do you ever get the urge to just smash your head against the wall until your skull cracks open and there’s blood streaming down your face but all that matters is that you reach in between the cracks to poke around your brain until you get to the black, thready gunk thats been tormenting you for years now and you just keep pulling and pulling until there’s meters of that stuff piling up on your lap but you cant do anything but pull. you pull until your arms get tired but no matter how much you pull there’s always more gunk twisting around your brain, infecting you until you finally just give in and slump against the wall as blood drips down your face and the gunk wraps around your neck and body, engulfing you until you are nothing but sadness.
SYNOPSIS: martin wants a late night snack, and you just want him to stop interrupting your sleep. martin edwards x f!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: none, just fluff and the bitter aftertaste of my loneliness, f!reader is a little mean but it’s fair honestly
WC: 0.9k
NOW PLAYING: stuck in love, café canela (3:41 min)
you’re on the cusp of sleep when martin lifts his head off the pillow.
his arm feels warm, feels safe at its position around your waist. his breath puffs in and out against the back of your neck, but it’s not slow enough, not lazy enough.
he’s awake. you inwardly sigh. martin makes his move.
‘baby. wake up.’
you play dead, banking on the fact that he doesn’t know you well enough to think you’re asleep. but alas, it is martin. the same martin who knows you take your coffee after stirring thrice, or that you love winter but hate the cold, or that you’ll only eat ramen when there’s no spring onions and a healthy scoop of sesame seeds.
that same martin is now removing his warmth from your skin and lifting himself onto his elbows.
‘i know you’re awake, c’mon. i can sense it.’
‘that’s not creepy at all.’ he has the audacity to smirk at that, even though you can’t see. if you weren’t already facing away from him, you would be by now.
‘you are such a little shit. i was just about to fall asleep, tin.’
a sliver of guilt makes its way into martin’s chest at that, though it quickly disappears when you turn around and create a resounding slap! against his chest.
‘hey! what was that for?’ the comment elicits a sleepy giggle from you, enough to pull at the corners of his lips.
now that martin’s got your attention, he wants more of it, quickly dropping back from his elbows down into the crook of your neck.
your arms wrap around his neck, travelling into his hair as he peppers kisses across your collarbone. it’s quiet now, just like how it was before martin decided to wake you up at an ungodly hour.
‘like your hair like this,’ you murmur, ‘feels nice. longer.’
‘yeah?’
‘yeah.’
‘is it nice enough that you could get out of bed and maybe… come get snacks with me?’
’martin.’
‘…yes?’
‘you woke me up so i could babysit you at the convenience store?’
‘well when you put it like that…’
‘it’s exactly how it sounds, tin.’
‘please please please?’ martin’s looking at you now, no, in you, the way he does when his love borders on admiration.
there’s a little whine in his voice, and it tells you he’s a bit embarrassed after asking. nevertheless, his 6’3 self always gets what he wants, so you sigh, audibly this time, long and loud so he can hear clearly.
martin grins at that, easing himself off the bed before reaching for his hoodie laid across the chair. he pulls you up, a little more effort needed to fully convince you to wake properly.
when you’re finally standing, he raises your arms, pulling the hoodie over your head and letting it fall around the top of your thighs.
‘i can dress myself, y’know.’
‘yeah but, baby, you’re just too adorable.’
‘shut up, man.’
the pair of you finally make it out the door after martin takes 15 minutes finding his beanie, claiming that he ‘can’t just walk around looking like a fool’. you retaliated by telling him it’s 2 am, and nobody is judging his outfit at 2 am.
the street is outlined with remnants of snow from a few days ago, wet and a little dirty, but magical nonetheless.
oh, and cold. oh so cold.
‘martin you are a sick freak for dragging me out at this time so you can eat.’
you’re clinging to him, arms clutching his bicep in a death grip as he practically carries you towards the store at the end of the street.
‘m’sorry baby. i really am. i’ll pay for your snacks, yeah?’
‘you already do, stupid.’
and martin being martin, grins at that, because what says i love you more than passive aggressive comments in the dead of night?
the entrance to the convenience store feels like a lifeline, heat rushing to reach your skin as you step in.
he wraps an arm around your shoulders as you detach yourself from him, always in need of your touch.
‘do you know what you want?’
‘um… funny story actually…’
‘martin edwards park.’
‘i’m just playing baby! yeah, i do.’
you mirror his steps as he leads you towards the instant ramen aisle, stopping right in the middle. no one’s there except for the teenage cashier half asleep at the counter, you note, as martin lets go of you in favour of choosing a flavour.
‘ok. m’done. you want anything?’
you shake your head, yawn slipping out as he leads you to the counter.
‘wait,’ that stops martin for a second.
‘i want banana milk.’
‘yeah, sure baby, whatever you want.’ martin leaves you momentarily, slipping past aisles to reach the back, though you can still see his stupid beanie peeking above the shelves.
he swings the plastic bag in the hand that’s not occupied yours, peace settling over the two of you, soft and quiet. when you finally settle on the couch back at home, you punch a straw into your reward (banana milk), and track martin’s figure as he sets about making his ramen.
he joins you, placing the bowl on the coffee table, face burying into your hair as you tuck yourself into his side.
‘thanks for coming with me.’
he only receives a half-hearted hum back, and plucks the carton from your fingers as you finally doze off.
the clock ticks to a rough 3 am. martin knows he has a schedule tomorrow, but for now, there’s nothing he’d rather do than be stuck in love with you.
‘cause you were always in love
you were always hung up’
martin…if you hear me martin…call me…
on a serious note, there have been a few not so nice things happening in coerblr over the past few weeks. lovely cosmiho deleted her account due to excessive hate, which is not tolerated in this community, or any other, for that fact. this should be a positive place where people can gather, connect, and have fun, and this sanctuary of sorts is ruined when not so nice people make disgusting comments. cosmiho is only one example of what can happen when you take it too far, and i really don’t want to see anyone else, especially my (or your) favourite writers, end up in the same situation, period. so, please remember, if you don’t like, don’t read! simple as that.
- ceecee’s contribution ⋆˚࿔♫⋆˚࿔
When the realization that you're falling in love with your best friend hits on a random Wednesday.
MAINS. Woonhak & female reader
TROPES. fluff, high school au, slice of life, best friends to ?
WARNINGS. tomboyish mc, school punishment that requires kneeling on the ground
WORDS. 1.1k
You’re in trouble.
You’re late. Again.
For the second time this week and it’s only Wednesday. Mr Lee won’t go easy on you this time. Helping an ahjussi collect his cardboards in the middle of the street can’t be used as an excuse too many times and you doubt admitting that you had to queue up for your favourite bungeoppang would earn you mercy.
Your hair is in your mouth as you pant and you feel one strap of your backpack slip off your shoulder. The pavement is slippery under your feet after the night rain and you need to jump over a puddle when you see the corner’s street light counting down rapidly. The PE teacher would surely be proud of the sprint you pull off last second but embarrassed at how you’re trying to catch your breath afterwards. Miss Go always says even her grandma has better stamina than half the class. You think she’s lying but you have seen ahjummas climbing the Namsan without breaking out a sweat, so maybe she’s right.
You make it to the school yard’s corner nine minutes before first period, the home room teachers doing name roll already, which means Mr Lee is at the gate waiting for late students like a hawk waiting for its prey. Ah, you really don’t want to start the day by kneeling and holding your backpack above your head. You had red imprints on your knees and sore arms for days after last time too.
You backtrack a few steps to hide behind the wall and re-evaluate the situation but unexpectedly bump into something solid.
“Hi, Y/N!” Woonhak greets you cheerfully, a wide smile splitting his face into two, when you turn around.
You shush him and push him against the wall just in case Mr Lee decides to lurk closer. You can’t let him get you caught.
“Woah,” the boy laughs boisterously, then belatedly realizes he’s being too loud again. “Oops, sorry. Rough morning?”
Woonhak doesn’t look sorry at all. He still has that easygoing smile on his lips as he reaches out to brush your messy hair out of your face. His fingertips barely touch your forehead but your skin tingles. You swat his hand away.
“You don’t get bungeoppang if you keep it up,” you warn him, because food as bait always works with him. He is easy like that.
“From your corner ahjumma? You got red bean ones too?” He asks with sparkly eyes and you pointedly don’t answer.
You don’t even like the red bean filling, you’re a custard cream girlie through and through, but you always get some because they’re Woonhak’s favourites. And he’s kind of your favourite person on Earth. Not that you would ever tell him that. His ego has already gotten too big since he joined that wannabe rock band with those college kids.
“Anyways, why are you late?” You cross your arms in front of your chest after tucking your hair behind your ears, awfully aware of the redness of your cheeks from all that running. And because it’s surprisingly hot this morning, especially in your school blazer. Totally not because you’re standing a bit too close to your best friend.
“We had practice. I swear Taesan is insane when it comes to practice schedules. 6AM on a Wednesday? Truly cruel. I should sue him for inhuman working conditions,” he whines but it’s all bark no bite. You know that he idolizes that other guy like he’s his role model or something. Plus, he loves being in the band. He really shines on stage like he was meant to be up there.
“You totally should,” you mutter only half listening to the end of his rant because you’re busy peeking out from behind the corner to check on Mr Lee’s position. He’s currently lecturing Jihoon on the dress code, dragging him inside by his collar. You let out a sigh as you pull back and give Woonhak a quick onceover before fixing his crooked tie with nimble fingers.
“You know, Mr Lee loves me ever since I accidentally told him where some kids smoke, he won’t–”
Woonhak’s cough cuts his ramble off when you pull on his tie a bit too tight.
“Help me up.”
“What?” He splutters, confused, after loosening his tie.
You just look up at the brick wall, silently weighing your chances. It's probably around 2–2.5 meters high, it shouldn’t be too dangerous a height to jump down from.
“You sure?” There’s a crease on the boy’s forehead and evident worry in his eyes which is sweet but he should really know you better. Growing up with two brothers didn’t raise you weak.
“I can always climb a tree,” you shrug and Woonhak is already crouching down, intertwining his fingers, so you could use him as leverage. You throw your backpack over the wall and do just that with a hand on his shoulder, a little lift from the boy helping you grab onto the top of the wall and pull yourself up. When you look down from up there, you see Woonhak turning his head away like a gentleman until you swing yourself over the wall which is not an easy feat in a skirt but you manage. You reach the ground on the other side with a thud and a grunt.
“Are you okay?” Woonhak whisper-yells which makes you roll your eyes more fondly than it should. But before you could reassure him that you didn’t break any bones, you hear Mr Lee’s voice too from the other side of the wall:
“Why are you lazing around here, Mr Kim? Don’t you have a class to be at?”
“Uhm… I got a cramp?” Woonhak says but it sounds more like a question than an answer. Crap, he’s an awful liar. It’s clear the teacher doesn’t buy it.
“Right. And do you usually talk to yourself?”
“Yes! It's called pep talk. It’s trendy these days, Mr Lee,” Woonhak giggles but it soon turns into a yelp.
“Well, you can talk to yourself while joining the other late students. Come on,” Mr Lee claps, hurrying him up. Then after a pause he adds: “And tell Miss Y/L/N to come too.”
You let out a disappointed sigh and drag yourself to the gate where others are already kneeling, the old school punishment your school just can’t get rid of. Jihoon grins at you and Eunchae with her freshly dyed hair attempts a little wave. Woonhak and Mr Lee arrive soon enough from outside, the boy shooting you a sheepish smile.
You huff, succumbing yourself to your fate as you lower yourself to the ground. But before your bare knees could touch the asphalt, suddenly there’s something soft there. You blink in surprise when looking down you realize it’s Woonhak’s blazer. When you turn your head towards him, he just smiles, brighter than the sun.
Your traitorous heart skips a beat.
Oh no.
You’re in so much trouble.
END NOTES. header pic is from this instagram post, title is from the twinbed song
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