#but on the other hand one of the neighbours does something that makes this loud banging noise

[thethingything]

got woken up after 3 hours of sleep because we keep having really weird vivid dreams and now the neighbours are being loud and I keep hearing banging noises that are loud enough to startle us so something tells me actually getting a decent amount of sleep is gonna be a challenge

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[sttoru]

.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji can’t get his deserved rest due to his baby boy keeping him awake.

wc. 707

tags. dad!toji x female reader. nothing else to add; just pure fluff.

“he’s kickin’ me again,” toji complains with a deep sigh. tiny feet keep patting his back, not allowing the man to sleep at all. the culprit is none other than megumi—his beloved, yet bratty, son.

the little boy lays between you and your husband. you figured that this was best since megumi kept wailing each time you put him back in his crib.

you chuckle at toji’s groans of annoyance. your son is still full of energy, even if it’s already super late at night. your hand brushes against megumi’s chubby cheek and you can’t help but squeeze it lightly.

that action gains you a high-pitched squeak. you sigh and keep your child occupied with the movement of your finger against his face, “it’s his way of asking for attention, honey.”

toji grumbles something under his breath and scoots away from the both of you. megumi’s head turns towards his dad, his attention caught by the rustling of the sheets. you raise an eyebrow in response to toji putting distance between you both.

“papa’s mean,” you huff, talking to your baby. you can’t see toji’s face since his broad back is obstructing the view, though you can easily guess that he’s frowning.

maybe even secretly sulking about the lack of sleep. you do understand, however. he’s worked hard all day to provide for both megumi and you.

“papa,” megumi speaks up with an adorable pout on his lips. he crawls over to toji before you can stop him. the little boy taps at toji’s back again, tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

megumi’s need for attention and affection from his father is heartwarming to see. you reach out towards your son in hopes of picking him back up. toji needs his rest after all.

a deep sigh escapes toji’s lips. not one of frustration this time, but rather one of defeat. he opens his eyes and turns around to face megumi. the man’s stoic face softens the moment he sees those cute doe eyes staring up at him.

“c’mere,” toji grumbles and lifts his child’s tiny body up without any effort. megumi giggles instantly and reaches his hands out to hold his dad’s face. your husband playfully bites your son’s tiny fingers instead, “not gonna allow y’r dad to sleep, huh? tsk tsk.”

you watch the scene unfold with a tender smile. toji lowers his head and starts blowing raspberries against megumi’s tummy. the baby squeals and giggles uncontrollably, writhing around in toji’s embrace.

“this is what ya get for being a brat,” toji mumbles and switches to leaving kisses along the little boy’s belly. that makes megumi laugh as well due to the ticklishness.

toji grins. his earlier drowsiness and annoyance have vanished into thin air. he can’t possibly stay mad at his son. not after seeing megumi happy. and especially not after seeing your content smile too.

“mama! mama!” megumi laughs between cries of help. his tiny hand reaches out to you whilst toji continues the little attack on his tummy. you chuckle and decide to intervene.

you scoot over to the other side and shield megumi’s tiny body from your husband’s tickles. you frown and playfully scold him, “stay away from my baby, you big bad guy.”

toji raises an eyebrow in amusement. he bites back a laugh before cocking his head to the side, that familiar smug expression appearing on his face.

“oh yeah? ‘m the bad guy now, eh?” the dark-haired man rolls his eyes. he towers over both you and your son - who’s giggling and still holding tightly onto you, “all right. i’ll show you just how bad i can be then.”

your eyes widen the moment you feel toji’s fingers land underneath your shirt, touching your bare skin. not a second passes by and he’s already tickling you. his other hand reaches for megumi’s tummy again—now making the both of you squirm and giggle loudly.

the happy sounds echo throughout the room. perhaps even loud enough for your neighbours to hear at four in the morning. but, you don’t care about any possible noise complaints. not during this cozy family moment.

plus toji’s fond smile as he continues torturing you and your son is definitely worth all of it.

[selfcarecap]

Halloween [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x neighbour!reader

summary: You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral, unprotected (but inconsequential) p in v, creampie, doggy in front of a mirror, missionary, cum eating and also Logan spitting it into reader’s mouth, brief chasing kink, (Ghostface) mask kink obv, pet names: bub, baby, good girl), worst!Logan I guess but I couldn’t find a pic to use, Wade being Wade 

word count: 3.8k

note: I didn’t have that much time to write this but I wanted to post something for Logan before Halloween so <3, inspired by that I want to be fucked for Halloween sound on tt lol you'll see what I mean, and some ideas me and @ethanhoewke talked about 🤭, also I’ve never watched Scream so all I can do is mention the mask lol | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia <3

You meet your neighbours Logan and Wade in the laundry room of your building on Thursday night. They’re fighting over whether they’re going to do a couple’s costume for Wade’s Halloween party next week. 

“We’re not a couple, Wade. We’re not doing a couple’s costume.”

Wade sighs as he stuffs his blood splattered clothes into the washing machine – you’ve learnt not to ask anymore. 

“Hey,” Logan says when he sees you, and those three letters are enough to make your cheeks heat up. You wave at them both, busying yourself with your own washing. 

Wade puts his hand on his hip, “Can you believe Logie won’t do a couple’s costume with me after I adopted him and put a roof over his head? He’s such an ungrateful brat.”

You giggle, meeting Logan’s gaze as he rolls his eyes at his roommate. He turns away to let you do your laundry in peace but Wade walks over to you, sitting down on the bench behind you. 

“What do you want to be for Halloween? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Sexy cop?”

You laugh, “Why do they all have to be sexy?”

���Because it’s you, so it’s impossible for the costume to not be sexy,” Wade raises his eyebrows and you smile at the compliment, sitting down next to him. 

You sigh as you think about his question. 

“Fucked, Wade. I want to be fucked for Halloween.”

You hear a chuckle from Logan a few feet away. You were hoping he wasn’t listening, but he does you the favour of keeping his head turnt in the other direction as he sorts through laundry. You’re closer with Wade – you didn’t necessarily want Logan knowing how badly you need to get laid. 

Wade points to his own chest, “Wait, by moi?”

“I love you but I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like a burnt chicken nugget.”

“You know what? Even though I look like a burnt chicken nugget, I still love myself. Learned that from the OG.”

You smile, “And anyway, I thought you and Vanessa were back together?”

“That we are,” Wade says, rising to his feet and twirling out of the room like a ballerina, calling out, “I’ll see you later for movie night!” 

“He’s fucking crazy,” Logan says, chuckling, and you smile as you finish doing your laundry. 

-

You’re late to Wade’s Halloween party the following week. You rush two floors up to their shared apartment, but your knocks go unnoticed through the loud music coming from inside and the door won’t open. 

You’re about to get your phone out to call Wade but you realise you can’t. Your fake claws are in the way. 

You’re dressed up as Logan. You recently saw some pictures of when he was younger, effortlessly hot in a tanktop and jeans, hair styled charmingly, almost like kitty ears. 

Accordingly, you’ve got yourself a fitted tanktop, jeans that make you stop in front of every mirror to admire your backside, and a belt with a big buckle like the ones he used to wear. You’ve paired your outfit with kitty ears the colour of your hair and, of course, fake claws protruding between your fingers. 

You hope Logan doesn’t take offence. In your rush to get ready for the party, you didn’t even consider that. 

What if he doesn’t like your costume? What if he thinks it’s disrespectful? You know he’s struggled with his mutation, after all, hurt people he loved because of it. Wade told you the costume was a good idea when you showed him your outfit the other day, but Wade isn’t Logan. 

Plus, it’s Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary, even if most people’s costumes aren’t scary nowadays. What if Logan thinks you’re calling him a scary monster? Oh god. You’re considering going downstairs and changing – into what, you don’t know, but the last thing you want is to offend Logan, and if there’s even just a small chance of it then you don’t want to do it after all. Suddenly, you see Logan.  

He’s walking down the hallway where you’ve zoned out, arms folded awkwardly because of your claws. He stops in his tracks, a plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand, and he’s squinting at you; you wouldn’t say he looks mad but you’re not sure. 

Logan comes closer, folding his arms. “Are you supposed to be me?” 

A smile creeps on his face as you tentatively answer with a “…yeah?”

He looks you up and down and it makes your skin heat up as he takes a step forward, “Not sure if I should be offended, bub.”

Oh no–

He continues with a smirk, “Going around stealin’ a man’s look and doing it better than him? Can’t say that outfit used to look that good on me.” You sigh a breath of relief. He likes it. You smile at his compliment, and then he’s reaching out to give a light tug on the cat ears in your hair. 

“I don’t get what these are supposed to be though.”

You push the plastic hair band back in place as you smile up at him, “You know exactly what they are.”

Logan shrugs. “You got something wrong though.”

He stands next to you with the side of his arm pressed against yours, and you gulp at the sudden contact with his warm, beefy arm. Logan makes a fist and unsheathes his claws, holding them next to yours, and they’re at least three times the length of your fake ones, metal sparkling even in the shitty light of the corridor. 

“Should be much bigger,” he smirks, pulling them back in and unlocking the door for you. You don’t miss the implication behind his words, and you swallow as you step into the loud party in their apartment that is decorated to the nines for Halloween. 

Wade runs over to you to hug you, wearing a sexy maid costume over his Deadpool suit. 

“I love it,” you tell him while he simultaneously compliments your outfit. You look around for Logan and only just catch him closing the door to his bedroom, and he disappears behind it. You were too distracted just now to realise that he wasn’t even wearing a costume. 

Your shoulders deflate as you realise he’s probably not coming back out. He was half of the reason you even came to the party. You were looking forward to spending some time with him, but now that you think about it, you wouldn’t expect him to be interested in a Halloween party, crafting an elaborate costume and hanging up corny decorations the way Wade did. 

You try to shake off your disappointment and enjoy yourself nevertheless. 

-

You’re stumbling back to the kitchen after dancing with Wade and Vanessa, getting yourself a drink. You’re softly humming to the music coming from the other room when you feel a presence behind you. 

Your heart speeds up for a moment when you see someone in a Ghostface mask standing right beside you. He’s wearing the mask with a black, tight tanktop stretched over his broad chest. You smell Logan’s cologne as the scent swirls in the air around you, but you could have recognised him by the veins on his arms alone.  

You try to keep your hopes at bay but you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing the mask because of you. When you watched Scream with him and Wade the other night, Wade kept teasing you about your crush on the killer. 

At the time you felt like disappearing, hoping that Logan was as disinterested as he claimed, that he wasn’t listening to anything you two were saying, but now you’re glad he heard. If he’s wearing the costume for your sake. Which he probably isn’t. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your crush is unrequited, just to protect yourself. It’s a common Halloween costume, nothing to do with you… probably. 

“Hi,” Logan says. You can’t see his face but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Hey…,” you reply, almost shakily, “didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to, couldn’t be bothered to think of a costume. But then I found this so I thought I’ll join you.”

You nod along as he tells you about going out to buy the mask only today, but you’re not paying attention. All you can focus on is how hot it is that you can’t see Logan’s face through the mask, but you still know it’s him. The way his voice is slightly muffled yet strong makes you shudder. 

“So, has your wish for Halloween come true yet?”

You give him a confused smile, only just realising that he’s asking you something.

“You told Wade you wanted to get fucked for Halloween.”

Not able to stop a shy grin from spreading over your face, you say, “Oh. No, hasn’t happened yet. Not counting on it.” 

“No one you like here?” Logan asks, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, trying to think of a flirty reply when Wade’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. 

Wade runs over to Logan, leaning his head to the side flirtily, “I told you it’d look hot, peanut. Are you gonna hunt me later, Mr. Ghostface?” Wade brings a finger to his lip, and, for once, Logan doesn’t get annoyed by his jokes.

“Ghostface only hunts good girls,” Logan says, and your heart starts to beat faster yet again when you realise Logan is looking down at you.

“Am I not a good girl?” Wade asks, and Logan just huffs, ignoring him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel them on you. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

It’s not much later that Logan is chasing you through the hallways of your building, with you giggling and squealing only a few feet ahead of him as the adrenaline pumps through you. 

He gave you a headstart but you know he’ll catch you. You want him to catch you. You’re fumbling with the keys to your apartment when he reaches you, your heart hammering in your chest at the thrill of being chased. 

Logan’s hands go to your waist as he pushes you against your front door. 

“I got you.”

You reach up to gently tug the mask off but he stops you when only his lips are exposed, and he grins. You smile and lean up to kiss him, and you somehow manage to fit your key into the lock while you’re making out and push the door open. 

Logan lifts you and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he carries you to your bedroom. 

With your claws and the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor minutes later, Logan is fucking you in front of the mirror by your bed. He’s taking you from behind, mask still on as he pulls and pushes at your hips with you fucking back against him as the mattress dips beneath you. 

But as hot as it is to see the Ghostface mask looking down at you through the mirror, it’s also your first time having sex with Logan and you want to see him.

“Can I take the mask off?” you ask, looking back at him and Logan lifts you so that your back is flush with his chest. You turn around and pull the mask off over his head with a smile.

His hair is messy and a little bit sweaty, and as good as Logan usually looks you don’t think you’ve ever been quite this attracted to him. He holds your face to press a few sloppy kisses to your lips, and then he turns you back around to face the mirror.

Logan doesn’t push you back on all fours, but takes your arms and clasps them behind your back, holding them together with one big hand. He slides his cock back into your wet pussy and begins to rub your clit with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he nods towards the mirror, and you meet his eyes in it, watching as his gaze trails down your body, to where his hand disappears between your soft thighs, “So fucking pretty.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to play with your pussy, but he can’t properly fuck you at this angle, so you buck back against him until he manoeuvres you onto your back.

His lips find yours again and your arm sneaks around the back of his neck, holding him close as you kiss him desperately. You whine when his lips leave yours. He kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, down over your tits and over your belly. He arrives between your legs with a smirk and licks through the wetness of your pussy.

He moans when he first makes contact, “tastes even better than I fucking imagined, baby.”

You smile down at Logan as he pulls your socked feet onto his shoulders, fingers grabbing your ankles. “You’ve imagined this?”

Logan looks up at you, “Every single fucking day. You haven’t?”

You smile bashfully despite his own admission, but he doesn’t let you answer anyway, moving his head back between your legs to make out with your pussy. He pushes two fingers inside you, the tips of his fingers rubbing up against your g-spot.

You begin to squirm as the heat builds up in your lower stomach, but Logan holds your hips down with his muscular forearm over your waist, “Stay still for me, baby, okay?”

Logan starts sucking on your clit, and you cum immediately, back arching as you grab onto his hair. Your pussy pulses and throbs around his fingers as pleasure floods your body. You grind up to meet his mouth and he lets you use him until you’re breathless.

He places a last, rough kiss on your pussy, getting back on his knees to fuck you, but you breathe out, “Give me a second.” You smile shyly, your pussy still squeezing around nothing every few seconds.

“Of course, bub.” He leans down to kiss you and you mumble a question against his lips.

“Can I go down on you?”

Logan smiles and sits up, “Me or…?” he nods over to the mask. 

You shrug shyly, “Well, if you’re offering.”

“Why do you think I wore it?” Logan smirks, pulling the mask back on. You briefly pull it up to his forehead again to give him a small kiss of appreciation.

He holds your hand as you get off the bed, sinking down onto the carpeted floor. You smile as his hard cock bobs in front of your face, glistening with precum and your wetness.

You place your hands on his knees and softly trace a path down his cock with your tongue, gently sucking his balls as you look up. A thrill shoots through you when you only see the mask looking back at you, and you move to suck Logan’s dick into your mouth as deep as you can, tasting your own arousal on him.

He throbs hotly against your tongue as you let spit run down his length, slapping his cock against your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Logan’s voice sounds from above you, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, as you take his cock in your mouth again, your hands back on his knees for support.

You make out with the head of his cock, gently sucking on the skin down the side of him, licking your way up, playing with him.

“I’m close, baby,” he moans.

You mumble against his skin, telling him to take off the mask, and even though it comes out muffled he hears. Logan tugs off the mask in one quick movement, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure and his lips bitten raw. His face glows with desire and a hint of sweat, and he hums when you suck him into your mouth.

You use your hand to jerk off the rest of him, moving your mouth down on him as far as you can, and your eyes flutter shut when you hear Logan moan, and he’s spilling the first ropes of his load down your throat. You keep sucking until you’ve swallowed all of his cum, and only then do you take your mouth off him.

Sitting back, suddenly shy, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand but Logan’s already tugging you up to the bed to kiss you.

“You got another orgasm in you?” he asks against your lips. You straddle him and feel his hard cock smack against your thigh as you tell him yes. He tips you onto your back, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your pussy.

When he gets between your legs and pushes his cock into you again it somehow feels even better than the first time as you gasp in pleasure.

“You’re so warm, bub. So perfect. Wanna stay here forever,” Logan says mindlessly as he bottoms out, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you inside me forever too,” you babble, already fucked out. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you. It feels like your wet pussy is sucking him in with the way you clech around him, and you both know you won’t take long for your next orgasms.

He slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to fucks you deeper. “You gonna cum for me again, bub? You make such a cute face when you cum. Let me see it again, baby.”

You’re nodding dumbly and letting the feeling of him take over, not just his big cock in your pussy and his slicked fingers on your clit, but the way his body feels on top of yours, warm skin against warm skin as he sloppily kisses your jaw and neck, and you cream around his cock as you cum, moaning his name.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well. Taking my big cock like a good girl, hm?” Logan’s voice is strained, and then he’s cumming too, filling you up with his warm release until your pussy is stuffed full with his cock and his cum. He pulls out slowly and rubs your sensitive clit a little more.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, fucking two fingers into you and when he pulls them out they’re coated in his sticky load.

You reach out to pull him down by his wrist and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking his cum off them as he smirks down at you, rubbing a hand over his face to calm himself for now.

You both come down from your highs with laboured breaths, and he pulls you to lie your head on the pillow. Logan wraps his arms around you, just cuddling you for a bit, when you realise something and smile up at him.

“So, are you that narcissistic that seeing me dressed up as you made you want to fuck me?” 

Logan smirks. “Nah, wanted to fuck you way before that. And I’m just honoured you like me enough to dress up as me.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal but he instead takes that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth as he holds the side of your face. You make out lazily for another few moments, slinging your leg over his hip, but then you drag his hand away from your face.

“Well, I’m honoured you like me enough to dress up for me.” 

“Baby, there’s a lot more I’d do for you than just dress up in a horror mask.”

“Really?” you smile. Logan nods earnestly. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes as you relax into the comfortable silence.

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “Will you go out with me?”

You giggle then, “Don’t think you have to ask me anymore.”

“What? I wanna be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, very gentlemanly what you just did to me.”

You feel some of Logan’s cum drip out of your pussy and onto his thigh in that moment.

Logan looks at you and gives you a silly smile, lifting your leg off him to sit up, “Yeah, baby, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman cleans up after himself.”

He spreads your thighs as he gets between them, and licks up your pussy, coating his tongue in his own cum. You smile at his words but soon you begin to pout in pleasure as he starts going down on you again.

You sigh when he stops and moves up to your face, but you smile when you realise what he’s doing, happily parting your lips for him. Logan leans over you and spits his cum into your mouth, “We taste good together, hm?” he asks.

You swallow your combined arousals eagerly, closing your eyes as you savour the taste, but a gentle pat on your clit makes you open them again.

“You got another one in you, right, baby? Just one.” You nod quickly, unable to form words with you needily spread open for Logan like this. 

Lying back, you let Logan eat your pussy until you’re cumming again, your thighs pressing against his temples as he grabs at the flesh of your legs, licking your clit until you’re satisfied.

Logan lies back down next to you with his lips still shiny with your wetness, and you lean in for another kiss. He takes you in his arms to cuddle, when he asks you again.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

“Only if it ends with you doing that thing with your mouth again,” you tease.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going a day without it anymore.”

You giggle into his neck, relaxing against his muscular body.

Logan turns around when he gets a text, showing you his phone. It’s a message from Wade:

Everyone left and I’m about to give Vanessa a happy Halloweener if you know what I’m saying! So don’t come home tonight but I have a feeling you weren’t going to anyway ;)

Logan cringes while you laugh, ready to put his phone back when another message comes through.

And if you don’t treat her right I’ll cut off your Halloweener

Logan groans, switching off his phone. You laugh against his skin and let him hold you until you both sink into a warm, cozy sleep.

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🤭🙂‍↕️

[gothghostiie]

having thoughts about price coming home from base and missing you a little too much

cw: manhandling, a single ass slap, fingering (reader receiving), gn!reader

he came home from staying on base for a while, he's always so tense after that. the stress from being a captain, the boys getting on his case, everything comes crashing down on him and he has no way to vent his frustration. sure, he can go to the gym or the shooting range, but it doesn't give him the satisfaction he needs. the only thing that does is fucking you, drawing those sweet, sweet moans and cries from you as he thrusts into you.

usually you make it to the bed or at least to the couch with him when he gets home, but somehow, this time not. he's more stressed than usual, and having you jump at him and hug him the second he comes home, peppering his rugged face with kisses and whispers about how much you missed him makes something in him snap. he drops his dufflebag on the ground and holds you in a tight grip, pressing his chapped lips against yours, you know the drill by now. you stumble backward with him, already knowing you won't make it to the bed so you aim for the couch - but not even that. he grabs you by the wrist to pull you back against him, a dark expression on his face.

"where do you think you're going?" he mutters, before quickly wrapping an arm around you waist to hold you up before kicking your legs away. he catches you of course, he'd never let yoh fall. instead he goes doen with you, tossing you on the ground with a hand behind your head to soften the blow. all you can do is gasp as he turns you onto your belly, pulling yout hips up in a rough movement. you don't even try to tell him to slow down or take you to the bedroom, he wouldn't listen anyway - and honestly, you don't wanna wait either at this point. he's pulling your pants down along with your underwear, hell he wants to rip it off at this point. he gives your bare ass a hard slap, gritting his teeth at the sigh of your hole, his already painfully hard cock twitching in his pants at your little wince.

"fucking missed you.. missed you so bad.." he whispers as he licks two of his fingers before pushing them into your hole, making you clench around them immediately while he works your hole open for him. you try to stay in place, not squirm away from him, you know it'd be futile. he's only satisfied when he has you stretched around three fingers, moaning and almost drooling from the pleasure he's already inflicting on you only then he pulls them out, leaving you gaping slightly. you let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead against the ground.

"j-john.."

"I know, I know bird." he hums soothingly, rubbing your hip with one hand, the other opening his pants to get his cock out. he gives it a few strokes before shuffling behind you, rubbing the tip against your twitching hole, teasing you just a bit before finally pushing inside. a desperate, almost embarrassing moan leaves your lips, your eyes widen, he holds your hips in a bruising grip to hold you still. it takes him a moment to collect himself, he swears he'll cum on the spot if he moves now. he leans forward, leaning his torso over yours, placing gentle kisses over your back wherever he can reach for a good minute before straightening up with a groan. his grip tightens a little more when he finally starts moving, slowly at first, before the room is filled with skin slapping against skin, moaning, crying and grunting. it's a mess, it's loud, the neighbours are definitely hearing how much you missed each other, but both of you care far too little about anything but each other right now, and that won't change until you're both laying on the ground, fucked out and spent.

[frost-queen]

Business wreckage // part 2 (Reader x Jake Seresin)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @vermillionwinter , @love2write2626 , @magical-spit, @slythetic

Summary: Retreated to the countryside it is a change. Whilst you try to focus on work, can't Jake let go of his pleasure of riling you up. Making him slowly be aware of the effect he has on you. I love slowburn so this will have more parts [ series]

The airport was small. A simple aircraft waiting for the two of you. The flight was about four hours. The plane landing in the middle of nowhere. On the landing place stood a car waiting. You got behind the wheels, driving Jake Seresin to the direction that were in the GPS. – “I…I’m really sorry about the bruise…” – Jake said having hated the long silence.

You clenched your jaw together, not really wanting to engage with him but he was getting under your skin. – “Are you?” – you called out, clenching the wheel tight. – “You know I would never hurt you Y/n.” – he answered rubbing his hands nervously together. – “But you did.” – you made clear, keeping your focus on the road.

Jake swallowed as you had hit him with a rude reality. He did hurt you. Not just the bruise. He was only thinking about himself. Not those around him that got sucked in his frustration. The car drove over the road fast. Just small enough for one car to pass. Leaves rustling with the wind as the car chased past.

The house was simple. Tugged away between a forest of trees. Your typical countryside hide-away in a God forsaken town with a local of no more than forty spread across fields. No neighbours to be seen. Perhaps that was a good thing. Jake and you unloaded the car, heading inside. You texted Mister Seresin you had arrived in the countryside to reassure him.

It was clear to Jake that you were giving him the silent treatment. Something he wasn’t used from you. Normally you’d nag his ears off. Trying to hype him up for things he didn’t felt like doing. Always remaining polite and happy no matter how hard he made your life with his stupid decisions.

“Can we talk about it?” – he asked pressing his hands onto the counter. – “What is there to talk about?” – you answered bitsy checking the cabinets. – “You made it clear. I can show you a video if you like.” – you mocked with a sarcastic smile. Jake looked ashamed away. – “Let me ask you something Sir, did you really think it was the right decision?”

Jake thought for a moment, shaking his head afterwards. He then sighed loud, sitting down. – “You know my dad. The diner was a hoax. Just another way to bribe me into taking over the empire which I don’t want!” – he called out touching his forehead in distress. – “I know!” – you answered loudly. – “But you’ve could’ve handled it better.” – you sighed out, knowing there were a million other ways for that diner to go.

Too tired to even continue the conversation you went around the counter for your bedroom. By the wall, you paused. – “Couldn’t you have just talked?” – you stated not expecting an answer. Before Jake could even reply, you were off. He got up as well, walking up to the window. Looking outside. Furrowing his brows a bit at the scenery. The complete opposite from he was known at home.

Leaning against the framework, he stared down. His mind going through guilt. His own actions leading to get pulled away from everything he was accustomed to. His pilot career. The money. The girls. The appointments detailed out by you. Jake turned his head to the door which you left from.

Feeling a punch in his gut at how you got dragged into this. Guilt eating at him made him return to the kitchen to prepare a hot drink. He wanted to do something to make you feel better… or at least make him feel better. Perhaps it would stop the guilt. Jake walked with the hot drink up to your room, knocking gently on the door.

He waited for you to open up, looking surprised at the cup he moved forwards. – “Oh, do you want me to blow on it?” – you asked confused as to why he was showing you his drink. Jake furrowed his brows in utter confusion. – “No, it’s for you.” – he said. – “Oh.” – you responded taking the cup from him.

“Do you want to…” – Jake started cut off by you shutting the door in his face again. He blinked baffled at the door, laughing loud afterwards. Overcome with silence, Jake stared a bit lost, before deciding to head to his bed. As it has been a long day after all.

Before the sun had full awaken where you already up and working. Sitting at the counter with your work tablet and laptop. Checking the last post on the video and seeing how worse it was. Groaning loud, you knew it would take a lot of you to fix this. To get his reputation back up. You barely noticed Jake haven woken till he came standing in front of you. Hands on the counter to frown at your work attitude.

“Breakfast is over there.” – you told him, pointing at a plate further down the counter. Jake turned his head seeing a full breakfast prepared for him. – “And you?” – he questioned as you gone to ignore him again. – “Not hungry.” – you told him without a glance. Jake sighed soft before curling up a mischievous smirk.

He pulled the plate closer to him, holding out the toast. – “Open up Y/n.” – he said teasingly. It made you look up with an annoyed expression. Shooting him a glare before turning back to your work. Jake scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. He then took a bite from the toast, winking at you whilst munching down on it.

“Are you done?” – you stated unamused. Jake smiled moving his hand out to ruffle through your hair. It made you stare in shock at him. Only making him laugh loud. You put your tablet down, giving him a scowl. – “I’m glad at least one of us is laughing, cause I don’t see the fun in this.” – you made clear it was no time to laugh at all. Jake sighed soft with a roll of his eyes. – “You need a break.” – he said grabbing your hand and going round the counter to pull you from your seat.

“Sir!” – you responded stunned as he dragged you over to the door. He tossed you, your coat at you to put it on. The chill immediately grasped you, sending a shiver down your spine. Those September chills seemed to be a lot cooler here in the countryside than at home. Jake and you started walking, not even sure where you were going. Jake’s phone bleeped as he went to look at it. His smile immediately faltering.

He looked confused when you plucked his phone from his hand. – “Ignore the texts and focus on laying low so that I can recover your reputation.” – you reminded him, waving his phone around. – “What if it is an emergency? What if it’s you who really, really, really needs me.” – he exaggerated with a smirk. You shoved his phone against his chest surprised that you didn’t flash a smile at him or swoon over the thought.

You started walking again as Jake looked curiously around. He still had some things up his sleeve to rile you up. His eyes falling on some flowers. He rushed over to it, crouched down to pluck a flower and rush back to you. Making you stop your walking by jumping in front of you with a flower. – “To apologize. I really didn’t mean to hurt you Y/n.” – he said with charm. – “Charming.” – you answered plucking the clearly half weed flower from him.

Keeping it between two fingers. – “Good idea, you can write a full apologetic review.” – you called out, touching his arm with excitement. Jake’s mood sunk through the ground as he didn’t wanted to create that. – “Are you serious?” – he asked seeing you hum happily forwards. – “Were you serious Y/n?” – he repeated in a slight panic that you’d actually make him write an apology to the world.

You smirked looking down at your flower. Unable to resist it was very sweet. Something you would never let him know. Jake came rushing after you to catch up with you. You immediately moved the flower down when he came falling in step with you. The long road to nothingness finally led you into town.

Jake immediately got all the stares and gawking. He was probably the most good looking guy they had ever seen in their life. Some girls in a shop glued themselves against the glass with an open mouth. Jake noticed them, winking at them. One or two screamed visibly that they got noticed. Of course he chuckled from all the attention. No matter where he went, girls fell over him.

The group of school girls ran outside, circling like vultures around him. Asking all for his attention. Jake engaged with them in a polite way. Looking around as the girls were everywhere. It took him a moment to realize you weren’t anywhere near. Glancing to the side, he saw you standing further away. Holding yourself as you didn’t even look his way.

Keeping your gaze on the street. It made him ignore the girls, only looking your way as he wondered what you were thinking. Asking himself how many times you had set yourself aside whenever he got the attention. Despite the girls tugging on him for attention, he somehow only wondered about you.

Excusing himself from the girls, he made his way over to you. – “Y/n.” – he said to make you look up. – “Sir?” – you answered confused that he was here. Jake couldn’t help himself but smirk trying to hold back a laugh.

After some supply shopping, the two of you went back to the cottage. You sat down in the sofa with your work tablet. Cleaning out his agenda and postponing many appointments for the nearest future. When the whole video thing had settled down. For when the world forgot about it over some other scandal.

Jake sat at the counter, shooting you a glare as you did put him up to write an apology. Pen between his teeth, he hadn’t penned down one word. Finding it nonsense. Sure he had been stupid, but if his father hadn’t kept pushing him to take over the empire, he might have not. He knew him all too well to know it was never just a simple diner.

His father wanted a legacy while he wanted to make a name for his own. That was why he chose to be a pilot. To take a different career than his father. Business was not his life. Flying and soaring in the air was. It was the only place that he felt truly himself. God how much he missed Top Gun. Sighing soft he tapped the pen against his forehead trying to think of any good words.

“Doing okay?” – you called out from the sofa, fingers typing away vigorously. – “Thriving.” – he answered sarcastically. He groaned soft scribbling a few things down that came to his mind. Turning your head you saw the sun setting. Muscles aching from working so much. Shutting your laptop, you decided to quit for today.

You went over to Jake who had fallen asleep on the counter. – “Sir…” – you whispered hand hovering his shoulder as your eyes fell on the note. Reading it quickly, resisting the urge to correct it as some things he could’ve written better. Yet you were somehow surprised how well he had written a note. Somehow you had expected worse.

“Sir.” – you repeated placing your hand down on him. Your touch startled him making him jump out of his skin, looking up to you. Eyes widening at how close you actually were. Caught breathlessly for a moment till his gaze wandered down to your lips.  

---------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[lilywastaken]

now hear me out: witch hunter!ghost x witch!reader...

he's visiting a town with the rest of his team to investigate a claim that there might be witches running rampant around the small countryside village, only to fall victim to a resident's charm while they conduct interviews.

she's a sweet woman who insists on curing the scratches that he's gathered across their travels, using tonics and herbs from her cute little garden and letting him pet her pet cat, who seems to have taken liking to the dark and imposing man, rubbing it's little black body against his boots and purring when he leans down to scratch under its chin.

it doesn't even clock in his mind how every single detail about you and your life correlates exactly with the obvious signs of a witch, but he's too spellbound with you to even realise.

he informs the others that none of the people he's talked to seem to have made the infamous deal with the devil, but due to the panicked way the leader of the community had written to them, they decide to stay to investigate further, staying in the small inn near the outskirts of town and luckily for simon, near your cottage.

despite the clear liking he's taken to you, he's still as emotionless and snarky as he would be with anyone else, and his chest tightens every time you laugh or giggle out loud at one of his dark jokes, most unladylike for any other woman, but you don't seem to care to hide your snorts or amusement around him, something he completely adores.

he insists on helping you with your garden, claiming you have no need to get your hands dirty when he's used to doing dirty work (both taking lives and tending to his own garden back home), sitting at your kitchen and watching you make the tonics and medicine you help treating anyone who has fallen ill in the village, standing close by whenever someone comes in with an injury, absolutely in awe at how they're cured almost immediately, thanking you gratefully before leaving. although, he does not miss the dirty glares some of your neighbours send you when they think you're not watching, making him grow confused, not understanding why they would harbour such feelings towards someone as kind and helpful as you.

it's not until he's taking a break at the pub, listening to gaz drawl on about some thing or another, when he catches wind of two women's conversation, frowning beneath the leather mask he wears in distaste has he takes in their poisioned words.

"-making moves on my poor husband. i swear, she's put some type of spell on him, that vile witch."

"oh, i know! my brother told her off last monday and guess what!? the next day, he fell off the roof and broke his leg! bloody bitch probably cursed him!"

"gosh, i cannot wait until those hunters finally get her! i have no idea how she's managed to evade their suspicions, she's done nothing to hide herself!"

"well, by the way that masked man has been loitering around her home, we'll be lucky to have a burning at the end of the week!"

they both laugh, the high pitch shrieks that they let out enough to make the glass in simon's hand shatter, shoving his seat back and leaving a dumfounded gaz in the pub alone as he walked away.

the splintering wooden door slams open as he shoves himself into your cottage, dark eyes landing on your crouched figure and then the second one, body freezing as he makes eye contact with his captain.

"simon." the man grunts, alerting you of your favourite visitor's presence as you pull back from the wound on his leg you were treating, a sweet smile on your lips.

"simon!" you repeat, cleaning your hands with the bucket of water next to you, wiping away the dried blood in the rags as price sends a warning look to his subordinate, the blond furrowing his brows in confusion, before the conversation he'd overheard before came to mind.

no.

no, price didn't know.

and, god, no, you weren't one of them.

you... no. no.

"let's get going. thank you for the help, miss." his whole body went into autopilot as price pushes him out of the cottage, the short wave and caring smile you sent his way the last thing he saw before the door was slammed shut.

neither of the men spoke on their trek back to the inn, and simon did not sleep a wink that night, terrified of what would happen in the coming days.

surprisingly, there was nothing. no finding of stakes, no gathering of firewood, no detainment of you.

so maybe, price hadn't picked up on you. even though simon was still convinced you were not one of those.

until after a few days of pouring rain, simon wakes up to a cold room and the absence of johnny, who he knows for a fact that never woke up before him unless forced to, something he'd learned after years of sharing the same room with the scot.

and as he walks out into the muddy roads, that oh-so familiar smell hits his nose.

the burning of wood, of grass, of cloth, of human.

his heart dropped into his stomach, following the trail of ashes that had blown across the roads until he arrives at the town square, the burning piece of wood in Gaz's hand along with the flames consuming the hay and grass that lay across the ground of the plaza, the fire slowly consuming your beautiful white dress he'd seen you sew barely days ago.

simon barely takes notice of price coming towards him, attempting to hold him back from rushing into the crowd simply staring up at you, your eyes falling down upon his struggling body, your face going from the calm expression it had been in to shock, pulling at your tied up wrists instinctively in a frail attempt to rush towards him.

"simon...!" you breathe out, soot entering your lungs as you inhale, tears filling your eyes from the burn as you watch him wrestle out of his captain's grip, his boots stomping against the rocky ground as he shoved past the gawkers, leather slamming against the kindle, ignoring his team's shouts and the fire burning his clothes and skin, reaching the stake you were tied to, his face out in the open due to the way he'd rushed out of his room, dark eyes reflecting the flames that were taking you both.

his shaky hands come behind you to untie the ropes around your arms, caging you with his body and allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look down at the burns forming across his legs.

"stop." you pleade, trying to push him away with your chest. "stop, simon, stop...!"

"shut up!" he snaps, throwing the ropes into the fire as they came undone, letting you collapse into his arms as you were let free, your hands gripping his dress shirt. "you're going to be okay, we need to-"

his voice broke as he looks down at your sunken eyes, your lips dry and cracked as if you'd just ran a marathon, but looking down at your intact legs and burning dress, he realises where all your energy had gone.

"simon.."

no.

"please, stop-"

no. you....

"you're going to die, simon, please!"

you couldn't be...

"i won't be able to save you, simon, listen to me!"

you were wailing at this point, trying to push his body down the small burning hill, but his body doesn't budge.

"simon!" his captain's grating voice pulls him out of his stupor, his hands growing tighter around your waist as he locks gazes with the furious looking man, your wails becoming static in his ears as he doesn't think twice as his now blistering hands pulled your legs up, letting you grasp onto his neck instinctively as he holds you bridal style, ignoring the searing pain rushing through his body.

"simon, don't, don't you dare!" you scream, the first time he's heard you raise your voice at him. "please, i'm not worth saving, you know what i am! i don't deserve to live!"

liar. you... you were worth everything.

you were worth the burns on his body, the destruction of his ideals and the pain the mere sight of you in tears gave him.

he doesn't care what you are.

you're... a witch. what he swore to destroy and what he has been hunting for over a decade.

but you're not... you're... not evil.

maybe none of them were, maybe if he'd taken the time to get to know the women they'd burnt before he'd have realised sooner, that you were just people.

and he wasn't going to let you get hurt. maybe it was a bit selfish or ironic, but he didn't care. he'd take you away from this town, from his colleagues, from the pain, let you live in peace somewhere were no one would bother you.

and if you let him, he'd come with you too.

he ignores price's shouts about the so called spell you'd put on him and as he looks down at your shivering body in his arms, the way you're curling into him, the way you were wailing for him to save himself moments ago, he couldn't...

even if you had put some type of spell on him, he didn't care. never had he felt like this. and yes, he'd deal with the consequences of this later, but for now, as he runs through the forest with your trembling body in his arms, he couldn't care less.

he isn't going to let anyone hurt you any more than they have.

(brainrot for this idea is open please 🗣️)

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general (on ml)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FOUR ▪︎ ALL BEDS ARE FULL, SORRY (6.9k)

Long grass tickles your knees through the holes in your jeans. Turns out, people don't mow their lawns anymore once the world has turned to shit, meaning you have to suffer from itchy knees when occasionally walking through someone's yard. Basic apocalypse problems. That and, you know, infected zombies who want to eat you. Very comparable issues in your opinion.

The city neighbourhoods are overgrown and broken in several ways, ranging from small potholes to entire streets caved in. Evidently, this has made your trek to the hospital nearly impossible. More than once have you slipped on, tripped over, or ran into something. Spatial awareness does not appear to be your strong suit, but hey, at least you have good aim. That's gotta count for something.

"Hold on, I have to check the map..." Chan slows down, swinging his bag off his shoulder.

The street you're on is bigger, shops lined up and down the long road. Most have been broken into, windows shattered and things tossed over inside. Few remain somewhat untouched, ones that look like they were abandoned long before the apocalypse hit, with wooden boards where doors or glass should be. Up ahead is a small music store, or at least you assume it is based on the hanging sign of a guitar. While Chan looks over the map with Jeongin, you wander to the storefront.

Through still intact windows, you can see a few open instrument cases lying around, big and small. There are racks of CD's and vinyl records, some displayed on the back wall above the counter. The door opens with a slight touch, dust invading your senses as you walk in. By the counter is a jukebox, but when you try and use it, it doesn't work.

"Obviously, it's dead," You say to yourself. "It's been too long."

On the opposite side is a beaten up piano, keys yellowed but none missing. Scratches line the side facing the front, and you notice they aren't regular scratches, they're tally marks. You don't stop to wonder who put them there or why, shoving it to the back of your mind. Pressing down on a key, it makes a sad noise, but noise nonetheless. You smile, playing around with the piano, bringing a finger to one end and brushing it over to the other end. The noise is makes isn't pretty; it isn't like a symphony or any kind of trained musician, but a way to say I'm still here.

Loud banging comes from above you, like someone punching a door over and over again. You're quick to leave the store, not wanting to stick around and find out what, or who, it is. You imagine it's the same person who left the marks on the piano.

You rejoin the others on the other side of the street, stopped in front of a small café. Chan has outlined a route in red, running a finger down it when he explains to the others how this'll go.

"We're here, okay?" He points to a red dot on a long street. "We need to get here," He points to a blue dot, "Jeongin helped me make a route, but it's gonna be hard. Really, we should be able to head straight then down this side street onto the next main road where the hospital will be down just a bit, but that-" He gestures to a large truck on its side down the road, blocking your way, "-creates an issue. As you can see, there's another side street we passed a while back we can get through."

"Doesn't that bring us closer too?" Han steps in. "Look, the hospital is here. Now we don't need to backtrack, right?"

"No," Chan shakes his head. "There's a blockage there too, conveniently. But going down this alley leads to another neighbourhood we can cut through, then backtrack to the hospital since it opens up to the main road over here."

"Honestly, you lost me at the truck," Hyunjin admits. "Lead the way and we'll follow."

Chaeryeong laughs, holding onto his shoulder. Her laugh is contagious, and soon enough everyone is shaking.

"Okay, it wasn't that funny," Hyunjin chuckles.

The walk back to the side street doesn't take long. Half-way down is some sort of barricade, similar to ones you've seen in diagrams in your QZ. Although it looks old, there's a truck parked by it that looks too clean to belong there. No people hang around, so you ignore it, following the group through the alley.

It opens up to a cul-de-sac, and an eerie feeling falls over you as you walk the road leading out to where the hospital should be. It's too quiet, and you realize how long it's been since you've seen any infected. You slow down, turning in a slow circle to take in the surrounding houses. Something isn't right, but you can't place what it is.

"Everything okay?" Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, noting your expression.

"When was the last time we saw any infected?" You ask, but he doesn't answer. "Felix, when?"

"Um, right when we entered the city, I think," He answers. "Why?"

"Isn't that weird?"

He has no chance to respond, a loud boom setting off in the distance. The ground underneath you shakes, and you can see a cloud of smoke in the distance rising over the rooftops. Chan steps forward, hands on his hips.

"I think we know where the hospital is."

-

Squads occupy the outside of the hospital, and you have no idea how you're getting in. You watch the patrolling soldiers walk their routes, memorizing where they go and when from behind an abandoned car. The plan is for you and Seungmin to gain entry using your QZ knowledge as access, having taken out two soldiers further away from the hospital and stealing their uniforms. They fit well enough and you hope no one will notice the way you had to cuff the pant legs or the way the arms of Seungmin's shirt were just too short.

Strolling out from behind the car, you take the lead and make your way to the hospital entrance. Passing the first few soldiers is easy, nodding a greeting as you walk. Your palms sweat and your heartbeat quickens as you get closer and closer to the doors. For a moment you think you'll make it undetected.

"You two, stop right there." Your feet are glued to the ground, Seungmin stopping beside you.

When the soldier walks around, you keep your eyes forward and put on your best salute. He's taller than you, and you can smell his cologne when he gets closer to you, examining every inch of your body. In the corner of your eye, Seungmin tenses when the soldier places a hand on your waist.

"Feel like I'd have remembered a pretty thing like you walking around here," He smirks. "Say, what's your squad? You apart of fourteen-four?"

Fourteen-four is here?

"Yes sir," You respond, voice steady.

"So why are you here?" He lets go of you, detaching the walkie-talkie from his hip. "Let me get in contact with Squad Leader Seo, sort this out."

"No!" You panic, and his eyebrows raise at your outburst. "Sorry, sir. There's really no need to do that, she actually sent us over to ask about any progress."

"Progress?" He questions.

"Yes sir." You think he's caught your bluff until he stands back, hands on his hips and looking up to the clouds.

"Why didn't she just radio? Would've been easier, ah, well, you're here now." He motions you forward. "C'mon."

Instead of heading straight to the front doors, he makes a right and leads you to the side of the hospital where a hole is blown through the wall. You look at Seungmin, silently agreeing that must have been what you heard earlier as the smoke still lingers around the edges. Stepping over the broken wall, you enter the hospital where there are soldiers everywhere.

"We've cleared out this half of the main floor so far and sent Squad Twelve-Oh-Seven upstairs, but haven't heard back yet." He leads you through the rubble, greeting fellow soldiers as he goes. "As you can see, we haven't found them yet, otherwise we'd be gone by now. Another squad is being sent out and should be here within the hour to check out the lower levels. We think they may be somewhere in operating rooms or emerge, but we haven't gotten that far.

"That enough for Seo?" He turns to face you. "I know she likes to be thorough with these kinds of things. Too thorough sometimes, but you didn't hear that from me."

"Should be enough, sir," Seungmin answers. "Mind if we take a vehicle back with us? We didn't have enough to spare for just two soldiers."

"Sure, of course." The man leads you back out. "Don't know why Squad Leader Seo would make you walk out this far without one, even with limited resources. How long it take you?"

"We had someone drive most of the way, so not long," Seungmin answers when you fail to think of something. "Thank you, sir."

Taking the keys, he salutes again and you do the same. You get into the passenger's side, sighing heavily when Seungmin starts driving away.

"What the fuck!" You exclaim. "What the actual fuck? We are literally going the opposite direction we need to go now. How is this supposed to help us get into the hospital? What, are we gonna drive straight through?" You see Seungmin shrug in the corner of your eye. "No, no, stop it. That's not happening."

"It's not a bad idea-"

"Yeah, it's a terrible idea! Aren't you supposed to be the smart and logical one in this friendship?" You cross your arms; he makes a left turn. "The one who stopped me from breaking into Minho's office, for example? In case you need a reminder?"

"Still the smart and logical one, but now the frustrated one." He parks the car outside of a hotel. "This plan was fool-proof and we managed to mess it up. If we go back, they'll know something's up with us and contact Seo. That is, if they haven't already."

You sigh. "So what now- oh, damn it."

Shrinking down in your seat with the stolen cap pushed over your eyes, you hear a knock on Seungmin's window. Glancing over, you see Chan standing with a stern look on his face. Disappointment is radiating off of him in waves and your stomach churns. Before, you'd been okay with this, the look in his eyes when you messed up with the gas; now that you've spent more time with him and have been on the receiving end of his love, you can't stand it.

"What is this?" Chan motions down the vehicle, another pickup truck replacing the one you had to give up much earlier in this journey. "Very nice, but how is this helping?"

"That's what I said," You mumble before you can stop yourself and Chan directs his attention to you.

"Would you like to answer?"

Seungmin steps in. "They thought we were there to check in and were already suspicious of us. I figured the least we could do is take something useful we can use."

"Okay," Chan rubs his forehead. "Here's what we're gonna do. Get out of the truck and come inside."

Stepping out, you follow Chan into the hotel lobby. He does a series of knocks on the boarded-up door and it opens seconds later, Chaeryeong greeting you as you walk in. The others are sitting around cleaning weapons and preparing to take on what lies in the hospital, Han and Jeongin standing immediately as you and Seungmin enter the building behind Chan. You hang your head low, avoiding eye contact.

"So, no access to the inside, but we have a truck again." Chan claps his hands together. "The occupants were suspicious of these two, so we can't use them again."

"Why were they suspicious?" Han asks, crossing his arms.

"We had to pretend to be a part of another squad in order to stay under the radar, but it was clear the guy in charge didn't fully believe us at points," Seungmin starts. "There's a ton of soldiers on the inside searching for people, I'm guessing the same ones we're here for. Another squad is being sent out to aid them."

"As if there aren't enough of them," Hyunjin scoffs. "Can't we just sneak in through a side they're not on?"

"Yes," Chan says slowly. "However, we don't know what's in there. The whole point of this deception was to get in the safest way possible, searching the area in plain sight. Using a different entrance means not knowing what we'll walk into, and we don't know how much ground they've already covered-"

"We do," You interrupt. "Sorry, um, we do. They mentioned most of the main floor is done, but they haven't touched any operating rooms or emergency, which should be on the other side."

You can see Chan taking in this information and thinking of a new plan, his eyes unfocused just a bit when he looks away from you. He turns and walks around in a slow circle, stopping when Felix speaks.

"What if we used ourselves as bait?" He proposes, gaining everyone's attention. "Listen, we have great snipers who can keep an eye on us from here since we're not too far from the hospital. The rest of us can pretend Y/n and Seungmin found us getting ready to storm the building on their way back to the squad. When they take us away, and hopefully Y/n and Seungmin with us, we can take out the guards and make our way through."

"That's a good idea," You say, nudging Seungmin with an elbow.

No one speaks after you for a good minute and you start to sweat. With a sigh, Chan starts nodding.

"We can try that, but we need to be very careful," He says. "Han, Chae, try to get a few floors up if you can and keep an eye out from there in case things go wrong. Stay on the same floor, but take different rooms."

They agree in sync, grabbing their weapons and heading toward the stairwell.

"Wait," Seungmin takes a small device out of his pocket. "This was in the back of the truck, brand new. Or at least, not used yet, so they won't pick us up over them hopefully. Let us know when you're in position and we'll move out."

"Most likely, we'll be coming out from the other side of the hospital, so we'll also call to let you know when we vacate so you know to bring the truck around." Chan accepts the other walkie-talkie from Seungmin, lifting it to his lips while pressing the button on the side. "Got it?"

"Loud and clear," Han answers into the device. "Over and out!"

He salutes as he walks backward to the door where Chaeryeong is waiting for him. You look at your team; you, Seungmin, Chan, Felix, Jeongin, and Hyunjin. A good team, you think, a very good team.

Getting back to the hospital takes a bit longer walking, leaving the truck behind for the two to come get you after. There's no need to rough up the four men you hold onto, hands bound by rope behind them. Chan took the wrapping off his arm to reveal a nasty cut left by an infected, but it looks enough like it was created by a weapon to pass. Jeongin dramatizes his limp, Felix has a bruise left on his cheek from a previous night, and Hyunjin wears a shirt with old blood and holes on the side. Once the soldiers realize the injuries are old or fake, you won't have much time to execute your plan.

"Back so soon?" The soldier who took notice of you earlier calls out.

You wait until you get closer to reply. "Found these guys on our way back not too far out arming what looked to be homemade bombs. Managed to get some info out, claiming they're part of the rebellion." You push Chan and Hyunjin forward. "Not that it exists anymore."

"Funny you say that." The soldier gets closer and you catch a glimpse of his nametag this time; Officer Song. "Wanna know what, or maybe I should say who, also doesn't exist?"

Sweat beads on your forehead, a chill running down your spine. "What- er, who?"

"You two," He says, pointing his fun directly at your chest. "Grab them."

Another soldier comes out from behind him and you try to protest, but with a swift kick to the back of your knees, you're down, and so is Seungmin, another soldier pinning him down fully. You're yanked back up by your hair, hands instinctively reaching up, and he grabs your wrists, bringing them behind you roughly. Crying out in pain as you feel the twist, he binds your wrists together with real handcuffs, not like the rope you used for your own group. Soldiers descend on the other four, taking hold of them. You're lifted up from your underarms, a hand coming out to grab your upper arm tightly and you wince; he grabs at the same place you got stitches, and Jeongin narrows his eyes.

"Story time." Officer Song leads the group of soldiers through the hole in the wall, bringing you down a long hallway as he speaks. "I touched base with Squad Leader Seo, letting her know her soldiers were on their way back. Funny thing is, she had no idea what I was talking about. So I described you." He turns a corner, opening a door. "Took her a second, but she said she didn't have anyone in her squad who looked like either of you, and her squad isn't big so I know she's not lying."

As you enter a room, the soldier holding you tosses you to the ground like you weigh nothing, sliding over the linoleum floor on your side. You flip onto your back, trying to maneuver to an upright position.

"Stop squirming." A boot lands in your stomach and you yelp, but the message is recieved and you stop moving, lying on your side and watching the others get tossed beside you through your hair.

Only Hyunjin and Felix are tossed beside you, the other three being brought to another room, separating you. Officer Song stays behind with a select few soldiers, the door locking when the others are gone.

"What exactly was your plan? Come in here right under our noses and steal our supplies?" Officer Song crouches down in front of you, face close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. "Or was it information you were after?"

You don't answer.

"Considering our chat and your silence, I'll assume the latter." His fingers gingerly brush hair out of your face and you shudder. "Your plan would have worked if not for Seo, or the evidence you left behind." At your confusion, he continues. "Maybe don't leave the bodies you stripped on their patrol route."

Realization dawns on you, but you know he's right, that was stupid of you.

"Still not speaking?" Officer Song gets up, strolling away with his hands on his hips. "Maybe one of them?"

He eyes Felix, but the younger man refuses to make eye contact. The bruise on his cheek is slightly worse now and your heart aches at the sight.

"No?" He grips the back of Felix's head by the hair, Felix's mouth falling open with a sharp inhale. "Okay. Then you, pretty boy?"

He looks over at Hyunjin, who stares daggers at the man. Officer Song laughs, letting go of Felix to stand in front of Hyunjin, not bothering to crouch this time. In an instant, his gun is pointed at you.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you're looking at her." He clicks the safety off. "Answer me, or I'll shoot."

"You wouldn't," Hyunjin speaks through gritted teeth.

"Try me."

A bullet pierces the wall beside your head and your ears ring, breath temporarily snatched from your lungs. Through the ringing, you can hear Hyunjin panicking, calling out your name. You can't make out many words, but you see Officer Song smack Hyunjin across the face, leaving the room with one soldier to watch over you. The soldier does nothing when Hyunjin shuffles over to you.

"Y/n?" The ringing is starting to subside. "Say something."

"Hyunjin," You don't know how loud you're speaking.

"You're okay," He says. "We'll get out of here, okay? Somehow, we'll get out."

It feels like forever, waiting for Officer Song to come back. No one enters or exits your room for a long time, and when they do, it's only to switch shifts watching over you. At some point, you managed to sit up against the wall behind you.

The room you're in isn't big, assuming it was once a private room for a patient. Several beds are stacked and shoved to the right side of the room, a couple of side tables piled in the corner. IV drips are thrown in the general direction of the furniture, landed on top and around things, some still leaning upright. A window stretches from the door to the end of the wall, but the blinds are drawn and dirty.

"Hey," You call out to the soldier standing guard, a plan forming in your head. "Any way I could use the washroom?" No response. "Please? Pretty please?"

"Fine, if it'll shut you up." The soldier leaves his post, leaning down to pick you up from the armpit.

Your timing is a little off, but you fling your body forward and bite him in the leg. His shout is cut off, tripping over your body with a thud. Rolling out from under him, you move your body on top of his, back to back. He's squirming under you, but you're quicker than him, twisting your arms up and around his head. Pain shoots up into your shoulders as you lift yourself up hard, handcuffs cutting into the man's neck. Under you, he gasps for air and you pull harder, feet braced on either side of his body. You see his hand moving to find his fun, so you step on his fingers with your heel. Soon enough, his movement lessens, and then stops altogether.

"That was weirdly hot," Hyunjin's voice brings you back.

"Come here and take his gun," You order. "We're lucky he has a silencer, cause we need to shoot these things off."

You get off the body, lifting your arms up to show off the metal binding you. Hyunjin uses his foot to carefully knock the gun out of the holster, turning around to grab it with his hands.

"Felix, can you be my eyes?" Hyunjin asks as you turn your back to him, moving your hands as far away from you as you can. "Guide my aim so I don't shoot her in the back."

"Wouldn't want that happening." You see Felix move between you in the corner of your eye. "Down a bit, no, too down. Okay, to the left slightly or you'll shoot her hand off instead- good! Stop! Okay, and go."

A smothered shot sounds, and your wrists are free from one another. One side is longer than the other, but at least you still have both hands. Taking the gun from Hyunjin's hands, you shoot the cuffs off of him and Felix. All three of you are stuck with metal bracelets for now, not daring to shoot too close to the skin. Moving to the window, you squint through the blinds and into the dim hallway.

Night must have moved in, only a lantern seated on top of a bed in the hall providing light. You can see two shadows, two people having a conversation, but they're stretched out as if they aren't standing too close to the lantern. Opening the door enough to stick your head out, you don't see any others. The two nearby are in the room next to you, door wide open, and on the other side are double doors blocked by upturned tables. Directly in front of you are windows mimicking the ones in your room, a door further down falling across from the soldiers. You close the door.

"I might be wrong, but I think the others are in the room across from us, but we need to be careful getting inside. Beside us are some soldiers, so either we take them out or we sneak inside," You tell Hyunjin and Felix. "The door isn't exactly aligned with theirs, so we might be good to sneak, but there's a lantern that'll cast our shadows if we get too close. It looks far enough down as to not cause issue, but we need to pay attention to distance, okay?"

"I like it when you're in leader mode," Hyunjin sighs.

"Flirt later," Felix rolls his eyes, but his mouth betrays him, pursing his lips to suppress a smile. "Let's do this before they try and check on us."

"We also need to keep in mind they probably have a guard watching over them," Hyunjin points out and you nod. "So whoever goes in first needs to be ready to take them out. I think Felix should lead, even though it's your plan Y/n. He's the stealthiest out of us."

"I'm good with that as long as he is." You nod.

"Sure, sure," Felix agrees. "You don't happen to have your knives, do you?"

"Afraid not," You say unhappily. "Chan only let me carry one, and they took it off me. He was supposed to bring me my others when Seungmin and I found a secure way in, and when the plan changed I guess I forgot to grab them."

He's not happy with your answer, but neither are you. Retrieving your knives should have been your number one priority, but you suppose you're lucky in a way because at least this means they didn't confiscate all your weapons for when you finally escape. Felix crouches down as he opens the door, taking a few steps then pausing. His hand flies behind him when you try to join, telling you to keep your distance. After a beat, he moves again, motioning you forward when he's about halfway to the door. His body is pressed against the wall, eyes darting between the lively room and down the dark hallway.

Voices get louder and you see the shadows on the floor get bigger. When one of the soldiers emerges from the room, you drop down and shuffle backward until you lightly touch the leg of the table blocking the double doors. You stay in that position, watching Hyunjin shut the door of your room quietly, and observe the soldier. No one breaths as the soldier strides up to the lantern, and you have no idea how Felix hasn't been spotted considering how close to the door he is now. The soldier picks up the lantern and twists it out, darkening your surroundings further. He waves goodnight to his fellow man, taking the lantern as he goes in the opposite direction of your crew.

As you move back to where you were before, you knock lightly on the door to let Hyunjin know he's okay to move out now. When you get closer to Felix, he places a hand on the doorknob and waits for Hyunjin to join you. Once he's by your side, Felix is quick to open the door and get up into a fighting stance, you and Hyunjin following close behind. The door shuts behind you and you brace for a fight, but nothing happens, the scene in front of you seizing your lungs.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing the man in front of you again. Standing behind Chan, he freezes like a deer in headlights as you make eye contact, dropping the keys in his hands onto the floor. Chan rubs his wrists where the handcuffs were just seconds ago, stepping out of the way, the only boundary between you and him. Seungmin and Jeongin are off to the side, red marks visible where their handcuffs used to be as well, and the metal still dangling off your wrists feels heavier than ever. You force air into your lungs, swallowing roughly. There's a sting behind your eyes that you've become an expert at ignoring.

"Why are you here?" You ask, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"I could ask the same thing." Minho is over in three long strides, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. "Thought I didn't believe in ghosts, yet here you are."

Emotion strangles you as you reciprocate the hug. So, he did think you were dead after all. This brings you little comfort, imagining his nights after what took place. Did he get nightmares? Did he dream of you dying over and over again like you dreamed of him leaving over and over again? Did he blame himself? Does he blame himself?

"This is a nice reunion and all," Jeongin starts. "But can we get this show on the road? We don't have all day."

"Hold on," You say. "Why are you even here? And why are you helping us?"

"Seo contacted me after your cover got busted, and I was on my way here anyway as support." Minho detaches from you, nodding his head toward a bag on the floor next to the door. A body lays on the other side of it overturned, unclear if they're dead or unconscious. "It was easy enough finding out where you were, a bit harder to get a big bag of weapons in here undetected. I lied and said it was for Song."

"Have I ever told you I love you?"

"No," He smiles, bunny teeth on display. "And don't you start now."

"Wasn't going to," You punch him lightly in the shoulder, dropping in front of the bag. There wasn't a huge selection, but you already had the gun. You grab the two knives and strap one to your waist and one to your thigh, grabbing an empty holster for your new gun. "All set."

"Did you see the doors at the end?" Minho asks, you and the others nod. "Go through there and run. Don't stop until you've gotten to the other side. I wasn't able to grab it, but Song has a map of this place. There should be a stairwell on the other side behind another set of doors, get down to the parking levels and out."

"We're not leaving here," Chan steps in. "There's a reason we came here, and I intend to stick it through."

"Do you not understand the risk you're taking right now?" Minho looks at Chan like he's crazy. "You're going to get yourself, or one of your crew, killed. I'm assuming you're after the same people we are?" Chan nods stiffly. "As far as we know, they're located in the emergency wing, but it's riddled with infected from the outbreak. They've been trapped here for god knows how long. Do you really think they'll show mercy? Those people are probably dead anyway."

"Those people have someone important to me," Chan says, taking a handgun from the bag.

"And you'll risk it all for them? You'll risk your people?"

"Anyone who doesn't want to come can leave instead." He checks his ammo, shoves it in his belt. "You know where to go if you want out."

No one moves, no one says a thing, all in silent agreement: we are not leaving you. Minho turns to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," He's all but pleading. "Come with me. Lie, say they took you hostage."

"I... I can't," You stand your ground. "I can't do that Minho, not after everything."

"Please, Y/n, consider it for a moment-"

"I had months to consider going back! Months, and you didn't even come looking for me. Months where all I could do was sit with a broken leg and wonder how you could leave me like that. Months replaying that moment in my head where you made the decision to leave." The sting behind your eyes is back, your throat raw. "Months trying to feel at home again, months that you were no longer it."

Your words hit Minho and you see his throat bob when he looks away from you, hand sliding away. "I made a promise not to let you die."

"You already broke it when you left."

Shaking his head, he steps past you and opens the door. "Get ready. Be careful with the table, it's squeaky, and move quietly."

Exiting the room, he strides over to where the soldiers are, and you can see now it isn't actually a room but a counter wrapping around the corner. The soldier starts to swing around in the chair he's in, but Minho places a hand firmly on the back and stands to block you from view. Your heart aches as you look away, focusing on the task at hand. The table isn't heavy, but it takes most of you to move it in a way that doesn't create noise, angling enough to nudge the door open and get through one side. You're about to go through when you pause, looking back to the room you were kept in.

"Hold on," You say to Chan, who's holding the door open.

"We don't have time-"

"I need to check something." You hope the importance translates into your tone. It must because, after a long look, Chan sighs and nods you off. You backtrack, opening the door with care and closing it behind you.

The man lies still on the other side of the room, head facing away from you. Already, purple bruises have formed on his neck, cutting off behind his ears where you see a small tattoo of someone's name. Getting closer, you can see a heart beside it and your stomach drops, hand hesitantly pressing at the hollow of his neck under his jaw. Nothing, no beat, and you fight the sick feeling rising up your throat. He was human. He had loved ones. He is dead, and you killed him.

Unable to stand being so close to his body any longer, you leave and hurry out of the double doors where Chan waits for you. The others aren't there, and you assume Chan instructed them to get to the other side in case something happens. It won't be long until a soldier notices the table has been moved, so you take Minho's advice and run.

More rooms with patient beds occupy this area, debris and old, used medical supplies strewn across your path. You slip once on a discarded needle, but Hyunjin catches you before you hit the ground. The door on the other side takes some effort to get through, Chan and Seungmin using their full body weight against it. On the other side, you can see part of the ascending stairway has collapsed, covering one side of the door. You go down, Chan leading the way to the parking garage, and you're only a little bit confused.

"Why are we leaving?" You ask, staying close to Chan.

"We aren't, but it'll be easier to get into emerge this way rather than through the hospital since we can circle around to the back door." He pulls open a heavy, metal door and lets the others walk through before him. "Keep an eye out for infected."

"Always," You say, voice echoing.

A creaking noise is heard from your left, a groan right after, and you already know the challenge ahead. The way out is in the same direction as the inhuman noises, the only way out. The path ahead is clear of obstructions, but stepping down from the door, your feet are met with shallow water, enough to cause issue when you continue to walk slowly. The water comes up to your ankles, sloshing with every move you make. Sounds of groaning and croaking get closer, and you fear they've heard you. Dim lighting gives you an advantage, but you still stay low, using the broken down cars as cover. In front of you, Jeongin stops suddenly causing you to bump into his back, but he doesn't stumble.

Water sloshes noisily between the cars in front of you and you just barely spot the head of a zombie emerging from the narrow passage. Its body twitches in various spots, the shoulder, the neck, each finger on the left hand. You hold your breath as it walks across the open area, hitting a car on the other side straight on. You almost laugh, almost. Jeongin waits until the infected has successfully moved past the car before continuing the journey. The exit seems so far, yet so close as you crawl painstakingly slow.

Finally, you cross onto dry land as the ground begins to ascend. Up ahead is the garage door, light seeping through the open half. Jeongin crawls under, barely managing to squeeze through, holding it on the other side for you to join him. Once with him, you grab the other end and lift it for the others to fit through. The garage door creaks loudly and you hear the cry of an infected from inside.

"Hurry!" You whisper shout to Felix, Chan, and Seungmin as they join you, Hyunjin quick to follow after you.

Right as Seungmin is crawling under, he's jerked back, hands grabbing the air for something to hold onto. The door is getting heavier in your arms, and you can't reach out for him in fear of it dropping and shutting him in completely. Chan turns around quickly, taking hold of his arm and pulling forward until Seungmin lands a kick to the zombie's face, leaving it stumbling backward down the incline, a splash indicating its failure. You and Jeongin drop the door with a loud thump, arms aching.

"Let me check that," Felix instructs him to sit on the curb of the driveway you're now in. Seungmin hisses as his pant leg is shifted up to reveal a nasty gash running the lower half of his calf, a smaller scrape parallel to it. "Shit, we need to stitch this up. Jeongin?"

"You've got it." Jeongin hands Felix a small pouch with medical supplies out of the waistline of his pants, snug between his skin and belt. "I don't know how they didn't find this on me."

"Hey, did Jisung ever call on the walkie-talkie?" You hear Hyunjin ask Chan in a low voice, standing a bit further from the group.

"Yeah, luckily it was right when, ah, Minho?" Hyunjin nods. "Right, okay. He called when Minho arrived and I haven't had the chance to call back, I should now actually."

Chan walks away and you bring your eyes back to Seungmin, his face contorted in pain as Felix stitches him up. It isn't as clean as the ones Jeongin did on you, but not bad either. Hyunjin joins you, arms coming around your front as he stands against your back. You can hear Chan conversing with Han, but he's wandered too far for you to make out any words.

"Feeling okay?" Hyunjin asks, directly in your ear.

"Huh?" He must be referring to the encounter with Minho. "Oh, yeah, I guess so. It... it felt kind of good to tell him all that. I can't help but think that's going to be the last time I see him though, and it hurts."

"You've got us now, you'll be okay without him." You want to argue that, tell him how a piece of your heart will always be missing without him. It's not as simple as who you have with you currently or not. He took care of you when you had no one, and you chose to leave him as he did you. Instead, you slide away from Hyunjin and sit next to your best friend on the curb where he's rubbing his now clothed leg.

"Stop trying to die on me." You flick him in the shoulder.

"I should be saying that to you," He replies, sticking out his tongue. "So, Minho-"

"We are not talking about him right now," You cut him off. "I literally just escaped that conversation with Hyunjin."

He hums in response, amused. Chan comes back into view, explaining that Han and Chaeryeong have left the hotel after spotting a group of soldiers heading in their direction and you ignore the way your chest tightens. "They've gathered any items we left in the lobby and will be taking a long circle to meet us back here since it's pretty closed off. We clear?" Everyone nonverbally agrees. "Good. Now, someone help me with these doors."

He moves to the emergency room doors where it's clear somebody has tried to pry their way in before, leaving one door open on an angle. Jeongin steps up, taking hold of the other door and pulling, Chan doing the same. The door Chan pulls barely budges, the angle jamming it in place, but Jeongin's opens with surprising ease. You're all about to move in, but Jeongin sticks a hand out to block the entrance. He lifts a finger to his lips, moving down to his knees.

"Look inside," He whispers.

So you do, and you see more infected than you've ever seen in an enclosed space. Most are standing up completely still, body parts twitching in places like the infected that pulled Seungmin down. All the beds are full, infected left to fester after the hospital closed its doors to new patients. How the fuck were you supposed to get through now?

---

notes ▪︎ not looking good!!! and ouch, poor seung... at least he isn't dead tho !

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuff @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam

reply or send an ask to be added ^ 18+ only. green means i can't tag you

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 8 - Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: tiny dash of spice… making out, hands wandering. Light angst, emotions, late-night confessions.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please don't be mad at me about this - I could not go with the cliche of wedding night. These idiots just need one more night to get their sh*t together. Sorry, and yes, as penance, Chapter 9 will be posted very soon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939 

A nervous energy ripples through your limbs as the four others leave, traipsing across the garden to the neighbouring cottage, leaving you and your new husband alone. Still waving awkwardly from the patio as they all disappear from view. A chill passes through you, just noticing how cold the night air is, autumn drawing in and without the warmth of Benedict holding you in some way, as he has been the past few hours. You startle slightly as he interrupts your reverie by chivalrously wrapping the faux fur stole around your shoulders.

“It’s my something borrowed,” you blurt, unsure what else to say.

“Eloise?”

You just nod, too nervous all of a sudden to look up at him.

“Let’s get inside,” he suggests, observing even the extra layer does not halt your shiver, gesturing to the kitchen door.

You walk awkwardly past, catching a whiff of his delicious scent that you woke up to this morning, the involuntary urge to sway into him intense.

You drift to the living room, Benedict wandering to the gramophone, putting on a mellow jazz record before taking a seat; part of you sad he chooses the armchair, not the sofa beside you. 

“Well… that was a day,” he understates in his usual affable manner.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” you respond earnestly, looking down at the simple band on your finger by reflex. “It’s all thanks to you that I have a chance to escape while I still can.”

“You would have done the same for me,” he demures with a quiet certainty that makes you yearn to touch him. 

Instead, you exchange slightly awkward smiles, the mantlepiece clock ticking sounding so loud, even with the music playing.

“And I'm sure you will get home one day,” he assures. “Your family, I'm certain, miss you… and... And your fiancee,” the reluctance in his words evident.

“I’m not sure a married woman can have a fiancé anymore,” you remark; the lash of guilt every time Stanley’s name is invoked lessening with every moment you spend alone with Benedict.

“You can once you are a single woman again, as soon as you are safe,” he counters softly, so altruistic in his manner your throat almost itching with unspent words—a want to yell. No! Fight for me! I want you more than I ever will want him!!

“You yourself said on the train that perhaps there is something better out there for me,” you respond cautiously. “The longer this adventure runs, the more certain I am of that.”

His mien is profound as you finally raise your eyes to his, wanting so much to say more but feeling too tongue-tied and cowardly to be that selfish, to declare he is what you want. 

He shakes himself a little and leans back into the armchair as if resetting himself and the line of conversation. Like he senses the mutual danger lurking there.

“Tomorrow, when we sail… they will likely notice the date on our marriage certificate,” Benedict counsels gently. “That may raise flags about the authenticity of our union.”

“What can we do to assuage them?”

“Come up with a plausible story. Be physically affectionate. They may ask no questions, or they may ask as many as they wish,” he warns, “especially of you. They may ask you about…” Benedict pauses, his face flushing a little, “… intimate matters. They have every right to ask if the marriage has been consummated.”

You feel yourself flashing hot as he says it. “I should lie?” you whisper.

“You should say whatever you think will make them believe we are a real couple,” he obfuscates.

“I’m a terrible liar…” you confess, blushing when you realise your words could be interpreted as an invitation to be intimate. And on this, your wedding night. 

His gaze is heavy. “You can do it y/n. Your freedom and safety may depend on your ability to convince them you love me... And I you.”

I think I might, your mind screams.

“I know… I… think I can do it,” you falter, replaying every kiss you have shared. “We seem to have done a great job convincing Jerome and Marie…”

“They are not looking to see artifice,” he counters. “British soldiers will be.”

“Sh… should we practice?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, champagne again taking your tongue, a deep flush spreading over your skin as you realise it.

“Y… yes, I think maybe we should,” he agrees very quickly. 

He stands somewhat awkward, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, leaving his waistcoat. You find yourself again mesmerised by him, as you were that night in Paris, wanting to run your hands over the flex in his arm muscles. In fact, you are so distracted you don’t even realise he is proffering you a hand out of the chair. You spring up to your feet without his help, the idea of touching him right now entirely too distracting, which seems to amuse him briefly before his expression turns sincere.

“We have kissed, but not as lovers, as married people would. We... we may need to do so, casually, of course, within sight of those allowing boarding,” he opines, even as your heart speeds up, realising what he is saying.

“You think we need to… practice more kissing? Now?” you are mildly annoyed by how stupefied you sound.

“Yes,” he confirms, drawing closer, “passionate, real kissing.”

You are looking up into blue eyes and a gorgeous face as fingertips loop around your wrist as if checking your pulse.

“Grab my wrist if you want me to stop,” he tutors softly, so gentlemanly in his approach, even as you fret that he can feel your heart rate hammering hard in your veins.

Once again, time is in slow motion as his lips descend. At first, the kiss is breathtaking but still chaste, like previously. But then there is a noise in the back of his throat that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end; his lips part yours, a wave of damp heat as the kiss deepens. His tongue swipes yours tentatively, a tease before you mirror his moves. He tastes of champagne and something else that is entirely him, an impulse to bite the inside of his cheek. And then it’s abruptly fervent, wanton - like a dam has broken - his hands gripping the crest of your hip bones, each finger an insistent dig into your flesh.

Finally, given the permission, you don't hold back. Pushing into him, one hand grasping the buckled loop at the back of his waistcoat that cinches it to his slim form, the other winding around his sturdy neck, encouraging him to lean down further, take from you. The kiss seems never-ending, a rolling wave of to and fro, a dance not unlike the one in the square just last night. Those fireworks still explode, but this time, it feels like those ones that are so powerful they knock a punch to your solar plexus, a ricochet you feel physically,

His hands slide up your back, a sensual drag that makes you moan into his mouth, a noise he greedily swallows. But he stops as they reach the faux fur wrapped around your shoulders and reluctantly breaks the kiss.

“Please, take this off,” he implores, “I cannot do this with you wearing my sister's clothing,” he points out with a cringe that creases his face charmingly.

Your responding giggle causes him to break into a lopsided grin, and wordlessly, you untie it as he watches, pupils blown. When you push it back off your shoulders, it hits the rug behind you with a soft whump, and your instinct takes over, rocking onto your tiptoes, one hand sliding into the lush hair at the back of his head and bringing his face back to yours. 

The minute your mouth opens to his, you are heavy and weightless all at once, not unlike that wooden roller coaster on Coney Island that made you see stars. Your nails flex on his scalp as his hands slide over your dress, looping low around your hips, tugging you snugly into his body as your tongues tangle. 

This.

This must be what the girls whisper about—a tart metallic boiling in your blood, a heavy tug deep inside your pelvis that needs relief. A wanting so physical it almost hurts, a hunger that makes you feel reckless, liable to behaviour you could never justify, a pure carnal caprice. But all too soon, he is pulling back, a need to breathe, even as he does so inches from your face, his eyes locked on yours as they flutter open.

“Again,” you murmur, uncaring how gossamer thin your excuse is, just wanting more. 

His eyes are glittering as he complies. Kissing like a wild storm now, hands hot through the thin, cool silk fabric. And you cannot stop the noises you make, shameless and breathy, right into his open, wet, questing mouth. Pressing hard against his body, a solid warmth in his trousers promising things you need so badly you crave to curl around him, open yourself to him. 

You have never felt this before. A tingle under your scalp that vibrates all the way down to your toes. A want to take and be taken. To bite and be bitten. To ride and be ridden. For him to rip your dress from your body and throw you onto the sofa—a yen that feels not entirely human and definitely not civilised.

It's like he senses your thoughts have slid somewhere wild, or perhaps his have too, as when he pulls back, he is panting, and there is a quaking in his entire being like he is crackling with energy.

“Please. Go.” His voice is ragged, deep, almost wrecked. “Please. I… I can’t do this anymore,” his voice cracks a look that is at once hungry, aching, and barely contained restraint.

Please don't be a gentleman now, Benedict. Please. No. God. Not now. Don’t.

“I’m s…sorry,” you stutter, feeling guilty you have pushed it too far but utterly unmoored by the searing passion and the sting of his rejection, albeit reluctant. 

Even you can see the war in his being, physical desire being muzzled by the gentleman he was clearly raised to be. Knowing if you stand here much longer, something will happen that one or both of you will regret. Your wedding ring seems to burn your skin as you turn around and shrink away, leaving the room, not daring to look back, knowing he has also turned away with ragged breaths.

As you climb the stairs, feet feeling leaden, your body in utter turmoil, you hear the discordant scratch of the gramophone being halted. You undress in a daze, swearing you can still feel the heat of his handprints through the silk of your dress. Climbing into the bed approaching numb, champagne swirling unease in your gut with all the rich foods, an oily disquiet that means it takes ages to settle.  

You lay there fitfully for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, picking over the minutiae of every moment with Benedict - tonight and all the nights and days before. Seeing possible signs that make your heart clench. 

Could it be that he is not doing this all for show? 

It's a seizing thought that catalyses your body: it has you up on your feet and rushing down the stairs in your nightgown, breathless and stumbling. But when you round the corner into the living room, all your courage to declare it is sapped by the sight of Benedict sleeping, curled slightly, looking smaller somehow, his back turned to you, face buried into the back cushion of the sofa.

Instead, you back away, padding to the kitchen to take a glass of water, hoping the hydration will stave off the worst of a hangover; the water is a relief to the tumultuous, racing feeling as you stand on the large slab of earthen tile gleaming in the moonlight, cold underfoot. You pour another glass for him without thought.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, careful not to wake him, you crouch beside him to leave the glass of water within easy sight and reach should he stir. But you find yourself unable to leave without saying something. The temptation to confess to his unconscious self is impossible to resist, the grip on your own glass so tight.

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” you murmur to his back, fingers itching to trace over the bare skin of his shoulder blades where they peak out of the blanket. “For this unbelievable act of kindness and generosity. And yet… god, this is so selfish,” you flick your eyes up to the ceiling to stem a tear you feel gathering, “… still I’m greedy. Always wanting more. Wanting…. Wanting to never return to my old life. Wanting to run away. Wanting this… Wanting this to be real.” 

The last phrase is barely audible, but still, you are instantly horrified that you confessed it out loud, even to his unconscious, sleeping frame. And you know you must leave.

God, what is wrong with me? What is this? Temporary insanity? Too much alcohol, a fake wedding and an impending war are not a good recipe…

It’s a silent internal lament as you stand up and withdraw, self-chastisement echoing so loud in your head. And yet, you can't resist a parting sentence from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Benedict, you are truly the very best of men...”

—

What you don’t see as you slowly climb back up the creaking wooden stairs is Benedict’s eyes blazing open, a look of utter astonishment claiming his face as he twists around and stares at the doorway you left by, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was never asleep.

And he heard every single word.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[princessbrunette]

shy!reader who study medicine and spider!jj always goes there when he's hurt for care 🥺

˚ ༘ 🕷️⋆🩷｡˚

answering the door at 4am, there’s only one person it could be. the blonde listens to you unlatching your door before you’re revealed in all your sleepy glory, rubbing at one eye in the cutest little pyjamas.

he’s pretty banged up this time — a busted lip and his suit is ripped at his rib cage, nothing he couldn’t fix but the gash beneath it was definitely something you were going to have to stitch up. your brows knit together, eyeing him over.

“you should see the other guy, cupcake.” he jokes, despite being in clear pain. you huff out your nose, tugging him inside.

“why are you using the front door? did anyone see you?” you stress, leading him by the hand to your quaint little living room. it wasn’t much, rather shabby if anything — but living in the city wasn’t cheap and it was the best you could do.

“ah, i used the fire escape. this asshole spared me some brain cells when he was kicking my shit in. you really think i’d just walk up in here?” he scoffs, dropping down comfortably on the couch as you frantically make space on the coffee table, spreading out your first aid kit.

“you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, jayj.” you pout, beginning to dig for the antiseptic.

“oh but then who will patch me up everytime i get my ass beat?” he tilts his head and his messy blonde hair flops with it, grinning lopsidedly in the dim light of the room, the cut on his lip glistening with it. you hate how your stomach stirs with butterflies for your best friend. your face gets all hot, averting your eyes and you feel him grinning harder — he always did love how bashful you got.

things get quiet when you start to wipe up his rib injury, aside from his dramatic winces and curse words tumbling from his mouth.

“you’re going to wake my neighbours.” you giggle, after a particularly loud ‘fuck’ from him.

“hey, maybe they’ll think you’re gettin’ some.” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. as you reach for another cotton pad, your mouth moves on autopilot.

“i wish.” you remark, straying from your usual shy ways. his brows instantly jump up with intrigue, and you avoid his eyes, pressing your lips together as you busy yourself. you’d always been shy, since he’d met you — that’s why he’d taken you under his wing. he was dorky where it counted sure, but also boyish and confident in a way a lot of guys your age lacked. it made sense that he was spiderman, the unexpected amounts of unbridled swagger mixed with the scrappy awkwardness you’d expect from your best friend. he was drawn to your shyness because of how different you were, and because he knew deep down there was a freak just waiting for him to break it free.

“you know, if you ever wanna set up a — uh, lil payment plan, if you will — i could show you a real good time, mama.” he lays it on thick, too thick — incase you reject him, and then he can play it off as a joke. the problem is his tone is so teasing, you don’t know if he’s joking. your eyes flicker up to him from your knelt position, all doe-like and sweet in the way that makes him wish his spider suit wasn’t so tight as to not reveal his excitement.

“huh?”

“nah nothing. unless…you really get desperate. can totally step in and help you out. y’know in the…sex department.” he shrugs, tonguing at his lip cut and internally cussing himself out for being such a weirdo.

you blink a couple times, shifting to sit on your feet.

“are you concussed?” you speak after the pause.

“am i conc— no, okay it was a — an offer. but i feel like i kinda made it weird so that’s my bad let’s just pretend that didn’t happen and we can—”

“i wouldn’t mind.” you suddenly but quietly break through his ramble. he blinks a couple of times, lips parted in surprise.

“you wouldn’t mind — like… pretending this didn’t happen? or… the other thing?”

“the other thing.” you’re reduced down to a whisper now, eyes locked. he sits up slowly, leaning forward on the seat with his elbows on his knees so that your faces were close. in the low light, your pupils are all blown out, searching his eyes.

“you mean that?” he smirks, almost like he doesn’t believe you. you swallow and nod, not trusting your voice. something about it being 4am made you braver, and you’d completely forgotten about tending to his injuries. “well alright then. how ‘bout when i’m not bleeding out on your couch? gotta be in top condition when i put the moves on you.”

just like that, you’re brought back to reality — this time with the whisper of a promise that the two of you could be something more. you could be more than a late night emergency patch up.

˚ ༘ 🕷️⋆🩷｡˚

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Down-trodden. That’s a good word to use. One you’d find in a particularly eloquent novel. It’s how you feel. Caught in the rain, missed your connection, and walking six blocks just to get back to your building. Down-trodden, defeated, and deflated. 

You come up to the door of your building, trying to unhook the end of your key from the ring. Before you can get a handle on things, the door flies open and you barely move out of its way. Your keys hit the ground and a dark figure swoops to snatch them up. Not him. 

That man stands, the loud one, the rude one, and jangles your keys. You reach for them and he keeps them just out of your grasp. You frown and rescind your arm. 

“Sir, please--” 

“Well, ain’t you the cat the river washed up,” he snickers. “Look at ya. Down-right sad, ain’t ya? What’s a matter? Did the sun not shine at ya majesty’s order?” 

“Sir,” you snip. “I am not in the mood--” 

“Are ya ever, love?” He chortles again, dangling the keys higher. 

“I’m asking nicely, please, give me my keys.” You make yourself as big as you can but still feel tiny before him. 

“Please and...” he drawls. 

“Thank you,” you try to grab the keys, hopping to snag them, but he manages to evade you. You huff, embarrassed at your own effort. 

“Ain’t that cute. Look much smaller out here without them walls to hide behind, Don’t ya?” He twirls the ring around his finger. 

You look away and frown, “look, I apologise. It was never meant to offend you. I only hoped you might have some consideration and not make so much noise. I was mistaken to think you could care.” 

“Ah, now, you’re gonna make me feel bad,” he taunts. 

You turn to him and shrug. What more can you say or do? His smirk fades just a little and his dark brows draw together. He clears his throat and lowers his hand. 

“’ere ya go then.” He offers them. 

Cautiously you reach out. Your hand closes around them, brushing his fingers, and he lets you have them. Warily, you pull back. 

“Was only playin’,” he winks. “Lookit, I’ll even be a gentleman and hold the door for ya.” He moves out of the way and keeps his hand on the door, “there ya are, proper queen, then.” 

You don’t know if he’s mocking you still or not. More likely he is. You hold your tongue. You just want to be done with today and him. You’re only recourse is to ignore him. It might get him off your back. You can handle a bit of shouting in the hall. 

You step forward and pass him. He looms, bouncing on his heels, and you hurry as you approach the stairs, “eh, never saw ya from behind. Not half bad.” 

He cackles before he lets the door go and it slams at his departure. You cringe. You should have expected something. You carry on up the staircase and keep your head down as you near your apartment. 

You go inside and toss the keys. You drop your bag as you kick off your shoes and traipse around to the kitchen. You put on the kettle and plant your elbows on the counter. 

The buyer didn’t take as much as you negotiated but you couldn’t say no. You had to take what they offered. It’s enough, but you were hoping for more. You did the repair just as they wanted but everyone’s always changing the terms. No one listens to you. Just like that man! You’re tired of feeling so helpless. 

And why does he have to be so crass? Why did he have to humiliate you like that? You dropped your keys and he couldn’t just let you have them. No, he had to make you perform like some puppet. Oh and then he had to be sure you know how nice he is. 

You don’t think you hate him; you just hate how people treat you. You pride yourself on being polite, on being empathetic as best as you can, on making yourself as little as possible so you’re not in the way. The one time you speak up for yourself and it backfires. Well, you won’t be doing that again. 

[guywithn0name]

-Alphabet headcanons-

;Hobie Brown

Hobie Brown x any gender reader

🎸 | Masterlist | 🎸

The post’s style is edited, it’s otherwise the same (^з^)-☆

Warnings: swearing (like one word)

-‘A’ is for AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

Hobie’s an affectionate guy. His love language is definitely physical touch and acts of service in my opinion. He always has an arm wrapped around you or he’s holding your hand. No matter what it is, he’s always in physical contact with you in some way even if it’s small. He’ll also make sure you’re always alright and he’s definitely played some of your favourite songs for you on his guitar to show how much he cares for you.

-‘B’ is for BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestfriend?)

If I had to choose one word on how it is to be Hobie’s friend, it’d be chaotic. He definitely cares for you, but he’s always up to something dumb. No matter what you’re up to, he can be your partner in crime. Wanna steal something from a large company? He’s there. Wanna go to a concert? He’ll be there with you. Or wanna go into the city and support small businesses? He’s definitely there with you.

-‘C’ is for CUDDLES (how and do they like to cuddle?)

Hobie honestly loves cuddles. It doesn’t matter to him if he’s the big spoon or the little spoon. Just cuddle with him. Surprisingly tho, he doesn’t like cuddling in public tho. He likes cuddling in private because he finds it relaxing in his chaotic life. Hobie likes chaos but a moment of peace every now and then is like heaven to him.

-‘D’ is for DOMESTIC (if they settle down, how will they help?)

Hobie does the house work, sometimes. He’ll help you around the house but he ends up leaving his clothes and other punk items around the place. Hobie also can’t cook for his life honestly. So if neither of you can cook, you two aren’t gonna be doing too good. He probably does some house work while listening to loud music that makes the neighbours hate him, honestly.

-‘E’ is for ENDING (how would the break up go?)

It would definitely happen face to face. Hobie thinks breaking up over text or call is just plain rude. He would be pretty straight forward about it, so he wouldn’t beat around the bush with you about wanting to break up.

-‘F’ is for FIANCÉ (how do they feel about marriage)

Hobie wouldn’t wanna get married. He doesn’t believe in commitment and getting married would kinda contradict what he always says. But Hobie definitely wouldn’t go sleeping around with other people, he likes you enough to kind of stay ‘committed’ to you. Hobie doesn’t like to admit it but he’s definitely committed to you, but he’ll never admit that.

-‘G’ is for GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

He is genuinely a nice and gentle guy even tho he’s a punk. He always makes sure he doesn’t overstep your boundaries. He’ll try to get you out of your comfort zone from time to time but he’ll never be too pushy with things. If you ever want to try something different or new, you best bet that Hobie will be there to support you and help you with it.

-‘H’ is for HUGS (do they like hugs?)

Yes. Hobie loves hugs. He’s a huge sucker for physical touch. So expect hugs from him, along with other kinds of physical affection too.

-‘I’ is for I LOVE YOU (when do they say I love you for the first time?)

Hobie probably said ‘I love you’ for the first time when you two were just hanging out together at his flat. He was tuning his guitar and the words kind of just came out.

-‘J’ is for JEALOUSY (do they get easily jealous? And if they do, what will they do?)

Hobie doesn’t get easily jealous, but on the very very rare occasions that he does. He’ll put his hand on your waist or put an arm around your shoulder while glaring at the person very intently. Hobie also has a resting bitch face so it’s easy to intimidate someone when he wants to, with his height also coming into play.

-‘K’ is for KISSES (how often do they like to get or give kisses, and where?)

Hobie gives kisses a lot, and he loves receiving them along with giving them. His absolute favourite spot to kiss you is on your forehead, it’s an easy spot to kiss in his opinion. Hobie’s favourite spot to be kissed is on his lips, it could be a quick and sweet kiss or a long and passionate one. He’ll definitely love it.

-‘L’ is for LITTLE ONES (how are they with kids?)

He’s great with kids. Kids usually stare at him since his style is so different and new to them. If a kid asks to touch a piercing that’s on his face or wants to touch his spiky jacket, he’ll pretty much always accept. Hobie’s always gentle with kids and they’re just naturally drawn to him.

-‘M’ is for MORNINGS (how are mornings with them?)

Hobie hates waking up early, he tries to hold off getting out of bed for as long as he can. He’s super groggy for the first ten minutes of him being out bed, but after that he’s back to being himself.

-‘N’ is for NIGHTS (how are nights with them?)

Hobie definitely has a whole hair routine. He uses all the essential oils and hair products, you can’t change my mind. He also definitely cares about his hair more than he’s willing to admit. He also 100% wears a bonnet when he goes to sleep, can’t change my mind. But other than that, it’s all pretty chill with the occasional shower before going to bed (he doesn’t shower every day, sorry to admit it)

-‘O’ is for OPEN (how open are they about themselves?)

Hobie’s not secretive but he also isn’t the most open person to strangers. But once he gets more comfortable with you he’s definitely one of the most open people ever, like he’ll say whatever comes to mind. Even if it’s the dumbest thing ever.

-‘P’ is for PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

Hobie is super patient with you. Don’t wanna talk about it? It’s alright, he’ll be there to keep you company in silence. Just wanna be alone? He’ll let you be and he’ll go so something else like play his guitar or do patch some of his clothes. He’s the most patient guy ever, seriously.

-‘Q’ is for QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

Like any good British punk, he remembers what he can. Hobie’s memory isn’t the best but it’s still really good. He does try to remember as much as he can, which is actually a lot. I can’t guarantee that he remembers every tiny detail, but he still remembers a lot.

-‘R’ is for REMEMBER (what’s their favourite moment in the relationship?)

Hobie’s favourite moment in y’all’s relationship was probably when you two went to a concert of one of his all time favourite bands. You wore punk clothes together and just had loads of fun at the concert.

-‘S’ is for SECURITY (how protective are they?)

Like with the jealousy one, Hobie isn’t that protective. As long as some creep doesn’t try to come and harass you, he’s otherwise pretty chill.

-‘T’ is for TRY (how much effort are they putting into the relationship, dates and ect?)

He doesn’t try too hard, but he’ll give you the occasional gift. (that’s totally not stolen) And if Hobie is feeling extra nice he’ll even go to some small business and buy something from there he’ll give to you in your anniversary or Valentine’s Day.

-‘U’ is for UGLY (what’s a bad habit of theirs?)

Since his universe is set in the 1960’s. His bad habit is probably smoking. Smoking was pretty common in the 1960’s so he probably does it too. Tho, Hobie does steal the cigarettes from stores. No way he pays for them. (except if it’s from a small business)

-‘V’ is for VANITY (how insecure are they?)

Hobie being insecure? Not a thing. The last thing he’ll ever be is insecure. He’s always super confident in himself and the things he does. Hobie isn’t one of those people who are over confident, but he’s the perfect mix of it.

-‘W’ is for WHOLE (do they feel whole without you?)

Hobie wouldn’t be incomplete without you, but he’d probably miss you depending on how much he cares for you and how close the two of you were.

-‘X’ is for XTRA (extra headcanon about them)

He’s definitely written songs about you, and he also plays them to you when you two hang out. If Hobie let you put a sticker on his guitar, that means he definitely cares about you. He sometimes leaves his things at your place as an ‘accident’ so he can come over to your place to see you and get it back.

-‘Y’ is for YUCK (what can they not stand?)

Hobie doesn’t like it when people disrespect other people’s styles, life styles or something else about someone. Tho, it does matter if that person is an absolute asshole.

-‘Z’ is for ZLEEP (how is to sleep with them?)

Except a heather hugging you while you two sleep. Hobie is a literal heather, so summers are not really an ideal time to cuddle with him while you sleep. Hobie is all over the place while he sleeps. He’s also big on cuddling while sleeping. So if it’s summer then you better expect to feel overheated while sleeping and cuddling with Hobie.

HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH :)

[6ft-under-beacon-hills]

Walmart Wolf — Isaac Lahey x Reader

summary: When you accidentally saw Isaac's wolf form, he began threatening you to keep quiet. Problem is, you don't really find him scary.

tags: slightly canon-divergent, usage of you, canon-typical (mild) description of violence.

———

"Right," You nodded, eyes focused on arranging your notes in the correct order before filing them. You slammed the file closed as you swung your bag onto one shoulder, heading to the hallway, pushing past Lahey.

"I mean it." He said, following you with ease. His long legs covered the distance between the two of you within a second.

You simply rolled your eyes.

"Say a word and you'll regret it." He added, now walking beside you.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You waved a dismissive hand.

Which was a mistake, because now, he grabbed onto the wrist of that hand and dragged you into a corner. He leaned into your space, your breathes intermingled with one another as he growled, eyes glowing golden. He whispered, fangs visible with every move of his lips, "Tell someone and you'll find yourself torn apart."

You tried, actually really tried, to imagine what that would feel like. But when his sharp nails, no, his claws, slowly digging into your skin, all you could think was how good of back scratch he would give. So, you smiled, at the thought, though of course to him you were smiling at his threat.

He tilted his head, confusion riddled his face.

See, when he does things like that, how are you going to find him threatening. He looked like your old neighbour's puppy.

So adorable.

His eyebrows furrowed. "What. did. you. say?"

Oh shoot. Did I said that out loud?

He waited for a response, the grip on your wrist loosening by the seconds. You pulled your hand back, placing it atop your hip as the other shifted with the file's weight.

"You think you're so scary, but you are far from it." You started. "I've seen scary. Lived through it. Dismemberment is the least of my concerns, especially when it's coming from a Walmart version of a wolf."

Isaac stood still – his face morphing into something between offence and bewilderment – possibly stunned by the little rant you had. You took that as an opportunity to slip away, walking in the direction of AP Biology class that was about to start in five minutes.

You wondered if you could make it in time.

Then you wondered... if what you said was too mean..

Sparing a glance at the spot the two of you were standing a few moments ago, Isaac already gone, you shrugged as you considered that'd be a problem for the future-you to solve.

Right now, though, you had a test to take.

— • • •

You knew.

You didn't need to turn your head around to know that Isaac Lahey was glaring at you – um, well, at the back of your head. You had been sitting next to your classmates in the cafeteria, discussing on what to do for next week's group project, when all of a sudden all their focus seemed to shift from the notes on the table to something, or rather someone, behind you. One by one, either their eyes would flicker between you and him, or their words seemingly stuck in their throats every time they tried to elaborate on their points.

This won't do.

You politely dismissed the meeting, saying that "we've got everything mostly covered" and offering them an email-shared notes of today's discussion. Without wasting any time, each one of them rushed out of their seats, leaving you alone with the annoying pest that was you could practically hear fuming as he walked towards you.

"Walmart version of a wolf!?" He hissed, aggressively sliding into the seat in front of you. Though admittedly, no one can look terrifying when trying to slide onto a lunch table's bench.

"Hello, good afternoon, I'm doing fine, thank you for asking." You replied, annoyed with him for, in a way, causing the early dismissal of your group discussion.

"Cut that crap." He slammed a hand onto the table, but his pinky finger caught onto a nearby tray from your groupmate's lunch and he flailed about trying to ensure the cup and the plate won't spill onto him.

You bit back a scoff, though a small smile still found its way onto your face.

He shot you a glare. Typical, so you rolled your eyes at that.

"I am not a Walmart wolf." He spat, his fingers flat on the surface of the table. Now he looked like one of those halloween sales plushies of a standing wolf over a carved plastic pumpkin, frowning for some candies.

This time, you couldn't help it. You snorted. "Sure, you're not, buddy."

With that, you left him again with his own mix of offense and confusion. Those meeting notes were not going to write itself.

— • • •

Amongst your top ten list of what to expect this school year, settling into a routine of being threatened by a not-so-scary werewolf was not one of it. Though if you had to include that into a list of something, you would tuck it neatly in a catalogue labeled "to be resolved".

There were so many things you needed to resolve like the maths problem from week ten's class that you missed because of a flu, or high water bill even after carefully measuring the usage for a month, or what in Chemistry's classroom were allergic to because you kept sneezing whenever you were in it the past couple of weeks.

But Isaac Lahey's unimaginative threats grew increasingly in terms of priority.

His persistence not once faltering for the past month and if you were to be precise, it had been exactly 32 days and 4 hours since you discovered his wolf-y nature. So as expected, you found him striding through the hallway to you, that same scowl on his face... and a scarf on his neck? What's up with that scarf anyway? It was basically scorching hot outside.

He opened his mouth, perhaps to throw another one of those "I'll gut you with my claws" or "Rip your head of your neck with my teeth" nonsense, but you stopped him with a raise of a stern hand.

"If you have nothing new to say, then just shut up."

He stopped in his tracks, standing only a few feet away from you, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say, 'Oh yeah?'

His shenanigans did not go unnoticed by your peers; a few expressed their concerns for your safety (rumours has it he was the prime suspect of his father's death but if he's as bad as his threats and reputation, then you would've stopped breathing the moment you caught him), some tried to pry for information (you swore you would strangle the next person who asked if Lahey and you were dating), and most simply thought you formed some sort of friendship with the tall teen (which, at this point, was something you prefer over the unoriginal threats).

You figured he would throw a snarky comment when you began to turn around, but instead you were met with a question that had you scratching the back of your neck and looking at him straight in the eyes.

"Why aren't you ever scared?"

You thought for several moments, looking for all the right answers, unsure yourself why were you even taking the time to reply properly when all you had been doing was dismissing him (well, dismissing his threats).

So you looked at him once more, maybe hoping that he would be some sort of guide to you for your answers yet all you could see was all the reasons you were never scared.

Maybe those reasons were your answers.

You took a deep breath, checking the time with a quick motion. "How do you feel about pancakes?"

— • • •

This diner was certainly not the best diner the town could offer – its pastries always stale, the coffee too bitter, and you were sure that the old lady waitress was slower than a sloth – but it sure has the best pancakes that no other place in the town could beat.

You pour the maple syrup over the steaming pancakes, clearly freshly made in contrast to all of the other menu. Lahey fidgeted in his seat, possibly uncomfortable with the booth being too small for comfort but all the open space tables were filled with just off-duty cops, tired office workers and elderly couples who did not want to eat homemade dinner. The diner itself was not crowded with dozens of customers but the small space of the building made it seemed like it was always packed with people.

It was a typical slow day in a small room.

Lahey tapped the edge of the table with his fingers, head looking around, always shifting in his seat as if waiting for an ambush or a guaranteed-to-be-poorly-made crepe that he ordered earlier.

The crepe arrived seconds later, almost fully burnt, but he did not stop moving. So you concluded that he might thought that this was a trap, like he was just waiting for animal control to come in with a muzzle and big cage.

"Told you to order the pancakes." You cut through the tension.

"Why are we here?" He asked in return.

You placed down the fork and knife back onto the table, pancakes untouched.

"I'm sorry." You began, to which he scowled – clearly not understanding why you were apologising – but you continued nonetheless. "I shouldn't have said you were a Walmart version of a wolf."

He scoffed, leaning back against his seat.

"To be fair, you were really annoying the hell out of me with those incredibly mundane threats and I thought I'd strike one back." You shrugged.

He was ready to say something but you beat him to it.

"And rather than a Walmart wolf, I think you were a lot like a puppy. Specifically the one that my old neighbour had. Paired that vision with your clumsiness, gods, I don't think anyone with rationality would find you scary."

Whilst you had a habit of not thinking when going on a rant, you thought of this next sentence more often than you'd like and so you decided that he might as well hear it.

"On the contrary, I believe that anyone would find you cute."

For a second you thought his expression softened but you looked again and figured that was just the trick of the lightings — just like how the interior of the room made it seemed like he was blushing. He can't be, can he..?

Nah. No way.

After a long stretch of silence, the two of you locking eyes, he finally spoke. "So? What then? You'll run around telling people that I'm— I mean, about that, thinking they'll find it cute too?"

This time, you scoffed as you leaned back against your seat.

"Of course not." You laughed, though there was not a hint of joy in it, but more for sarcastic effect. "Think about it, Lahey. If I wanted to tell someone, and you know that I'm not scared of you, I would have done so weeks ago. Your business is yours to share. Just because I happened to stumble upon it, doesn't give me the right to publicly announce it."

What you said was something you thought to be common sense but from his reaction, you figured he was so used to the opposite – like he believed his privacy was made up of glass walls, anyone could look through it should they come across it.

You grabbed your utensils, cutting your pancakes in half before it turned soggy from the syrup. You gave half of it to Lahey, plopping it atop his charcoal-coloured crepe.

He mumbled something of a Thank You before digging in. The two of you enjoying the sweetness of a fluffy pancake for some time.

He finished his portion first, you noticed, then he wiped his mouth with a napkin before leaning into the table. Seemingly battling something within himself before he decided to speak again.

"So," He started, "What do you mean when you said "I've seen scary. Lived through it."?"

You raised an eyebrow, eating the last bit of the pancake in one smooth bite.

"Nu-uh," You shook your head as you dabbed the corner of your lips. "We're not that close yet, Lahey."

"Yet..?"

"Come on, Walmart Wolf." He scowled at that nickname, but you stood up anyway after leaving some money on the table for the food, a few extra five dollar bills for the tips.

It was sort of a good day, after all.

"It'd be boring if I just tell you my secrets. You've got to earn it."

It was right there, the 6ft something boy, hunched in a semi-circle booth, finally smiled. A wide, toothy grin that wrinkled the corner of his eyes.

That was the first of the many joyful things the two of you would begin to experience together.

———

a/n: i'd write a part two to this story if anyone's interested but for now i'll leave this open ended like this. tried my best to make the reader gender neutral as much as possible though.

[gmanwhore]

The inhabitants of Sunshine Terrace/Apartment Block 5598: Personal notes by The dOOrman! You know. The doorman. Of Sunshine Terrace.

Roman Stilinsky: Pleasant. Like no real stuff for him. We rarely ever talk. I mean, like. We talk enough for me to know him I guess? He hates the taste of black tea and he likes jazz. That’s all I really know. 

Lois Stilinsky: She’s a bit of a gossip, and is probably the best at makeup in the whole apartment! She’s not a huge fan of having to keep her looks the same all the time. She loves the smell of grapefruit and her favorite perfume smells like it. 

Robertsky Peachman: He doesn’t talk much! He’s not stupid like some people think, he’s just like that. He’s a hard worker and I can respect that. He can’t stand loud noises.

Albertsky Peachman: He can be just a bit rude, but it’s ok. It’s not often. He just wants to get home. I just don’t think he likes people all that much. He always shuts the door to the front lobby behind him even if it closes on its own. 

Angus Ciprianni: I don’t have mush to say anything but he is so fake. He also throws a lot of parties to literally everyone’s annoyance. Especially me! His shoelaces are fake, he can’t tie them and he hates birds. 

Selenne and Elenois Sverchtz: They are the faces of the “sameness is beauty” movement, a new trend encouraging people to stick to particular outfits and looks and not change them. As twins they were deemed the perfect candidates for this. They are a bit uncanny as they do in fact. Just act like the same person just reflected in a mirror. They also have cats. Two. They are twins. They are pleasant to be around, but tend to leave other people out of their inside jokes. One of their jokes is laughing at palimdromes. 

Arnold Schmicht: He used to be a horror writer before. Ten years ago. He is not trying horror writer anymore, he tends towards more domestic pieces generally inspired by our neighbours. I’ve read a few of his books, both old and recent. I find his new pieces also have a certain sense of dread built into them, like he wants so desperately to explore those darer topics again. You also wouldn’t clock him as a horror writer! He loves jokes, and is a very bright, talkative man. He’s also just great to hang out with. He loves being asked about his latest project, and he likes eating lemons like oranges. 

Gloria Schmict: She isn’t as done with everything as she looks! She’s just usually really tired after a long day of helping people at the bank. She has quite the dry sense of humour, but that doesn’t mean she’s not fun to talk to! She’s one of the most observant of my neighbours, which also makes her slightly paranoid. I definitely get it, though. We have a sort of solidarity I think. She’s afraid of spiders, but she likes snakes. Her favorite colour is yellow. 

Izaack Gauss: Despite his general air, he’s actually really easy to talk to. While I’m not close with him at all I get why people like him. He swears by using Gerome’s Hair Gel, it’s the only brand he uses. He also can’t stand the taste of mint unless it’s mixed in with something. 

Margarette Bubbles: Her favorite things to sew are dresses, and she actually specialises in bridesmaid’s dresses though she does do general repairs for people. She always has her bag of sewing materials on hand, and has a great eye for colour. She actually can’t really see out of her lazy eye, though she has horrible depth perception because of it. She’s a gossip QUEEN and knows quite a bit. Her house is really comfortable, and she has a lot of hand-sewn dog stuffed animals there since she loves dogs but can’t have them. She has a bias for St. Brenards. She makes the BEST turnovers I have ever eaten and she refuses to tell me her secret to them. Her favorite colours are burnt orange and royal purple, and she loves the smell of pine. 

Nacha Mikaelys: She almost always has something sticking out her hair, things just get tangled there! She says she’s been meaning to cut her hair for a while but she’s worried about getting mistaken for a doppleganger so she’s waiting until we have to get new ids. She’s really loud, but in a good way! She wears jewlery usually, she says she has a little bag for her earrings and bracelets for when she’s cooking. She owns a chef hat for home but doesn’t wear one at work. She collects her daughter’s broken slinkies and keeps them in her purse and she has a locket she refuses to tall me what’s in. She loves banana bread and her favorite animals are pigeons. She also has lovespoons hanging up in her apartment!

Anastacha Mikaelys: She doesn’t really like people, she gets overwhelmed easily in social situations so she avoids them. She likes slinkies, and the smell of normal household soap. She actually has a huge slinky collection, but she only lets you see them or play with them if she trusts you. She wants a hamster, and Nacha told me not to tell her but Nacha is saving up to suprise her. 

Mia Stone: She doesn’t believe fully in the dopplegangers and can be quite rude when coming through! She almost always “forgets” to tell me when she leaves so I can’t add her to my list. She is curt and to the point when she talks, and tends to overexplain things. Then again she works with small kids so I can let that slide. She knows how to tango. 

Dr. W.  Afton: He also thinks having a doorman is stupid, but he’s a bit ruder. He doesn’t really say hello to me and tends to turn his whole body to the door when I say he’s cleared to go. I think he doesn’t like the wait. His favorite colour is olive green. 

Francis Mosses: He isn’t all that interesting. He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t like it. He jokes about just sleeping in his car a lot, and sometimes he just. Randomly breaks into scared ranting about our situation. He tends to stay alone, and when I went over to his house once it was. Kinda depressing, it didn’t feel like he actually lived there at all. He likes ribbons and collects them off the street, and he says his favorite colour is scarlet. 

Steven Rudboys: He’s much less serious than he comes off. He speaks quietly and mumbles a lot, but he gets loud when he’s excited. He has a passion for the history of planes, but not really of flying. He only really became a pilot because he struggles with doing matinence on the planes. He likes puns, and when he realizes he has an in he lights up a bit. He likes cats and birds, and he’s really good at making a duck call. 

Mclooy Rudboys: He called me “sweetheart” once and I tried blowing him up with my mind. He makes jokes about his son possibly not being his??? He’s divorced at least three times and told me “he’s lost count” and apparently he fought in World War 2 and retired from being a pilot after that. He likes eagles and only smokes cigars. 

Alf Cappuccin: He’s sort of hard of hearing and tends to not like. Understand what I’m saying so I have to use cards so he gets what I’m saying. He’s a few years younger than McClooy. He likes his porridge with brown sugar and raspberries and he likes the smell of brown paper bags. 

Rafttellyn Cappuccin: Rafttellyn tends to be quite nervous and timid, she doesn’t really talk much. She has the highest voice by far. She dyes her hair, it’s actually grey but she gets a bit nervous about it. She loves apples and always has them in a wooden bowl on her table. Her perfume smells like old roses.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

hihi! congrats on such a cool milestone 💗 i am so excited to see what you’re going achieve in the future!

i would love to read this prompt with neighbor joel x reader, pre outbreak or post outbreak, that’s your choice :)

“Person A keeps ending up in Person B’s bed. It’s just a matter of time until “drunken mistake” is no longer a believable excuse.”

p.s. i ADORE seams it’s soooo good and i can’t wait to read more of it !! 💕 tysm

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your sweet message and this prompt! So I don't know why, but the moment I read the prompt, I just knew I had to make this a college AU. This reads very differently from Seams, which I hope is something you'll enjoy!

Joel Miller x college neighbour AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1285 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness, one bed

The first time it happens, it is a drunken mistake.

All these dorm rooms look the same, especially at four in the morning after clearing out all the tequila at the college bar.

It does smell nicer, cleaner. And the bed is on the other side of the room. But Joel can't really tell left from right nor up from down, so he just drops face first onto the duvet - so soft - and falls fast asleep.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely mystified by the appearance of a man in your bed after your toilet run in the early hours.

You recognise him. He lives a few doors down, and you've seen him around in the college football team jersey, almost always with a cheerleader hanging off his arm.

You may or may not have seen him in the corridor with just a towel around his waist, hair slicked back, on his way back from the communal showers.

You may or may not have stared at those ridiculously broad shoulders from behind your books as you went down the other side of the hallway.

Unsure of what to do - you have an early class in a few hours - you reach out and poke him firmly on the arm. You keep poking, not entirely convinced by what you're trying to achieve, until a hand appears, thick fingers closing around your wrist, and pulls.

He rolls you under him with a smooth turn of his hips. You barely have the presence of mind to let out a timid squeak when stern brown eyes bore into yours in the darkness.

'What are you doin'?' he demands, his voice so gravelly that you almost feel the lumps and bumps on the back of your neck.

You don't exactly have a short fuse. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the accusation in his tone has you snapping back, 'What am I doing? What are you doing?'

Your outburst seems to catch his attention, and he watches you closely as he replies, 'Tryin' to catch a wink.'

Reaching over to the nightstand, you flick on the little bedside lamp. You arch an eyebrow as he glances around as realisation dawns on him. 'Does this look like your room?'

'Oops,' he deadpans, but he doesn't move off of you. Instead, his eyes drop lower, pausing over your oversized college tshirt, and lower still, where your sleep shorts have ridden high up your bare thighs -

His eyes snap up to yours when you clear your throat, and he stiffens above you, Adam's apple bobbing with a swallow. 'Sorry, darlin'.'

Then he's gone.

The second time it happens, it's another drunken mistake.

He knocks this time, loud enough to wake you, and you trip over your feet to get the door.

'What now?' you gripe sleepily when his face appears, eyes glassy and reeking of cheap beer.

'Lost my keys,' he explains, words slightly slurred, leaning heavily on the doorframe.

'So?'

'Can I sleep in your room tonight?'

You stare at him, dumfounded. 'Don't you have friends?'

'They're all the way across campus. It's freezin' outside.'

With a sigh, you move to the side and he squeezes in past you. Too tired to care, you burrow head first into the covers, shuffling so that you're right up against the wall to make room behind you on the single bed.

But he doesn't climb in.

'What are you doing?' you grumble, not bothering to turn around to see for yourself.

'Uh, I'm sleepin' on the floor.'

You roll your eyes and pat the mattress. 'Just get in. I don't want you freezing to death on my rug.'

So he does, and when you wake up the next morning, his arms are tight around you, legs tangled in yours.

The third time it happens, you're both drunk for a change.

His team won the college derby, and there's a huge celebration at the local club with the bill being footed by the sponsors. Even with the promise of a free night out, your friends still have to physically drag your ass to the party.

You spot him easily from across the dance floor, in the same jersey he wears often. He's surrounded by hoards of girls, all keen to nab the bragging rights of being the one to fuck the team hero tonight.

Something twists in your stomach, which you quiet with a tequila shot.

And another.

And another.

You end up on the dance floor, and you never dance. You're just drunk enough to feel good about yourself even in a room full of jocks and sorority sisters, and when one of the quarterbacks on the team twirls you into a dance, you laugh and let him.

One minute, he's spinning you around, and the next - you're pulled nose first into a much broader chest that smells faintly familiar.

It's slightly jarring seeing him out of the context of your bed. Does he always look this grumpy?

'Congrats on winning the game,' you shout over the music, attempting to make conversation.

He doesn't budge, standing like a stone wall in the middle of the dance floor under the strobe lights. Too drunk to catch the nuance in his glare, you shrug and turn on your heel, intending to find that quarterback that you lost mid-spin -

Only to be hauled back to Joel's side by one big hand.

'What are you doing?' you demand with a frown. 'I'm trying to find the guy I was dancing with.'

'You're not dancin' with him.'

You blink. 'Why not?'

'He's a fuckin' asshole.'

'So what?'

He narrows his eyes at you. 'What do you mean so what?'

You roll your eyes. 'Why do I care if he's an asshole? I'm looking for a dance, maybe a fuck, it's not like I'm marrying him.'

His nostrils flare, and you see his fists clenching at his sides. 'You're not fuckin' him.'

You scoff. 'Watch me, Miller.'

Spotting the blond on the edge of the dance floor, you march right up to him, grab him by the collar and kiss him square on the lips.

Pulling back, you turn to give Joel a smug look, only to find that he's no longer where he was. Miffed, you scan the crowds, and it doesn't take you long to find him.

It's one thing to see the cheerleaders flirting and hanging off his every word when you pass each other in the hallways. It's another thing entirely to see him make out with one, not five paces away.

Blindly, you stumble out of the club, not bothering to get your coat even though it's bitterly cold outside. Your heels clatter loudly on the concrete, you probably shouldn't be walking alone back to the dorms, but you need to get out of there.

You hear him call your name, but you keep walking, eyes trained stubbornly in front of you.

He catches up easily, and with a growl, he wheels you around with one palm on your elbow. You fight him, pounding on his chest with tightly clenched fists, and he lets you, wrapping you in his jacket while you do, until you tire yourself out.

When all the jealousy bleeds out of you, you sag in his arms, and he has to hold you up by the waist. His breath brushes your temple. 'Wanna go home?'

He's warm, solid, when he slips into your bed behind you, one knee nudging between your thighs, fingers tangling in yours when he slings one arm over your waist.

You might both be drunk - but this is not a mistake.

[witchthewriter]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: thank you anon!

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, 18+

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You enjoy this a lot.

・But you would never tell Randall that. It would only fuel his arrogance - and he definitely has more than the average person

・Other people in town think it's completely normal behaviour for Randall though. He's always been defensive, possessive, especially of what was his.

・And that includes you.

・Randall demands to know where you are everyday, what you're doing and who it's with

・Anyone gets too close to you? Nah - he's saying something about it.

・Aka his bark is just as fierce as his bite. Any threats are usually followed through... and people rarely look you in the eye, especially when he's around.

・A small community with constant stressors can put anyone over the edge, but it doesn't take much for Randall

・His intimidating persona around other people has a complete turn around when you're alone.

・When Randall's with you, he's very sensitive, wanting your attention, following you everywhere.

・He doesn't want you to be afraid of him like everyone else is. Randall wants you to see the real him and love him anyway. It's vulnerable and that surprised you.

・Likes to smell you - nuzzles your neck, smells your hair when you walk past. When you're not together, he'll smell your clothes.

・Loves when you smell like him too.

・Still gets frazzled when you show him affection.

・Loves when you stroke his face and gently kiss his eyelids. Shivers run down his spine.

・Even though he thinks of you as his, he doesn't understand that you think of him as yours.

・To you, he's a guardian, a protector, someone who has your back no matter what. But you would die for him, just as he would die for you.

・At the root of his affections is the feeling that you'll get tired of him.

・But little does he know, you're just as obsessed with him.

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Likes to come up behind you and press his hard on against your backside. His mouth kissing the side of your neck, his hands wandering underneath your shirt.

"Mine," he grunts, turning you around and kissing your lips, hard.

・Spanks your ass, and usually with you across his lap with your ass in the air. Can range from slight slaps, to hard hits... depending on the mood

・Marks you up - hickies, bruises, scratches, bite marks.

・He likes fucking you in the bus, at night. In front of not only the creatures, but anyone who opens their curtains.

・You're also being loud enough that the neighbours can hear

"They need to know who you belong to."