprised you, and even more did it to feel his hand on your back, guiding you towards the table. as much as he was a jerk, you didn’t believe he did it out of ill intent to humiliate you.

the hours went by, and you had all eaten to your hearts’ content, now exchanging light jokes and future aspirations to one another. emma mentioned wanting to be a housewife, and the ken getting married to her made you want to throw up everything you’d eaten today.

“how about you?” mitsuya asked you, who had talked the least tonight. “any plans for college?” you smiled awkwardly when you felt draken’s eyes on you.

he had always wanted you to go all the way with your education, having supported you whenever he could. you were more than thankful for that.

“i actually got an admission for law in osaka.” the blonde sitting right across from you smiled so brightly, and you were sure it would have made you melt if emma didn’t have her head on his shoulder.

it was almost childish how you had tried to interpret every single of draken’s actions as a possible chance for something to develop between you two. your chances were long gone.

you had never stood one to begin with.

“i knew you could do it! you were always a smart girl.”

his compliment made you feel worse than it should have.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you told me to go and pursue my dreams. i knew that if you had told me to stay, i would have. how idiotic of me, right? i ended up leaving and letting you slip from my grasp without you ever having been in it.”

after moving away for college, you hardly visited tokyo anymore. and to be quite honest, you preferred that. it was good to stay away from the source of what had drained you for so long.

draken hadn’t taken advantage of your feelings for him, no. he was the last person on earth who’d be willing to do that. but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to be trapped in a web of unrequited love.

you were in your fourth year of law school when an invitation laid in your mailbox. you just knew from the second you looked at the envelope without even opening it. it was exactly what you’d anticipated it to be.

a marriage invitation, for you to join ken ryuguji and emma sano for the most important day of their lives. you stood in front of the mailbox, staring at the piece of pretty paper for at least twenty minutes, as if it was ever going to change.

he was going to get married. not to you.

all of your dreams of walking down the aisle in a pretty, white dress, approaching him with his sweet smile, crushed to bits and pieces.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i have never wished you anything else but happiness, and i still do. she makes you happy, and that’s all i could have ever asked for. i saw it in your eyes that day. you never looked at me like that.”

the wedding reception was nothing short of beautiful. catered to everyone’s tastes, it left nothing to the imagination.

the wedding of your dreams had always looked like this.

it was bittersweet how another woman was going to live that dream to the fullest, with the man of your dreams, at that.

thankfully, you weren’t left alone with your thoughts while you waited for the couple to come to the rented hall after they would get lawfully wedded. mitsuya and his sisters kept you company, making sure to recommend you everything they had tried at the enormous buffet.

“pretty sure they’re coming now,” mitsuya informed you as he stared at his wristwatch. you gulped and looked into your glass of soda.

oh what you wouldn’t have given to be in her shoes, taking on his last name… waking up next to him every single day, having his children.

you felt absolutely and utterly horrible. like all those years you’d spent away from this had caught up to you, leaving you to drown in your unrequited feelings.

before you could excuse yourself to the bathroom and ruin your perfectly done makeup by indulging in a five-minute breakdown, you were stopped by a hand finding your shoulder. it felt as if life was sucker-punching you in the gut once again.

“hey, baji.” your voice was low, and you didn’t notice mitsuya leading his sisters away from the table. his formerly wild, brown hair was much shorter now, tied up in a ponytail, and he wore a dark gray tuxedo.

when he opened his mouth, you shook your head. “i can’t take any teasing today. i mean it.”

your words weren’t even harsh, you just sounded exhausted. his grin disappeared, soon replaced by a frown. “i’m aware,” baji stated, “i couldn’t have attended if i was you.”

with a raised brow, you stared at him to explain what he meant. “i’ve known since back then.” you looked down, pursing your lips to stop them from trembling and giving it all away. you were asking to change the topic until the two would enter through the door and make your mood plummet entirely.

baji knew you better than you could have guessed. so this time, instead of poking fun at you, he actually tried to make you feel better

“by the way, i’m moving to osaka for med school for the next semester. i finally got in.”

it still stung when you saw draken and emma entering the hall hand-in-hand. you couldn’t compare that sting to any other kind of physical pain you’d endured in your life, it felt worse than broken limbs or a cut that needed to be stitched.

but he was happy, the way you never saw him be. he had never smiled as purely as he did when he danced with his wife, kissing the back of her hand that now adorned a ring to bind them to each other forever.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i’m sending this letter even after it all. even though i know i’m too late. don’t get me wrong, i have deliberately not added your new address. you will never get this letter. this is just for myself, to liberate what i’d held onto for multiple years.”

you picked up the call after one shrill ring, holding your phone against your ear while your eyes were plastered on the tv. it was your episode today, dealing with your letter.

the show was muted so you could hear exactly what you’d hear on the phone. with a deep breath, you spoke first. “hello?”

“good evening, miss! we are very excited to be hosting you on today’s show for TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE!” on the screen, you saw the main host move her mouth with a smile plastered on her perfect face.

you sat down on your couch, taking another deep breath. “thank you for having me,” you responded, “i can already guess what you are going to ask me.”

you heard sweet laughter from the two hosts while you were busy picking at a dried scab on your thumb. this was making you more nervous than you’d wished it to.

“if that’s the case, then we would love to hear your thoughts,” spoke the co-host, “our audience is very excited to learn about your motives and what exactly has made you not put an address for the letter to be shipped to!”

the camera angle was switched to show multiple rows of people of all ages sitting and awaiting your response. it made your throat go dry.

“i have made this decision because,” you looked away from the screen, “they have found someone else. and they are very happy.”

the hosts showed faces of surprise. for a second, you wondered why you’d even done this to begin with. but it felt too relieving to speak about this for a bunch of strangers to listen. it felt too relieving to hang up now when you were so close to just letting things go.

“which was why i just wanted to send this letter to… get rid of it. to be able to live on and stop holding onto those feelings that are never going to be reciprocated.” you had no idea if the words you were saying made any sense to them, but to you, they did. they made perfect sense to you, and they described exactly how you felt.

“that is very mature, and we admire you for having collected the courage to take this step.” the host clapped her hands, obviously looking moved. “love isn’t all about having happy endings together, right? sometimes, it means to let go. for their, and for our own happiness.”

hanging up not long after, you sank back in your couch and chuckled to yourself. this wasn’t so bad. in fact, you haven’t felt as good as you did right now in a while.

when the door to your apartment unlocked, you watched a mop of brown hair appear in your peripheral. the smile on your face only went brighter.

“i’m home. did i miss it?”

“just did. let’s rewatch it together, kei.”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way, because it was thanks to you that i found my own happiness, too.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

Text

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Flirty Bradley, Talk of near death experience, Dagger Squad acting sketchy, talk of hookups, Bruises, Scratches, FBI, Police, Murder.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I'm starting to wonder if y'all actually read these lol Anyway, here is Chapter Three! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Your head was pounding and the sheets stuck to your skin in a way that made you want to scream. You slowly cracked an eye open, wincing at the bright light that filtered in through the window. It was still overcast outside, and you could see the tiny droplets of water that ran down the window pane. You blinked as you took in the sight of your room, trying to remember how you ended up there.

You shuddered as you remembered the crashing of waves all around you, struggling to find the surface for a desperate breath of air. Sitting up with a groan, you rested your head in your hand, trying to remember anything after that. You remembered hearing the song again, a high-pitched frantic melody and arms that had grasped you. Scoffing, you shook your head to rid yourself of the ridiculous notion that that had been anything other than a dream. At that moment, the door to your room creaked open softly to reveal Bob poking his head around the side. He let out a heavy sigh, opening the door fully and stepping through at the sight of you sitting up.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, walking over quickly to sit beside you on the edge of the bed. You gave him a half-hearted smile, still trying to ignore the throbbing in your temples.

“I am,” you grimaced.

“How much do you remember?”

“There was a storm,” you started, running your hand through your hair. “It got bad, and the waves kept coming and coming, and then…”

You paused, looking up at your friend who smiled at you gently.

“And then I fell overboard. I thought-I thought I was drowning,” you choked, feeling the tears well up in your eyes at the memory of how scared you had been. Bob reached out to place a comforting hand on top of yours and you smiled gratefully at him. “But I had another dream.”

“What?” Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. You chuckled softly to yourself.

“It was so real,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I mean, I’m sure it was just a hallucination, but…”

“What happened?” Bob pressed, leaning forward with a clench of his jaw. The way his face hardened made you uneasy, wondering what happened to your usually easygoing best friend.

“Well,” you started, clasping your hand around Rusty. “I was sure I was dead, but then I heard that song again. And then I felt arms wrap around me. Then I was on the shore, and I-”

You stopped, your cheeks heating up as your brain caught up to what you were saying. Your remembered the soft lips that pressed hot and heavy against your skin. The way the arms caressed and held you. The way you had responded to his touch, his bite.

Your cheeks grew hotter, and you saw Bob cock his head to the side from your peripheral.

“You what?” He asked. You cleared your throat.

“I remember there was a man.”

“A man?” Bob furrowed his brows, frown growing deeper. “What do you mean?”

You bit your bottom lip. “I think he saved me.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking up to meet his blue eyes. “I know that sounds ridiculous. I’m sure it’s just my brain trying to comprehend how I got back to shore in that storm.”

Bob stared at you for a moment, seeming to choose his next words carefully.

“You probably just got a boost of adrenaline,” he said, smiling at you softly. “Probably swam yourself back to shore. We found you on the rocks there, you know. Bradley carried you back.”

“He did?” You asked, feeling the heat creep its way back onto your cheeks. Bob nodded.

“Yeah, everyone was so worried about you.”

“They were?” You frowned. The door swung open to reveal the group of friends standing in your doorway.

“Hell yeah, we were!” Bradley exclaimed, smiling at you widely, but there was a tinge of concern to his expression. “Thought you weren’t going to wake up there, Skipper.”

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” you murmured, turning to face them. They all glanced at each other and then back at you in confusion.

“What for?” Asked Javy. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you let out a sniffle as you tried to wipe them away. The group quickly circled around you, doing their best to comfort you which only served to make you more upset.

“I just seem to keep causing all of this trouble,” you hiccuped. Nat pulled you in for a hug, stroking your hair as Bob squeezed your hand. “You guys must be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” Bradley chuckled leaning against you on your left, causing Nat to grunt as your weight pressed into her more. “How could we be sick of our little Skipper, huh?”

“Besides,” Javy spoke up, smiling at you gently. “Accidents happen, right? It’s not like you went out looking for trouble.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “But-”

“No buts!” Natasha declared, pulling back to look at you. “You must be sick of our little town by now after all the excitement.”

You gave her a watery smile. “Never.”

“That’s our girl!” Bradley beamed, tweaking your cheek. He looked down at where you held the stuffed stingray and cocked a brow. “Who’s this little guy?”

You were sure your cheeks were going to be be permanently red by the end of the summer at the rate you were blushing. You clutched Rusty a little tighter, shyly peaking up at the mustached man through your lashes.

“This is Rusty.”

He hummed. “Well, Rusty better watch out because I don’t like having competition.”

You let out a giggle as the other boys rolled their eyes. Nat scoffed as she moved to stand.

“Alright boys,” she said, fixing them all with a look. “Let’s let Skipper get changed in peace, yeah?”

“I dunno,” Bradley smirked, leaning in closer to you. “She looks like she might need some help.”

“Out,” Natasha snapped with a roll of her eyes. Bradley shot you a wink before filing out after the boys, raising his hands in surrender as he walked by the brunette. Once they had all left, Nat looked at you with a soft expression.

“You don’t need help, right?” She asked, chewing on her bottom lip. You shook your head.

“I’ll be fine,” you smiled. “I promise I’ll holler if I need something.”

She seemed to accept this and walked out, closing the door behind her. You sighed, looking out the window. The throbbing in your head had had moved down to the base of your neck, and the uncomfortable pulse had you scratching at the skin. You furrowed your brows when you felt the way the skin was raised there when it wasn’t yesterday. You stood from the bed, swaying slightly. When you were sure that you weren’t going to collapse, you grabbed a change of clothes and made your way down the hall. You heard the others down in the living room chatting.

“What was he thinking?” You heard Nat say.

“He obviously wasn’t,” Bradley scoffed. “This will be his third go around and he still won’t give Mandy-”

The floorboard underneath you creaked, and you silently cursed when you heard the conversation die. You hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you. You let out a heavy sigh before turning to look in the mirror.

You looked an awful sight. Your hair was in disarray and there were bruises littered across your skin. You grimaced, grabbing a brush to try and tame your wild locks. When you had fixed the state of your hair enough, you pulled your hoodie off over your head, seeing the dozens of other bruises that scattered your arm. You let out a huff as you ran your fingers down your skin, but you stopped when you caught sight of your neck for the first time. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned into the mirror, carefully inspecting the skin that had been throbbing and raised. Your skin was almost iridescent as it reflected the lights of the bathroom. You moved, watching as the circular patch of raised skin shifted from a teal blue to a mossy green. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it almost looked like a bite mark. You quickly changed into the clothes you brought with you, depositing the old ones in your room before making your way downstairs.

“There you are!” Bob smiled from where he was perched on the arm of the couch next to Mickey. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, brow still furrowed in confusion. Bob took in your expression, and his own changed to one of concern.

“Everything alright?” He asked you, causing everyone to focus on where you stood in the doorway. You nodded slowly, hand still covering the mark on your neck.

“Yeah, I think so?” You murmured, eyes shifting uncertainly to his. “Would you take a look at this?”

Bob nodded, already moving towards you as you dropped your hand. Bob stopped moving as everyone else in the room took in a breath at the same time.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” You chuckled nervously, uneasy as everyone watched you intently. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What do you think it is?”

Your eyes roamed the room and you saw all eyes trained on your neck. Bradley had his jaw clenched and his nostrils were flaring with anger, Reuben and Javy had grim looks on their faces, Mickey and Bob looked concerned, and Nat looked like she was ready to strangle someone.

“Yeah,” Bob said finally, giving a poor attempt at a smile.

“It must just be some algae or something,” Reuben offered, glancing nervously at his friends.

“Probably nothing to worry about,” Javy nodded, giving you a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“You think so?” You asked them, shifting uneasily at the sudden tension in the room. Mickey nodded, standing up from where he sat.

“Of course!” He chirped, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the front door. “Now come on! Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”

Two days later you were perched on Richard’s boat as he and Bob finished packing up their fishing gear.

“I hope we didn’t bore you too much!” Richard called from where he was taking a part his fishing rod. You turned, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the glaring sun as it began to set.

“Not at all!” You laughed. “It was nice to just get out here and relax, even if I was the only one in the water.”

Bob had worried after you most of the day when you told him you would be joining him and his father for their weekly fishing excursion.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back in?” He had asked, eyes studying you for any sign of hesitation. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, Bobby,” you teased, earning a less than amused look. “If I don’t go back as soon as possible, then I might never go back. I can’t let the fear win, right?”

And Bob had begrudgingly agreed, keeping a closer eye on you than his fishing pole much to his father’s chagrin. You had been fine, if not a little apprehensive at first. But the sea had welcomed you back, and you had embraced it happily. You swam until your fingers began to prune, and then you had settled on the deck of the boat, napping as you basked in the summer sun.

Now, the sun was sinking fast towards the horizon, and you stood up to stretch, feeling a pleasant buzz from the rays you had soaked up.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You offered, walking over to where Richard and Bob were still cleaning up from the day.

“Nah, we’ve got it,” Bob smiled up at you. “Just go have a seat and we’ll head back to shore here in a second, yeah?”

You hummed, slinking over to the cushions on the opposite end of the deck. You plopped down, resting your head back as you basked in the rocking of the waves. You could have used another nap.

“Do you kids have anything planned for tonight?” Richard asked, standing to head for the helm.

“I think we’re going to go have dinner with the gang,” Bob said, locking his tackle box and looking up at you. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“That sounds perfect,” you smiled, lolling your head to the side as as a warm breeze washed over you. Movement caught your eye, and you turned to where the door at the back of the boat was still opened, leading onto a ledge that you used to get in and out of the boat from the water. On the ledge sat several different shells. You stood, walking over to get a better look. You felt excitement swell as you took in the different whelk and calico shells. Scattered amongst the shells were different colored pearls, all shining in the dimming light.

“Bob, come look at this!” You called out excitedly. You heard his footsteps as he approached, crouching down next to you. You held one of the whelk shells out to him, practically vibrating in excitement. He took it from you, brow furrowing as he examined it.

“Aren’t these amazing?” You exclaimed, reaching down to grab some of the pearls. “These are some of the best specimens I’ve ever seen! And look at all of these pearls!”

Bob’s eyes shifted to your outstretched hand where you held five pearls of varying shapes, sizes, and colors sat.

“These are beautiful, aren’t they?” You continued, but then your excitement dimmed, turning into confusion as you looked back out at the water. “But, how did they get here?”

Bob stiffened next to you before standing, casting a look over his shoulder at his father. He turned back to you with a nervous smile.

“Must have been the current that brought them up,” he said. You frowned up at him.

“The current? But that doesn’t-”

“Hey, Dad!” Bob called, the older man popping up from where he was sitting at the steering wheel to the boat. “Are we ready to go yet? I’m starving!”

“Just waiting on you two!”

“Bob,” you started, but he gave you another smile.

“You’re hungry too, right? Why don’t you grab those and I’ll shoot a text to the groupchat and let them know we’re heading that way soon, yeah?”

Before you could respond, he turned around, walking off and leaving you still crouched by the ledge. You heaved a sigh, rolling your eyes as you began to collect the little treasures at your feet. Once you finished, you made sure the tiny door was latched closed before settling back into the cushions. You looked back out at the sea, swearing you heard the song from your dreams off in the distance.

“I’m telling you, they’re gonna hook up by the end of the summer,” Mickey laughed, popping another french fry into his mouth. Reuben scoffed, throwing his head back as the rest of the group smiled.

“I think my cousin has better taste than Garrett Fletch, Mickey,” the dark-skinned man fired back. Mickey raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“I don’t know, didn’t she hook up with Bradley last summer?”

“Hey!” Bradley exclaimed, earning a round of laughter from everyone as Reuben turned to fix him with a narrowed stare.

“You and Christina hooked up last summer?�� He huffed. The tips of Bradley’s ears turned bright red as he gave his friend a sheepish smile.

“It’s not like anything really happened,” Bradley defended himself. “She dumped me almost immediately after.”

Reuben seemed to mull over his words before nodding firmly. “At least she has some sense.”

Bradley’s jaw dropped at the dig, and you fought against the soda in your mouth to prevent it from shooting out your nose. Bradley turned to you with a smirk.

“Oh you think that’s funny?” He teased, grinning at you. You nodded.

“Extremely,” you giggled. Bradley bit his bottom lip as he watched you and Reuben shook his head.

“Skipper, please have more sense than my cousin,” he sighed, looking at you. “Do not mess around with this fool.”

“She could do worse!” Bradley interjected, casting his friend a sideways glance.

“Speaking of worse,” Bob said with a scowl. “Where’s Jake?”

Bradley’s nostrils flared at the name, and Nat rolled her eyes.

“Same as usual,” she grumbled.

“Mandy is really laying it on thick this year, huh?” Reuben chortled, sipping his milkshake. A warm breeze floated in from the beach, providing a pleasant reprieve from the jam packed diner.

Mickey grimaced. “I mean, this is his third-”

Javy cleared his throat, cutting the other man off. He glanced your way, and Mickey smiled sheepishly.

“His third what?” You asked, looking around the table. Everyone refused to meet your gaze.

“His third year of dancing around the subject,” Nat offered quickly. Your brows furrowed.

“What subject?”

“Mandy and Jake have been practically engaged since they were babies,” Bradley said with an eye roll. “Mandy is all for it, but everyone around here knows that Jake’s never been thrilled with the idea.”

“He made it pretty clear years ago that he wasn’t going go with the plan if he could avoid it,” Javy chimed in with a sigh.

“Is it really that big a deal?” You asked them. Javy grimaced.

“It’s a good match,” he said simply. “They’re both from founding families, and they make the picture perfect couple.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you commented, earning a snort from Nat.

“Except Mandy is a nightmare human being,” she scoffed. “She’s rude, stuck up, selfish, and a textbook narcissist. Jake would be miserable.”

“So why doesn’t he just tell her no outright?”

“Because until recently,” Bradley huffed, eyes shifting to stare at the raised patch of skin on your neck with distaste, “he didn’t feel like he had any other options.”

Before you could ask any more questions, a terrified scream sounded from outside. All of you looked at each other before scrambling up out of your seats to head outside with the rest of the crowd. It was hard to see in the dark as you stumbled down the beach, but what you saw before you sent ice down your spine.

A woman was crying hysterically into her partner’s chest, the wind whipping her dress about her. Your eyes glanced down, seeing the twisted body of a young woman. Her skin was pale with a bluish tinge to it that made you nauseous. Her eyes were widened in terror, glazed over with a milky whiteness that made your food resurface. You barely had time to remove yourself from the crowd before you were on your knees, emptying the contents of your stomach into the sand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you heard Nat shush you, stroking a hand up and down your back as you continued to vomit. She pulled your hair out of your face. “Let it out.”

“How are you so calm about this?” You asked her, watery gaze glancing up at her. Before she could answer, you saw several figures race down to where the crowd was gathered. A man with dark hair and a sheriff’s badge trotted down. He nodded at your group as he passed.

“Bradley.”

“Mav,” Bradley nodded back at him, lips pressed in a thin line. Behind “Mav,” two more figures came into view, flashlights scanning over the sand. One was older, about the same age as Mav, grey hair and weather-worn face. The other was tall, dark hair turning grey at the edges, and he had an air of seriousness about him. You saw Bob look around with wide, shock filled eyes at his friends.

“What is the FBI doing here?”

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anticipatecrime · 9 months

Text

'𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩'| colby brock x male oc

a/n: enjoy ;) summary: sam, colby, corey and jake plan to go to the witches forest, little do they know, they’ll meet a friend of jennifers. he’s a lonely medium studying witchcraft, what happens when colby starts to feel a pull towards him? his feelings confuse him, and make him question himself.

words: 8.8k (TOO FUCKING MANY, i got lost in the sauce🫠)

sam sat on his couch, dialing the number of the woman him and colby met at the stanley hotel. the latter began to film as she picked up.

“hello?”

“hi is this jennifer?” they shared a look towards eachother, acknowledging the awkwardness.

“yes, this is she.”

“sweet uh.. about that forest, was that a legit offer? colby and i have been talking over the past few weeks and maybe.. are you in la now?” he asked, curiously.

“yeah i am”

“cool so maybe tomorrow or later this week we could meet up, and we’d probably be filming it so if that’s cool with you, you could tell us more like about what the forest is and then maybe like find time to schedule to go out there or something?”

“yeah we can meet up.” jennifer said ominously.

“okay cool, maybe tomorrow we’ll schedule a time then.” sam started to laugh from the awkwardness, and immediately after the phone call was over he threw the phone onto the table and freaked out. “why is it so awkward?” he cringed.

“everytime we talk to her.” colby chuckles.

they both start talking to the camera about their plans with the witches forest, and planning a whereabouts for the meetup.

a day had past, and sam, colby and jake were in the car, driving to the area where they were supposed to meet up with jennifer. colby had parked very close to another car in attempts to not be in the way of someones driveway. “can’t park in this driveway brother, gonna get a ticket.”

“can’t go to jail again.” sam laughs.

“we’re in a neighborhood, it’s not that sketchy.” sam commented, as they all start talking about how creepy this whole situation was, joking about getting murdered.

they walk into the park, and they look around until they see two people sitting at a park bench. “hey!” sam calls out, as he sees them. “nice to see you again!” he goes in for a hug with jennifer.

“how was the shoot and everything?” he asked.

“it was good.” she responded, nodding her head, before looking over to her friend, the guy next to her. jennifer didn’t really care about meeting up with strangers but elias, found it sketchy, so he decided to come along as some sort of backup.

“hey, i’m elias, good to meet you.” he shook hands with the person closest to him, colby.

“nice to meet you too.” colby smiled, curious about the guy infront of him. he looked pretty cool, his sense in fashion was definitely something out of a vintage movie. his hair was dark brown, about medium length. he had brown circle glasses pushed towards his nose, contrasting his freckled face.

from what he was wearing, you could see a few tattoos under his sleeves, along with a few different ear piercings. ‘damn this guy is cool’ he felt like some kind of fangirl.

as sam talked to jennifer, colby starting asking questions to the other. “are you also into the paranormal?”

“yeah. i grew up around it my entire life, and now it just seeks me out i guess.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “how’d you get into it?”

“that’s the same as one of my friends, corey.” he acknowledges. “honestly it’s not that exciting, me and my buddy sam would explore like abandoned places and stuff then it became haunted areas and now we think we’re haunted.”

“that’s cool.” suddenly jake climbs onto the picnic table, creating a thud sound. “jesus jake.” colby laughed.

“so do you guys chill at the park often?” jake tries to make conversation with the two.

“yeah.” they answer at the same time. the camera is held facing jennifer as she begins to explain why the cabin is haunted, and why it’s called the witches forest.

“you really have to figure it out yourself.” elias commented, chuckling.

“so you’ve been there too?” sam interrogates him.

“you could say that, i also own a cabin about a mile out.”

“would you say it’s haunted?”

“oh definitely, in 1946 a couple moved into the cabin and after a few years they started like experiencing financial issues, and it caused a lot of stress between them and eventually the husband started drinking, and one night he killed his pregnant wife before shooting himself in the head.” elias smirked, watching their jaws drop. “let’s just say i’m not legally able to rent it out anymore because of what happened to the last guests we had.”

“holy shit.” sam looked to the guys, with wide eyes.

“that’s actually insane.” colby said, rubbing his eye. “so do you live there or just use it as a vacation spot?”

“bit of both honestly, the spirits don’t bother me much. i was just there a few days ago and i stayed about three months, left with tons of scratches and stuff.” elias explained.

“do you still have visible marks?”

“yeah, the longest one is on my leg, i can show you if you like.” the guys nodded, so he stands up and props his leg on the park bench, before rolling up his black pants. quickly a red shiny scratch is visible. it starts at his ankle and goes underneath his thigh. “it’s one of the weirder marks i’ve gotten. it’s shiny and feels almost like a burn, like blistered over and stuff.”

“holy shit, that’s crazy.” jake muttered.

“i don’t know if we should do this anymore.” colby laughs, jokingly crying.

“so on a scale of one to ten, how is this a good idea or are we going to die.” sam wondered.

“let’s just say it’s scarier then the stanley hotel.” jennifer answered.

“is that the key?” jake zooms into colby holding the key to the cabin. colby pauses for a second, having an idea. “would you let us see your cabin?” he asks to elias.

“uhh, i don’t know, i would have to be there to supervise.” “not just because i don’t know you, but also for you’re protection. the spirits know me well, even the negative ones, they don’t like other people.”

“jesus.” colby mumbles. “is that why you can’t rent it out anymore.” he nods slowly.

“we have a friend out there that we met from the summer camp thing. a few of them are still there. elias can probably get in contact with one of them to help you out. since they’re both wiccans.”

“so you’re friend is a... wait you’re a wiccan?” sam asks towards elias, pointing the camera in his direction, receiving a half nod.

“after i became a medium it slowly transitioned into exploring witchcraft, i wouldn’t like 100% consider myself a wiccan but i do partake in that stuff.” he holds up his pagan necklace.

“wow, so does your friend live around the cabin?”

“yeah.”

“now i see why it’s called witches forest.” sam laughed hesitantly.

“so a lot of people there are wiccans i’m assuming?” colby asks, before receiving a nod. “witches forest, wiccans.” he does a weird voice to express how crazy this situation is.

“this is awesome, thank you so much for this, we would probably just of done another hotel video.” sam thanked her. “should we call corey?” he asks to the guys.

everyone begins to say goodbye, colby hugging jennifer and elias. “we’ll let you know how it goes.”

“but uh, i just wanted to say, i haven’t been there in awhile so be careful.” jennifer calls out to them.

jennifer and elias start walking back to their apartment. he glances towards the group they had just encountered. “they seem cool, colby’s pretty nice.”

“yeah i guess. i’m surprised you didn’t give them the key.”

“first, they’re strangers, second, they seem like novices, i don’t want their deaths to be on my hands.” elias joked.

“you could’ve gone with them.” she shrugs. elias pauses for a moment, thinking about it. maybe he should. they are trying to find the most haunted areas..

“i’ll think about it.”

it was early morning of the next day, and elias had been messaging with colby since he woke up talking about whether or not he should go up with them. colby has been trying to persuade him, borderline begging him to come. they think it would be awesome for the video and their paranormal experience.

and secretly colby just wants to get to know him as well.

the four boys were in their car, on the way to the first house, to talk to a wiccan who is offering a reading, and more information on the witches forest.

“i was thinking about what the physic said a lot last night, about how corey and i are in danger, and i think they could be right. i hope we have service because we’ve never been in this forest, who knows, like what if we get lost right? that’s why i think bringing elias, who knows the area could be helpful.”

“honestly yeah, and he seems like a cool dude so.” jake shrugs, agreeing with the idea. corey then calls and agrees to come, making everyone so much more relieved.

“let’s just act like we’re going to a cabin in the woods.” corey says, trying to lighten the mood as he gets into the car.

they keep on driving, about twenty minutes out, pulling over only to get jake some food because he kept complaining about being hungry. they pull into a burger king, and grab some food. colby suggests sitting at a table so he can fill both corey and the viewers in about elias and the other wiccan.

“just to catch everyone up, we got some food and we are ten minutes away from the forest!” sam starts it off.

“i’ve been texting with both this wiccan and elias, who agreed on meeting us, but they want to meet us at her house. she was just like ‘yeah swing by, and i’ll show you my tarot cards and stuff.’”

“well, let’s hope we don’t die.”

they walk out to the parking lot, and talk a bit more, explaining to corey. “me, colby, and jake met up with jennifer and this new guy, elias, so the reason why he’s texting to this random wiccan is because they’re friends, them two would meet up with her at summer camp, and she’s going to tell us about the area.” sam said.

as they start driving, they encounter the fog of the mountains, and they struggle to see out the window.

“yeah, elias is going to be with the wiccan, so atleast it’s not like we’re by ourselves with a complete stranger.” colby mentioned.

“well we don’t really know him either.”

“better then completely alone though.” he shrugged, continuing to drive until google maps said he was at the correct address.

“so what have they told you?” sam asked.

“nothing really, just gave us the address and said see you then.” colby explained, shutting the car door. they walked up to the door, not even having to knock before someone opened the door. “hey colby!” elias said, arm on the door.

“yoo hey.” colby gave a hug before smiling. “thanks for taking up our offer on this, having you here and talk about some of the stuff is super great for the video.”

colby felt nervous, seeing elias stand confidentially at the door, he looked more relaxed today, grey sweatpants, black hoodie and his usual brown glasses. you can tell he wasn’t planning on coming.

in the light, it was much easier to see his face. he also realized elias’ hair was slightly curly.

“yeah it’s no problem.” elias said as the other wiccan presented herself. “good to see you again.”

“hey, how are you guys?” she asked. “wanna come in? if you don’t mind i’ll have to sage you though.”

“yeah it’s no problem.”

after the boys were saged, they sat around the table and began to talk about the witches forest. “so why is it called witches forest?” sam asked, getting down to business.

“there’s a lot of rituals that go on in this area, it used to be a spot with mobsters, there’s a lot of satanic rituals, which aren’t as bad or evil as you would think.” elias nods along, agreeing with her.

“so you guys would consider yourselves wiccans in the way that you both study witchcraft.

“yes, i identify as a wiccan, but i feel like it has a different perception of what you would think.”

“okay so can you explain that to us.” sam asked.

“i like to live my life by the moon cycles, so full moon would be a time of like creativity and energy, where as new moon is more introspective and..” she trails off as the door opens for the second time.

“we’re trying to spend the night here, in the forest. do you think that’s a good idea or bad idea?”

elias grimances, shaking his head.

“what’s that supposed to mean?!” corey fake cries.

“a lot of people have died up there.. not recently so i don’t think you’ll die.” she says positively. “if you want we can do a little tarot reading.” she suggests, waving over elias to help her with it.

“tarot reading?” colby repeats asking for clarification.

“tarot cards really tell you what you’re feeling subconsciously, and they help give insight into the past, your future, or the present. and basically however you relate to the card, it tells you what’s going on with your inner-self or stuff you may be doing.” he explains, before sageing the cards.

“this basically helps to detach anything thats holding onto the cards, so for example, the past readings she’s done, it’s possible that those readings could effect yours. so when i sage the cards, it clears anything on them.” he hands over the cards to colby, who passes them to sam, to jake and then to corey, to get their presence onto the cards.

she takes the cards and sets them onto the table. a few gasps come from the guys after seeing the death card, “none of these are bad, so don’t be afraid.”

“the tower is an iffy card in my opinion, so it means danger and destruction, it’s basically like a very sudden unforeseen change, which means you have to rebuild. it can lead to the next chapter of your life. so it starts out negative and eventually it leads to rebuilding which is positive.” elias explains.

“yeah and chaos isn’t always a bad thing, which relates to the death card.” she taps onto it.

“the next chapter of my life is death?” sam asked.

“no.” elias answered shortly. “the death card will almost never mean death or represent anything like that. it’s typically more like the end of an era, so it implies new beginnings. it also is commonly known as the card that describes self awareness.” he was briefly interrupted by a bang upstairs.

“this card is all about fear and anxiety.” she points out. “but not a real fear, more like you’re worrying about something too much. like it’s in your head, like when you can’t sleep and you’re terrified but it’s not something that you should be worrying about. it’s more like you’re imagining something, like making up a problem.”

“like making conspiracy theories about yourself.” jake adds in, earning weird looks from colby and sam.

“just being scared of something that isn’t that big of a deal, like you’re more afraid then you need to be.” elias adds.

“that’s basically our group.” sam comments.

they talked more about the different chapters of their life, corey refusing to do more tarot. she gave more advice on how to keep the guys safe at their campsite, like taking the sage, having a ring of salt and holding hands.

elias watches as they huddle into the corner of the room and talk about some of their plans together. “honestly guys, i don’t know if i can do this.” corey admits. “this shit is crazy, we don’t need more spirits trapped with us.”

“i think we just have to hurry up because it’s a few hours from sundown, and we don’t know the area too well, i don’t want us to get lost.” sam comments.

“do you think we should invite elias?” colby asked.

“brother, now why would we do that.” corey said, shaking his head.

“he knows the area, and i think he would be awesome for content, he can tell us more stories, we can get to know him and maybe do more ghost stuff with him in the future.”

“i’m down.” jake shrugs.

“we don’t know him very well, but i do think he’d be beneficial for this.” sam doesn’t seem to care that much.

“okay well i won’t invite him if you guy’s arent sure.” they all to look corey.

“fine, but i swear to god if he murders us, i’m going to murder you again.”

“okay awesome!” colby walks away from the guys and up to elias. “i was wondering if you wanted to come with us, like to our campsite.”

“oh. uhh, i mean i guess i could hang for a bit, but it would probably be weird to stay the night with you guys. my cabin isn’t too far away in the forest so i’ll go back there once you guys are settled in.”

“we’d be chill if you wanted to stay the night in a tent beside us or something, but it’s cool if not.”

“i’ll figure it out later.” he shrugs, and follows the guys to the car. elias sits in the passenger seat, sam giving it up to sit in the back, so he didn’t have to sit squished next to strangers.

they began to drive in the direction of witches forest, taking a right turn onto a gravel road.

“so where do you suggest us staying the night exactly?”

“well i would say definitely be near one of the main roads, so you’re near your car, but as in area, if you keep going down here, there’s some pretty flat ground with trees surrounding it.” elias points in the right direction.

they pull into a blank area, and start gathering their stuff. “just down this way.” he leads, while helping carrying one of their bags.

“awesome, thank you.” sam thanks him, actually kind of surprised how much this stranger was helping them.

“do you need help setting up your tent, or?” he wondered.

“uhh..” jake mumbled, knowing he’s never put up a tent in his life.

“that is a possibility.” sam chuckles. ”so like, did you group up in california or elsewhere?” he took what colby said earlier, about getting to know him, and ran with it.

“oh uh, no i grew up in a small town out of seattle, but i moved to la when i was 17.” elias answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“oh cool. why’d you leave seattle?” jake asked.

“just bad memories i guess.” he took a deep breath. “the house i grew up in.. my brother he died there when i was 6. his death brought me into the paranormal world.”

“oh, i’m sorry for your loss.” colby commented, beginning to build the tent.

“don’t be.” elias laughed it off. “it was a pretty natural death, he was born with heart complications, honestly a miracle he lived till 14. he was very positive and i’m sure he wouldn’t want people mourning, so i choose not to i guess.”

“that’s a good way to look at it.” colby smiled at the other. colby took a liking to him, he wasn’t sure why though but it felt like something was pushing him to get to know him.

“so you said you’re a medium?” corey asked, helping colby with the tent.

“yeah, the thing with my brother, it guided me to other spirits and i just kind of fell into it all. i feel things more the most people, i hear more, i sense more.” he paused. “i don’t feel any presences here but i feel sadness and regret.”

“that’s honestly really cool, so to become a medium does it need to be something that happens to you or can you like learn and study to become one?” colby asked, setting up the camera on a camping chair, pointed to elias.

“in my opinion it has to come to you, you can’t work for it. if you are gifted with the ability you can learn and study to enhance it but you can’t force it.”

“the tent’s looking good.” corey nodded towards it. “but i swear to god i don’t want to sleep here.” he begs, making everyone laugh.

once everything was set up, and looking good, elias decided to leave. “i’ll probably head up to the cabin.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“yo, you sure?” jake asks, actually wanting him to stay. in the past few hours they’ve all been vibing pretty hard.

“yeah no pressure to leave.” colby said, giving him a smile.

“i don’t wanna intrude too much on your video or anything, but feel free to come to the cabin if you have any problems or something crazy happens. can’t promise staying at the cabin will be any better but still. i have wifi, hot water, beds, all that stuff so don’t be shy.” elias smiled back.

“alright, thank you.” sam nodded.

“make sure to say goodbye before you leave though!” elias called out, as he walked away.

“bye!” colby shouted.

“cya!” jake yelled.

“dude, you’re staring.” corey pointed out, laughing at his friend. colby turned to look at him, before rolling his eyes.

“shut up, i just think he’s cool.”

corey winked to sam and jake, them chuckling to eachother.

it was hours later, maybe 3 or 4, and elias was in his cabin, drinking a glass of wine, while reading one of the books from the old bookshelf. his days here were simple. he’d tend to the plants, garden, read some books and drink wine. he wish he had a more extroverted life, and would sometimes regret missing out on opportunities. such as hanging out with the guys back at the campsite.

he wondered why he didn’t just stay, when they were clearly okay with him there, but he was still unfortunately a stranger. they were okay with him there, but they didn’t want him there.

‘god i need friends’, he thought. he’s been so lonely, his only friend being jennifer, and they weren’t all that close anymore since he’s started studying witchcraft. elias has only had a few friends in his lifetime, people thinking he’s weird or abnormal for his interests and gifts, and he’s only been in one relationship which ended around 6 months.

he honestly hasn’t felt that interested in people, elias finds them too generic, but he did take interest in the group. no matter how goofy they all seemed, they were cool. especially colby, he seemed to care the most. and he was kinda cute so that’s a plus. but he was probably straight.

he paused, hearing a bang upstairs, before sighing. his only friends are the spirits of the forest. he took his glasses off and gave them a rub, as they got a bit foggy.

‘maybe a bath will ease my mind’ as he began to run a bath he heard a scream for help. his eyes widened at the voice, that was definitely colby.

“help!” it was a gut-retching scream. elias turned off the bath, and as he was running to the front door, he turned the outside lights on, immediately lighting up the area.

“colby?!” he called out, opening the door.

“elias?!” suddenly, he came into view. “holy fuck, thank god.” he sighed, relieved. he rushed to the door.

“what the hell happened out there? where is everyone?”

“i-i i got lost, i don’t know where i am, i was chasing after a shadow and i thought sam and jake were after me but i went in circles and i walked for so long it’s been like 15 minutes and i don’t know where they are.”

“woah, colby are you hurt?” elias reaches out to the others side, seeing a few smaller scratches. he gently touches them, earning a hiss out of colby.

“ouch.” he chuckles. “anyways, i really need help finding them, i don’t know what the fuck happened.”

“you said you saw a shadow figure? was it just a shadow or were there any visible descriptions?”

“just a shadow.” he shrugs, shivering a bit.

“theres been a few people spotting shadows around here, a lot of people think one of the main shadows, it’s of a larger male and it’s predicted that it’s the spirit of the husband i told you guys about earlier, and that he’s stuck in this forest as punishment.”

“jesus.” colby exhales.

“here, come in for a second, i’ll get you a heavier jacket and i’ll get a bandage for your side.”

“oh, thank you so much.” colby rubs his neck, awkwardly standing in the others home. “this cabin is actually beautiful.” he said, not expecting it.

“haha yeah, i take pride in it. nobody ever is here to see how gorgeous the wood and plants are.”

“oh why’s that?”

“i just don’t have many friends.” elias said, while grabbing a few items. “gets lonely up here.”

“hey well, you can consider us friends, i think you’re cool as hell.” colby smiles, taking the jacket, and putting it over his shoulder. “it would be awesome to have you come with us to other haunted places.”

“i-” elias was about to decline, before he thought for a minute. he knew he would regret declining. “sure, why not.” he gestured for colby to move his arm so he could wrap his side.

“that should do it.” he gave him a pat on the shoulder. “now, we really have to get you back to your friends, they’re probably freaking out.”

“yeah.” colby agreed, rubbing his side.

“do you mind if i spend the night with you guys? i have a feeling.. like i can feel something bad in your future, and i don’t think it’s safe for you guys alone.”

“oh god..” colby sighed, not ready for whatever he’s talking about. elias grabbed a few more things, and shoved it into a backpack. “it would be appreciated if you stayed with us.” he laughed it off, pretending he didn’t care too much, but he actually felt pretty nervous about the idea.

he’s never really found guys that attractive or anything but something about elias, it wasn’t even his looks, something about his personality or dare he say ‘spirit’ was alluring. colby just needed to know more, needed to get close to him.

“okay, let’s go.” he said, turning off the house lights, and turning on his flashlight.

they walked through the forest, trying to avoid all of the unnerving noises they heard. “thank you.” elias said quietly.

“what? why?”

“because, today has been the most social interaction i’ve had in awhile.” he chuckled. they continued to walk in peaceful silence, colby instinctively walking closer to elias. they smiled to eachother, elias having to look away and blush out of sight. ‘jesus, what is happening to me.’

they walked a bit more, and finally began to see bright lantern lights, similar to colby’s. “guys!” he shouted.

“no way, colby!” corey shouted, running straight to him out of relief.

“guys!”

“holy shit it’s colby!”

“colby!”

“what the fuck happened to you.” sam shook his head. they all looked closer and saw another person. as they got closer they realized it was elias.

“holy shit.” corey exclaimed.

“are you okay bro?” jake asked.

“the shadow person, i kept chasing it, i saw it again. it ran so i ran after it, i ended up going in circles and i got lost so i started screaming for help and i saw a cabin, thank god it was elias’.

“did you hear the scream? it was like a female scream.” sam explained.

colby went to sit in a chair, his side aching. “no i didn’t, i scratched my side though.” he lifted his shirt to show the bandage.

“dude, me and jake saw like a baby or something small hung.” sam said.

“bro, i looked at it, and my first thought was that it was a baby hanging, it was swaying and everything.”

“wait.. you said you saw a baby hanging?” elias looked at them in pure shock. “holy fuck.. you saw her.” he mumbled.

“what?” sam asked, eyes wide.

“what the fuck is going on.” corey shouted.

“the.. the story i told you guys, about the husband killing his pregnant wife. a few people i rented the cabin out to, they would see shadows of a hanging dead baby outside the windows.”

“holy fuck!” corey screamed, jumping before walking a few steps away.

“that is fucking crazy.” jake exclaimed, holding onto his head.

“i can’t believe this.” sam held the camera, beginning to shake. “okay, a rule, we can’t separate again.”

they began to talk about what the shadow could’ve been, talking about the biker kids they had seen earlier in the day.

“it definitely was not a biker, you would’ve heard it a mile away, and nobody just goes for a walk in the middle of the night.” elias shakes his head in disbelief at the situation.

“i’m not staying out here any longer.” jake says, running into the tent. everyone else begins to pack away their stuff, making sure that if they got scared again, they could leave without having to worry about their scattered belongings.

sam pulls out the camera once everything is put away, and gives the viewers a quick update. “just a little update guys, we did clean up our entire campsite, and now we’re going to chill in here for a little bit, because we don’t know what’s out here.” he gestures inside the tent.

“is it alright if i stay here? i don’t feel like walking back to the cabin.” he asks.

“oh yeah of course.” sam practically invites him in. “you’ll just have to deal with our gross selves.”

“i think i’ll be fine, i was a babysitter for 3 years of my life.” he joked, earning laughs from everyone.

a small fight ensues about sleeping bags with the guys, and elias sits off to the side of the tent, not wanting to get too close and make anyone uncomfortable. he watches as colby pokes around at corey’s pocket.

“brotherrrr, scared the fuck outta me.” corey cries out. “it’s either colby hitting on me again or a ghost.” elias laughed at that.

“i like to use shrek’s belly as a pillow.” jake mumbles, away from the drama.

a few minutes go by, and bugs in the tent frighten elias, while sam and colby start swatting at them before jake and corey talk about the white people face. elias, guilty of making that face more then once tonight.

the rest of the night was filled with fivesome jokes, jake playing with shrek into the camera, dance parties, sam touching more spiders in the tent, and colby trying to rest his eyes.

he originally laid near corey, between him and elias. he was resting on the end of his sleeping bag, feeling exhausted with the night so far. after another bug was squashed, they placed the camera back in the center of everyone.

elias was the closest to the camera, slightly out of frame, colby close by, corey leaning to the front, jake beside him, and sam on the other side also out of frame. “who keeps farting?” colby asked jokingly annoyed.

“yo what is that smell bro.” colby started cringing, holding his nose, causing everyone to laugh, corey the most.

“who farted dude?” jake commented about the smell looking towards sam.

“i don’t smell anything.” he shrugged carelessly, elias agreeing with him.

“yeah cause it was you!”

“someone ripped ass, and it was me two minutes ago.” corey revealed, laughing like a madman.

“my face was right by your asshole!” colby shouted, making a disgusted face to the camera before slowly shuffling away from the guy, and closer to elias. he dramatically collapsed onto elias’ leg and begged him not to do the same.

colby found his leg oddly comfortable, holding onto it like a pillow. he didn’t want to get too over the top and make elias uncomfortable, so tried to stay away from the boys lap.

then, it was back to jake putting shrek up to the camera, pretending to ring an imaginary doorbell.

“look guys, stop recording if we’re actually going to fuck.” corey pulled his sleeping bag over his face.

“yeah i don’t wanna be on camera.” elias said, holding his hands up, making everyone snicker. it was kind of awesome how they could go from complete strangers, thinking eachother was creepy, to then making jokes like this.

speaking of jokes, everyone made comments about colby and how he was sleeping all cuddly on the other, and god was it unbearable.

it was awkward, and uncomfortable but oddly enough, the friendly teasing felt better then being alone, so he dealt with it, and listened to corey’s little story about the boys and the shadowman.

suddenly, noises started getting louder. exhales, footsteps, bangings. corey felt uncomfortable, and kept demanding to leave the tent. everyone paused, trying to listen to the surrounding sounds, sam hearing a car, and elias hearing thuds.

“yo, should we just try to go to sleep?” colby asked, genuinely really tired.

“uh, no.” corey answered like it was obvious

elias felt the need to interrupt. “listen, the noises are obviously scary and whatever, but you need to understand that you guys are overthinking. think back to the tarot cards. you are scaring yourselves.” he tried to explain, as a way to calm them down.

it definitely didn’t work, corey hearing another exhale, and telling everyone to get out of the tent as a safety precaution.

eventually everyone began to rush out of the tent, into darkness, sam screaming for someone to get a light. elias put on his glasses, and grabbed a flashlight, pointing it around the camp.

he heard rustling coming from a near bush and started walking up to it, he peeked around trying to find what the noise could’ve been. “elias, hurry up!” sam called, as everyone began running to the car.

he caught up to them, not caring anymore and jumping in the back with jake and corey. “holy fuck.” he exhaled. “where are we going?”

“jennifer’s cabin.” corey replied, nodding at the idea.

sam’s phone started to ring as colby was driving on a tight road. “yo, yo, look!” he answered the call, everyone hearing absolute gibberish. it was random noises, deep exhales and other strange noises.

“that sounds like someone fucking with us.” colby stated, as sam talked about telling all his friends he was coming here.

“holy shit, i don’t think it’s someone pranking you guys.” elias stared, wide eyed at his phone before holding it up so everyone could see.

“fuck.” jake muttered. “answer! answer!”

elias answered the call, putting it on speaker phone. the sounds coming from his call was much different from sam’s. these, sounded like chants, as if a huge group of people were shouting into the phone, cursing the boy. “guys, what the fuck is this.” he had experienced everything, but never has he gotten no caller id calls, with scary ass chants. “are you fucking with me right now?” he asked the group, tears welling in his eyes.

“no! no! of course not!” colby assured him. “we don’t do shit like that.”

he pulled into the driveway of jennifer’s cabin, immediately opening the doors and seeing the pouring rain. at the door, jake started shaking the water off of him, complaining about being wet.

quickly, elias could see sam was struggling. he was digging through his bag trying to find the key. he was beginning to panic, and everyone was starting to realize.

“wait you don’t have the key?” corey questioned, getting nervous. “sam.” he sighed.

“was it in your pockets or the backpack?” colby asked.

“when do you remember last having it?” jake watched as sam patted his pockets.

“n-no i had it today, i showed the girl that jennifer gave me the key.” he defended. “here, just check the car, i swear, i have it.”

“really try to remember, did you put it in your bag or your pockets?” colby kept pushing.

sam frantically looked around the car as the others judged him, complaining and blaming him for losing the key. “hey honestly sam, don’t worry about it, it’s just a mistake.” elias tried to reassure him everything was fine, only for corey to say something.

“i thought.. it’s either here or in the backpack.. unless is it in our bags? should we check the trunk?” everyone was freaking out, and elias stood there awkwardly watching. he felt bad for sam.. he could feel the sadness and guilt dripping off of him.

“we need this key. we can’t get in. dude jennifer trusted us with this key, you can’t-”

“is this the only key?” “sam, are you fucking serious, dude. i’m not trying to be rude, but first you lowkey lost colby, and now you don’t have the key. i’m just saying, this is why i don’t like doing this type of shit.” corey raised his voice.

jake and corey agreed they didn’t want to go back to the tent, as colby kept filming. elias took a breath before saying excuse me and pulling sam to the side.

sam looked confused, but his guilt was overtaking it. “what?” he looked at the other, wondering why he dragged him a few feet away.

“dude, don’t listen to them, losing the key, like i said is a simple mistake, any of them could have done it, they’re not upset at you, they’re just upset at the cirumstances. but you’re forgetting i have a place just a few minutes away.” elias tried calming him down, seeing tears well in his eyes. he could tell sam wasn’t one that could deal with being yelled at.

“it’s not anything big, it’s a two bedroom with a pull out couch.” elias shrugged. “please just accept my offer, alright?” sam nodded, wiping any sort of water away from his eyes.

“thank you elias, really.” sam suddenly grabbed onto him, giving him a side hug.

“no worries.” he smiled, leading him back to the car, before they explained the plan to the others. everyone could see the disappointment in sam’s eyes, as he sat quiet in the passenger seat.

jake whispered to elias, about what happened out there, him shaking it off as to say it was private. he guides colby down the different roads, and in a few minutes they were outside his cabin.

“here we are!” he welcomes them inside, turning all the lights on.

“shit this is nice.” corey nodded, jumping onto the couch.

“woah woah, take your dirty ass boots off.” elias joked, watching as he threw them off in the direction of the door.

“thank you so much for having us here.” sam smiled, setting his bag down.

“really, don’t worry about it, i’m glad you’re here and not outside.” elias took their stuff and organized it by the doors. “okay so, there’s two bedrooms, you guys can take those if you want, i don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“hell no.” colby laughed, refusing to have him give up his own room in his own house.

“mkay whatever, someone can sleep in my room with me i guess, because trust me the couch is very uncomfortable to sleep on. plus the rooms are much safer. the living room is the scariest, you’ll hear the most shit out here.” he chuckled. “you guys can look around if you want, also feel free to eat anything you find, and use the wifi, passwords on the fridge.” he yawned. “i’m going the fuck to bed.”

the guys chuckled, taking him up on that offer.

for over half an hour, they decided to eat some of the snacks in his fridge, and taking crackers from the pantry. “god i was so hungry.” jake moaned into the leftover burger he was eating.

“okay guys, take it easy, we aren’t trying to raid their food.” colby snickered, watching as his friends ate like hungry rats.

“yeah good point.” sam took a handful of crackers and put the box back. “should we talk about sleeping arrangements?”

“there’s no fucking way i’m sleeping on the couch or anywhere in the living room after what he said.” corey stated, heading into the direction of the guest bedroom.

“yeahh, me neither.” jake followed after him.

“so.” colby shrugged. “do you care where you’re sleeping tonight?”

“not really, i’ve gotten to know elias pretty well so it doesn’t really matter to me.” the brunette squints at him.

“what did you guy’s talk about?” he questions.

“honestly, when he pulled me aside i was shocked. he like saw how overstimulated i was with the whole situation and he completely calmed me down, comforted me and everything.” he threw his arms as he was talking.

“yeah, i’m sorry about that, we were all just frustrated about the key.”

“don’t worry about it.” sam smiled. “are you and elias getting close? you were like all over him, sleeping back at the tent.” he was genuinely curious, considering he hasn’t seen his friend like this in awhile.

colby paused, thinking about everything that’s happened tonight. “honestly... i don’t know, it’s been really weird for me. i’m so confused with what im feeling.” he shook his head, so unsure.

“hm, i’ll go sleep with corey and jake.” they both nodded to that. “goodnight colby!” sam called out, walking in the same direction as the others did.

colby slowly approached elias’ room, pushing open the door gently. both bedside table lights were on, followed by a few candles around the room. he could see that the other boy was still awake. “oh hey.” he put down his book.

“hey elias. thought you were going to bed?”

“i was, heard some loud munchers in my kitchen though.” he giggled, as colby apologized. “no, honestly it’s okay, i was actually surprised how fast you guys decided to come to bed.”

elias yawned once more, stretching his arms out on the bed. “i can either sleep on the floor, make a little bed and shit, or if you’re cool i’ll just stay on the right of the bed.”

“literally don’t worry about it, not the first time i’m sleeping with a dude-” he paused, cutting himself off. “god that sounded bad.” he laughed, blushing with embarrassment.

“wouldn’t be my first time either.” elias smirked, blowing a fake kiss before wheezing at their dumb jokes.

colby moved closer, setting his personal backpack down and folding his jacket on the table. he shuffled towards the bed, and sat ontop of it. “i have no idea if i’m going to sleep tonight.” he sighed.

“that’s fair. it’s crazy out here. if you want we can just stay up and talk for awhile?”

“actually.. that would be nice.” colby rubbed the back of his neck. in was silent for a few seconds, him getting comfortable under the covers. “so..”

“how did you like the witches forest? scary enough for you guys?” the other asked, trying to start a good conversation.

“oh definitely one of the scariest places we’ve been to, like with the history of it and everything.”

“what other places have you been to?”

“uhh the stanley hotel, the biltmore, queen mary, cobb estate, griffin park, and we’ve explored so many creepy places, like morgues and abandoned hospitals.” colby explained.

“geez, no wonder you guys are haunted.” he laughs.

“do you think we are? we joke about it but im genuinely curious if we are.”

elias thinks for a minute. “i don’t think you’re haunted. however, i can sense something with you. with you and corey. whatever is following you, is completely different then what is attached to corey. notice the different in words.” he points out. “i think you have gotten yourself into many negative situations, not just paranormal.” “would you consider yourself lonely, or sad?”

colby exhaled shakily. “yes, sometimes.”

“spirits love following people that are lonely, they find them to be like easy prey, vulnerable.” he emphasizes the last word. elias closes his eyes, really focusing on colby’s presence. “i think the spirit that is with you is also lonely. they are following along with you, because you are feeding into it, giving it attention. and that’s fine, but if you don’t want it with you, you have to make it clear.”

“is it friendly?” he asked.

“yes. it’s friendly. i can’t tell you where you picked this spirit up, but it’s positive, and enjoys your company. it will not hurt you-” he stops, feeling something float by him. “it will not hurt you, it doesn’t want to, that’s not it’s intent. infact, it wants to protect you. noises you might hear, when you go to a haunted area, it very well could be this spirit trying to assert dominance with other ones.”

“holy.” colby tried to calm his breathing. “this is crazy. as long as it’s friendly, then i welcome it.” “so, do you think corey’s ghost is like bad?”

“i wouldn’t say bad, but when i was sitting near him earlier, it isn’t as friendly as yours. it likes the fear that comes with scaring him, i’d even go as far as, it wants to scare him more, it wants to up it. and with that spirit challenging him, i am nervous for his health both physically and mentally.”

“jesus, i have to tell him that in the morning, he’ll probably freak.” he sighed. “it’s so cool how you can like sense this stuff, does it ever get overwhelming?”

“allll the time.” elias chuckles. “sometimes i can just be in a library back in la, and i’ll feel like some version of spirits and like all these weird emotions, and i have to leave.”

“wow i’m sorry that comes with such an amazing gift.”

“it’s okay, i feel at peace with it now. i think my brothers with me, helping me deal with it all. i think he realizes how alone i am, and has decided to follow me.” he laughs at himself. “sorry, sorry, let’s talk about something more fun.”

colby laughed along. “so do you have a girlfriend?” he wondered, making elias pause and blush lightly.

“no, i’m single.” “goes along with the loneliness, if you feel me.” he chuckled. “you?”

“same, it’s hard to date now that sam and i’s channel has blown up. a lot of people have tried to use me for like clout and stuff.” the other frowned at that, apologizing for his past experiences. “no, no it’s okay, i just hope i’ll find someone soon, i do feel you, it gets so lonely.” he fake cries.

elias sips his glass of wine, offering some to colby. “i’m a vodka and rum kinda guy.”

and soon enough, the boys were drinking, gossiping to each other about absolutely everything. colby was a very talkative drunk it seemed. he was blabbing about his friends, girls, ghosts, anything. “so like, are you gay?” he asked.

elias spat out his wine back into the glass before turning to colby. “uh wow..” he rubbed the back of his neck. “where did that come from?”

“i-i don’t know.” colby admitted, trying to hide himself with the blanket. he really didn’t know why he asked, his weird confused feelings mixed with being drunk just made him ask, he was so curious.

“i’m bisexual.. how’d you know i was into men?”

“i.. i didn’t.” colby mumbled into the blanket. he felt himself shaking, so nervous and anxious. he took a deep breath and exhaled aggressively before jolting up and looking right at elias. “i didn’t know you liked men but i think i do.” he rushed it out.

“i’ve never felt anything for a guy before so i’m pretty freaked out right now and-d confused but i think i like you.” he rubs his eyes, embarrassed and uh pretty drunk.

“wait really?” he paused for a moment. ‘holy shit’ he thought. he never would have expected this, he just thought colby loved being physical with his friends from all the touches earlier in the night.

seeing that his confusing feelings were being reciprocated, it made elias the happiest he’s been in awhile. “dude, i feel the same way.”

colby stopped, completely still. both boys were completely shocked at each others confessions.

“like i feel like i’ve known you for awhile.” elias commented.

“same.” he tried to think of what to say next, where to go from here.

“hey.” the other touched his arm. “don’t get too nervous about this whole situation, we have plenty of time to get to know eachother, plenty of time for you to figure out everything you’re going through.” “don’t feel pressured into anything.”

colby thought for a few minutes. “thank you, i appreciate it.” “it’s.. it’s so weird feeling like this. ever since i was younger i’ve been so convinced that i’m straight, and now i’m getting all these feelings for you and it’s honestly making me scared. what if i do like you? does that mean i have to come out? tell my friends, family and viewers? what if i don’t and this is just a mistake?”

“you can.. or we can figure it out one step at a time.” elias smiled. “and by the way, never feel pressured to come out, it’s a personal and heavy thing to do.”

he shivered, tears threatening to spill. it was such a vulnerable moment for him. elias reached out to the boy, offering a hug.

they shared a tight hug, elias rubbing his back out of comfort.

their moment was interrupted by an incredibly loud bang, and three loud screams from the guys in the other room. “colby!” one of them shouted.

they pulled apart from their hug, just as the three barged into their room. “did you fucking hear that, bro?!” sam questioned, before looking at the people in front of him. he acknowledged how close they were, the slight tears in colby’s eyes,how intimate the room lighting was, the wine, the white rum..

oh fuck, they just interrupted a moment.

the other two didn’t notice, too scared of the noises they’ve been hearing all night. “that was the loudest one yet!” jake announced.

“i’m not going back in there.” corey whined.

“we’ve been hearing shit over there, what about you?” sam asked, before mouthing a sorry to the two sitting in bed. elias smiled at the gesture, before trying to wipe off his smirk.

“nope.” colby shook his head, his eyes less red then a few minutes ago.

“it’s safer in here.” corey stated, setting down the pillow he brought from the other room, and curling into a ball onto the floor, making elias laugh.

“are we having a sleepover?” he asked.

“oh, fucking totally.” jake snickered, running back to the other room and grabbing every blanket and pillow he could.

sam made a gesture with his finger, calling over colby. he noticed and walked to the bathroom with him.

“uh, hey, sorry about that, we didn’t mean to interrupt you guys.”

“interrupt? you uh didn’t interrupt anything we were just talking.”

sam made a face, before nodding. it was his business, so when he wanted to tell him, he would, so he left it alone. “alright.. you ready for this sleepover?” he smiled.

“fuckkk yeahh.”

it had been over an hour, everyone was dead asleep, corey snoring. elias was the only one awake, he was too in thought to sleep. he watched over colby, who was laying right infront of him on the floor with the rest of the guys. they were each laying on both bed mattresses, covered in blankets, basically in a line.

he had been debating to put an arm around colby, but.. if they woke up like that he could expose colby to the rest of his friends, or atleast cause him to get teased.

after a bit, he decided to shuffle his left arm under colby, so it was less noticeable. he held the boy, smiling, before finally falling asleep.

he didn’t know this, but colby was awake the entire time, smiling, wondering what the frick he was gonna do about this goofy medium he found himself possibly falling in love with...

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