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smok3r7 · 10 months ago

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Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Six: Running Away // Joel’s Perspective

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: After Joel met you, his whole life changed. Seeing all these events unfold from his perspective definitely makes the whole thing seem more real, and it somehow makes it harder for you to understand.

Word count: 6.3k

⚠️Warnings: mention of abuse from past chapters, fear of losing another loved one, quick mention of rape from past chapter (no description)

—

“Please, do not call her Mrs. Rossi,” Maria pleads.

“Why not? Isn’t that her name?” Ellie chimes from the living room behind Joel’s relaxed body.

All he does is slightly turn his head to the left and squint his eyes at Ellie to tell her to shut up, and she’s quick to shrug her shoulders as he turns back to face Maria, sorry!

“Well, yes, but… Nate, her husband, is an abusive piece of shit. She’s been with him for seven years now and for some reason,” Maria sighs as she shakes her head, “the poor girl won’t leave him. So just, please, don’t call her Mrs. Rossi.”

He nods as he takes a sip of hot coffee as he turns to Ellie once again to make sure she understands, “I’m not stupid, Joel.” He just shakes his head as he still stands in the kitchen that belongs to Tommy and Maria. Why won’t she leave if it’s that bad, floats around his head so much that he can’t help but ask Maria how bad this marriage actually was, before Maria goes down the rabbit hole of it all with him and Ellie.

—

How could someone stay married to such a vile person? It just makes no sense. After only knowing him for less than a year, she married him. I mean, what was she expecting to happen? She didn’t even know who he truly was.

What’s so special about this Nate? How did it become so bad without anyone noticing? Does Nate really hold that much power over her? Shit, clearly he does if this girl won’t leave him, even after beating her so badly she had a goddamn miscarriage.

Joel’s mind can't stop thinking about you and why on earth you would still be married to Nate, it’s simply unbelievable. And with knowing your history before Jackson, it boggles his mind even more because how can this woman who was once the most badass person, now become this weak, pushover of a woman - it just doesn’t make sense.

“She should be getting out of work soon,” Maria announces to Joel and Tommy, the three of them on the porch, watching the snow continue to fall.

“So I’m gonna have her bring you guys to the empty house next to hers, and look, I’m not saying you have to date her, but she needs a change in her life. So just maybe feel it out?”

“Maria, really?” Tommy starts with a laugh but it’s quickly turned into a cough when she looks at him.

“Yes, dear, she needs something more and I really think your brother and Ellie could give that to her!”

“Okay, look,” Joel interrupts, “I’ll give her a chance but if I get any vibe that she’s not digging for more, I’m leaving it at that. I’m not looking for a project.”

Maria nods, fair enough, thank you, and Joel gives a small nod back as he turns back to the snow again, the way the lanterns light up the snow covered street gives Joel a sense of security and hope. Maybe I can have a real life again, just maybe.

—

Wow.

That’s all that Joel’s brain can even begin to fathom about as he watches you walk up to the front porch with Maria where he and Tommy are.

Your beautiful facial features are what initially pull him into you, the way your eyes and nose move with emotion as you listen to Maria and how your nose scrunches and sniffs from the cold winter air is all just icing on the cake.

You haven’t even looked at him the whole time you’ve been chatting with Maria, but he guesses that's what happens after so many years of being abused when you do look at another man - even if it's just to meet someone new or become friends.

He quickly pushes those thoughts away for another time when he hears Maria introduce him to you and then you finally look at him. Joel watches how your breath catches in your chest, and he does the same but he’s a lot better at hiding it than you are.

Joel then reaches his worn hand out to meet your soft one, making sure to not scare you, to be gentle with you. “Nice to meet you darlin’” Falls from his lips with such ease, and he doesn’t even think about it, the whole world coming to a sudden stop as Joel stares at your beauty.

Your eyes shimmer from the the orange porch light that also illuminates your well-aged face, your subtle smile on the corner of your lips, the way your hair is covered in many snowflakes as they slowly melt into it, and all of this combined has Joel wanting to know more about you and how you ended up with Nate. If this is what you looked like after almost a decade of abuse, how gorgeous could you look out of it?

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” You say smoothly as you continue to stare at Joel. He can’t help but smirk as he says, “Thank you darlin’,” with a natural wink to hint that he is somewhat interested, “gonna go grab the kid, then we can head out.”

—

Joel watches how your body goes rigid walking past your own house and the quick glance you give the mossy colored home. He notices the light through the sheer curtains of what he can only imagine is the living room, maybe even Nate.

Passing your home the three of you reach the navy blue house with a stunning wrap around porch and a huge oak front door. Holy shit - Joel never thought this day would come again, a time where he could be free of worry about death for him and Ellie. It’s such a relief to finally feel safe for once.

His heavy feet on the cream steps causes a slight creek as he slowly walks behind you and he takes a quick glance at your ass. God damn, you fill those jeans out nicely. You take a couple more steps before you reach the huge door and put the key in, pushing the door open and sliding to the side so he and Ellie can go in.

As you turn to him and hold out your finger with the key ring on it, your soft voice rings through his ears, “Welcome home.”

“I call dibs on the shower,” Ellie then shouts as she flies past the two bodies on the porch. This girl, I swear, Joel chuckles. Now it’s just him and you out in the freezing cold weather, and he wants to get a better look at you so he takes a couple steps, ending up across from you and he leans back on the railings for support.

“Thank you, sugar,” your head picks up at the sound of his voice.

Joel notices how your body sways back and forth between both feet, your feet most likely sore, your hands behind your back causing your army green jacket to tighten, and your face showing so much interest and curiosity.

“Will I- we be seeing more of you?” He quickly changes his words, not wanting to seem too desperate. His body language becomes sheltered, one hand behind his neck and the other in his jacket pocket, and he really doesn’t want to scare you away because for the first time in decades, Joel feels like something might come out of this.

The way your body and eyes are contradicting each other with innocence and lust has Joel feeling dazed, she is gonna be the death of me. You then innocently speak, “I sure hope so.”

You’re now only inches away from him, and oh, she’s just as hooked as I am. He takes a couple slow breaths that mesh with yours oh so perfectly. How I just want to grab your face and kiss you and give you everything you deserve, his mind is flowing with all the ideas of things to do for you, how he would make you breakfast every morning, let you do what you please, and treat you with the utmost respect.

Joel’s heart and mind are fighting with each other, his heart wanting to kiss you and his mind telling him it’s way too early for anything like that, even though you have shown you’re interested.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

No one moves. Not you, not Joel, both him and you are stuck on the porch, only inches apart from one another. He can tell you don’t want to go home, and why would you? If the light on in the living room is any indication of Nate waiting for you to walk in, Joel knows it won’t be any good for you.

Why do you have to go there? You know you don’t want to, you know you just want to stay here. But I know you’ll never ask, and there’s no way I can ask you - it’s just, too early.

He doesn’t want to send you back over to that so-called home of yours, but if neither he or you are going to ask, he simply must let you go for the night. The exhaustion of the past couple weeks of travel and violence is finally catching up to him, all he wants is to shower and lay down - preferably with you, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Goodnight, Sugar.” He smirks.

“Goodnight, Miller.” You bite your bottom lip which grazes him gently, you tease.

—

“I’m going to bed, G’night Ellie,” Joel yells down the stairs. Night, old man, he gets back, before he shakes his head and chuckles. This teenage girl is ridiculous, but she holds a very special spot in Joel’s heart - Ellie is his other daughter, his saving grace, his purpose.

As he shuts his bedroom door for the night, he can’t stop thinking about you and what is happening next door. Why didn’t I just ask her to stay over, repeats in his mind as he stumbles over to the king size bed that’s covered with gray sheets and a comforter. He sits down with a groan, his elbows rest on his knees and his hands come up to cover his face.

The image of you standing in front of him on the porch, only a mere inch away from him is ingrained into his eyes, it simply won’t leave him alone. He pulls his hands away from his face and stands back up, and his knees pop as he does, walking towards the window that faces your home and the only sign of life is from the one light on - please be okay.

How could he just let you walk right back into the lion's den? The feeling of guilt starts to creep into his mind and heart. If anything happens to you tonight, he’s gonna feel responsible.

—

“Joel, Joel!” Ellie shouts at him and shakes him awake.

“Better be important,” he groans as he slowly sits up under the covers, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The sound of your name falling from Ellie’s mouth shakes him, he’s immediately up from the mattress and sprints down the stairs, Ellie right on his heels blabbering about how you showed up practically naked and with bruises all over.

He’s in pure terror at the sight of you curled up and shivering on the couch, your hair drenched from the snow, your face covered in blood and your left eye bruised, god damnit. He runs over to you and sits on the coffee table that faces your trembling body, the look on your face is disheartening, he watches as you tighten your arms around your bent legs.

As his eyes make their way to yours he sees the way your expression is a scream for help. Joel can’t stand to see you like this, all he wants to do right now is storm over next door and kick the shit out of this Nate kid. Who the fuck does this to a woman you’re supposed to love and cherish?

“You’re staying here for a little bit, sugar,” He bites through his teeth, wanting to control his rage in front of you.

He watches as you finally let it all go, as you start to blabber some sort of, thank you, caught between your sobs. Joel is quick to jump up and sit next to your shaking body, instinctively pulling you into his lap and starting to rock you as you continue to cry.

I knew not to send her over there, why didn’t I just invite her in? Poor girl, she doesn’t deserve this at all, not in the slightest. God, I could just go over there and kill that son of a bitch. How has no one done anything to help her? She’s so scared and weak, how is she still alive?

About twenty minutes have gone by, and your weeping has stopped but Joel watches your face as singular tears still roll down your cheek down to your neck. Joel can’t stop wanting to know what really happened tonight, and he needs you to say something, anything. Still staring at your figure in his arms, your head laying on his chest as it rises and falls in the rhythm of his, he asks what has been on his mind.

A moment goes by of silence, which Joel was expecting and completely understood - you clearly went through something incredibly traumatic tonight, enough for you to come over to Joel’s, to this man who is practically a stranger, and that alone says something.

He observes as you lift your face to look at him and you both stare into each other's eyes. His are soft and yours are sharp - should be the other way around. Joel feels this tear in his chest at the sight of you broken down to complete helplessness. I could’ve prevented this.

You hesitantly sit yourself up, still in Joel’s lap as he softly wraps his arms around your now sturdy body, just wanting to make you feel safe and comfortable. Okay, um, you start slowly telling him what happened and Joel just listens with intent - he needs to know how you ended up looking like this.

He can’t believe what he is hearing right now, she hid in her bathroom for three fucking hours? He ripped her hair, enough for pieces to be missing, gave her a black eye and bruised her whole body, old and new ones.

What a pig, a sad pathetic waste of a human life.

You’re hysterical by this point, hands flying as your voice continues to rise as you finish your dreadful story, but there’s one more thing you tell him that causes Joel to freeze.

“And I wouldn’t have been raped either.”

It causes this static sound to ring in his ears, the tears that have been begging to flow from his eyes finally roll down his cheek and disappear into his facial hair. Neither Joel or you have broken eye contact, and his eyes can speak more than his own voice can, he’s stunned into silence. I’m gonna kill him.

The sudden feeling of your soft hand on his cheek, as your thumb wipes away the trail of wetness from his tears, brings him back to the beautiful woman sitting in his lap. This woman that he feels he can help bring back to the old her, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

—

Another round of the four seasons come and go. Joel and Ellie have insisted that you move in with them, both of them pleased when you accepted their offer. Joel especially, who never wanted you to step foot back into the hell you came from, even if Nate wasn’t there much - he knew that it held too many memories.

Over the last couple months, Joel and you decided to have a designated game night every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. They would bring the food and Joel would supply the game for the evening, which usually ended up being some sort of card game.

“John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy,” Ellie drags out as she turns her head to look at Joel with a questionable look. Of course she doesn’t know who John Travolta is, he thinks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. When he sets it down and listens to Ellie continue, he looks over to you and sees you trying to hide your smile. That beautiful smile that makes Joel feel warm and bubbly inside, like a teenager on a first date.

Well it’s gotta be hers, he laughs to himself, you definitely do not have the best poker face, especially with some wine in you. Joel finds it cute when you get all ditzy after a couple drinks, it makes him feel warm because he knows how you weren’t allowed to drink with Nate, so the fact that you do here shows just how comfortable you really are.

“Having no legs, just toes,” Ellie reads, which is followed by you and Ellie bursting into laughter, both of you hitting the table and crying from reading the silly little white card, and Joel starts to laugh at you. She’s perfect.

“That’s the winner!”

“I win!” You shout as you raise your hands in the air and wave them around, and Joel watches as you finally act how you want to, not being scared to do so, there’s that girl Maria was talking about. He’s in complete awe of you and the confidence that has grown so much in the last year - shit, even the last couple months. It’s like you’re a new person, but still the same as before, you've just adapted your older personality with your newer one.

But just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms and instead of legs, it just has toes, comes from Ellie as she does the baby arms impersonation and the whole table starts loudly laughing. Joel can’t help but smile, Ellie can finally have her teenage years back a little bit, more normal than out beyond the walls.

The conversation has changed, and Joel ends up blocking it out because he can’t stop thinking about the sight of you feeling free. The couple glasses of whiskey have made him feel like tonight could be the night, the night that the months of small flirting can come to an end and can turn into something else, just maybe.

It’s now or never, he thinks and he carefully sets his hand on your bare thigh and gives a soft squeeze. God, I just want to devour her. His eyes glance over to you and he pays close attention to how your body reacts to his new touch, and it pleases him to see the effect he has on you.

The way your chest rises and lowers, your eyes darting to his hand and back to him, the slow smile that grows on your face, then your hand laying on top of his with a gentle squeeze back. Yes, ma’am. A minute goes by of Joel not paying any attention to Maria’s complaining, all his focus on you and only you. He observes, discreetly of course, how you are slowly unwinding, moving close to your breaking point of just going upstairs. I gotta get rid of em’.

—

“Gotta say, darlin’,” Joel says as he slides his jeans off and moves to the head of the bed, “I like you in charge.” And he honestly does, it’s such a difference from your natural attitude that this has Joel attracted to you in a whole new way.

Joel is starstruck at your appearance, the way the green flannel hangs open showing off your sexy black lace bra that fits you perfectly, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Your movements have Joel in a trance. When you straddle him, his hands almost have a mind of their own, the way they find their spot on your ass and they start to knead your soft skin.

All he wants to do is take care of you, by any means necessary, even if that means only you get the attention and love tonight - that’s perfectly okay with him. You honestly need this more than he does, and he knows that, so all his energy goes to pleasing you and only you. Joel has no problem with not getting anything in return, all he wants is for you to feel good, and honestly, he loves that you feel comfortable enough to be the dominant one. He’s gonna let you do what you want.

He loves watching how your face contorts from the pleasure his fingers give you, the way your hips roll with the rhythm of him. The little noises that escape your mouth have him in shambles, the way your hands snag his hair and it forces him to look at you while you kiss him - he loves it all.

“Let it all go, pretty girl,” Joel coos as you ride out your orgasm that has left you speechless, breathless, he watches how your body freezes and the broken moans roll out of your mouth into his. This is exactly what Joel wanted you to experience tonight - pure ecstasy.

—

The next morning, Joel gets up early and decides he’s gonna make you breakfast, that this is gonna become the new normal for you. He wanted you to have the best treatment here that you could possibly have. He finds some pancake mix and decides, why not, alongside some fresh fruit from your garden next door that you still attend.

“Ellie, can you grab the strawberries please? I’m gonna go grab her,” Joel asks as he exits the kitchen and heads towards the stairs. I really hope she enjoys this, he thinks to himself, and he really wants you to give this a chance because he knows that he’s not the only one who feels the connection the two of you have.

He softly knocks on the door so he doesn’t startle you, but when he doesn’t receive a response, he turns the silver handle. “Darlin’?” He asks to the empty bedroom, must be in the bathroom.

“Bathroom!” You respond quickly, but there’s a hint of something in your voice, something different.

He asks if everything is okay and the way you respond has him thinking you’re scared, or that there’s something you need or want to discuss, but he decides not to push it. He knows that you have your limits, and just by your voice alone, he can tell this is one of those times, so he dismisses himself and tells you that breakfast is ready.

“Hey,” Joel says to Ellie who’s at the dining room table eating her pancakes already, “have you talked to her at all today?”

“No, she’s been upstairs all morning,” she takes a sip of her orange juice, “why?”

“Okay, um- she just seems,” he waits a beat as he sits next to her, “something seems off.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joel nods as he picks up his fork and tabs a piece of cut up pancake, and takes a bite just thinking of what possibly could be wrong. What happened?

After about five minutes, you finally come down the steps, and he can tell you’re trying to be quiet, almost mouse-like, but why? You don’t have to be scared here, you’re safe, Joel made sure you knew that and never thought any different. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case right now.

“Hi darlin’,” he chirps as you sit down across from him, “I’ll make you plate real quick.” And all you do is give a weak smile and thank you, and he’s sure that something is definitely wrong. You’re usually quick to say you can do it yourself or you just do it, and as Joel makes your plate and walks back, he looks at Ellie and she mouths, “I see what you’re talking about.”

The whole ten minutes you sit there, Joel and Ellie are trying anything to get you engaged in some sort of conversation, even if it’s stupid. But, nothing works, you just pick and pick at your plate, eating only a handful of bites. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, you stand up and walk over to the sink but instead of setting your dishes in the sink, you just drop them next to it on the counter. “I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, and then I’m heading to the stables,” you coldly announce and continue to walk to the front door, grabbing your bow and arrow as you swing open the door and shut it behind you.

Joel’s at a loss for words - he can’t believe what he just saw. He thought the two of you had a really good time last night. Like, really good. Joel cannot recall anything negative from last night, game night went great, you two finally got past the flirting game that’s been going on - and oh, that’s it. It finally clicks, you’re not used to getting the attention during sex, sweet thing.

“What did you do, dummy?” Ellie breaks his train of thought from last night. He’s quick to turn his head back to her and just tells her, “Nothing, it all went great last night.” Ellie doesn’t need to know everything that went down between you and him, just not her business, he’ll just play it off as something else.

“Well,” she continues as she takes a bite of pancakes, “If I were you, I would head over there and try to talk to her. But y’know, that’s just me.”

Yeah yeah, Joel responds, like I wasn’t gonna do that anyways, he is almost frozen to his chair, he just can’t believe what events have unfolded right in front of his damn eyes. Why doesn’t she just talk to me?

“So, like, are you gonna go or what?” Ellie reminds him as she pushes his shoulder talking him out of the trance he was in. “Oh, shit,” he stands up, “Yeah, stay here. I’ll be back.” Joel is out the front door in a matter of seconds, heading to your old home you haven’t stepped foot in for months.

As he climbs your steps and reaches the door, he looks in the small window of the front door and he can see the lights on as well as the edge of the hallway closet door. There you are, he then brings his right hand to the door and starts to knock furiously because he has no idea what you’re doing over here, you haven’t been here in forever.

No answer.

God damnit, baby, he starts knocking again because he wants, he needs, to talk to you or at least, listen to what you have to say. Because he really cares and wants to know what is going on in that brain of yours, he wants to help you. With no answer coming from the other side of the door, Joel calls your name, followed by a weak, “I just wanna talk.”

His forehead falls to the window pane with utter defeat, why does she have to do this, she can just talk to me, she should know that by now.

After about three more rounds of knocking and calling out for you, Joel gives up, and he’s not sure what to do anymore. When you want to come back out, he will be right there to listen and hold you, he will be here for you whenever - Joel does not care how long either.

When Joel reaches the sidewalk covered in golden brown leaves, he thinks back to the last thing you said to him, I’m heading next door, then I’m going to the stables. That’s right, the stables, and Joel takes off running down Spruce St. towards them.

Joel passes Tipsy Bison and a couple guys yell out, “If you’re looking for the old lady,” that was your new nickname since people of Jackson knew you weren’t with Nate anymore, “She was talking to Vince about heading out!”

Joel stops his running and takes a couple seconds to catch his breath, “Are you serious?”

They group of men all nod their heads and Joel cannot believe what he just heard, no fucking way, she did not do that, he mumbles to himself. He says a quick thank you to the group and springs towards the stables because he really doesn't think that you left the safety of Jackson.

He notices how the padlock is still on the front doors of the barn, he quickly remembers the fenced area isn’t locked, so he runs back there and jumps over the little fence. When he goes into the stables and scans the barn for Dougie, he sees all the horses, except Dougie. No, no, no, no, he says to himself as he starts to panic.

She did not leave Jackson, no way. That’s just not possible, why would she do that? How could Vince just let her leave all by herself?

The same questions loop around in Joel’s head like a rollercoaster, and he just can’t seem to understand it all, everything seemed to be moving along smoothly last night, until this morning.

The next person to talk to was Vince. How could he let her leave alone? Bounces in his head as he leaves the stables and then hurries towards the front gate, this way he can actually see if you left or not. He scales the small fence and heads towards the big gate that lets people leave and enter Jackson.

As Joel takes a chance to catch his breath, he spots Vince as he takes the last step off the ladder to the top of the gate, there he is. Joel then yells out Vince’s name to grab his attention, as Vince notices Joel and the amount of distress he’s under, his face drops.

“What’s up, Joel?”

“Did she leave?”

As soon as the question leaves Joel’s mouth, Vince knows that something is up.

“Um, like, almost fifteen, twenty minutes ago,” Vince starts but Joel is quick to grab him by his collar and pins him up against the metal gate, causing his feet to dangle off the ground.

“And you just let her leave by herself?” Joel basically spits into this man's face.

“Sh- she told me that Tommy okay-ed it and that you were gonna be right behind her!” Vince rambles as he tries to plant his feet onto stable ground. However, Joel is so enraged that he isn’t thinking clearly, and although his conscience knows that Vince is innocent, his subconscious is not so generous.

Joel’s mind and emotions end up on autopilot. He wants to hurt anyone who he feels is responsible for you leaving Jackson. If Tommy didn’t yell out to him, Joel would surely have killed Vince right then.

Joel lets go of Vince’s collar instantly, and Tommy is quick to step between the two of them to stop whatever violence was about to unfold.

“Woah, woah,” Tommy questions as he stares at Joel, “what is going on?”

Joel can barely think, so many thoughts and questions are crowding his head, and he can’t think straight at all, not with you out there with no one. He knows you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have backup out there. That’s just the truth, and even Joel knows it and admits that.

—

It’s been just under a month of Joel searching for you, or any sign of you. He left Jackson that same day to find you. Joel was not going to give up on you, he knows way too much and cares too much about you, for you to just slip away without any explanation.

He has searched almost everywhere, traveling as much as a couple miles outside the radius of Jackson, but he’s had no luck. Until one day, when he finds the Motel 6 you and Tommy had talked about. Joel had a hunch that you would’ve gone somewhere familiar to you. As he searches the motel rooms, he finds about a dozen dead infected. This has got to be her.

It’s almost pitch black when he reaches the Motel, so he decides to stay in one of the rooms for the night and then pick right back up tomorrow. He doesn’t need to run into raiders or be infected this late in the night - that would just be stupid, he knows better than to do that.

Please, please, please be safe. I know you can hold your own, but please don’t be absolutely fearless. I just want to find you and help you, I just want to help you baby. He repeats to himself over and over until falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Joel is right back on his horse and continues East. He’s gotta run into you sometime, right? He ends up running into a group of raiders a couple miles past the Motel 6, a group of five middle-aged men who see Joel as a threat and not a friend.

However, Joel is not bitch. He takes care of the whole group without getting a single scratch or bullet wound, feeling oddly proud of himself for still being able to hold his own. But the feeling of victory is quickly washed away when Joel thinks of you, did you end up getting caught by this group, or even another one.

Joel’s mind is constantly on alert - he hasn’t had this much adrenaline running through his blood since before Jackson. It’s how he felt with Ellie; I have to protect her, she’s under my watch, I can’t just let her slip away from my grasp, she’s my reason to live.

The sun has started to set, the sky is a beautiful mixture of pink and orange, it meshes so beautifully it’s almost unbelievable. The different colors of oranges and reds sway on the trees with the wind as it softly blows, and it causes a chill to run down Joel’s spine.

“Just a little bit further, Rose,” he whispers and pats the side of his beautiful horse, knowing that he’ll have to stop some time soon since the sun is setting. Darkness is not the time to wander around in the nothings of the woods - it’s just not a smart move - but he knows that he has about an hour before the sky turns to pitch black.

She can’t be that far, right? It hasn’t been that long that she's been gone, there’s no way she would just leave Jackson like that. It’s the safest place to be in times like this, there’s no dictatorship and it’s peaceful, really peaceful. Why would she just pick up and leave like that?

About twenty minutes go by before he spots a small cabin about a couple blocks away. Please be there, he mumbles to himself. He softly kicks the side of Rose and she hurries her stride more than before, this has got to be it. Joel’s mind is racing, he’s pleading that you’re at this abandoned cabin. It would make sense, and he has a gut feeling that you wouldn’t up and leave Jackson completely.

When he gets about thirty feet away from the cabin, he sees a female with a bow and arrow pointing directly at him. The way the woman is standing he immediately knows who this is. I finally found her.

Joel jumps off Rose and starts to sprint towards you. He can’t help it, he finally found the love of his life, and he was never going to let you go ever again. He watches as you realize who you’re looking at and your bow drops to the ground, along with your arrow. She knows it’s me.

As he steps foot onto the porch and scoops you up into his arms and spins you around, a mixture of loving words spill out of his mouth.

“My pretty, sweet girl, I thought I lost you forever. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I’m so sorry,” falls from your mouth over and over, and Joel can’t help but feel sorry for you. The fact that you felt the need to run all the way out here, all so you could simply just get away, was terrifying for Joel to think about. Because why, for the love of god, did you feel better running away than running to Joel for help?

What Joel takes away from this is that, although he knows that some things are more difficult and sensitive for you to work through, he also feels that you need to tell him about these things, instead of just running away.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny @orcasoul

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #Is Leaving Even An Option #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel and reader

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fully-caulked-wagon · 1 year ago

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Some of my favourite lines from my plans for shitty One Piece / Zosan drawings + fanfics Part 5

Oh noooo, I'm still here. (You can't kill me) law kinda interrupts like 'if you would do the honour of cutting your argument short, we have to depart soon, and your captain is starting to gnaw on the grass out of sheer gluttonous hunger, so if everyone could get to their posts before your navigator's head starts erupting with lava, that'd be great' - Bro's just tired, man. He didn't ask for this shit. sanji's kinda bleary as he comes to and he's like 'first of all, why the hell have you bastards kidnapped me?! second of all, why am i tied to a chair?' - This wasn't intentional but now every time I go back to this all I can think of is Sam from TGWDLM goin "Charlotte, baby, where am I, why am I tied to a chair?" the dude's like 'alright, slow down swirlylocks' sanji's like '…my hair isn't swirly' the dude's like 'shut up.' - Guy just needed the pun, leave him be. the other three are kinda like oy vey and one's like 'go get that damn manual, you buffoon. you must'a did it all kinds'a wrong if the person you tied up is complaining about the quality of your work!' - He's trying his best, alright? sanji's like '…that's a porn book. the naked people are naked cause it's porn.' the dude's like 'ohhh…' then he's like 'oh!' and chucks the book/comic thing away - Egads! after a few seconds he can only kinda weakly mutter out 'you're gonna... pay for... this' before he blacks out again as they all laugh insert full house music - Everywhere you look, everywhere you go, there's a face, of somebody who needs you- the childhood friend dude shows up at the railing off'a like, idk a fucking jetski or some shit - probably just a boat idk - Guy's a little wacky with it, shit happens. the childhood friend dude raises an eyebrow and smirks bemusedly like 'seriously, you're a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an igneous, dude' - Literally just quoting mlp at this point, boys 👍

zoro's fuckin dumbfounded and is just kinda dimly like 'y… you said all that about me, cook?' sanji turns to face zoro and is still bright red like 'shut the fuck up right now or i'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll think you grew a second spine and i'll be wearing your tiny, mossy brain like an anklet' zoro huffs an amused breath, although still a bit shell-shocked, while ray's like 'oh yeah, he also said that your shoes are untied' zoro looks down at his shoes like 'huh?' - 1. Ray's the 'childhood friend dude' 2. He listed off a bunch'a shit Sanji had told him in letters. 3. 🤨🤨 nami just puts up an a-okay sign like 'don't care, sanji' robin just smiles and goes 'i can say with utmost certainty that they are in fact pieces of clothing that you are currently wearing, sanji' - R.I.P then law just fuckin shows up outta nowhere and they're all like 'wtf' - Uh-oh, surprise Law event. law just kinda grimaces, briefly glancing at luffy who's sorta struggling like a cockroach - He's a creature. A li'l guy, if you will.

luffy just mopes like 'but namiiii~ it looked like food, and i was hungryyy' usopp's just exhasperated like 'it was clearly made of polystyrene' luffy's like 'so?!' usopp's like 'polystyrene is not food!' luffy's just like 'you don't know that! just cause it made me throw up doesn't mean it wasn't food! lots of things can make you throw up! lobsters, crabs, goats!' - Nothing will stop me from constantly referencing everything all the time. (The 'lobsters, crabs, goats' part is in reference to TTO). 'also who're you calling uptight and swirly?!' zoro gets annoyed as well, smirking, and they do the head bonk grr thing, like 'who do you think, ammonite brows? you've got a stick shoved so far up your ass it got lost and bent itself over your eyes!' - Oof. and it's just a bit like crackaboom uh oh we can't deal with this well - Hate when that happens. and the dude's like 'not much' then he calls over this servant or whatever from their gang and bites his fucking fingers off - Really hate when that happens. then his eye gets like, sparkles in it, and he straight up explodes - Lost another one 😔

and zoro just kinda looks at his ass then narrows his eyes sorta fry-like and goes 'mhm…' - I call this piece 'Contemplation of a posterior.', the bidding will start at [REDACTED] zoro's off to the side having heart palpitations or some shit - Bitches and their heart problems, I swear. usopp, luffy, chopper and franky are just annoyed screaming while sanji's like 'JUST DIE ALREADY!' - Zoro is no longer held in high esteem by the council. then sanji's got a gun in one hand and it's straight up in zoro's mouth and he's still gripping the robe with the other hand and he's like 'I'M TELLING YOU-' - The idea of everything being relatively normal before one character suddenly has a gun and is threatening another out of nowhere is a brain worm that I can't remove. snooj blush more die sink down floor dead zoor like wha - wha then sanji goes 'so how'd you meet levy?' gajeel's like '…' then kinda like '…i crucified her' and sanji's just like 'excuse me-' - And that's how I met your mother. sanji just groans in agony and slumps down further before melting into goo (lesgooooo) - Lesgooooo and they flip over to brook and rip his whole fucking outfit into two equal sides and he's like 'yoho?!' then tiny text 'oh my?!' - Oh my. then he does like that fist pump thing and exhaling out his nose komi-san style and he's confident < - fool - 🫵 Fool.

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sunshinexlollipops · 6 months ago

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coming onto this post to share tips for fighting isolationism:

you may feel alone but you're not alone. look at the notes on this post, for example. that's how many people feel the same as you. it's easy to feel like a one off, but I promise, your struggles are more universal and human than you may realize. even in struggling w isolationism, you're not alone. ironic, huh?

your brains aren't built for fun, they're here for survival. and funny thing is that our brains often misunderstand their roles and their jobs. our brains are convinced there's dangers in things that really aren't that bad. one thing a therapist told me in IOP was about the classic "what if I do something wrong and I'm thought to be the village fool?" okay, and if you do become the village fool? what truly would happen? nothing. literally nothing. you'd exist as you are now and it wouldn't matter at all. it isn't life-ending like your brain makes it feel.

you have to stop shaming yourself into doing nothing and shutting yourself in. it's easy to put the cart ahead of the horse by saying "oh but if I screw that up, I'd embarrass myself" or "oh I can't go to this event, it'll go poorly and I won't have fun because no one will like me." the reality is: YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN AT ALL. YOU NEVER WILL. you are not precognitive. you're just living in your imagination and bullying yourself into believing your failure is guaranteed before you try or do anything at all. how can you be certain if you're a failure if you've never even given yourself the opportunity to fail?

hot take: failure is okay! you will not cease to exist or end up in jail for life bc of a faux pas or you weren't met w open arms. if anything, it's good it didn't work out bc clearly it wasn't going to work or be good for you long-term. I take it as a sign from the universe if something falls through that it wasn't meant for me and something better and true will fill the vacancy instead. onto the next chapter or opportunity!

this may sound harsh but it's true: people will not like you. there are billions of humans on this planet, thinking every single one will enjoy you or find you acceptable is unrealistic. you yourself have people you've met and instantly haven't vibed with. it's okay. no one on this planet, even people you think can do what you can't, has 100% compatibility w every person and gathering they come across.

try inserting different forms of socialization and community in your life. maybe you need to join a hobby group, an online forum, or even just tell a stranger you like their hair or clothes when they check you out at the store. you aren't given a metric based purely off being the life of a house party or having 1,000 friends on facebook.

FIND EMPATHY AND KINDNESS FOR YOURSELF. firstly, if you take your isolationism in with thoughts of "I'm just broken," "well they were right about me and I'm weird and unlikeable," or "I'll just be better off alone" — you're doing it all out of hate and rejection of yourself. since others didn't give you approval, you refuse to even accept who you are. why are you meeting yourself with such coldness? why are you tearing yourself down and thinking you're better off being removed from the world or even life itself? I'm going to be honest with you... the actual way you will find acceptance in this world? it's if you accept yourself. if you can't even look in the mirror and see the person there is worth loving and knowing, why would you ever try to give the world the same opportunity to discover it feels similarly? the only way to genuinely make a difference is to start loving and embracing yourself first.

please check out rejection sensitivity. various conditions like ADHD or autism can come w this. it's very easy to get lost in the feelings and experience of rejection, and thinking it will define you for the rest of your days. aside from working on your confidence, this may be something to check out and learn about. especially with tips and tricks on how to handle and improve with it.

you're human. you will make mistakes, have slip ups, rebounds/relapses of mental illness, etc. you have to learn that you aren't evil and unlovable because you didn't get something right, or one person has negative thoughts or opinions of you. especially in this day and age when hate and judgement appears to be in surplus. I beg of you to find love, kindness, and understanding. not only for others, but for yourself. and if people don't align with you, then move on and know you will find those that do click w you, and there's always a place for you to fit in. and don't force yourself into conforming into a place that clearly isn't your home, simply so you can avoid finding what really is right for you. you're only so far into your life. there's so many people and years you have left to meet and see through. and you'll be surprised at how different it will be from what you believe and expect now. and isn't that exciting?

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boytouya · 3 years ago

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

words:2.3k

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, blood, angst, open ended/ambiguous ending, descriptions of death.

request: “Can i request sukuna x male reader. Where reader keeps reincarnating with each lifetime for a curse and every time he remembers sukuna, he dies after gaining memories back. You can choose if theres a good ending or angst. Thank you king! I fell in love with him especially after reading that one shot i had to watch jjk and hes hot! Thank you for turning me into a sukuna simp! Much love”

a/n: i went,,,overboard with this request 🗿 BUT IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITESSIJEHSHE i’m honored to have introduced you to such a foine man

When you were five, only then had you understood the curse deemed ‘Ryoumen Sukuna.’ A rather tall man with two heads, one of which had splattered blood onto your sneakers. You understood the concept of death, of course, but could never truly comprehend the feeling of nothingness after watching your life flash before your eyes until nineteen. But there you stood, clutching the loop of your shorts when you witnessed the murder of your entire village. You didn’t know evil could have a moral compass, but the tall curse seemed to exclude half of the women and children. After the widening of youthful eyes and curdling screams you learned the monster took likings to things too. Women, with shaking forms and broken spirits. He’d stop before them, stare at them with eyes that could- in fact- kill, if they truly wanted to. But then he stopped in front of you.

“Close your eyes, Brat.” Death's hands were just as large as your family painted them out to be, if not larger. Calloused and riddled with blood as they are placed over your ears. You do as he- it says, squeezing your eyes shut and enclosing your eyes behind the meat of your palms just to be extra careful. You can see stars behind your eyelids, just as you can feel the sickening twang of death lingering in the air. You were aware it would happen at some point, Death would find its place for you over and over and over again, you’d been told since the day you were born.

There’s another sound, only muted under large palms. You don’t need your sense of sight or hearing to know what it was, the warm chunks splattering onto your skin was enough. Immediately, you flinched. When you opened your eyes, there were piercing eyes staring straight into your own. It looked so human, but something was off. Uncanny, as if it took years to manipulate its flesh and bone to emulate humans to a T. But there was nothing human behind those eyes, instead a void of nothingness. Death itself. If Death could express interest, you’d have thought that was the expression it was imitating. It offers a hand, one of four. Larger than your face, with sharp claws that could almost be described as talons. Darkened by dirt and remains of your loved ones, if it truly wanted to kill you, it could. It could tear you limb from limb with the wave of a finger. And it knew that.

So you took the hand, and he became your second home.

When you were ten, you learned about the red string of fate. It could never be broken, and those connected by it would always reunite, no matter the circumstances. You often had nightmares, those of which filled with blurred faces and sharp pain that reached you in your lucid state. Dreams of talons, piercing eyes, and double headed monsters. You dreamt under the stars, tasted metal on your tongue, and choked on smoke that wasn’t actually there. You dreamt of facial markings, details that you couldn’t exactly place, a name that you couldn’t quite remember. It left your tongue feeling thick in your mouth, racked tremors through your body, and caused premature dark circles to accumulate under your eyes.

When you were nineteen, you experienced your last breath. The air was stolen from your lungs, crushed under years of heartbreak and terror, and snatched from you in the dead of night. Your eyes glazed over, and nothingness overtook you. It left you for someone else to find, cold and lifeless. A void, similar to the eyes you had finally placed. But that didn’t matter much then, you had already drifted away from your body.

And that was that.

Thus, the cycle repeated. Under different names, different ages, different genders. There was always something gnawing away at your conscience, you felt as though you were forgetting something. But when you finally remembered, it was too late. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was almost like deja vu, stepping outside your home to find blood splattered on the concrete floor. It made your blood run cold, sent a tremor through your body and made you feel like you were five again. Small and defenseless. You take it as your best interest to go back inside before you pass out, but the second you whip your body around you meet something- someone?- large and sturdy.

“Sukuna.” That was it, the sour taste at the tip of your tongue, the lingering sensation at the back of your brain. Him. He didn’t look the same, no, much smaller with tufts of pink hair. There’s something behind his eyes this time, something almost irrevocably human. For some reason that’s much scarier than what you remember. What you think you remember. He’s much more human, but the way he looks at you is everything but humane. He looks frustrated, angry at something, as if he’ll implode any second and go on a rampage. Dread bubbles up in your stomach, nearly erupting through your mouth as bile. It felt as though something should be happening, like something usually happened when the itch went away. He chuckles, low in his throat as he cranes his neck to put his face uncomfortably close to your own. His hands, still large, find their way to your wrist, gripping your right hand uncomfortably tight. For a moment, you consider how long a trip to the hospital would be if he shattered the bone beneath his fingers. But instead there’s a jolt of electricity that would’ve had you yanking your hand back if he weren’t holding it.

“What? You look different.” He all but purrs, inspecting your palm with long nails. Not long enough to be talons, but longer than those of a claw. It was true, you did look different. He wondered if you spent your lifetimes looking exactly the same. That couldn’t have been possible, he would’ve found you much easier, then. Still quite boyish, as if the body you were in didn’t originally belong to you. Clearly grown out of cargo shorts and polos, much taller than you were before. There was no way he could have forgotten you, the way you jumped when the remains of your loved one splattered across your legs. The way you stared back at him with a look of acceptance, the way you grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the village. It explained the body memories perfectly, the feeling of large palms on your head and remnants of a brain splattering onto your knees.

“Last time I saw you,” He let’s go of your wrist with a bored expression, then replaces its spot with the top of your head. He shoves you down, and you make an effort to ignore the crack your knees make when they smack against the concrete. Then, he crouches down to stare you directly in the eye, just like he had the first time you met. His eyes were no longer dark, instead a deep shade of red that caught light from the moon. They reminded you of vials of blood. “You were this tall. Much cuter in this century.”

“And you were bigger.” Sukuna laughs as if hearing that was the funniest thing in the world. He leans his weight into you and uses you as a support beam, laughing until his ribs burn and beg for a break. But how could he laugh at a time like this? He didn’t think it was weird? He’s existed for centuries, murdered for millennias and only now has he seen you. That wasn’t how it worked, when you died, you died. But Sukuna was a walking oxymoron to that statement. When he died, if he died, he would return. He’d return through you, the last fragments of his soul would stay bound to yours until the end of time. Perhaps that’s how he knew, how he remembered. Perhaps that’s why he still took the time to find you, even after countless years of failure. It was peculiar, but not as much as being bound to Death himself. It was a sick game of turning the phrase ‘Til’ death do you part,’ because in your case it was literal.

“You’re still a brat.” His voice is closest to something fond, as if he’s reminiscing sweet memories. It was much different on your account, and part of you wondered if Sukuna understood that. He makes no effort to help you up (he explains that you’re “a big boy now”) as he invites himself into your apartment. Nothing special, he doesn’t care much for family photos or if you have them, but the stacks of letters and books on your table peak his interest. He tears apart envelopes as if he owns them, reads through the contents and discards them to the floor if he deems them useless. The way he sits nearly breaks your chair, and, honestly, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

So you sit beside him.

“You were so scared,” He says, almost as if he were bragging. But he was known to be arrogant and cocky, that was just his nature. He didn’t truly mean it like that, in fact, he looked quite reverent after letting the thought drift into the air. It was kind of funny, such a powerful thing fawning over past memories. But that wasn’t how this should go, you had your memory back, so why hasn’t anything happened? “When you grabbed my hand you stopped shaking.”

“...”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t keep you long,” He visibly frowns, the skin around his lips worry, but you can't tell if it’s genuine or not. He looks at you with something knowing the second the thought enters your head. “I looked for you, at first. You died young, for a human.”

Ninteen. ‘I should have been there,” he wants to add.

“Why aren’t I dying now?” You interrupt and let the panic sink in, the thought of impending doom sits on your shoulders because, really, it could happen at any moment. But this time, you don’t want it to. You remember accepting death when it came to your door at the young age of five, nineteen, countless times over and over. You had only ever gotten this far, you weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t start over, not now. “Sukuna?”

The question sours his mood in the blink of an eye, and instead of looking through your things, he raises himself from his seat to rest his palms on the table. It seemed he had a thing for staring down at people, making them cower under his stone cold gaze. You note the way his jaw clenches. You open your mouth to speak again, but he seems to have other plans. He squeezes your cheeks, making your lips purse together under the pressure of his large fingers. The movement feels familiar, like he’s done it before. The five years you spent with him were still a bit of a blur, but you remembered holding his hand quite often. He’d tell you to close your eyes if there was something he didn’t want you to see, he’d ruffle your hair a bit too hard, let you sleep on his back if he was out in the town. But that was all you remembered. He remembered it all.

“Respect your elders,” He lets go and sits back down as if he hadn’t just thrown a tantrum over you interrupting him. Sukuna was centuries old, but even then, he’d exhibit immature behavior sometimes. Living for so long had to get boring (and lonely) at some point, perhaps that was why he looked for you. He did consider you something close to family, after all. In truth, there were some lifetimes where you met. Some when you were friends, something more than that, and something inseparable. And that’s why you hadn’t died yet, you didn’t remember it all. “It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

“You’re much more handsome in this life.” His smile is much more intimidating than sweet, the sinister curl to his lips would only ever be associated with bloodshed in your eyes. But it was much more than that. Nights of sleeping together, days of laughter and flirtatious comments, soft moments that only you had seen. And it was bittersweet, because he knew the second he’d jog your memory you’d be gone. It wasn’t just a curse for you, but for him. Maybe it was his punishment for hurting so many people, dragging an innocent soul down with him and hanging them by the red string of fate. The comment makes your skin prickle with heat. Sukuna was quite the charmer when he wanted to be, easily picking at your weak spots with whatever you wanted to hear. But the comment was much more for the sake of his own, instead of yours.

Sukuna stands, hot on his heels as he holds out his hand one last time. If something were to happen to you tonight he’d make the most out of it, just as he did countless times over and over. So many years of starting over, getting to know you in various different bodies, realizing that being trapped away was the only way you’d get to live a full life, it was always on his mind. You were always on his mind.

So you take his hand. And for the millionth time, he’d become your second home.

taglist:

@ryoukuna @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @rinkindaugly

#💕.sukuna #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #anime x you #anime x reader #anime x male reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagine #sukuna angst #sukuna au #sukuna oneshot

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jostepherjoestar · 3 years ago

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Rodeo Gyro

notsfw !! // gn reader // taking care of Gyro and thigh riding

notes/warnings: thigh riding, mild biting, gyro teasing reader

I really wanted to write an nsfw Gyro fic since that cowboy makes my brain mushy. So here it is 🥰 yeehaw besties 💖✨

link to AO3

–NSFW BELOW THE CUT– MINORS DNI –

“On your left!” You grunted out with a heave as you tossed the hay bale towards Gyro. Droplets of sweat trickled down your skin, forehead already soaked from the heat and the beads running down your back not making it easier not to flinch as they settled at the base of your spine. It’s another scorching summer and the stables are worse off than the outside. You were never one to hate a good nap in the hay come wintertime, but during summers like these you wished to step out of your skin itself for some relief.

The blond easily caught your throw, letting out a small sound on impact he’d rather you didn’t hear. Can’t have you thinking he’s handling this heat any worse than you, now can he? Although, his shirt has been long gone. He proudly announced that Italians know how to handle heat, boasting that his grandfather worked in 45 degree weather and never as much as peeped about it.

You had rolled your eyes at his statement but the annoyance at his antics soon faded when he had revealed his torso.

His skin was a beautiful olive hue, no tan lines, indicating he had probably spent his spare time just as shirtless as now. The muscled lines surging over him seemed sculpted by God themself, a dewy shine having already settled on his godly abs and pecs.

And his arms, oh his arms. Those hay bales had kept him fighting-fit and soon your eyes trailed the expanse of his chest where short curly planes of hair rested, only further emphasising his muscular pecs.

Like you were being guided by the valleys and streams of a gorgeous landscape, you arrived right at the river mouth: a trail of more short curly hairs barely visible by their champagne colour leading you down a path of despair you’d happily embark on. It led all the way from his belly button down to where his jeans started, his signature belt buckle making you realise just how dry your throat had gotten.

And all this in a mere second, or two. Or at least five, who are you kidding? You had cleared your throat and resumed throwing Gyro the hay bales one by one, trying your hardest to focus on the task at hand. It had been going well too, a steady pace made time fly by quickly. Just a couple more to go and you’d be able to gulp down a liter of water and a glass of iced tea to top it off.

If only that glimmer of a bead of sweat making its way down Gyro’s sculpted back hadn’t distracted you. As Gyro slowly turned, time almost seeming to have slowed, you threw the bale right at his middle, much lower than anticipated and landing it straight into his ribs. You gasped and rushed over quickly to your helping hand who was bent over and breathing out painful wheezes.

“Watch where you throw those! Christ…almost knocked me back to Napoli”

But he regained his unaffected self after a few deep breaths, while you knew how heavy these stupid bales were. He swatted you off as soon as you tried to check the place of impact.

“Sorry Gyro…I got distracted! Uh, if you want I can finish up alone!”

You felt bad for letting him get caught in the crossfire of your longing stares, cursing this damn heat once again. He only brushed you off with another quip and urged you to throw the last couple ones faster so you’d both be done quicker. You could clearly see the hit bothered him but he remained ever prideful and kept on working till the last bale was stacked.

“Hey I’m sorry, man. I’ll watch out better next time. I think I have a salve that’s really good at soothing pain. I can go-“

Before you could even finish Gyro tutted, waving his hands a little too close to your face and scrunching his nose.

“That’s enough, I’m a grown man, I’ll live”

And with that he grumbled off, back to the main house where Johnny had been resting on the porch, trying just as hard to beat the heat.

—

Ointment in hand and as stubborn as the Italian you were bringing it to, you knocked on Gyro’s bedroom door. He had his own private guest room at Johnny’s place, they’ve basically moved in together but neither is admitting to it for some god-knows silly reason. But as much as they’re best friends, you’ve also got a neat spot on Johnny’s moderate ranch he acquired after the race. A bed to sleep in and a roof over your head for when you’re helping out at the stables like today.

Your knock was curtly answered, the door being swung open in one swift move, sending your hair flying in the startling wind of his antics.

A bit taken aback by his brashness you cautiously stepped inside. You were used to Gyro’s behaviour by now and had a feeling he was feeling a little grumpy, since he always gets like this when he’s hurt but too prideful to admit it.

“So I got you the ointment…” you leaned on the heels of your boots tentatively, trying not to stare at him.

Gyro had moved back into the chaise longue that rested at the end of his bed, obviously miffed, clenching his jaw while crossing his legs. Obviously the idiot was in pain with every move, and badly trying to hide it too.

“Gyro, stop being such a baby. Here-“ you slid over and joined him, the little glass jar already opened by the time your behind fully met the soft cushioned seating.

“ ‘M not being a baby. Just- do your stupid ointment thing please” He huffed under his breath, uncrossing his legs again.

“You uh, you’re gonna need to take off your shirt for that. Do you need help?”

Your question might have been earnest, filled with care for your close friend and his well being, but a small part of you was chomping at the bit to see his beautiful torso again. This time, even closer.

“Fine. Try not to stare as much though, darling. That’s what got me stuck with this pain in the first place” his remark was quick, finally turning to face you, his big golden grin shining back at you. Like his grills were rubbing salt in the gaping wound you didn’t know he knew about.

“Oh-“ you paused, trying to control the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Well. Shut up before I poke your bruise!” you scooped up a small dollop of the cooling ointment, hand hovering just above the already purple spot forming on his ribs. You really did a number on him with that hay bale.

Gyro clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, friendly bickering between you two was never far off. But his cheeky annoyance quickly washed away as the cooling gel met his warm skin. Your touch was gentle, rubbing circles on the sore area while your other hand rested on his waist. You looked so focused, your brow scrunched up and lips pressed tightly together in concentration. He’d always thought it was cute how lost you could get in your tasks. And he was beyond pleased he was your task for the moment. So pleased in fact, that he found no use in holding back his wiles anymore. Perhaps the lack of sweet and caring touches got to him- not that his pride would let him admit that fact.

“Say, why’re you holding on to me so tightly, sweetheart? I won’t run” Gyro teased, his tone dropping down to a sultry smooth grit that made your cheeks heat up once more. His comment made you snap out of your focus, realising that he’d been right. His comment only making you want the earth to swallow you whole.

“Just trying to be thorough, Gyro. A-and you were squirming! Now let me finish-“ you defended yourself. Not that you seemed all too sure of your case, the way Gyro smirked at you made your resolve falter more and more with each second passing.

“I wasn’t squirming” his eyes had all but cast over with a deeper hue of alluring emerald. His calloused hand now gently holding your wrist. You could only helplessly stare up at him, the shift in mood not having gone unnoticed. A familiar heat already earning footing between your thighs. Somewhere deep inside you were scolding yourself, angry at Gyro’s effect on you. Letting yourself get distracted and now turning to putty when he’s only holding on to your wrist. Angry that you wanted nothing more than for him to continue whatever scheme he was up to.

With your wrist still in hand, Gyro closed the small glass jar of ointment and slid it further along the chaise longue.

“Well I must thank you for taking care of me, even if it was your fault I got hurt-“ The fires blazing in your eyes and the sour look you shot at his remark only made him chuckle.

“Yes, Gyro. I was there.” Through gritted teeth and nothing short of annoyed you tried to tug your wrist out of his hold. It only made him tighten it around you.

“I wasn’t done talking, darling.” He tutted.

“Let me return the favour. I’m feeling charitable today”

“Gyro, what?” You rolled your eyes, what was this idiot getting at? First, he gets all sensual and now he’s straight up teasing you. Not that it wasn’t just as titillating, his pet names for you only made your head swim and thighs clamp together.

His answer was clear, setting you down on his lap in a quick move that caught you by surprise. And there you were, the spot you’ve only fantasised of being. His natural musk having become the very air you breathed to survive. Stunned and still slightly confused you let him put your arms around his neck. Your legs however, were strategically placed on either side of one of his thighs.

“You in for the ride? I won’t hold it against you if you want us to stop” His tone was sincere, gaze softened just enough to let you know it was alright.

“Y-yes. Yes. I- yes Gyro” you sputtered. God, this was embarrassing but you were glad you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were to be this close to him. At least you thought so.

And with that, the blond cowboy was satisfied, letting out a little “nyoho” that somehow remained sultry.

You suddenly became all too aware why he’d placed you like this, over his thigh. But there wasn’t much time to think, not when Gyro moved into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline. His lips were softer than you’d expected. His breaths so nice and warm whenever he moved further down your sensitive skin.

“I’ve seen you ride,” he murmured into your skin just below your left ear. “Now show me how it’s done, cowboy” goosebumps rose all over your skin, letting out a shuddering moan as he bit into you. Not quite hard enough to make you yelp out in pain, but just enough for you to rock your hips straight into his tensed thigh.

He continued his assault on your neck, bites and kisses alternated on each side as you rocked your needy heat on him. With a particularly hard bite, your arm snapped to right next to Gyro, exactly where his hat had been laying on the chair. Even in the heat of the moment you grabbed it and plopped it down onto his champagne locks.

“Keep it on please” your breath shuddered as you continued. He had moved his lips to your shoulders now, moving away your top to reach every spot he wished to worship.

Every swish of your hips drove you further and further, lost in the pleasure as your head felt like it might just explode. Tingles had already started making their way up your abdomen when Gyro released himself from your skin.

“Tell me what you want,” He asked roughly. He was having a hard time keeping it together, it seemed.

“Y-you, Gyro” you whimpered, slowing yourself and burying your face inside the crook of his neck. Too embarrassed to face his stare just yet.

“I know that, sweetheart. But tell me what is you want exactly”

“Gyro…” you whined, burying yourself even deeper.

“Yes?” He quipped, pulling himself back and taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, that stupid grin antagonising you.

Cheeks heated and puffy you had no choice but to give in. “I want you to fuck me Gyro. Are you happy now?”

“Nyoho, very happy! I knew that” he laughed.

“Oh fuck you!” You grimaced, still trying to chase that fleeting peak that you were so close to.

“I like hearing you beg for it, darling” his lips had finally met yours, melting away any and all of his teasing, just like that. God, he made it so easy to give into him. He was just as playful now though, swirling his tongue and clashing his lips with yours like he was taming you.

As he continued his sloppy passionate kiss back down your jaw, you sped up your riding. Never one to finish last.

One last peck and one last tug of your skin between his golden clad teeth and you could feel fireworks rising all the way up to the top of your head. Gyro grinned widely as he admired you, using him like he’d asked you to. One less thing he needs to fantasise about, he’s living it. And eating up every single second of it, the throbbing in his pants nearly took care of itself. He stared in awe, your face contorting in pleasure as you tried your best to contain your desperate moans. Your breath was ragged as you came down from your high, letting your full weight rest on his thigh even though you were beyond sensitive at this point.

“You’ve never looked better riding like that, beautiful” a single soft peck touched the tip of your nose, the gesture was surprisingly gentle.

You had regained your senses enough to start up your own round of teasing. Sporting the same grin he had just a minute ago, you started pushing him down the chaise longue, landing him on his back.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow. The pain in his ribs all but forgotten thanks to your treatment.

“I ain’t done riding just yet. Better hold on to that hat cowboy” slick as ever you dove down to return a forceful kiss that nearly knocked the breath out of Gyro. Not before letting out a “nyoho” in his surprise.

Oh, he was going to like this even more than your last rodeo.

#gyro x reader #jjba x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #notsfw #minors dni #gn reader #gender neutral reader #thigh riding #jjba x y/n #gyro imagine

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years ago

Text

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

#Jack Bass #Jack Bass x Reader #Gossip Girl Jack Bass x Reader #Jack bass x Reader Oneshot #Bart Bass #Chuck Bass #Oneshot #Gossip Girl #Gossip Girl x Reader

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 3 years ago

Text

Want Me

This is, a lot more than anything I've ever written, but I hope you like it.

Master List

When Chan had told Stays he had a gift for them today, you had anticipated something like the valentines date. Maybe even Hyunjin’s surprise appearance. What you definitely weren’t expecting was your boyfriend to basically strip in front of literally the whole world.

“Oh. My god.” Your reaction was subconscious, and totally not something you wanted your roommate, Sungmi, to hear. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you stared at your phone.

“What’s up?” Her interest was piqued the second you made a sound, and being you, you did the one thing you could think of.

You threw your phone as far from yourself as possible.

The two of you watch it sail across the living room and land safely in the dirty clothes hamper neither of you had moved from the hallway to the washer.

“Uh, you good?”

“Wow, look at that laundry!” You exclaim, “Someone should go do it.” You can’t even jump up from the couch when her hand is wrapping around your ankle, pulling you onto the floor.

“Was it Chan’s performance?” Your face immediately goes crimson. “No,” You lie, poorly. “What performance? I didn’t even know he was performing. I should go do the laundry.” You’re talking like you’re the flash, and while she’s attempting to figure out what you said, you attempt to wrench your leg from her grip. Unfortunately her brain power is faster that you can get your arms under you, though you do manage to yank her off the couch with you.

“Get back here!” She huffs, yanking you closer to her and somehow managing to sit on your pelvis. “You saw the Wolfgang performance didn’t you?” She demands, but your answer is more struggling to knock her over. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.” She drops forward, pinning your arms by your head, and if she were literally anyone else, you would probably think this was super hot.

“Curse your shockingly strong legs.”

“Nine years of waterpolo.” She explains.

“Really? Damn, I should start playing.”

“You’re stalling.”

“No I’m not.” You lie, again. She rolls her eyes, dropping her head a little more to knock her forehead against yours. “Ow.”

“Be honest with me.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not.” She bonks your head again, “Stop lying.”

“Will you get off me?”

“When we’re done talking.”

“Then yes, I saw Chan’s Wolfgang performance.” She nods, letting go of your hands to sit up properly and crush your pelvis a little more.

“I thought it was pretty hot.” She confesses and you feel something bubble in your chest. You can’t help the slight twitch in your brows and of course she notices. “Ah! Jealousy!”

“I’m not jealous.” She taps your forehead, aggressively enough to hurt a little. “Ow.”

“You can’t lie to a Psychology major.”

“I’m not-” She raises her finger again and you relent. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m not a huge fan of someone telling me they think my boyfriend is hot to my face.”

“Did you think it was hot?” Your face grows warm and you have to bite back an embarrassed smile.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You don’t have to. You’d be stupid to think otherwise.”

“Especially when he was in the white shirt.” You admit, and she nods.

“You should see if he’ll wear something like that next time you two decide to get all hot and heavy.” Your face flushes again, not really wanting to discuss your sexlife with someone you’ve only actually known for about seven months.

“Um yeah, totally.”

“Oh my god. You guys don’t do stuff!”

“We do stuff!” You defend, immediately regretting it.

“Oh really? Ever used handcuffs?” On him, or me?

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“So that's a no. How about, have you ever sent him a nude?” Oh, if only you knew.

“Get off me.”

“Another no.” She grins, “I’m shocked, he seems like such a feisty boy, you’d think he’d do stuff.” “Seriously, get off.” There’s no humor in your voice now. It wasn’t her place to tell you about your own boyfriend, and you were getting sick of her forcing her way into your love life.

“Oh come on Y/n.” She doesn’t get another word out before you grab her leg and wrench her sideways. Instead of just tossing her onto the floor, you find yourself slamming your hand into the floor by her head, now leaning over her.

“Stay out of my love life, do you hear me?” You practically growl, “I don’t need your help to please my boyfriend.” Her eyes go wide at your words, and you instantly become aware of your positions when a smirk paints itself on her face.

“My, my Y/n. I didn’t peg you as someone who’d be on top.”

“Clearly.” You reply. “Now are you quite done?”

“Have you ever topped him? He seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t like that.”

“Once again, I don’t have to answer that.”

“You should try it. Something tells me you’ll like it.”

“Shut up.”

“I hate you.” It had been hours since your rather sexually charged conversation with her, and here you were standing at her doorway seeking advice. You hadn’t stopped thinking about what she had said, but in all honesty, Chan was your first, so you had no clue what you were doing most of the time.

“Oh? Is that why you’re looking all lost and confused at my door?” Her voice is sickeningly sweet as she looks at you in the mirror. “What up?”

“I need advice.”

“Wear black, it looks good on everyone.” Her gaze shifts back to her reflection, where she’s curling her hair for a date.

“About Chan.” Her attention turns back to you in an instant and you’re tempted to run back to your room.

“In what sense?”

“What you said earlier.” A wicked grin spreads on her face. “Have a seat darling.” You trudge over to her bed, sitting on the trunk at the end to watch her. “First off, tell me this, who initiates sex usually?”

“He does.” You admit quietly. “Babe, if you want my help, you gotta be able to talk about sex without turning into a tomato. I mean, how are you sexually active and still blushing like a virgin. Next you're going to tell me you only do it missionary with the lights off.”

“Well…” Her mouth drops open in horror.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. “No wonder you’re all annoyed these days. You’re not satisfied.”

“Hey, he gets me off,” You defend, “And he’s very good at it.” You practically swoon just thinking about it. She raises her hands in surrender, but smiles at your answer.

“Have you ever asked him for oral?”

“How the hell do I bring that up in casual conversation? Just “Hey babe, you did wonderful today, do you want to eat me out’.”

“Well if it works.”

“No.”

“Okay, have you ever worn lingerie for him?”

“No, but I did buy something to wear a few months ago.” She nods, approving.

“How come you’ve never worn it?”

“Between Kingdom and the fact that he lives with seven other men, there hasn’t exactly been a time and place.”

“That’s fair. When do you guys usually do it? What’s it like? Just broad details.”

“He tells me he wants to spend the night. I usually get a hotel room, since my parents are still sending me money for rent, and we arrive at separate times. Its usually really sweet and slow.”

“And after?” She prompts.

“We shower, and cuddle. He usually leaves first cause he has practice or something.”

“Ever done it in the shower?” You shake your head, shoulders slumping as you realize how lame everything sounds.

“I really like him, but I think, especially since you said he seems like a kinky type, what if he’s not as into me?”

“I don’t think that’s the case.” She turns her chair towards you, setting a hand on your knee. “I think you’re both too nervous to broach the subject. I know this is your first real relationship, and it might be his too.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Start simple.” She turns back to her mirror, “You should book a room, and jazz it up a little. Rose petals, candles, maybe that set you bought. That way its obvious you want him.”

“That's not a bad idea.”

“Even better! I will go halfsies on one of the fancy hotels with you. I know one that has these huge bathtubs so you can take one together, and the shower has a stone floor, so its not slippery. Oh! We can get you a pretty silk robe, so you can do the dramatic reveal.”

“This sounds like a lot. How about for now, I just do the candles and the set?” She laughs, clearly embarrassed by the way she fiddles with her necklace.

“Sounds like a plan. You can do the big one for your anniversary.” You nod, agreeing with her.

“I can do it tonight, he’ll probably want some stress relief after that performance.” You offer her a sly smile, jumping up to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” She calls after you.

“I gotta go buy some candles.”

Hey lover, come meet me. *Y/n shared her location*

You glanced over at the message again as you adjusted the black lace garterbelt. Sungmi had been right, black did look amazing on everyone. He had read the message, and if you were lucky, he was too busy driving over to text you back. You slid the black skirt up your legs, loving the way it stopped just under the edge of the thigh highs. The last piece was a simple t shirt, it was a little ripped and hung off one shoulder, just giving a slight peekaboo of the bra you had spent way too much money on. If Chan didn’t combust from seeing you in this, you were going to have a fun night.

Carefully you moved your things out of the main room, tucking them in the closet for safe keeping, and began lighting the candles. The sweet aroma of vanilla and lavender wafted through the room as you shut the lights off. You settled on the edge of the bed, taking a few risque selfies to show Sungmi and maybe send Chan later.

And then you waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Babe?

Three hours, that's how long you’d been waiting before you finally texted him again, having run out of excuses for the man.

“Sorry babe, I was working. Do you still want me to come to you?”

Not really, after this long, the wonder had worn off, and you just felt stupid and hurt. Of course he wasn’t going to come if you asked.

No. Its fine.

Actually, I want to talk to you. Are you still at the studio?

You set your phone down, turn the lights back on and begin blowing out candles. You don’t bother changing, just grab your sneakers and your bag before heading out, tucking your key and phone in your bra as you leave the building.

With some take out in hand you make your way to the JYP building, not at all surprised to see several lights still on.

“Woah, hel-lo Y/n.” You instantly smile at Jae’s greeting, which is followed by Brian’s whistle. “You look like a full course meal, girl.”

“Hey boys, what had you here so late, its past midnight?”

“Oh we were just-” Jae glances over at Brian who clears his throat.

“Just working. What about you?”

“Chan’s still working, so I brought some food.” You shrug, heading towards the elevators, “Have a good night.

“You too.” You have to bite your lip so you don’t laugh at Brian smacking Jae’s shoulder, earning a whine from the taller boy.

The lights from the studios are all off when you arrive, but you can see the glow of the computer shining from Chan’s. You knock as you open the door, making him jump and yank his headphones off when the light from the hall hits him. His face lights up in a smile when he sees you. Of course, he’s wearing super tight jeans and a black button up, neither of which were not helping you relax.

“Oh hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming.” He stands to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I texted you.” You tell him, which has him looking guilty.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear it when I’m working.” You smile reassuringly at him.

“That's okay, I know, that’s why I just came over.” You hold up the bag of take out, “I also brought food since you forget to eat when you start working.”

“You are the light of my life.” He sighs, kissing you properly this time as he takes the bag. Your heart flutters from his words, some of the butterflies in your stomach coming back from the dead. You sit across from him, stealing his work chair as he spreads the food out on the table and digs in. It takes him a few minutes to notice that you’re just staring, and he finally stops eating to say something, “You okay? How come you aren’t eating?”

“I already ate.” You lie, but he sees right through it, setting his chopsticks down to look at you properly. You watch his eyes rake across your body, finally seeing the lace stockings and the matching bra.

“That’s not it. You’re disappointed.” He realizes, “You looked the same way when you saw I.Ns grades.” He explains before you can even open your mouth to answer. “I know its not our anniversary, and your birthday already passed.”

“Its nothing babe. I just had a stupid idea for tonight.” The words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them. He looks at your outfit again and a cheeky smile begins to grow on his face.

“Were you-? But you never-” He lets out a deep breath, followed by a small giggle, which doesn’t make you feel better.

“I should head home.” You spring up, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your dinner.” He catches your arm before you get too far, pulling you back to wrap his arms around you.

“What did you have planned, baby girl?” Your heart flutters at the pet name, and the low tone his voice had taken on. “You wouldn’t have gotten all dressed up like this for nothing.” HIs free hand trails down your side, coming to the edge of your skirt, where his fingers find the skin just above the top of your stockings.

“Maybe I just wanted to make sure you want me as much as I want you.” You confess.

“Baby girl.” His voice is soft now, “Of course I want you.” His lips brush the skin of your neck as he speaks, sending shivers across your whole body.

“Then how come we never do anything interesting?”

“Like what?” Your confidence grows as you turn to face him, looping a finger through the choker he wears.

“Maybe I don’t want to do the same thing every time we fuck.” You can see from the way his eyebrows hike up that he’s startled by your words, hell, you were startled by them. “Maybe I want to see you.” Your other hand moves up to his face, trailing your thumb over his lips. “Maybe I don’t always want to be in a bed, in the dark, on my back. Maybe I want to be in charge.”

“I don’t think you could handle that baby girl.” He bites at your thumb as he finishes his sentence.

“Try me, Chris.” You challenge. His hands come up to your cheeks, pulling you in for a searing kiss. For a few seconds, your brain forgets what you had just challenged. He doesn’t help as he pulls away from your lips, his trailing across your cheek and down your neck.

“Sit.” You order, pulling away, trying to keep your breathing steady and not let on how affected you were.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit. Down.” You order again, shoving him lightly towards his computer chair. He backs up slowly, collapsing into it, eyes never leaving you.

“What are you doing?” He asks as you turn away from him.

“Proving a point.” You declare, the click of his lock emphasizing your words.

“Oh?” You turn back to him, finding him relaxed as ever, watching you with his legs spread wide. You saunter towards him, standing between his legs, hands on the arm rests. “You really think you can handle this baby?”

“If I impress you, you’ll save your work and we head over to the hotel.”

“And if you don’t?”

“You save your work and we head over to the hotel anyway.”

“Bet.”

“You might regret that, baby.” You push on the chair, sending it back until it connects with his desk.

“Oh really?” He asks, as you push his knees together slightly so you can straddle his lap. Your fingers trail from his shoulders down to the buttons on his shirt, popping them open one at a time.

“You talk too much.” You tell him, leaning forward to press kisses along his neck. Just as you hit his pulse point, he hisses, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “Ah ah ah.” You chastise, pulling away from his neck. “No touching.” You pull his hands away, dropping them on the arm rests instead. “Hands to yourself.”

“Oh you are in for it when we get to the hotel.” He groans as you nip at his skin.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

#bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #chris bang imagine #chris bang imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #almost smut #goodwriterwithbadhabits

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mrskurono · 4 years ago

Text

a/n: this is the first installment(?) of the Nori brain rot from ages ago w/a Studio Ghibli vibe, idk man this just happened word count: 2.2k tags: post!Shibuya arc, possible spoilers, blood, violence, cursing(?), heavily Hoizer inspired, kinda edited character(s): Noritoshi Kamo, fem!sorcerer reader pt ll

Curses stank.

In a metaphorical sense yes. But also in a literal sense for you.

These twisted beings permeated your senses like a rot that you could never rid. Unless exorcised they stuck around in your nostril for days. Each one a different smell but all of them stuck in your craw all the same.

Beasts of rancid nature in behaviors and looks. Nothing more than to be exorcised by sorcerers. You learned quickly that exorcising the curses was no different than taking out week old trash.

What you hadn’t planned on was someone doing more than dumping trash on the world. Whatever had happened. Suddenly you were faced with more than just dutiful tasks of keeping non sorcerers safe. A monsoon of trash had been dumped not only on you. But every human in this world.

Your nostrils burned. And you couldn’t be rid of these things quick enough. Each one you exorcised only meant two or three popped up in their place. Never ending. You couldn’t stomach this smell though. It wouldn’t kill you before you got a breath of fresh air.

Glancing around you take a deep breath. Mountain air on the outskirts of Kyoto during this time of year always meant a refreshing break from the city stank. What you smelled wasn’t refreshing. It was that same vile smell you could clearly recall.

A curse. One that was close too.

To thread carefully was to perhaps save your life. Every aspect of daily life ripped from you. As well of millions of others. You had done your part to try and protect those around you. Soon finding it in slight vain as you sought out some place to find your own breath of fresh air in this madness.

‘It’s close....I feel like I’m gonna hurl.’ Thoughts toying with where the curse might have hidden itself. You keep a firm grip on your hilt with every intent to draw it the second the creature made the mistake of slipping up.

Where you could smell it lurking. There was something else. Almost metallic in scent. You ignored it though. Nothing over powered the scent of a curse. You longed for just the sight of these things. Told over and over again how handy it was to have more than one sense open to curses. Each and every time you took a whiff of one, it made you wish nothing more than to just be able to see these creatures instead of smell them as well.

‘Wait-’ Every alarm in your body went off. Snapping around you couldn’t smell the rancid putridness of the curse anymore. That same metallic scent hung around though. You couldn’t identify it. It was something you’d never smelt before but also so familiar.

Each hair on the back of your neck rose. This was an old deserted Buddhist temple. No one should have been here except you and the curse ransacking the place. A safe haven or so you thought. When your instinct told you to step behind one of the structural beams. You were suddenly glad you did.

Mere inches from your face, the gust of an arrow whistled past you. Weapons were not used by curses. Now you understood. That smell was human.

Quick to defend yourself, with sword drawn, you didn’t expect the same arrow to make a hard one eighty back in the direction you were. No wooden pillar to save you now. You raise your sword just quick enough to sheer the object in half. Rendering what ever power it was imbued with useless. As it had sped past you though the faint smell of iron suddenly became strong. Whatever it was from had a source. Likely human.

Not ready to give up your ideal hiding place to some interloper. You take only a second to focus on the unfamiliar smell. Faint. And not like a curse. There was something towards the back of the temple though that hinted that they were lurking where you couldn’t see them.

With an idea of where the attack would come from. When another arrow came flying by you from a faceless source, you were ready. Smacking it down before the enchanted weapon could turn on you like the first had. This time though you’d seen what angle the projectile was fired from.

‘Gotcha,’ No shortage of ways around a deteriorated temple like this. You duck down through a few broken beams and make your way up to where the attack came from.

Expecting to have but a lowly sniper sitting with no way to guard themselves. You find no one. But the scent lingered. Scrutinizing it closer you decided maybe to use a different sense, “...Hey, I know you’re not a curse! Neither am I! Maybe if you just-” Words cut off by another arrow whizzing past you. There was nothing ruder than being interrupted. Glowering in the direction that the arrow came from now you tightened you grip on your sword, “Ok! I get it- Strangers we might not-”

Another arrow. This time too close to your head for comfort. You lost your patience with the third one.

Recklessly charging towards the assailant was clearly enough to throw their game off track. Swinging your weapon before seeing what it was to lie before you. It was a surprise when your blade met with the dull thud of the wooden limb of a bow.

“What the-” You attack deflected for the moment being. Your first instinct is to jump back from whoever deflected your attack. In close enough range you thought you had the upper hand to avoid the bow. But that was purely lazy thinking on your part as the cause of the stank of iron became clear.

“Slicing exorcism!” This nobody who reeked of iron shot what looked to be a shuriken made of blood at you.

No time to be disgusted. An overwhelming scent of blood made it apparent what you’d been smelling. It wasn’t a simple metal. It was blood.

“Oh- Oh!” You raise your blade up in the nick of time to just get the splatter of cold liquid on your cheeks. Disgusted in passing you have no time to dwell as the stranger before you makes to dart away. With their head of dark hair in your line of sight, you weren’t ready to try and re-find them once again in this maze of debris.

Lurching forward you feel the upper hand stall when they stopped your attack once more with the brute of their bow. Clear view of them now. The man who’d clearly fired the arrows was all but composed when shaking off your attack. No way to not suspect another sorcerer caught up in this giant trash heap of curse attacks. You still have no time to play nice when they hurl another blood conjured weapon at you.

In such suddenness you are less lucky than you have been. This one catching your cheek and causing a sting to spread throughout the skin of your face. Fed up with this game you don’t care if he’s a sorcerer or not. This was a one for all situation now that you intended to win.

Firm foot hold found. You realize the man has cornered himself at this point. Range attacks out of the question. Undoubtedly giving you the upper hand now. With a hefty swing of your sword and the first time you’d channeled any energy into at all. You bring it down like a guillotine. Ready to strike flesh. Instead the snap of the bow is your first sign of an upper hand.

All but trash the man throws it aside but too slowly. You’re on him before the range attacker can pull that weird blood trick again. Slight intent to kill as if he were a curse. You swipe your foot down and knock him down to the temple floor with a hard thud.

You waste no time between the moment his head hit the ground and your above him. Tip of your blade pressed to his neck. One breath too deep from him and the sharp tip would pierce his pale skin. Eyes fixated down on him you realize in the moments after your adrenaline fades that he’s staring right up at you.

Sharp tongue your words come out curt only to be interruped right away, “Who are-”

“Another sorcerer-” His eyes open from the slits they’d remained in the skirmish, “What are you doing here? How did you-”

“I get to ask the questions!” You snarl, jabbing his throat with your sword just enough to watch a crimson bead peak from under the tip of your weapon, “You attacked me, what are you doing up here? Why were you-”

“...you’re so pretty-” Suddenly his eyes open wide realizing what he said, “Wait I didn’t-”

“Shut up or I’ll cut your throat out!” Your sword pressing uncomfortably into the side of his neck now, “I asked you a question! Why are you up here!?”

“Kamo-”

“What? What are you-”

“Kamo family!” He quickly sputtered, “Head of the Kamo family!”

The name rang a bell somewhere in your frazzled brain.

“I’m the head-” He suddenly registered really the blade to his neck, “I’m looking for stragglers-”

“In an abandoned temple?” You weren’t buying it.

“My people live just down the hill,” He spoke earnestly, “I had to keep the stragglers safe when the curses released from their seals in the keep. Some where up here but-”

“I killed them,” You glared down at him, “I killed all but the one you shot. How long were you up here? Were you following me?”

A shake of his head even as he stared at the glimmer of your sword, “No. I was looking for anyone who came up here. I didn’t expect to find another sorcerer. I felt your cursed energy and assumed you were a curse.”

Eyes narrowing you didn’t like the sound of something so simple to this pretty face, “...I don’t believe you. Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now or else-”

“Noritoshi-” He blurted out, “Noritoshi Kamo. Head of the Kamo family. I can give you some place safe to stay. I don’t understand what’s going on but-”

You lift the blade from his throat. Something about the diligent tone in his voice. Like he’d introduced himself like that a million times. You could kill him but it seemed a waste. Weapon retracted but no offer to help him up. You stand above him with a confounded glare, “...do you know what’s happening?”

His head shook and your stomach dropped. Noritoshi didn’t get up. Only propping himself up slightly when he realized the back of his head was thumping from the impact, “....A special grade curse released a powerful seal in Shibuya about two weeks ago...I saw but....” His face became somber and he shook his head once again, “...I don’t know what’s been going on. I just know things are in disarray and it’s my duty to protect my people.”

Once more you were skeptical but with how little rest you’d gotten in the past few days due to the tremendous increase in curses. This man’s words seemed as solid as any other theory you’d heard. More so than the plea of non sorcerer’s you listened to day in and day out about the end of times.

“...Has the Jujutsu elders said anything?” You step off him completely. If he was speaking the truth maybe he knew what was going on as an actual heir to one of the clans.

Noritoshi looked up at you a moment longer, “No...there’s been a wide emergency notice to do what you can but our numbers....” He grew quiet, “...as many sorcerers seem to be dying as the rest of Japan.”

Perhaps the end of times were coming. You grip your sword hilt tight and take a deep breath, “....seems a angel of death is coming then whether we like it or not.”

“You’re a sorcerer.” He began to get to his feet, “Please, come with me. If anything to stay away from here. There is a grave yard on the other side of the thicket. More curses will come. No one should be here even as a sorcerer yourself.”

First hand you’d seen the influx he spoke of. From every direction. While out of the city provided some safety you knew that this place left you as vulnerable as any other if you stayed alone. With no words to be spoken of from the elders. And an age of curses threatening to crowd out humans. Like a trash pile reaching it’s capacity. You didn’t see much choice in this one.

“...I will kill you if I find out you’re lying to me.” Voice firm without breaking eye contact with him as you sheath your sword, “I smell one curse in this safe space of yours and I’ll-”

“Kill me, yes,” Noritoshi nodded with both busted ends of his bow in his hands as he looked on at you, “I am not lying but if you see fit, I’ll accept you as my angel of death then.”

a/n: I have one wine cooler in me as I finish this. This might be a multi part if the inspiration finds me. Anyways, um, yeah! This is an old idea coming so pls let me know if you liked it!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #jjk noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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bronan · 3 years ago

Note

That prompt game: vert 16, 23, 27 and 35

Thanks anon!!! I love Vert and wow you picked some gooood prompts 🙏💦

HEADCANON PROMPT MEME:

16. Smile – okay let's get the obvious out of the way, vert wheeler has the best smile and we know this because we all have eyes that can see. he tries to be serious and stern when it's Leader Time but it's hard for him to hold that smile back when he's feelin' it. It’s really cute.

alright alright now when I saw this prompt, the first thing that popped into my head was this: vert smiling at his dad, a moment when you know his heart was hurting so bad but he still wanted to try to reassure jack that he would be okay, that they'd both be okay. Sometimes, things like saying goodbye... it's way too hard to talk about it or say it plainly out loud, but a smile can convey a lot of things, can be a small comfort. You can tell when vert's doing this - smiling for the sake of smiling, not because he's happy - because you can see it in his eyes. I'm sure he got used to seeing his mom smile at him when he caught her feeling down and overwhelmed after jack's disappearance. Just an automatic, learned reaction at this point; I could see vert being absolutely stressed beyond belief but if someone were to catch him off guard he'd probably flash them a smile while his eyes said "God please end me we are out of soda for the fifth time this week and it's only Tuesday."

People who can read vert well will know the difference in a heart beat, lol. And sometimes he's just not good at faking it at all. But he does try.

23. Romance – we all saw how he tried to hit on Grace, right? god. help this poor boy. Vert is so cute because he's so awkward. At least, with grace he was. I think it would be easier for him to make the transition from friend to significant other with someone he'd gone through life-or-death situations with, a close friend, someone he knows well and has gotten very used to. I think he just knew so little about Grace and psyched himself out badly, totally fumbled it.

That being said, I hope he's still awkward sometimes. I hope he still stumbles over his words and gets red and loses his train of thought when he looks into their eyes a little too long. It's just way too cute. I don't know what I'd do if vert were suave and cool with flirting.

As a partner, we already know that vert would be 100% there for his significant other just like he's there for his team. Vert tried to play the tough guy card in the beginning of the show by saying he didn't need a team, but he sure changed his tune fast once he had his new teammates in front of him. Vert is the kind of guy who loves fiercely and honestly and with his whole heart. Anyone would be really lucky to have him. 🥺 king

27. Sleep – vert's bedhead cracks me up and I didn't ever fully understand it until I started going to sleep with product in my short hair. I literally wake up with my hair going in twelve different directions and brother it is stuck like that until I wash it. Vert is clearly a morning shower-er. I imagine he's just so exhausted by the end of the day that he collapses into bed (probably facedown, let's be real) and zonks out until the morning. Hair askew. Pillow lines in his cheek. Feeling like he got hit by a truck. You know, that really deep sleep where your body wasn't quite sure if you were ever even gonna wake up again so it just didn't prepare itself in time when morning comes.

Then there's those nights where Vert just can't shut his brain off, so he lies awake and tosses and turns and gets frustrated as hell. When he was a kid who couldn't sleep, I headcanon that jack would take vert on late night car rides, listening to the radio until he passed out from the ride, where jack would then circle back to the house and carry him to bed. He hasn’t been able to do that for a long, long time, but it's probably not strange to catch Vert going out on his own for a drive, late at night, just him and the radio. It's different when your dad's not there to drive you, though.

35. Guilt – do you ever wonder if vert blames himself - even just partially - on his dad leaving? I mean, before he knew that jack didn't actually mean to abandon him like that. I think vert takes so much on and tries to carry everything and everyone on his shoulders. He is the leader. He has people who depend on him, a multiverse that is depending on him - and he's just 18. You already know that Vert takes every action - and its corresponding consequence - personally, as if he were the one who caused that wreck, or made that person get hurt, etc. He comes away from every single mission replaying it in his head whenever there's a call that was a bit too close, or a downright bad experience. How could he have done better? He failed his team just then, didn't he? Someone got hurt and maybe he could have prevented it. They were counting on him.

Vert needs time to decompress after missions. They're a lot. It's just a LOT, saving the multiverse. Keeping his home safe. Keeping his friends alive. And every single time something bad happens, Vert blames himself for it. Guilt would gnaw at him all day long if he didn't have his friends to pull him out of it. That, and the drive to keep on keepin' on, the type of resilience that puts vert back out there every single day until the job's done. I think it takes a special kind of strength to get back up every single time and I think Vert draws a lot of that strength from his love for his friends. And I think that’s pretty cool of him.

#ask game #hot wheels battle force 5 #battle force 5 #vert wheeler

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rawmeknockout · 4 years ago

Note

Any bot, any continuity, car sex. And with that I mean, the reader bounces themselves on the March while inside the alt form of the bot please! Some desesperate begging too if possible

//not teeechnically a car but,,,, astrotrain//

You hate working with Astrotrain. He’s an aft and his sense of music is shit, but at least he’s more tolerable than Dead End. That guy can suck the joy out of anything. The only good thing about Astrotrain is his frame. Something about him being so large really does something to your processor. And by something, you mean it short circuits.

So while it’s not ideal working conditions, going on patrol with someone so irritating could be worse.

“You could have at least self serviced before we left,” Scratch that. You hate him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You don’t even look up from the hologram topographic map in front of you, searching desperately for any sign of Autobots.

“You’re literally riding around inside me. I can feel your EM field. You’re almost as bad as Dead End, but he’s interested in an Autobot. I think that might make him slightly worse,” You wish he would shut up already. He’s way too comfortable talking to you, considering you didn’t know him until a few months ago when he popped out of a stupid dimensional portal.

“Go ahead and hop up on my gear shift,” You choke on your venomous insult towards his hypothetical creator, tank flipping in on itself when you try to take in his words, “You know you want to.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that,” But your thighs press together tighter, your interface panel uncomfortably warm.

“Oh yeah?” You chance a look at his holographic face looking at you, his eyebrow ridge is raised and he looks way too smug, “Because I can feel you leaking transfluid onto the seat. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You really wish you could focus your optics back on the map, but as much as you try to see clearly all you can visualize is yourself perched on top of Astrotrain’s gear shift. The you in your brain moans wantonly and openly, so unlike the person you show others, “I’m so going to regret this.”

Astrotrain says nothing, but you can feel his immense field is pretty self satisfied when you unbuckle from the seat and move to straddle the shift in front of you. It’s precarious, your right where anyone can see you in the cockpit, but you that sends a pulse of charge through your lines that opens your panel involuntarily. Without wasting a minute to lose your courage, or stupidity, you let your hips slowly roll to meet the shift in front of you. It’s just enough for it to peek between your valve folds and nudge your anterior node.

It’s not necessarily the hard metal friction, or the fact anyone could see you here inside Astrotrain, but a combination of everything has all your sensors raised to high alert. Even your field flares with caution, but it’s entirely engulfed by Astrotrain’s and his is roiling with lust and unreleased frustration. It’s enough to have your vocalizer resetting every time a moan bubbles up.

Your valve is dripping transfluid by the time you move to part your valve, the gear shift unlike a spike in how unyielding it is when you try to take it. You vents flare as you release the air you had been cycling, moving slow and unsteady as you work your node and finally get the first inch of the shift inside your valve. You feel your calipers ripple and shift around it, delicate mechanisms moving to accommodate your stupid decision.

“You look so good like this. Much better than when you’re talking slag,” He’s such a bastard. You slide down another few inches, breathy sighs the only noise you can make as you try to concentrate on the feeling. Anything to ignore whose gear shift it is.

“Come on, get moving. I can’t hold out all day,” Astrotrain tries to keep the tremble out of his voice, but you can feel he’s desperate for you to get moving. He’s just shy of begging, if you were to push him...

“Excuse me? I don’t like that tone,” You hadn’t ever been fragged in your alt mode before, so you wouldn’t know what Astrotrain is feeling, but you can feel his field vibrate with excess charge. It tingles along your delicate sensors, a stray notification your HUD about his overbearing presence.

“Oh? Think you can get me to beg you to frag yourself on my gear shift?” Now you really don’t appreciate the challenging tone in his voice, peeking up at his hologram helm with a raised eye ridge. Your fields are creating a feedback loop, all the charge prickling in Astrotrain’s catching and feeding into your own. It’s been... a while since anyone had engaged you in field play, much less wanted to watch you self service. As difficult as he is, Astrotrain seems more than just causally into you.

You’re about to slide further down his gear shift, just enough to tease him with a show, but your commlink interrupts the heavy atmosphere.

“You two better not be doing what it looks like,” Megatron’s threat is clear. You can almost see his displeased face, “That Autobot scout snuck in to our territory, while you were off wasting time. You better be here in five kliks.”

Not nearly enough time to get off.

#txt #asks #reader insert #transformers #reader imagine #transformers cyberverse #cyberverse #tf cyberverse #tf astrotrain #astrotrain #cyberverse astrotrain #smut #valve plug

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freddiekluger · 4 years ago

Text

Why Cap Being Internally Closeted Is Not Only Possible, But Valid Representation

i wrote this to a lot of mitski and onsind, so you can’t blame me for any feelings that bleed through

now i don’t know if it actually exists, but i’ve heard of there being a lot of discourse surrounding the captains story arc regarding his sexuality- i believe the general gist is that having a queer character that remains closeted to themselves is either unrealistic or ‘bad’ representation, and as someone who really treasures the captain and relates to his story so far a lot, i thought i might break this down a bit.

i’ve divded up every complaint i’ve heard about this into four main questions which i’ll be covering below the ‘keep reading’, because this is gonna be pretty comprehensive. full disclaimer i reference my experiences as an ex-evangelical non binary butch lesbian a couple times, and i spent a year studying repression and the psychological impacts of high demand sexual ethics for my graduating sociology paper, so this is coming with some background to it i swear

the big questions:

can you EVEN be gay and not know it????

but isn't this just ANOTHER coming out arc, and aren't we supposed to be moving beyond those?

but if cap can't have a relationship with a man because he's a ghost, what's the point?

since cap's dead, isn't this technically bury your gays, and isn't that bad?

1. "but is it really possible to not know? Isn't that bad representation?"

short answer: no and no.

before i get into the validity of the captain's ignorance about his own orientation as 21st century rep, let's break down how the hell the captain can be so clearly attracted to men and still not even consider the possibility that he might be gay, as brought to you by someone who literally experienced this shit.

the captain's particular situation is both a direct result of the lack of information around human sexuality he would have had (aka clear messaging that it's actually possible for him to be attracted to men. i don't mean acceptable or allowed, i mean physically capable of happening- the idea that orientations other than heterosexual exist and are available to him, a man), and a subconscious survival mechanism. the environment in which he lives is outright hostile to gay people, while the military man identity he has constructed for himself doesn't allow for any form of deviation from societal norms, let alone one so base level and major. as a result of this killer combo of information and environment, instincts take over and the mind does it's best to repress the ‘deviant’ feelings until a. one of these two things changes, or b. the act of repression becomes so destructive and/or exhuasting that it becomes impossible to maintain. the key to maintaining a long-term state of repression of desire is diverting that energy elsewhere, and a high-demand group such as the military is the perfect place for the captain to do this (this technqiue is frequented by religions and extremist ideologies worldwide, but that’s not really what we’re here to focus on).

while the brain is actively repressing ‘deviant’ feelings (aka gay shit), this doesn't mean you don't experience the feelings at all. when performed as a subconscious act of survival, the aim of repression is to minimise/transform the feelings into a state where they can no longer cause immediate danger, and something as big as sexual/romantic orientation is going to keep popping up, but as long as the individual in question never understands what they’re feeling, they’ll be able to continue relatively undisturbed. you know how in heist movies, the leader of the group will only tell each team member part of the plan so they can’t screw things up for everyone else if they get caught? it’s kind of like that.

this is how the captain appears to have operated in life AND in death, and it’s a relatively common experience for lgbtq people who’ve grown up in similar circumstances (aka with a lack of information and in an unfriendly-to-hostile environment), and accounts for how some people can even go on to get married and have children before realising that they’re gay and/or trans.

personally, while i can now identify what were strong homo crushes all the way back to childhood, at the time i genuinely had no idea. there was the underlying sense that i probably shouldn't tell people how attached i was to these girls because i would seem weird, and that my feelings were stronger than the ones other people used to describe friendships, but like-like them in the way that other girls like-liked boys? no way! actually scratch that, it wasn't even a no way, because i had no idea that i even could. i even had my own havers, at least in terms of the emotional hold and devotion she got from me, except she treated me way less well than cap’s beau. snatches of the existence of lgbt people made it through the cone of silence, i definitely heard the words gay and lesbian, but my levels of informations mirrored those that the captain would have had: virtually none, beyond the idea that these words exist, some people are them, and that's not something that we support or think is okay, so let's just not speak about it. despite only attending religious schools for the first couple years of primary, until i got my own technology and social media accounts to explore lgbtq content on my own- option a out of the two catalysts for change- the possibility of me being gay was not at all on my radar. don’t even get me started on how long it took me to explore butchness and my overall gender, two things which now feel glaringly obvious.

when shit starts to break down, you can also make the conscious choice to repress which can delay the eventual smashing down of the mental closet door for a time (essentially when the closet door starts to open, you just say ‘no thanks’ and shut it again by pointedly Not Thinking About It). in the abscence of identifying yourself by your attractions, it becomes quite common to identify with a lack- in my case, this meant becoming proud of how sensible and not boy crazy i was, and in the captain’s case, this means becoming proud of how sensible and not sensuous/wild (aka woman crazy) he was, identifying with his LACK of desire for women and partying (which, even in the 40s, involved the expectation of opposite sex romances and hook ups). i’m not saying that’s the only reason he’s a rule follower, but i think the contrast between About Last Night and Perfect Day pretty much support this. (the captain getting on his high horse about general party antics that he inherently felt excluded from because of underlying awareness of his difference & his tendency to project his regimented expectations of himself onto others, vs. joining in the reception party, awareness of how the environment supports difference in the form of clare and sam, and relaxing his own rules by dancing with men- the captain doesn’t mind a party when feels like he has a place there.)

so the captain was operating in a high demand, highly regulated environment (primarily the military, but also early 20th century England itself), with regimented roles, rules, and expectations. working on the assumption that he wouldn't have had out/disclosing lgbt friends, he would have had little to no exposure to lgbt identities, and what information he did receive would have been hushed and negatively geared. while my world started to open up when i started high school was allowed to have my own phone + instagram account, resulting in me realising something wasn't quite 'right' within a few years (making me a relatively early realiser compared to those who don't come out to themselves until adulthood), in life the captain never had that experience. he didn't receive the information he needed, his environment didn't grow less hostile. with the near-exception of havers related heartbreak, his well disciplined and lifelong method of repression never became destructive/exhaustive enough to permanently override the danger signals in his mind and allow him to put his feelings into words. neither of the most common catalysts for change happened for him, so he continued as usual, even after his death.

BUT, and here’s where we come to why this is actually great representation, arrival of mike and Alison represents the opening up of new world. for the first time, the captain is actively made aware of the fact that his environment is no longer hostile, and better than that, it’s affirming. he’s also getting access to positively geared information about lgbtq people and identities, so option a of the two catalysts for change is absolutely present, and resoundingly positive.

the captain’s arc is also relatively unique as it acknowledges the oppressive nature of his environment, but actually focuses on the internal consequences, and the way that systems like those that the captain lived in succeed because they turn us into our own oppressors. for whatever reason, we repress ourseslves, and often can’t help it, and i find that the significance of the journey to overcome that is often overlooked in more mainstream queer media. perhaps it’s just not very cinematic, or it remains too confronting for cishet audiences, but ghosts manages to touch on it with a lovely amount of humour and hope. Jamie Babbit’s But I’m A Cheerleader is another favourite piece of queer media for the same reasons.

not only does it show this, but as the captain continues to get gayer and lean into some of his less conventional traits (like an interest in fashion and the wedding planning), it shows lgbt people who have been or are going through this that there CAN be a positive outcome. it takes a lot to unlearn all the things that have painted you as wrong, especially when a massive institution is desperate to continue doing so, but you can do it, you can be happy, and it's never too late. (i've been meaning to say that last point for ages for ages, but a mutual beat me to it here)

2. not just another coming out arc

i absolutely support the demand for queer stories that don’t center around coming out (it’s like shrodinger’s queer: if you’re not coming out on screen, do you really even exist?), but i don’t align with the criticisms that the captain should already be out. for the reasons mentioned above, the captain’s particular story is fairly different to the ‘young white teenager who mostly knows gay is fine, it’s just everyone else that’s got the problem, but have a unremarkably straight sounding soundtrack, a trauma porn romance, and a cishet saviour’ that we keep seeing. the captain’s ongoing journey with his sexuality emphasises the overaching theme of the show: recovering from trauma and humanity’s endless capacity for growth, and i think that’s worth showing over and over again until it stops being true.

additionally, while the captain’s journey regarding his gayness is a big part of his character and story, ghosts makes it clear that it’s not the ONLY part, and being gay is far from his ONLY characteristic or dramatic/comedic engine. the fact that i’m even having to congratulate ghosts for doing that really shows how much film and television is struggling huh.

while all queer media is, and should be, subject to criticism, i think if it helps even one person then it absolutely deserves to exist, and i can say i’ve found the captain’s journey to be the lgbt story i’ve found that’s closest to my own, which says a lot considering he’s a dead world war 2 soldier who hangs out with other ghosts including a slutty Tory, a georgian noblewoman, and a literal caveman.

3. if captain gay, why he no have boyfriend????

another complaint that’s been circulating is that since the captain doesn’t, and likely won’t, have a boyfriend, that makes him Bad Representation because it follows the sad single gay trope. i kind of get the logic from this one, and a lot of it is up to personal interpretation, but part of me really enjoys the fact that the captain’s journey towards accepting himself is separated from having a relationship.

coming out is often paired with having romantic/sexual relationships (either as the reason or reward for doing so). my own struggle with repression didn't end the second that came out, and i still struggle with letting myself develop & acknowledge romantic feelings as a result of actively shutting them (and most other feelings in general) down for years, and statistics show that lgbtq youth in particular tend not to live out their 'teen years' until their twenties. by not giving cap a relationship straight away, ghosts separates the act of claiming identity and sexual orientation from finding a partner (two things which are, more often than not, separate), and also provides some very nice validation to folks who have yet to have the relationship they want, especially when lots of mainstream queer media is now jumping on the cishet media bandwagon of acting as if every person loses their virginity and has a life defining relationship at sixteen. it’s essentially a continuation of the earlier theme of “it’s never too late”, and who’s to say the captain won’t get a gay bear ghost boyfriend to go haunt nazis with??? people die all the time, it could happen.

(also, i think him and julian will have definitely shagged at least once. it was a low moment for both of them and they refuse to speak of it.)

lots of asexual/ace spectrum fans have come out to say how much they’ve loved being able to headcanon cap as ace, and while that’s not a headcanon i personally have, i think it’s brilliant that ace fans feel seen by his character- we’re all in this soup together babey (and sorry for cursing everyone still reading this with that cap/julian headcanon. i’m just a vessel)

4. “okay, but cap’s a GHOST- doesn’t that make this Bury Your Gays?”

this is a bit of a complex one, but i’m going to say no as a result of the following break down.

Bury Your Gays (BYG), aka the trope where lgbtq characters are consistently killed off (and often with a heavy dose of trauma, while cishet characters survive) is probably one of my least favourite lgbt media tropes. BYG has two main points:

1. the lgbt character is killed, thus removing them from story entirely- hence the use of the phrase ‘killed OFF’ (killed off of the show/film)

2. the character’s death reinforces the perception that lgbtq people’s lives must end in tragedy, instead of being long and fulfilling, or are inherently less valuable. bonus points if the character is killed in a hate crime or confesses same-gender love right before they die (that one implies that queer love genuinely has no future!)

not every death of an lgbtq character is bury your gays, and i personally feel that the captain is an example of an lgbt death that isn’t.

first of all, while the captain is dead, so are the vast majority of characters in ghosts. the premise of the show means that death is not the end of the line for its characters- for most of them, it’s the only reason we get to see them on screen at all. as such, the captain being dead doesn’t remove him from the story, so point one is irrelevant.

at the time of posting, we don’t know how or why the captain died, but we've had nothing to suggest his death was in any way related to his latent sexuality, so his mysterious death doesn’t actively play into the supposedly inherent tragedy of queer lives, nor the supposedly lesser value. that’s as of right now- since we don’t know the circumstances of his death it’s a little tough to analyse properly. while the captain’s life absolutely features missed opportunities and it’s fair share of tragedy, hope and growth (which seems to be the theme of this post) abounds in equal measure. the captain may not be alive, but we DO get to see him growing and having a relatively happy existence, that for the most part seems to be getting even better as he learns to open up and be himself unapologetically- that doesn’t feel like BYG to me.

while writng this, it’s just occured to me that death really is a second chance for most of the ghosts, especially with the introduction of alison. from mary learning to read, to thomas finding modern music, they’ve all been given the chance explore things they never could have while they were alive, and hopefully grow enough to one day be sucked off move on.

in conclusion,

i love the captain very much and i hope his arc lives up to the standards it’s set so far. i don’t know where to put this in this post, but i’d alo like to say i LOVE how in Perfect Day, the captain wasn’t used as an educational experienced for fanny at all. i am very tired of people expecting me to be the walking talking homophobe educator and rehabilitator, so the fact that it’s alison and the other ghosts that call fanny out while the captain just gets to have fun with the wedding organisation made me very happy.

here’s a few other cap posts that i’ve done:

the captain’s arc if adam and the film crew stayed

a possible cap coming out

the captain backstory headcanon

if you’ve read this far,

thank you!

also check out @alex-ghosts-corner , this post inspired me very much to write this

#i subluxed all my fingers and wrists doing this but worth it #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts headcanon #bbc ghosts analysis #the captain #caphavers #the captain x havers #ben willbond #lgbt representation #lgbt rep #queer media #lgbt media

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darthkruge · 4 years ago

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Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him.

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness.

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff.

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand.

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear.

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle.

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-”

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot.

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him.

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints.

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours.

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought.

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings.

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding.

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth.

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse.

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment.

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you.

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you. I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms”

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days.

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through.

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you.

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue.

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin.

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

i just made a taglist so if you want to join, go ahead!

tags:

@saltybreaddream

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #megan writes

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thelastpilot · 4 years ago

Text

‘On GOD We Are Going to Get You a Girlfriend’- A Lovesquare Story as suffered by Nino

My last charity fic for @mlbforblm! The prompt was Aged Up College AU lovesquare, in which Adrien is struggling with his love for both Marinette and Ladybug and Nino is put in the position to be the ultimate wingman. I went a little off script with this prompt but I hope it scratches that itch nonetheless.

The concept itself lent itself much better to 15k than 4 but I did what I could! Hope it gets a laugh out of you.

It was twilight in Paris, the tail end of sunset slipping away as people all across campus engaged in extremely varied states of productivity. That is to say, at most 20% of the campus’ live-in population was actually getting any work done, while the rest of them were either limping along or had already given up.

It was midterms week, clearly.

In the dim space of a reasonable apartment accommodation were well -intentioned study implements of every kind. The completely average couch and carpet were covered with just enough of a layer of highlighters, pens, and printed pages to give a really studious impression at a glance, but whatever vibe it might have managed was thoroughly ruined by a young man laying face down on the floor, a game console nearly tumbling from his hands. Another, separate, but equally as unfocused young man had his back to plain white wall against which they had been meaning to put like… a chair or something at least for most of the semester now, staring idly out of the sliding glass door to his left that offered only a sliver of a view from his current position. At most he could see two lovely, but neglected, potted plants and a shoddy balcony looking off towards the main body of their college campus.

He watched the small patch of sky he could see succumb to a light coverage of clouds, and as he considered the possibility of rain, he sighed.

“Nino?” he finally spoke, looking away from his strip of sky. He waited for a response for a second or two, before reaching out with his foot and gently prodding his friend’s side to check he was alive, smirking slightly when he received a grunt for his efforts.

“Mm,” Nino answered from his curled up position, the glasses on his face a perfect reflection of his Pokemon team’s stats, which was ironic considering that Stats was exactly the thing Nino was avoiding at the minute. After a beat too long, he realized his friend was still waiting on his response. He lifted his head slightly, his hat falling free to the ground as he said, “Mm? Yeah?” He blinked slowly. “What?”

Adrien smiled down at him, chuckling a little before tossing aside a textbook he had been pretending to take notes from for the last hour. When his lap was free he leaned forward and rolled to the ground, mimicking Nino’s exact positioning on the ground a small distance away from him, sighing again (louder this time).

“What?” Nino repeated himself, laughing when Adrien leveled him with a sour look. He rolled his eyes but dutifully paused his game, shutting his Switch off and putting it on the ground out of their eyeline. “Go for it dude, what’s up.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Is it a girl thing?” Nino asked flatly, raising an eyebrow when all Adrien managed was a sheepish smile. “Dude.”

“Come on! You’re my friend, you’re contractually obligated. Look don’t make fun of me just help okay; I’m really stuck now.” Adrien pleaded with him, bringing his hands in front of him to cartoonishly beg for his grace. He got another eye roll for his trouble but Nino hadn’t gotten up and left yet so that was a good sign.

It wasn’t that his friend didn’t want to help him, its just that… well.

Adrien always had some kind of girl problem, pretty much off and on for the past five years. He knew it got hard to listen to and Nino had put in way more than his fair share of time into this. Especially since he had made essentially no progress whatsoever in all that time, but boy was he almost on to something here.

Nino said nothing else, making a vague hand gesture for him to continue and Adrien did as he always did.

He hesitated, carefully considering how to phrase something.

“So um, there is this girl. That uh, girl, I always talk about. The one you don’t know. And then there is another girl, one who you do know.”

“Do we HAVE to be so vague man? We’re in our own place, there is no one around. Can’t you just say it? I get so confused when we do it like this.”

Adrien tensed slightly, discomfort crawling up his back. “I uh, I can’t. Just- just listen okay? I can’t explain it.”

“We’re in our house,” Nino complained again. But Adrien ignored him, because he always ignored him when he said that.

“Just listen okay?”

Nino looked at him squarely, or at least as squarely as he could manage while laying on the ground. When Adrien patiently waited for a response Nino finally sighed, rolling on his stomach and laying his face sideways on the floor to match him, nodding stiffly for him to continue.

“It’s just, there is these two girls,” he began, “I’m losing my mind over it, I’m worried man and it’s coming to a head. I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it this time. I have never ONCE in my entire LIFE gotten the timing right Nino, I’m dead serious.” Adrien rolled around a little gripping his hair with both hands. “I get the timing wrong EVERY TIME. I have never been where I’m supposed to be! I’ve never made a move at the right time I have never done it right. I get close with one girl but she doesn’t reciprocate or she tells me to wait or she says that its complicated, then I get close to the other girl but I feel GUILTY because I still care about the first girl. But she says it isn’t right so I work on it I let go but then the other girl is gone or moves on or life gets in the way. I have been in the wrong place EVERY TIME-,”

Adrien’s ranting continues, rolling around on their carpet as he incredibly vaguely and very stupidly details a problem that he has had for many, many years. Nino can feel himself retreating into his own thoughts, more focused on Adrien’s animated rolling than his actual words. He reaches out once to save a stack of notes from getting creased and ruined, but other than that remains completely still and lets his friend do his thing.

This happened maybe once a week or so, maybe a little less often or more often depending on the status of the girls.

The fact that Adrien literally REFUSED to say their names made this completely incoherent, but where in his love life he was inconsistent, when it came to never talking about work Adrien was true to form.

Nino blinked blearily as Adrien continued, pouring over the reasons he cared so deeply for them both and why that made him feel like a bad person. It left Nino to stew, wondering much like always why they did it like this.

The two of them were superheroes. Spoilers if you didn’t know. He didn’t feel like much of a superhero when he was sprawled out on his shared apartment floor suffering the long run up to failing his Stats midterm like any other student. But the fact remained that he was one, and so was Adrien. The problem was that Adrien was serious about keeping life and work separate. It was pretty much only hard and fast rule about this gig that Nino had picked up on when he first joined. Never talk about work as a civilian, under any circumstances. You only get to talk about work when you’re suited up, and you’re only allowed to talk about life in plain clothes.

Honestly, it was so hard to do it that way, but the rules were clear, not that anyone had actually stopped to explain them to him. Adrien froze up whenever he even so much as mentioned an akuma attack or asked about an injury. Don’t talk about work, but…

They lived together now, this was the first semester where they had done so and Nino was so hyped about it. Like FINALLY, our kwamis can relax and we can be ourselves. He had been so excited about it, but to his profound disappointment Adrien refused to relent on his rule. Their kwamis were never even out in the open except for in their rooms, like he knew Adrien was strict but surely he wasn’t that committed.

Nino understood that it was probably Ladybug’s rule but still, it’s not like she was here. He wouldn’t advocate for disobeying her but… come on man. His brain hurt.

He KNEW Adrien was talking about Ladybug/Marinette. He knew that for a fact, but Adrien would never say her name out loud, because that overlaps with work (even though they hang out with her in person like every single day.) Maybe Nino didn’t know who the heck this second girl he was talking about was, but at the very least he could be clear about one of them.

Whoever the second girl actually was sounded a lot like Marinette, so the for-sure thing was that he had a type. Honestly though he had stopped trying to figure it out years ago. If he wasn’t so exhausted from not studying he would humor him like he always did, but today… man he was kind of tired.

He waited until Adrien was done talking, undoubtably ending by asking for advice as per the usual. Then, like always, Nino said what he always did.

“You need to communicate. If you are not crystal clear with these girls about what they want and what you want nothing with ever happen. You need to bite the bullet and TELL them, at least ONE of them, what you’re thinking.”

And like always, Adrien groaned and covered his face and said, “It’s not that easy!”

They both grumbled dejectedly into the carpet, repeating their years old platitudes until they gave up on each other. Nino usually did this a lot better but he reserved the right to tap out and Adrien usually seemed to accept that.

The only different thing Adrien actually said was when he was standing. He mumbled, “I know, I know. You’re right, as usual but… I’m maybe gonna ask someone else. See what they think.”

“I don’t know what answer you’re hoping for, but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I know,” Adrien sighed, offering a hand to help him off the ground. He smiled gently, but his eyes were sad. Enough of a gesture to explain that he wasn’t actually mad at Nino’s dismissiveness. He had a right to refrain.

They spent an idle few minutes cleaning up their mess, consolidating their notes and books into two loose piles and neither saying much. It was only about thirty or so minutes later when Adrien announced vaguely, “I’m gonna go for a run.”

“Yeah man,” Nino answered, knowing by heart Adrien’s codeword for ‘patrol’. Didn’t know why he didn’t just say it, but that was a dead horse long beaten.

Adrien left within a minute or two but Nino stood blearily for awhile in the living room, staring at nothing as he debated just going to bed for the day.

He was just about to head to his room to ask if Wayzz was ready for dinner when the kwami in question came flying into the room, confidently out in the open space now that Adrien was gone.

“You’re getting a call!” Wayzz piped up importantly, waving his little flippers a bit to sell the point. “It’s Cat Noir!”

“I- what?” Nino sputtered, glancing towards the apartment door in confusion. “He literally just- ugh.” Nino groaned as loudly as possible, Wayzz shaking his head a little. “Why is he LIKE THIS, he could have just TOLD ME TO COME.”

“I know he’s odd about it, but he must have his reasons. You should go, he must need you for patrol.”

Nino demanded a few more moments of frustration, which Wayzz indulged, before grabbing his keys and unlocking a window in case he didn’t feel like using them. It was Adrien’s turn tonight but okay whatever.

It only took him a minute or two to transform and get out onto their building’s roof, stretching a bit before raising his wrist. He forced himself to take a deep breath and remind himself of the rules while he returned Adrien’s call.

Through the hazy, green, holographic screen he saw the face of Cat Noir answer on the first ring, the feline superhero sighing in relief and smiling widely.

“There you are! I was hoping you were out. Hey, I know this is kind of sudden but… um I was wondering if you were willing to meet up with me. I want to ask you about something.”

He allowed himself to hang his head in frustration just out of the video feeds eyeline, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth before answering, “Yeah bud. Lets meet up.”

“Great!” Cat Noir answered enthusiastically, genuinely happy that he had agreed for whatever reason. “Meet me here when you get a second,” and he sent over his current location. Sure enough he was literally like, one block over.

He hung up without a goodbye, dragging his feet as he started to head that way. He was slow about it sine it was at most five seconds away for him. Adrien was so INTENSE about this charade some days it just drove him completely crazy. But rules are rules.

He waited for about a minute to distance their patterns, then with a short jump and a few corner’s turned he found Cat Noir crouched on top of the Linguistics building.

“Hey, you got here fast,” Cat greeted him happily, a little nervous looking actually. ‘Carapace’ as he was really had to resist the eye roll there, deciding instead to nod.

He went over and sat somewhat heavily, not pretending with an greeting at all and just watching him flatly. For whatever reason this made Cat Noir hesitate a little, but he quickly got over it, pushing through the weirdness and folding his hands in his lap.

“Well, listen I won’t waste your time much. I know we don’t really do this, we only ever talk about work and that’s the safe thing, I get how it is.” Cat Noir looked away, his gaze fixated on the possibility of rain, before he finally sighed.

“I just… I was wondering if I could get some… girl advice?”

Cat Noir looked to his ally, scanning his face and getting even more nervous as he more or less saw a brick wall of an expression on Carapace’s face.

Carapace blinked, saying nothing as Cat Noir began to talk unprompted, persevering despite the lack of reciprocation.

“So um, there is a girl, and you know that. I always talk about her, and there is another girl, one that you don’t know.”

Carapace blinked.

He softly let out a “Bro…” but Cat Noir was hyping himself up now and he started rolling.

“It’s just, there is these two girls,” he began, “I’m losing my mind over it, I’m worried man and it’s coming to this point where like, I-,”

He kept going, looking down at his gloved hands and missing Carapace’s slowly warping expression. He started rambling, about how he always got the timing wrong, about how he cared about both these girls so much and he just didn’t know what to do. He started and he didn’t stop, completely unaware of Carapace starting to lose touch with reality.

Finally Carapace interrupted, stammering slightly in a tone that was wildly like…

Disbelief?

“Dude I- stop, hang on. Dude I just- I know?” He waited for a beat, watching Cat Noir blink in confusion. He scanned his face, looking for just- literally anything. After another moment that was way too long, he finally braved it. “We- we already, we already talked about this.”

Cat straightened, throwing his head back in exasperation and groaning loudly, “Okay I know I talk about girls sometimes but I honestly never bother you with this much can you humor me please?”

“No I-,” Carapace paused, his voice getting quieter. “We just… literally we-,”.

“Please man I- UGH I’m really having trouble!” He nearly shouted it, looking so genuinely unheard that Carapace was reeling. “You’re one of my only close guy friends I NEED a second opinion, I’m begging now. I already asked my other friend but he always says the exact same thing and he’s RIGHT but I need someone to say something else!” Cat suddenly mimicked his voice saying, “”You need to communicate.” That’s what he says, he’s RIGHT obviously but I just-,”

He kept talking, briefly glossing over how this ‘friend of his’ wasn’t particularly helpful with this line of questioning, so Cat Noir had chosen to seek HIM out instead.

And as he went on with his rant, Carapace slowly brought his hands to his face in intense contemplation.

Suddenly, in the middle of Cat Noir’s over the top love ranting Carapace decided to interrupt him.

“Hold up- hold on now. I need to clarify something, just cause I need to double check alright, just checkin’ something.”

Cat Noir paused, looking to him and slowly saying, “…okay?”

“You KNOW I know you’re Adrien Agreste right?”

Silence. Cat abruptly went rigid, but Carapace just splayed his hands wide, rapidly searching his face for confirmation of the impossible.

“Like dawg you KNOW that right? You’re aware? You know that right?”

Cat Noir was frozen, holding as still as possible like Carapace was a T-Rex and if he didn’t move this problem was just gonna go away. But Carapace pressed further, getting louder as he said “DUDE you know who I AM RIGHT?!”

The feline superheroes breathing was starting to pick up, his eyes blown wide as he REALLY looked at his friend, before he nearly inaudibly squeaked, “…no?”

“ADRIEN-,”

“Shhh!” Cat Noir leapt forward, trying to grapple him as he went into full panic mode, “Wait shut up shut up!”

“IT’S BEEN FIVE YEARS!”

“SHUT UP!”

They started to wrestle, Cat Noir violently shushing his companion as he had a full melt down, saying things like “All this time-!” and “You’re an idiot!” and “I thought you were just- oh my god!”

“Please!!! This is terrible Carapace shut up!! I don’t know how you found out my identity but I-,”

“WHOSE THE SECOND GIRL-!?”

“Lower your voice!”

“WHOSE THE SECOND GIRL”

“What do you mean?!”

Carapace gripped him hard by the shoulders and threw them both until Cat Noir was flat on his back with a harsh thump against the roof tiles. The turtle hero held him tight and shook his shoulders, his eyes crazed with years of realization colliding together at once. “Who is the second girl in your ridiculous life, what’s her name?!”

Cat Noir looked wild and frightened, finally becoming so flustered that he just hissed in a whisper, “It’s Marinette okay!?”

“And?”

“And WHAT!?”

“AND?” Carapace reiterated, shaking him harder.

“And LADYBUG you MORON!” he hissed as quietly as he possibly could.

Instantly Carapace stopped, holding him in a vice like grip just above the tiles. After an incredibly still moment, he dropped him, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his face.

Cat Noir was flat on his back, panting heavily and staring up at him freaked out, but it was like Carapace had been struck by lightning and he was just sitting there, completely still.

“Oh,” was all he finally said, curling in on himself slightly. Before suddenly, he pitched to the side and just lay there on the roof tiles, rolling onto his stomach.

“…oh?!” Cat eventually managed, twisting onto his side to look at him just laying there. “That’s all you have to say?! Of COURSE it’s Ladybug! I talk about her EVERY. DAY.”

“This… explains… so much,” Carapace muttered, not even listening to him. With a huff Cat crawled onto all four and went over to him, his heart racing in what was nearly a panic attack at this point. But all of Carapace’s energy had been spent, and he just mumbled dejectedly with his face smooshed against the tiles.

Cat Noir’s ears twisted forward, trying to make out the words, before he just lost his patience and hissed “What are you saying?!”

“I said YOU’RE STUPID!” the turtle barked out, turning his face back into the filthy roof.

“Why am I- UGH forget it! Just forget it we have a way bigger problem here- If Ladybug finds out my identity has been compromised she’s going to-,”

“Is SHE stupid too!?” Carapace interjected, twisting just enough to look up at him incredulously. “Is everyone stupid but ME?”

“What the hell are you talking about?! Dude there is RULES! No one is allowed to know anyone elses identity!”

Carapace just gaped at him, before his eyes unfocused and he just went limp. He whispered it when he said, “So she IS stupid…”

He waited a beat, and wretchedly mumbled to himself, “Oh god you’re both so stupid.”

Cat Noir was at a loss, looking all around him like he was desperately trying to make sense of it all, stopping only to try and sort of Carapace’s miserable breakdown.

He was about to give up and just drag Carapace to a lockable room somewhere before his friend propped himself up all at once with the most exasperated expression he had ever seen on a human person.

“So help me- someone has to do some shit about this, listen to me-,” Carapace got to his knees and lunged forward to grab him by the bell. He pulled him forward, and with all the determination of a war general he proclaimed, “On GOD I am going to get you a girlfriend, do you hear me? I am going to make this happen because I can not STAND another DAY of this. Got it?!”

“I- Carapace I-!?”

“GOT IT?!”

Cat Noir dangled helplessly in his grip, and with his last wits he sputtered out, “Okay, okay!!! I’ll do whatever you say!”

#adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #love square #adrienette #ladynoir #carapace #mlbforblm #sorry if this isnt my best #but #it cannot be overstated how much i love the fact that almost all of ninos dialogue #is delivered while face down on the floor #cause thats a mood

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skeezsbbygirl · 4 years ago

Text

call me that too + kim seungmin

this one’s for anon who requested a seungmin scenario with a dash of oppa kink. i didn’t go too overboard hehe, just a sprinkle of a suggestive theme at the end (i’ll leave it to your imagination asdjhfrirgjgl cuz i can’t handle them feelssss ugh)

nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy! oh and thank you for the love that you guys are showing for “peaches + bang chan” uwuuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

REQUEST BOX IS STILL OPEN. STREAM GOD’S MENU AND VOTE FOR OUR BOYS.

[5:12 p.m.] A yawn escaped your lips as you managed to go through all your assigned lectures for the day. You logged out from your university's portal and shut your laptop close, not wanting to stare at the bright screen any longer. You sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the drawer that contained all your caffeine-related pick-me-ups. As you were about to grab a mug, your actions were halted by your phone's ringtone, signalling a call as it rang on the coffee table from your apartment's living room. You managed to accept the call before it was dropped.

SeungMong <3

"Hey," you answered, sauntering back to the kitchen as you cradled your phone in between your right ear and shoulder to keep your hands free. "Baby, are you busy?" Seungmin asked. You shook your head but you mentally facepalmed as you remembered that the boy on the other line couldn't see you, "No. I just finished some school stuff. What's up?"

"Can you come over? Chan-hyung wants to take us out for dinner," Seungmin replied and you could faintly hear Jisung and Changbin screaming in the background -- something about Chan covering food expenses for the first time. You lightly chuckled and responded, "Yeah sure, I'll be there in twenty."

An hour passed and you were all gathered at the boys’ go-to restaurant, which was three blocks down from your university's dormitory.

"Am I dreaming?" Jisung teased as he hopped off Chan's car, Changbin and Jeongin not far behind him. “Somebody drive him back home,” Chan groaned to which the younger one giggled, jumping on his back in the process. “Hyung, come on. I was just poking fun at you,” Jisung cooed at the elder, earning him a light flick on the forehead from Chan.

You beamed at the sight of the boys playfully bickering. “Pay attention to me,” Seungmin whined and nudged your shoulder. You broke into a cheesy grin and gave his cheek a peck, “You always have my attention.”

Seungmin extended a hand towards you, to which you gladly complied, squeezing his hand three times as you intertwined your hand with his -- your silent way of saying ‘I love you’.

Soon after, you guys were seated inside the restaurant and you fell into each of your own said conversations.

“How was your day?” Seungmin asked as he adjusted his seat closer to yours. “Better now that I’m with you,” you said in a voice soft with affection. Seungmin chuckled, “Stop it.” You shook your head, leaning closer so that your forehead touched his. “You’re so cute,” you teased, which earned you a pout from the older male. “You do know that I’m a year older than you, right?” Seungmin bragged. You rolled your eyes, “Your point being?”

Seungmin sighed in defeat, opting to plant a kiss on your lips, but you were interrupted by multiple groans and a chorus of complains. “Get a room already!” Felix exclaimed with his hands covering his eyes, a poor attempt to discard the sight of yours and Seungmin’s “sickening” affection, as Minho described it. You stuck a tongue out at Felix, “Stop being so bitter.”

Felix faked sob and Jeongin joined in on his act, embracing the older male and patting his head.

Soon, your playful banter came to an end as your orders arrived. You guys were eating in silence, uttering a compliment here and there towards the dishes that you were served, until Hyunjin called for your attention.

“Oh, (y/n), before I forget,” the older male started, only stopping for a second to sip on his drink. “I found that outline you’ve been looking for,” he continued. “Please tell me you have it,” you pleaded, eager to finish the book review that your professor has quested upon your class a week ago. Hyunjin nodded, “The copy is in the car, I got you.”

You cheered as you reached out your hand to give him a high-five. “You’re the best, oppa.”

With your response, Hyunjin immediately side-eyed Seungmin’s reaction. He might have known something or at least sensed something, specifically when Seungmin blabbered -- well, more like ranted -- about you not calling him the said endearment you just used on Hyunjin a few seconds ago.

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Hyunjin was an hour away from a deadline, and yes, he admits that he may have finished his project sooner, but a certain someone, who goes by the name of Jisung, decided that it would be more fun to play video games over at Felix and Changbin’s dorm. “That stupid project isn’t even due for another day. Chill out, dude,” Jisung claimed with burgeoning excitement. Instead of turning his friend down -- or better, kicking his tempting ass out of the dorm -- he caved in.

Hours later, he was cramming at least two days worth of work into an hour. Then comes your boyfriend, Seungmin. “Hyunjin!” the younger male called out from their dorm’s entrance. “In here!” Hyunjin hollered, his fingers still hot on his laptop’s keyboard, seven more questions and a descriptive about his said stand on the project, and he’ll be done -- both figuratively and literally, his brain’s slowly pan-frying itself to destruction. He mentally cursed Jisung.

“Procrastination at its finest,” Seungmin mocked as he entered Hyunjin’s room. “You can nag me later, bur right now I have to finish this and then kick Jisung’s ass,” Hyunjin said with firm persistence. The younger lad sighed and sat down on a bean bag at the corner of the room. “I don’t have the energy to nag,” Seungmin whispered, but Hyunjin still managed to catch his words. He jokingly rolled his eyes, finding slight amusement towards Seungmin’s puppy expression.

“You and (y/n), had a fight?” Hyunjin asked, his attention still on his laptop but he figured he needed Seungmin for a little background noise to keep him sane, plus the guy’s one of his best friends. “Not really,” Seungmin disagreed. “Then, what got you all gloomy?” Hyunjin insisted, but he was only met with silence.

“Seungmo, come on, spill.”

“She addresses you as an ‘oppa’,” Seungmin blurted out after a few seconds. “Who addresses me as what?” Hyunjin asked, his eyebrows contorted in confusion. “(y/n),” Seungmin answered as he buried his face in his arms. “Seungmo, you do know that she does that to everybody that’s older than her, right?” Hyunjin replied, “It’s called being polite.”

“Well, I call it being unfair.”

Hyunjin chuckled in amusement, “Please elaborate.”

“You and I are the same age, which means that I’m older than her too, but she doesn’t call me that,” Seungmin whined.

And that’s how Seungmin ended up being silent for the rest of the night. You, being unaware of the situation, shrugged it off, thinking that he was just exhausted from his vocal lessons. Until, Hyunjin decided to let you in on the puppy’s cause of gloominess.

“Here, now go ace that literature course,” Hyunjin handed you the outline he promised, giving your head a pat in the process. “Thank you, oppa.”

“One more thing, (y/n),” Hyunjin said as he leaned down and whispered, “Seungmin wants to be called that too.”

“Huh?” you turned to him in confusion, but Hyunjin just stared at you and decided that you would come into revelation in a few seconds. “Oh,” you gasped, eyes lighting up in the process. “That’s why he’s been acting weird,” you added. Hyunjin smiled in approval, “Do something and wipe that pout off his face.”

The car ride back to your dorm was silent. Seungmin kept his eyes on the road, no words were exchanged between the two of you and he clearly showed no effort of doing so any time soon. You’re slowly running out of time as your building came into view a few minutes later. Seungmin slowly stopped the car and got out, he jogged towards your side and opened the door for you.

Go time.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Seungmin said. His expression was sad but he still managed to give you a kiss on the forehead. He was about to pull away but you prevented him from doing so by holding his face in your hands. You stared at him lovingly, thanking the universe for bringing this man into your life.

“I love you, oppa,” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear you.

A soft gasp escaped from his lips as his eyes widened, “What did you just call me?”

“Oppa, why?” you giggled and gave his nose a kiss. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel like I’m on top of the world right now, but you never call me that,” Seungmin wondered, his arms now wrapped around your waist, allowing him to pull you closer. “Let’s just say, a little bird told me,” you teased.

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

You laughed, “Don’t get mad at him.”

“Listen,” you called back for his attention, “I don’t call you oppa because I use that on everybody who’s older than me, well close friends of course, but you know what I mean.”

“And you, Kim Seungmin, are not just anybody. You’re my person, my everything, my whole world. You’re special to me and you matter the most,” you explained, pouring your feelings out for the said man. You were about to say more in order to get rid of Seungmin’s doubt, but he cut you off with a kiss.

You guys were practically making out in your dormitory’s parking lot, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

You pulled away first as you tried to catch your breath. “I love you so much, (y/n),” Seungmin confessed, his expression now darker as you witnessed his eyes fill with desire. “And I’ll prove that to you.”

“What do you mean, oppa?”

Seungmin leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t test me, baby.”

You whimpered in response, “Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, oppa.”

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