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layaispunk · 1 month ago

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closer than ever

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: In the midst of a quiet, cold night in the woods, old feelings resurface between you and Joel.

warnings: bit of angst, mentions of loss, depictions of grief, established relationship (sort of), Ellie being a smart-ass, pet-names (sweetheart, darlin)

wc: 1.7k

note: I was making food for my dogs and I dropped everything to write this bdw.

The smell hit you first. Salty, metallic, and slightly rancid. Your stomach churned as you stared at the open can of dog food in your hands. It was the only thing Joel had managed to scavenge. "Best I could do, sweetheart," and you knew he meant well. He always did.

You tried not to gag, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth, shaking your head. "I can't do it, Joel," you muttered, pushing the can away. "I'll just throw it up, and that's even worse. I'd be dehydrated."

Joel's brow furrowed, his gaze flicking between you and the can. "You gotta eat somethin'. You're lookin' too pale."

Ellie, seated nearby and chewing on what little jerky was left, leaned over and made a face at the can. "Don't make her eat that, dude. That's disgusting," she said, her voice half-amused, half-horrified.

"It's all I could find. We're in the middle of fuckin' nowhere," Joel muttered defensively, shooting her a look.

"Yeah, well, it's dog food," Ellie retorted, stretching out the words like they were meant to gross him out. "She's not a dog, Joel."

Joel let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Ain't like i'm feedin' it to her by force."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped despite the situation. The woods were eerily still, the only sound coming from the crackle of the fire Joel had started for warmth. The air had a sharp chill to it - not enough to freeze you, but enough to remind you that the seasons were shifting. The three of you were on the move, searching for Tommy, hoping he'd have answers.

"Thank you, Joel, but I'm not eating that." you said, shaking your head. "Help yourself, though! Looks like its all yours," you added with a teasing smirk.

The teasing faded as the fire crackled low. The stars were unusually bright, their glow filling the sky. There were only two sleeping bags between the three of you. Joel must've noticed the worry crossing your face. "You can take mine. I'll be fine."

You blinked at him, incredulous. "Are you out of your mind? You're no good to us if you're frozen solid."

Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm in the cold night air. “I ain’t gonna freeze, darlin’,” he muttered, clearly amused by your concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then whispered, careful not to disturb Ellie, who was already deep in her sleeping bag. “We can just share. It’s big enough for the two of us.”

He stayed silent.

Joel and you had been together before everything fell apart. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to both of you. After he lost Sarah, things changed. The grief consumed him, and the man who once held you close became distant, shutting himself off from the world, including you. It had been a long time since he'd shown any affection, and it stung - but you'd never push it. A piece of him died with Sarah, and you knew how deeply he adored her.

You still remember it all too well. Two decades ago. The way he held Sarah’s lifeless body in his arms after she was shot, refusing to let go until you were lucky enough to find a cabin, a rare moment of luck amidst the chaos that day - the day hell broke loose on Earth.

He held her so tightly, like he was trying to stop time. With a slow, reluctant tenderness, he laid her on the unmade bed that once belonged to someone else, covered her as though she were still asleep, and left without saying a word to you or Tommy. And in that moment, a piece of him stayed behind, lingering in the stillness of that room.

Lately, though, things felt different. The more time you spent away from the QZ, trying to take Ellie to the fireflies ... he became softer around you, even more so around Ellie.

You could see how she was healing a part of him, the cracks in his heart starting to close, even if none of them were aware of it. But you were.

You've spent most of your life around Joel Miller. You knew him from the inside out. You never talked about how he's not affectionate with you anymore, not in the way he used to be before the outbreak.

You know he needs time and space, and you're ready to give him that, even if it meant slowly going crazy over it. You knew he hadn't fallen out of love with you; he made sure you knew that - whether it was giving you most of the food, making sure you had the warmest layer of clothes even if it meant him going without, or offering you what was left of his coffee grounds; and you know how much he loved coffee.

Even when words weren't there, his actions spoke louder, and you could feel the love in every small gesture, even if it was unspoken.

Your thoughts returned to Joel, as they often did, and how much he’d changed. How the man you’d once known - the one who had loved you so fiercely, despite the world falling apart - was slowly starting to resurface, little by little.

The crackling fire snapped, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced over at Joel, now starting to arrange the sleeping bag, his eyes distant yet soft, and his movements slow and deliberate as he gestured for you to get in. He gave you a nod, his eyes dark in the dim light.

You shook your head. “No, you go first,” you said with a small smirk. “You take up a lot more space than I do.”

He didn't argue. He nodded, listening to you without protest, and started climbing in, settling quickly. You followed, slipping in front of him, feeling the warmth of his body just behind you. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; it felt like nothing had changed, the familiar comfort of being close to him bringing back memories of the past. You shifted slightly, reminding yourself of how, more often than not, you used to be the little spoon.

"You alright?" his words bringing you back to the present. "Yeah," you replied softly. With that, he draped an arm over your hips, his hand gently resting against yours; the warmth of his touch grounding you.

It took you by surprise. His calloused hands were gentle, warm, reassuring you that he was still here, still the man who once held you close without hesitation.

You turned around to face him, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the soft glow of his face, illuminated by the faint light of the moon and the dying embers of the fire.

His features were more beautiful than ever; and without thinking, you leaned closer, your warm hands cupping his face gently. As your fingers brushed his skin, he closed his eyes, a quiet sigh escaping him.

Teary-eyed, your voice barely a whisper, the words coming out before you could stop them; "I missed you."

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his eyes lingering on your lips, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His heart raced, matching the rhythm of yours, as the distance between you both seemed to shrink. Slowly, ever so gently, his forehead touched yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you both. Closer than ever- physically, emotionally - like a puzzle piece fitting into place.

Your finger traced the outline of his lips, soft and tentative, as if asking for permission. It was all so delicate.

Then, with a breath that seemed to suspend time, you kissed him. Softly at first, gently, testing the waters, wondering how he would respond.

And then, he kissed you back. Not the tentative kiss you expected, but one full of depth, of yearning. It was slow, deliberate, as if he were pouring everything he had into that one moment—every ounce of love, every regret, every unspoken word. It was a kiss that spoke louder than any conversation ever could. This was enough. For you, it was enough.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes fluttered closed, both of you breathing in the silence, your hearts still racing but in sync.

Without a single word, without a need for more, you settled into each other’s arms, the unspoken understanding between you clear. And with that, you fell asleep, a quiet peace settling over you both.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou hbo #ellie tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

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thefanficmonster · 9 months ago

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Never Beating the Allegations

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A compilation of Colby and Y/N being far too obvious with their feelings for one another for the entire world to see. Basically, a YouTube documentation spanning several channels that marks the history of this goofy relationship

"It's fucking nighttime already, dude! We're running two hours behind schedule!" Sam complains through a smile, shaking his head at Colby who's trailing behind him with bags full of snacks. "All because someone spent those two hours scouring a store!

They're currently in Canada following the filming of a couple investigations for Hell Week with Kris and Celina. As Sam said, they were supposed to be two hours along the road back home already - a very tiny portion of their roadtrip back, seeing as how they didn't get to buy plane tickets on time. So, they settled for a two day roadtrip and the adventure it would bring on.

Colby, not at all bothered by Sam's accusations, smiles at the camera, "I promised Y/N I'd bring back signature Canadian snacks for her. There is no chance in hell I go home empty-handed. She'd kill me." As if to prove he is serious about his quest, he lifts the two heavy looking bags for the camera to get a better shot of them.

Sam's smile falters, replaced by a highly offended frown, "So you're telling me we're not gonna eat any of those snack on the road?" Colby - folding with laughter, mind you - shakes his head. "Are you fucking ki-...."

* * * * *

"I'm almost done!" Y/N calls out from her spot in front of the mirror where she's been stuck for the past thirty minutes trying to even out her winged liner.

A groan comes from a far distance but is still picked up by her phone microphone and is heard by the audience of Y/N's Instagram live, "You keep saying that!"

Not ten seconds later, the door is thrown open, provoking a laugh from the girl. She lowers her hand and takes her attention away from her reflection to pay her roommate proper acknowledgement. "Give me a second, sheesh! Can't a girl make herself pretty in peace?"

Although he never enters the frame fully, the live chat is already flowing with cheers of Colby's name. Whether it was wishful thinking or an educated guess on their part is a mystery. Regardless, they're entirely correct, their suspicions confirmed when they hear his voice and see his arm come into frame, his hand cupping Y/N's chin to tilt up her face.

"You're always pretty." He says, causing her to roll her eyes. At that, he boops her nose with his pointer finger before withdrawing his arm, "You have five minutes to wrap things up."

Y/N's gaze lingers on him until he's out of sight. She shakes her head and catches the camera's eye in the mirror reflection, "The audacity on that man. Tsk

* * * * *

@_y/n_dragonfly Fuck Valentine's Day @_colbybrock

Needless to say, the comments went wild, running with this post on Y/N's Instagram as unofficial proof of the ship the fandom seems to hold so near and dear to their hearts.

Hope dies last, after all. Maybe one day their ship might set-sail.

* * * * *

"Ok, so, update..." Colby chuckles, looking away from the camera he's currently holding blogging style to make sure he doesn't trip on anything, "We were supposed to go grab food before starting the investigation, but then...." He flips the camera to show the backyard of the abandoned house they'll be exploring tonight, "Y/N found a trampoline in the backyard."

As the camera focuses, both Sam and Y/N come into clear view - the former laughing at the latter who's too busy to care. She's too occupied having the time of her life on this raggedy looking trampoline, reveling in childlike joy as she hops around.

Colby sets the camera on the tripod Sam had left nearby, wanting to capture this wholesome moment, even if it didn't make it into the final cut of the video. Though he doesn't see why it wouldn't.

After adjusting the camera, he turns to find Sam has joined Y/N on the trampoline, far more hesitant than she is, though.

"You guys are ridiculous." He remarks as he approaches them, shaking his head with a bright smile on his face.

Y/N lands on her knees so she can be at least halfway at eye-level with her friend, offering him a beckoning hand, "Come be ridiculous too. Don't be a bore."

Colby scoffs and rolls his eyes. Still, he accepts her hand but instead of using it for support to climb up to join his friends on the trampoline, he tugs on it. Y/N lets out a little yelp as she's enveloped in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, unwilling to have a rather unpleasant encounter with the ground.

"Colby! Put me down!!" Put her down he most certainly doesn't, instead opting to spin her while securely holding her in his arms, eliciting mock terror-filled screams from her.

Eventually, he does get persuaded into joining her and Sam on the trampoline.

And the whole fiasco eventually makes it into the final cut and onto the internet.

And, inevitably, in edits.

* * * * *

It's an innocent, wholesome TikTok they filmed in the garden of the Conjuring house. Yes, the Conjuring house, no biggie.

Sam is the cameraman who much to his relief didn't even need to orchestrate anything. He just pressed the record button on his phone to capture the tomfoolery going on. The lighting is perfect, provided by the few remaining rays of sunlight before dark befell them. A little lighthearted fun was more than needed before they'd have to go back in the house to chat with spirits for the night.

The video captures Y/N in her natural element - dancing goofily with the pair of headphones they use for the Estes method on her head. The caption under the video reads: 'When the spirits drop a sick beat' and is quite the perfect depiction of the trio's dynamic.

Sam documenting the chaos. Y/N being the chaos. And Colby observing her chaos with heart-eyes from the sidelines.

Although Sam hadn't originally noticed his best friend's awed gaze accidentally captured in the video, the fans most definitely noticed. And, as per usual, they ran with it.

*sigh* These two are never beating the allegations.

@benbarnesprettygurl @jessy-shine @mushycore @richardsamboramylove55 @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @rei-ito

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach x reader

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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

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Rewrite of the Shazam! Movie

I… personally disliked the Shazam movie. It could’ve been better in my opinion. So, this is how I think the movie should’ve gone.

So… let’s just get to it.

It’s 1944 during the height of World War II. People are abuzz with wanting to learn all the newest updates on the war. Whiz Radio is a Fawcett owned company on the verge of bankruptcy due to its lack of popularity.

The movie opens with Billy running from a couple men. In his hands are a couple of canned food items, bread, and other things. The opening credits would simply be Billy running past a wall plastered with posters advertising the new position open at Whiz. Every time a person would run in front of the wall, the credit would change to another person. So like Billy would run and the opening director’s name would appear, one of the men running after him would pass in front of the wall and the screen writer’s name would appear, etc. There can be like ten dudes for comedic effect.

During this entire chase, Billy would be nameless, the only things he’d be called are brat, thief, etc by the men. He eventually lose them in an alleyway and retreat to whatever hobbit hole he’s staying in. On his trudge back home he’d pass by a mansion, Ebenezer’s mansion, because remember he stole Billy’s inheritance. He’d stop and stare and we’d get a whole flashback of him learning how his parents and sister died, his uncle kicking him out, and so on. This is where we’d actually learn Billy’s name. After this, he’d continue his trudge back home and that scene would end with him walking into his apartment and closing the door with the camera getting the door shut in it’s face.

The next scene would start with Billy opening the door and heading out. We’d see a little bit of Billy’s day such as him taking on odd jobs and such for cash. But, when he’s on his way back home, he hears a whisper and looks over to see… his dad? We don’t actually get to see his dad‘s face. It’s just fuzzy. He waves to him and walks off with Billy following after.

Billy: “Dad?”

Billy’s Dad(?): *doesn’t answer and keeps walking*

Billy: “Dad?” *sounds more urgent*

Billy’s Dad(?) leads to the train station. They get a cute little moment of waiting by the tracks together were fuzzy C.C. offers his hand which Billy takes as they get on the train. As soon as they get on the train, Billy’s dad disappears and Billy’s left alone.

Then, fast forward the usual thing. The Wizard tells him that he’s worthy and pure hearted, and that he should be the Champion of Magic and to light the brazier if he ever needs him. Like usual he dies from getting crushed by the rock.

We see Billy stuck with no idea of what to do with his Marvel form. But, he gets his idea to be a superhero when he’s walking out of the train station and passes by a war propaganda poster with Bulletman and Spy Smasher on it. We get a quick little monologue about how they’re both amazing heroes and Billy even drops a little detail about how he used to have Bulletman’s action figure. This is when one Billy decides that he wants to be like them. A hero who can spread joy through saving others. Someone with a greater purpose. Someone who is more than Billy Batson. (Place emphasis on the self-deprecation of how he wants to be more) The scene ends there with the camera facing Billy’s back as he stares at the poster.

The next scene opens with Captain Marvel’s back to the camera. It’s now been two weeks and Billy is now officially Captain Marvel. We get a little scene of him, stopping a purse snatcher like it’s nothing. Right after him stopping the snatcher is when Sivana’s finally introduced. He’s also Danny DeVito because I say so. Anyways, since the movie is meant to be lighthearted, Sivana acts much like a cartoon supervillain. He has this robot suit and they duke it out before Marvel beats him and takes him to jail.

Of course, Sivana breaks out, but while he’s breaking out, Billy is at the Whiz Radio trying to get the job because he needs money. We get a little scene of Mr. Morris interviewing Billy.

Mr. Morris: “Now, do you have any experience reporting? In the slightest?”

Billy: *in the fanciest clothes he could find, aka his red and yellow sweater with his jeans* “Ah… no. But I tell stories to the other homeless kids and they like them. So, I was kinda hoping that would be enough….?”

Yeah, Billy was not Mr. Morris‘s first choice. So instead, Mr. Morris makes a deal that if Billy can turn in Sivana, he’d give the kid the job, not that he believed the kid could catch a Supervillain. After this interaction, Billy leaves bummed that he probably isn’t gonna get it because he thought Sivana was just a one off thing and was still in jail. Eventually, though he finds out, he broke out.

So Marvel goes around looking for Sivana only to realize that this time it won’t be so easy to catch him. Somehow, Sivana upgraded from that one incident with Marvel. This results in Marvel running around, actually having to gather information as both Billy and Marvel, both through spying as a little kid, and intimidating goons as a grown man. Every time he can uncover a little bit of information we get shown in a notepad with facts on it and as the information gathering goes on, it gets filled with more and more notes and even little drawings and scribbles too. I would also like to see Billy scratchy handwriting, and Marvel‘s beautiful handwriting, alternating.

Unfortunately, when Billy is spying on some more goons, he accidentally gets caught and tied to a chair. This is where he meets Sivana face-to-face as Billy instead of Marvel.

Sivana: “That imbecile sent a kid? Gosh.” *rolls his eyes*

So, yes, he gets trash talked straight to his face and then alone in the in the room. This is when Billy discovers that he doesn’t need Marvel to be great. He gets his Miles Morales moment and lightnings the binds off of him, rips off the gag covering his mouth and says his magic word. Billy leaves as Marvel and as Sivana is wrecking havoc, he gets sent a video from a security camera in the room of Billy transforming.

Sivana: “It was that little brat the whole time?! The sneaky little thing was right under my nose!”

He throws a bit of a temper tantrum, and Marvel finally shows up to throw hands. They have their big battle, they somehow end up in a secluded area, Marvel finally beat him, and drags him to the Whiz building as Billy. The scene ends with Billy walking into Mr. Morris‘s office with Sivana knocked out. He has the biggest widest smile on his face. He looks the happiest he’s ever been in this movie. This scene ends like the first one with closing the door on the camera, but with Billy proclaiming that they have to talk business.

The end.

As for the end credits, after they play, we get a tiny little tidbit at the end that’s supposed to take place two years later and it's of Sivana working on a something with his back faced towards the camera while in the background, we hear Billy on the radio reporting on something. The camera then proceeds to slowly pan over him until it’s looking directly down on him and you can see in nice big bold letters: Suspendium.

Yup. The Suspendium bomb.

Boom. Perfect cliffhanger. I’m out. Deuces. I’m going to sleep now.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #dr sivana

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aquaquadrant · 11 months ago

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Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing.

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…”

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’.

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.”

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop.

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second.

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it?

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

“... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is.

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #scarian #my writing #listen i am only a casual phasmo enjoyer and idk anything about architecture school pls don't come for me abt any inaccuracies #just here for a good gay spooky time #wanted to see if i'd be any good at writing commissions (ie. solely based off someone else's idea) and i had FUN #but it's always easy to be inspired by mel <3

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nevernonline · 1 year ago

Text

✧.* must love dogs; csc one shot.

✧.* synopsis: after a breakup (three years ago) your friend finally attempts to get you back on the saddle by creating you a dating profile despite your protesting, hooking you up on dates with some of the eligible bachelors of their choice, none of which impressed you. until one day you met the boy with the dog.

part of my seventeen movie series.

paring: seungcheol x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.)

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lovers

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes.

word count: 3.7k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. I hope you enjoy my lil must love dogs inspired fic, its one of my fav movies!! xo.

“So how was bachelor number five?”

With a roll of your eyes, you gazed at your friend Seungkwan resting his feet on top of your shared glass coffee table, ticking the tip of the city guide book and magazines rested on top.

“Boring. He was nice or whatever, good looking, but he wouldn’t shut up about league of legends and his job. Other than that he asked me no questions about myself or what I do. A failure as most would call it.”

“So I take it you wouldn’t want to go out with him again?”

“God, whatever gave you that impression? I thought you could tell we were headed for marriage?”

“Hey. I’m doing you a very nice thing, you don’t have to be so sarcastic about it.”

“Look, I know. But just because Jun is getting married and I still haven’t moved on doesn’t mean I need to be dating all of the sudden.”

The boy patted the seat next to him. Scooching over from his spot, making room for you on the couch.

“ It’s been nearly three years since you ended it with him. At least fuck someone before you dry up.”

“That’s fucking gross and what vibrators are for.”

A small scream left your friend's mouth as he covered his ears trying to remove what he had just heard coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n his wedding is in two months, we need to find someone to bring that’s not me. You don’t want to feel the embarrassment of his pity party and everyone feeling sorry for you.”

“Why can’t you just be my date?”

“Too obvious. Plus your whole family will be there, just do it or you know your parents will be in your case again. This ‘ secret man’ you’ve been seeing doesn’t exist and I think your Mom is starting to catch on.”

He was right. Your parents come from a high status, as do your ex boyfriends, they were the reason you both had met and became friends in the first place. But, when your relationship ended you lied to them, it was working well until you got a call from your very upset mother telling you Jun showed up to your house with his family and a girl on his arm that wasn’t you.

“Okay, then why can’t I choose my own date?”

“The men you chose to quote on quote date are literally disturbing, I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Like that one dude you brought here last time? Whatever the fuck his name was literally was wearing a necklace vial of his own blood and claimed drinking your own urine and reusing water is the only way we can save the planet.”

“Okay, but he was nice.”

“He literally didn’t flush the toilet because he only went number one. That’s fucked, no.”

“Can I at least, like at the very least have some approval over the men you match me with then?”

“Maybe.”

“ Kwanie, please. Come on, don’t make me use the what goes around card, it’s my turn”

“No, it's absolutely my turn.”

“Not true, you wasted it two months ago when I had to bail you out of that strange house party orgy thing by saying your dog died and coming in crying to a bunch of naked strangers. You owe me.”

“Valid.”

“How did you not realize what that party was anyway?”

“This is not currently about my life failures, but yours my beautiful friend.”

Laughing at Seungkwan's major mishap, you forgot to greet your dog, Lucky. She was waiting and crying at your feet, finally waking up from her sweet slumber to greet you.

“Hello my baby, do we have to go outside?”

“She went for a walk this afternoon, but after her dinner she crashed so she probably wants a walk. I can go if you want to change or shower.”

“No it’s alright, I can take her, you're already in your pj’s and after my date I need a distress, want anything from the mart?”

“Ice cream?”

With a small nod you jumped up, taking the small curly creature in your arms and grabbing her harness before heading back outside into the warm spring air.

Ten minutes into your evening stroll, you decided to sit on the green wooden bench overlooking the water, the same bench your grandmother always spoke about when you asked her the same story about how she and your grandfather got engaged. The gold plaque with their names rubbing off sitting behind your back.

Suddenly you heard a man yelling from behind you, running through the green grass lit up with fluorescent lights.

“Hey, Kkuma, no come back.”

A small white dog came up behind Lucky sniffing her and starting to play, you noticed her cute hairclip and ran your hands through her fur.

“God, I’m sorry. She normally doesn’t run off like that.”

“It’s okay my dog lov-“

As you turned around to look into the round eyes of the owner, you were stunned with how beautiful he was.

His dark hair pushed under a cap, a white t-shirt too big for his frame sitting beautifully in his toned shoulders, and his red sweatpants matching his shoes.

The unfamiliar man was bending down now petting your precious pet and his own at the same time talking to them in sweet baby voices.

“This is Kkuma by the way, and you are?”

“Y/N”

“Hi y/n, you’re so cute, you and kkuma can be best friends if your mom lets you.”

You let out a roaring laugh realizing he thought you had introduced your pet and not yourself.

“Oh sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just I’m y/n this is Lucky sorry my fault.”

“Oh god, cool. Sorry Lucky, I’m Seungcheol. You can call me Cheol and this is Kkuma.”

“Nice to meet you Cheol and Kkuma.”

“You too. Look I know I just met you and all, but I’m new to the area. I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee and let the girls hangout sometime?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Let me give you my number.”

Seungcheol handed you his cell phone with a new contact page pulled up giving you full reign to type your name and number into his list.

Handing the device back to him your fingers touched, creating an electric shock, to not like you to believe in signs, but for some reason it felt like the universe trying to tell you something.

“Thank you, I’ve actually got to get going, but if you're free tomorrow would you want to grab coffee and hangout at the dog park?”

“Yeah, totally. Just text me a time, we can just meet here. What kind of coffee do you drink? There’s a good spot by my apartment. I can just pick it up for us.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you. Just a black americano is cool or a cold brew whichever.”

“No fun I see.”

“How would you know that? Just because I don’t like sugary drinks doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”

“I don’t know, we will see.”

“We will. I’ll catch you tomorrow girls.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

Seungcheol left the same way he came running through the grass with Kkuma on his heels, following him all the way back to their home.

Strolling back down the pathway back to your apartment, you could help but feel butterflies in your stomach, you knew nothing about the man you just met other than his name and his cute dog, but there was a lot of unknown.

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat, you unlocked the front door and watched Lucky sprint back into Seungkwan lounging on the couch, eating for the ice cream you had forgotten.

“Where’s the snacks? Also why are you smiling like an idiot you’re freaking me out.”

“We met a guy with his dog, a very cute guy might I add, who actually asked for my number and wants to get coffee tomorrow.”

“ What the fuck, it’s late tell me he doesn’t live in the park?”

“No he said he just moved to the area, he was clearly not a park dweller he had keys, and smelt amazing actually.”

“Smelling strangers? A new low even for you”

“Oh my god, fuck off.”

Seungkwan pulled his phone out and opened various social media apps preparing himself for best friend stalking duties.

“What’s his name?”

“Seungcheol, not sure about his last name, but he goes by Cheol and his dog was Kkuma.”

“Great.. okay, found him I assume?”

“What the fuck, how? Let me see.”

“Eager aren’t we?”

“Fuck off?”

Grabbing Seungkwan's phone from his grip, you scroll quickly through the new faces' social media.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

“Okay, let me see. Wait, he's actually hot AND seems to have his own business?”

“Oh my god.”

“Here, look”

After the next few hours, you and your friend stumble on into your separate rooms preparing yourself for slumber, which never seems to reach you and before you know it dawn is creeping its way through your curtains, and your backup preparing yourself for a day with you and Lucky's new friends.

Something about your energy was excitable and nearing frantic, you could wait to step outside into the fresh air with your pocket sized princess at your side, but it was still early.

You had decided on pampering yourself for this morning, finding the need to make yourself up, you spread on your skin care with glee, drew perfect lines of eyeliner and strained your hair, pulling it up into a nice tight ponytail the hair tie matching the taupe tone of your sweat suit perfectly. Before you knew it it was 9:45 a perfect time for you and Lucky to step outside the door.

Placing her in her tote bag, you stepped inside of your favorite coffee shop, the light pink walls covered in photos and paintings, the smell of the espresso seemed sweeter.

“Morning, y/n you look beautiful today. Would you like the usual?”

“Thank you, for me, yes. But can I also get a large americano, just black and he didn’t tell me iced or hot, so iced is good I think? Or maybe hot with a cup of ice on the side? If that’s okay?”

“He? Did you finally start dating someone?”

“Oh no, just a friend of mine. Seungkwan told you shit about me didn’t he?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No worries, can I actually get two of the plain croissants and two of the flower dog cookies too?”

“No problem, it’ll be right out.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a seat next to the pick up counter you scrolled through the instagram of the boy you’re meant to be meeting, telling yourself it’s just to remember his face, but really it was to get a peek into what else he’s into or if he was single.

“Y/N”

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank you guys, see you tomorrow.”

Picking up the paper coffee carrier and pastry bag, you waved goodbye to the baristas and briskly walked back to the bench you were at yesterday, your bench, spotting the back of Seungcheol’s head watching the water with his dog.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, no problem. I just got here.”

Placing your items down on the bench, you freed her bag and greeted Kkuma alongside her before taking your seat.

“Here’s your coffee, I wasn’t sure if you wanted hot or iced so I got you a cup of ice too just in case, a croissant, and a little treat for your girl too.”

“Wow thank you so much, hot is fine actually. How are you?”

“Good, nervous. I mean it’s not every day you meet a stranger for coffee.”

Seungcheol laughed, tipping his head back slightly before taking a bite of his pastry.

“Sorry. I know it’s weird, you just seemed like someone I wanted to get to know, and Kkuma liked you so I figured you’re good people.”

“Well, thank you. You too. Lucky generally does not like men other than my friend Seungkwan, my dad, and my ex-boyfriend so consider yourself special.”

“I do.”

“So what brought you to this neighborhood? Work, a relationship?”

“No relationship, but actually my business partner is from here. We decided to open our warehouse and stuff here because it’s much better than doing it in the city. We have a spirit company and we’re planning on opening a brewery and bar, so that’s why I’ve been working late nights. I guess it served me well, I made a friend on my first day.”

“You’ve only been here for a full day? What the hell? You already know the best spot in town. What kind of stuff do you guys make?”

“Beer and soju mainly, we’ve been working on it for five years now and are finally at a spot to open up and start selling it to people, which is cool. But what about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a medical student actually, my parents are both doctors, I used to really want to be one too, but I don’t know, I don’t really have the same passion for it as I used to.”

“Well what would you do if you had the choice?”

“I always wanted to design stuff for dogs, start a rescue, anything like that. I got so happy seeing Kkuma as an accessory girl.”

“Yeah, she’s very stylish. I think you should go for it, you know? Why waste time becoming something for someone else and risk being unhappy just for their sake?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t even know how to start a business on my own, let alone tell my parents.”

“Hey, I didn’t either and look where it’s gotten me.”

You turned back to the water, staring into the calm blue waters, trying not to go into your own head.

“You’re oddly inspiring, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you, y/n. You’re oddly sassy, I’ll give you that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“You already tried to clock me by saying I’m no fun because I drink black coffee and you said oddly inspiring like a back handed compliment. You definitely are, but I like it.

“Good.”

You had continued your twice weekly hangouts with Kkuma and her dad for two weeks now, getting excited whenever the days roll around to see the two of them again, but you haven’t hung out once without them around, which made you wonder if your friendship or crush rather on this boy was only due to your dogs being friends themselves.

Seungkwan tried setting you up on more and more dates with more and more duds, he was starting to lose hope himself, knowing that the one person he could set you up with was Seungcheol but he didn’t want to overstep.

Strolling home from another failed connection, you decide to stop and have a beer before going home to give the dirty details to Seungkwan about who you had just met.

Pulling open the tab of one of your drinks from your six pack, you took a deep breath and sat down, feeling your eyes welling up with tears.

Another can opened as you went to take the first sip. A hand comes on your shoulders, whispering a boo in your ears.

“What the fuck!”

Jumping up from your seat the hand on your shoulder belonged to Seungcheol, the look in his eyes went from happy to concerned as he saw the small streaks of tears on your cheeks, you top now dribbled with spots of beer.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Want a beer?”

“Sure, thanks. I’m sorry I scared you, I thought you heard me behind you.”

“It’s alright, I was in my own world anyway. You look nice, where are you headed?”

“Soft opening for my bar actually, I texted you, but I figured you didn’t respond because you were busy.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I would’ve loved to come. I was a bit preoccupied on an awful fucking date.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“Well the good news is you technically didn’t miss it, it doesn’t start for another twenty minutes and you’re dressed very nice. It worked out.

“Fuck I wish I paid more attention, I could’ve got you some flowers or something.”

“Next time. Will your roommate be alright taking care of Lucky?”

“Yeah of course, he knew I would be out tonight. I’ll text him just to be sure.”

“Cheers to hanging out without our kids?”

“Definitely.”

With that suddenly your awful night and doubts about your relationship with the raven haired boy went out the window.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Seungcheol lent his arm out for you to wrap your own around, and you both stayed out that way for a few moments, before discarding your cans and walking the way to his new venture.

“Here it is, you ready?”

“When you told me you were opening this up I thought you hadn’t even started? But it looks like it’s fully ready.”

“Ah, well we had planned to wait a bit, but we’re getting too antsy, so here we are.”

“It’s beautiful, holy shit.”

“Thanks, sit here, I’ll be right back.”

You took a seat on the green leather booth, looking around and taking in the ambiance of the custom lighting and ribbon like wallpaper, when a blonde gentleman walked over sitting down across from you.

“Y/n? Right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you…”

“Jeonghan, I’m Cheol’s business partner.”

“Jeonghan, right. Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot.”

“Likewise, you’re so much prettier than Cheol let on actually.”

“Oh?”

Without a chance to interrogate the new face further Seungcheol walked back over to your table, setting down a few bottles of various spirits for you to try, including a couple of cocktails.

“He didn’t scare you too much did he?”

“Not at all, he was just telling me actually how much prettier I am than you alluded to.”

“Jeonghan, don’t do that to her, come on. You know very well I told you she was pretty, I even showed you her instagram, you agreed.”

“I know, I just wanted to make you tell her yourself and my job is done, see you around y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As Jeonghan left the table you felt your cheeks growing with heat, unsure if it was the alcohol or the fact that Seungcheols friend made him confess he thought you were good looking.

“Sorry about him, he’s a menace.”

“No need to be sorry, I have my own menace at home and I don’t mean my dog.”

Seungcheol laughed, pouring you a shot of his very own soju to taste, filling with anticipation hoping you enjoy the drink he’s serving you, looking for your approval became a big part of his mind lately.

Lifting your glass up to his and clinking them together, the liquor poured down the back of your throat filling your mouth with sweetness and warmth.

“Holy shit.”

“Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“No, very good. That’s actually delicious. It’s so clean and fresh.”

“That makes me so happy to hear.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Okay, beer next. This is just a standard sour, some lime and sea salt, sort of beach vibes.”

“Sounds amazing, okay.”

Tipping your head back you sipped at the foamy top of the glass, savoring the flavors in your mouth.

“I hate you so much.”

“What? Why?”

“Seungcheol, you're way too humble when you talk about your business, this shit is amazing. I said I hate you because I’m going to crave this shit and I’ll have to see you all the time.”

“I thought you liked seeing me all the time?”

“You’re okay.”

“I have to say it’s cool to be here with you without the dogs, not that they distract too much, but they definitely take away giving you my full attention.”

“I mean how could they not, they’re cute as fuck,”

“So are you.”

“Wow, two drinks in Cheol and you’re already calling me cute? I wonder what else you’ll say the more you drink?"

“Technically we’re four drinks in, but I guess I remember the time I spent with you more than you do. Did those drinks on the bench mean nothing to you?”

“Oh fuck, I did forget. I guess technically I’m five drinks in then, catch up, bitch.”

You and Seungcheol spent the rest of the night being greeted by his friends, most of them already assuming who you were, letting you know that Seungcheol talks about you more than you realized.

Feeling your blood alcohol content rising, you decided to take a step outside and refresh.

The bell of the door opened up behind you, putting you face to face with his cherry lips once again, watching them light up a hand rolled cigarette to his lips.

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to step out for a second. Are you good?”

“Very. Want a cig?”

“No, I’m good for now. Ask me again later.”

“So will there be a later? You’re not ditching me now?”

“I’d never do that.”

“So, y/n does this maybe get me a chance to take you on a date? I’m kind of drunk so I’m feeling oddly bold.”

“Is this not sort of a date?”

“I was hoping you thought so. Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Before we go on our date though, y/n. I have one final question?”

“Yes?”

“Do you still think I’m boring?”

“A little.”

Seungcheol grabbed your waist and spun you around, causing his perfectly rolled tobacco to fall on the sidewalk.

Blissfully you were giggling and laughing under the red led lights of his bar.

“Take it back.”

“Nope.”

“Please.”

You looked into his puppy dog eyes and did something out of your comfort zone. Wrapped your hands loosely around his neck, placing a deepened kiss onto his lips.

His mouth tasted of cigarettes and salt with a hint of vanilla from the lip balm he always had on him.

“Is that a good ‘sorry I called you boring’ kiss?”

“It’ll do for now.”

“Good. They’ll be more where that came from.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

You and Seungcheol unwrap from each other, finding Jeonghan standing and cheering in the window watching the two of you.

“Can’t believe I got a hot date and a sister for Kkuma all in one.”

“You lucky dog.”

703 notes · View notes

bnhaficsforthesoul · 6 months ago

Text

Dabi and Shigaraki Soulmate AU

Dabi

Your soulmate's name is tattooed on your skin

you live in a world where everyone over the age of 16 has a name written on their body somewhere, belonging to their soulmate

always an exciting day, and you were ecstatic as you searched your body in the mirror to find the words as they popped up

soon, along your collar bone, the name you were looking for finally appeared

Touya Todoroki

you had heard of the todoroki family, Endeavor was the number 2 hero after all, and you knew he had children. Possibly this soulmate was one of them?

however you found very little information on his children's identities, but you were hopeful that you would find something eventually

however, you do eventually find a few articles from a few years ago that tell you the worst news you could imagine - touya todoroki had died in a fire

it's been years now, you're in your early 20s, and have mostly accepted the fact that you'd never get your soulmate. you hoped to find someone one day you could still love like one, but most people aren't super into dating someone with a visible reminder that they don't belong together

over these years, you've made your way into being a small villain as well. no one serious, it happened mostly out of necessity, but you're a villain nonetheless

which helps lead you to an almost dorky looking little group of villains, rightfully called the league of villains to keep up with the dorky appearance

none of them really seem all that serious, kind of just seem like a bunch of people who have no where else to go, which you can't judge them for

toga, a cute younger girl who had quickly turned friendly with everyone there, was fascinated with the idea of soulmates. you didn't blame her, she had only recently gotten her name, but this led her to asking everyone if they had met theirs yet, what their names are, anything about them.

most people didn't want to talk about it, and the ones who did didn't have anything interesting to say. your leader insisted that soulmates were a waste of time, and the emo looking dude by him agreed

you felt bad that toga wasn't getting the conversations she was looking for though, and you decided you'd show her yours.

"Touya todoroki? isn't that that pro heros last name? Do you think your soulmate is a hero?"

you shook your head, smiling sadly as you told her "no, he's been dead for years. never even met the dude"

she frowned, feeling sad for you, and changing the convo made you miss the wide eyed stare directed at you from across the room

dabi, who had caught your name earlier but blew it off as a coincidence since you only said your first name, was actually stunned

when he was younger, he dreamed of a happy life with his soulmate, but after waking up from the coma he barely ever spared a thought about them

now, here you were, right in front of him and clearly sad about the idea that you didn't have a soulmate

and for the most part, he was so fucking grateful that you had no way of knowing who he was. hearing his name made the smallest part of him want to get to know you, but he has more important things to do. plus, realistically, he doesn't know you. he doesn't owe you anything

so he never said anything. never even gave a hint of who he was. you two did get close over time, always relying on one another for help and support

it wasn't until probably a year later when in a fight dabi gets badly wounded, he's unconscious, and you're panicking, where things begin to unravel

he clearly has a huge gash in his torso, and your main focus is stopping the bleeding, so you cut open his clothes as you need to and begin fixing him up as best as you can

in the middle of doing this, you see what looks like a tattoo along his ribs. and you think nothing of it, till you realize it's his soulmate mark. he's never mentioned anything about his soulmate, and you couldn't help your twinge of jealousy at the idea of someone out there being his soulmate.

even if you couldn't have your real soulmate, you've come to really care about dabi since you've met him. you don't know if you love him, but you at least have a little secret crush

so, you take a peek, and you get dizzy when you see what it says.

that's your name. your full name. exact.

you're stunned, speechless, can't even process how you feel right now.

and as dabi starts to wake up, and he asks what you're doing, you can't help but weakly say "Touya?"

he mentally curses, immediately realizing you saw his mark. but he can't do anything about it now, and he's kind of stuck laying here with you as you keep him from dying

"...yeah, that's me"

you're confused, you ask him why he never told you, you're rambling out questions and he can't even keep up with it.

'listen, when we met, I heard toga read that name off your chest. I see it almost every day. I've known this whole time, but before, and even now, I have plans I have to carry out. back then I didn't tell you because I couldn't be bothered to care with you, but now I didn't want to tell you because I wouldn't know what to do. I can't promise love, or even being alive, and it seemed easier for you just thinking he, or I, was dead."

you stared at him, processing everything

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked without your permission... but, I want you to know that I won't force anything on you. If you want a relationship, I'm more than happy. I'm happy with whatever you give me, even if nothing changes. I just ask that you don't push me away."

he nodded, and told you he promised to keep you around as much as possible, and that was that

he still didn't know what he wanted to do with you, but you grew more attached every day until you could say with certainty that soulmate or not, you were in love with him.

nothing would come of this for a long time though, maybe a few nights of make out sessions with too much sexual tension, but no real talk of feelings or relationships.

you grew kind of comfortable with it like this, even if sometimes you wanted a more stereotypical relationship with all the dumb sappy stuff, you had thought you didn't even have a soulmate for so long that just being near him was a blessing

dabi decided he didn't want to think of you as a soulmate. he didn't want to think he had any sort of obligation to love you or treat you a certain way. if anything was going to come of this, it would be of his own will. not the universes.

which is why it took so long, dabi could always admit you were attractive, and over time you were a great friend and someone he could truly care about, but he didn't know If he LOVED you, he didn't know if he could feel that serious for you

so it took some time, and took some real thinking for him decipher his weird complex feelings towards you, until eventually he decided that yes, he could love you.

but he wanted to wait until he did love you to do anything. and also, your existence didn't change the fact that he had plans and goals he needed to see through

so now, he's just done his big reveal, now the whole world knows who he is, and even though he didn't kill his brother like planned, he still deems it a somewhat success

he's elated to at least have come this far, he could do the rest next time, but right now all he can focus on is how happy you are for him. both for him and that he came out okay somehow. he had told you about his past in little bits, so you didn't need to 'comfort' him in any way, even though it hurt you to think about how awful his life has been

but he has his head on your lap as he stares up at your face, focused as you help him fix the staples for the new scars that have formed from this fight, and he felt so truly comfortable right now.

he has no stress, he had no anxiety about the future, it was just you and him right now.

'I love you, you know'

he spoke so casually, as if you hadn't been waiting your entire life to hear him say those words

in your head you were screaming, crying, everything. but all you could say was

'I love you too'

Shigaraki

You and your soulmate can communicate in your dreams

ever since you were little, every single dream you had consisted of you and a little boy, together in a white room

some of your furthest memories of these dreams were quiet as the two of you kind of just stared at each other, saying nothing

but you recall as one day, you finally said hi. you told him your name, and asked his.

he seemed shy, and nervously scratched at his neck as he answered you, telling you his name was 'Tenko Shimura'

there's blurry memories of you talking to him more and more, learning more about this kid, until he disappeared for a couple weeks

to you, these are just dreams, so you don't think too much of it until he eventually does come back but very different than you remember

the shy expression on his face turned into one of shell shock almost, and his hair had turned completely white

you tried asking what happened, but for a good few weeks (even though he only popped up maybe 5 times at most), he didn't even look at you.

eventually, he did speak, but all he really said was that he got his quirk, and he did something bad

for years after that, you rarely ever saw him. as you grew older you assumed it was because you were growing out of your 'imaginary friend' phase, but every night your dreams always consisted of that empty white room.

eventually you reach high school, and your mental health takes a tank. you can barely sleep, you can barely do anything. so you end up on a night owl schedule, sleeping all day on weekends, up all night every night, and barely sleeping on school days.

and for the first time in probably years, you saw tenko again.

both of you seemed actively surprised at seeing one another, and you can't help but notice how much he's grown as well

he's obviously older, probably the same age as you, his hair has gotten a little longer, his skin doesn't seem to have improved any which makes you a little sad that he hasn't seen a doctor yet, and he looks unhealthily lanky

he's clearly eyeing you too, he kind of forgot that he ever had a partner of sorts in this weird dream world having not seen you in so long

'why are you here?'

'I don't know, because I'm asleep right now i guess'

'do you always sleep during the day? I'm guessing your in Japan too, right?'

'I sleep whenever I want, but usually I'm up all night. and yes, im in japan'

this made you realize something, so you asked 'are you a real person?'

'unfortunately'

this very well could be just a part of your dream. but it makes sense that he very much is another living person. so you want to test it

'hey, I wanna try something. would you be willing to try and go to sleep at the same time?'

he made a weird face at you, clearly confused, 'why would I do that?'

'because this is cool! if you really are a real person, and not just some dream boy, then it'd be fun to have someone to talk to. and if we sleep at the same time, we have all night together'

'why should I care'

'do you have anything better to do in here?'

he was silent, you were right. your dream world wasn't kind enough to give you anything to do, and even tho it didn't necessarily feel like you were in there for hours, it still was a good while to be sitting in an empty white room doing nothing

'fine. what time'

figuring that the only respective time was at night, you had to shift your whole schedule around again, but this led to more frequent meetings with each other

it wasn't every night, there were some nights where he couldn't be bothered to go to bed, or you were too busy to do so, but you saw each other a lot more consistently now

most of the time, you were leading these conversations, asking him questions about his life and stuff, and he answered fairly vaguely unless it was something he actually cared to talk about

which you found was video games. that's all he really did, especially League of Legends

so you made an effort to play some of these games, that way you could understand what he was talking about or talk about the lore with him

for a couple years, you two were best dream friends, even though you never met irl. you always considered asking if you could meet, but he seemed nervous when you asked if you could actually play a game together at some point so you dropped it

as much as he had grown to love these dream times, he was scared to meet you in person. in dreams, there was still a layer of protection between you and him. in real life, you actually get to meet the true and real him.

plus, as he got older, AFO had more and more expectations for him, and soon the League of Villains was formed

this caused him to be busy a lot more, which meant he slept less, which caused his time in the dream world to dwindle again

you understood, you're 20 years old and have your own things to do, but you do miss him when he isn't there

the highlight of your day is seeing him, honestly

however, a few months later, you're scrolling on your phone and you see some news about villains, nothing new really, but a picture included peaks your interest

it's kind of blurry, but the man in the picture of one of the members of this group or villains looks very similar to tenko

and within the next few weeks, as the league becomes more active, more pictures come out and eventually you're positive - that's your dream boy

you honestly don't really care he's a villain all that much, you aren't particularly fond of most heroes, and you can't help but want to go to him

so, you find a way, and with stains message sparking more people to want to join the league it makes it a lot easier for you to do so

as you make your way into this weird little bar, you don't see him at first, you see a few other members who mostly don't really care that you're there. which is fine to you, you're not here for them

you're ready to ask one of them where Tenko is, however, until he turns the corner and makes his way into the room

luckily for him, he notices you before you can yell out his name in excitement, and he loudly says your name in confusion

you run over to him, smiling huge seeing him. you open your mouth, ready to speak, but before you can he tells you to come with him, so you do

he leads you deeper into the base, into what you suspect is his room. it's kind of gross, with dirty clothes and trash everywhere, but you ignore it for now

'why are you here'

it kind of hurts your feelings that he isn't as excited to see you as you are him, but he never has been the most excitable person, so you try to keep that in mind

'I found out a while ago that you were here, and I was really hoping that it wasn't some doppelganger or that it wasn't just a coincidence that this dream person happened to look like a real person.'

'you shouldn't be here. you're not a villain'

'you don't know that. you never told me you were a villain'

he basically went :/ at you, he didn't know what to think really

on one hand, yes, he was excited to see you. but he didn't know what to do with you here. you didn't seem like a villain, maybe your quirk could be useful somehow, but did you even want to actually join the league?

plus, now there is no safety net between you two. and he's terrified. you're the only 'friend' he's ever had, even if it was in his head his whole life, and he doesn't want you to hate him or leave like everyone else

'if you stay here, you have to help. you answer to me. you work for my cause.'

'I can do that'

'also, my name... it's Tomura Shigaraki now. so don't use,, that other name'

you decided not to ask why, and just accepted the situation now.

so from day 1, you were his biggest supporter and friend. whatever your morals were before, you didn't really care now. you were happy here, with this weird little family, and especially with Tomura

every day while not working you were spending time with him, he finally let you play games with him, you were both happy

he started to learn just how much he truly cared about you, you're the only person he truly feels safe with. he feels like himself, you give him the chance to feel happiness instead of just be consumed with hatred every day

'hey, y/n, do you ever wonder why we dream of each other?'

you had gone to sleep a few hours ago, but woke up when you felt weight on your bed, and opened your eyes to see Tomura sitting there staring blankly at the wall

'yeah, I haven't really heard of it before, and I haven't asked anyone since I was little. but they all told me it's just dreams, nothing special'

he said nothing, but he turned to look at you now.

'but, I feel like it has to mean something. something important. it led me to the most important person in my life.'

he couldn't help but smile as you said that, and he nodded, 'I agree. I used to not care about it that much. but I'm glad I got to meet you, in my dreams and especially in real life.'

he was being especially open about his feelings for once, which you loved, but it was also confusing

'tomura, are you okay?'

he was quiet again, this time clearly thinking. you let him, fiddling with your fingers as you waited. you were nervous for some reason

'I don't know. I don't know what this feeling is. Just, you make me happy. nothing else makes me happy. you feel... safe, and warm. everyone else is so meaningless, but I don't know if I could keep going without you. I don't want you going on missions because you might not come back. I want to kill anyone who takes you away from me.'

he was rambling, clearly speaking his thoughts as they came, and your heart was melting the entire time. you didn't want to assume, but you were hopeful

'tomura, do you love me?'

that clicked in his brain. he couldn't word these feelings correctly in his head, but love sounded right. as far as he knew what love was supposed to be, he figured that yes, he did love you

so he nodded again.

'tomura.. I love you too'

he didn't know what to do now. he just sat there for a while, thinking about what this meant.

'can I hug you?'

'you know I can't touch you'

'it's okay, I trust you.'

as you hugged, you eventually felt the palm of his hand against your back, knowing he was being especially careful not to touch you.

'I'm going to let go now, if you want to move your hand.'

'not yet. I like this'

#the 2 loves of my life #soulmate au #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigaraki #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki soulmate au #tenko shimura #dabi #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki

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crsssie · 11 months ago

Text

oops... i got married || TO SOME STRANGER!??!?!?

word count: 1.4k || Fic 5 of oops... i got married

summary: I'm gonna be fr with you. Your new malewife is a little sus

You get married as a joke.

Yes, there are limits to how much you can drink. Yes, there are limits to how insane you can get while drunk— but apparently getting married is not within that limit. You get married to some random guy— SERIOUSLY. SOME RANDOM DUDE. You wake up to a legally signed marriage document and them in your kitchen, and you blink at the confirmation email on your phone and then at your new lover at the door.

"You're going to be late for class."

"What the fuck?!"

You pause at the sight of your new husband, some random man, white hair and red eyes, and you pause. Did you get transmigrated? Are you in an isekai fic? Is this your main character moment? Seriously, how the hell did you manage to bag some random ass man!???!!? WHAT. WHY IS HE HOT.

"Wait." You pause. "How do you know I have class?"

"The backpack." He points. "Now, hurry on up now."

That does NOT explain how the hell you met your husband. Yet, you don't have time, grabbing breakfast from his hand as he waves goodbye to you at the door. Great day to pay expensive ass rent but live right next to campus. You wonder if your husband lives someone. You feel kind of bad that he had to take you home after you got plastered yesterday. But. That does not excuse the fact that he looked suspicious as fuck while staring at you sleep. Also, how the hell did he agree to marrying you? WHY.

You huff as you walk back to class, pausing and blinking when a piece of the ceiling breaks off and slams into where you were sitting, somehow missing all of your belongings by a hair. You blink, stupefied, grabbing your stuff from under the ceiling as you evacuate the lecture with the rest of the students. Someone hates you... or something. You don't know. You're surprised you didn't just die while drunk. Sometimes pianos fall out of the air and try to bomb you. Also, you have a husband to go home to now! He'd be sad if you suddenly died... right?

Wait. What even is his name?

"Casper." Your husband rolls his eyes as you pout. "You forgot your own husband's name?"

"Uh huh." You blink. "Are you just going to be my househusband now?"

"I don't see why not. Anything interesting happen today?"

"Oh!" You grin. "A piece of the ceiling slammed into my seat, but luckily for me I was in the bathroom. My stomach problems saved me for once."

Your husband gives you a smile half between concern and amusement. (he would have to try harder next time— what. that was not him. who said that.)

"I'm glad you're safe."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He pauses. "Do you get acid reflux in the morning?"

"If I eat and sleep immediately after." You mumble. "Why?"

"Hotpot." He hums. "Spicy hotpot. Eat up."

Your eyes light up, brightening as he hands you a bowl of rice, watching as you dig in, humming happily as you watch him put his own bowl down.

"Is it good?"

"Mhm!" You beam. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"I live alone." He hums. "Someone has to do the housework around my place."

"How about currently?"

"I live a little... far away." He pauses. "It would be hard for me to see you every day if I don't live at your place. Besides, my job is in the area."

"Will you move here? Or..."

"No. My management provides housing for free." He smiles. "Oh, the food's going to get cold."

You pause. "Can I apply?"

"No. We don't take applications."

"WHAT." You groan. "Ugh. I knew it was too good to be true. You probably sold your soul for it or something."

Casper doesn't speak up, placing a slice of lotus root in your bowl. "Eat up."

You raise a brow but don't pry further. It's not your problem if your husband sold his soul. At least he's hot.

Maybe he's secretly trying to eat your soul... demons... that checks out honestly. You did have a bad stroke of luck when it came to unfortunate situations, and you had an even more comedic one when it came to avoiding them. Always nearby, never you. You wonder if that would curse your husband. Though, from the looks of it, your husband would probably steal someone's soul before that curse could even lay a hand on him.

"What are you looking at?"

"You're very hot." You grin.

You laugh when you notice your husband turn red.

The vast majority of your days pass relatively calmly, and you grow into a comfortable pattern with your husband... that is until your husband shows up with a black card and tells you that he can cover rent for the rest of your life— that raises some questions. What does your husband even do for work? What is he doing with his life? How the hell does he have a better credit score than you? Where is his money even coming from?!

You force him into the corner of your house one afternoon with a broom in hand.

"Sunshine, I really think—"

"Spit it out." You stare him down. "What do you do for work. I refuse to believe I'm in a kdrama, so spit out something you can back up."

Casper presses his back against the wall, eyes darting to the wall as you shake the broom at him, and he grimaces.

"I'll get fired if I tell you—"

"NO ONE HAS A CAMERA IN MY HOUSE SO SPIT IT OUT"

"I'm a grim reaper."

You pause, blinking at your husband, words processing in your brain.

"I'm a grim—"

"They hire people for that?!" You blurt, pausing. "Wait. No. You're spouting nonsense at me."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Are!"

"Not!" Casper turns around to face you, shaking as your grip tightens around the broom. "Please... go through my closet?"

"So your job is literally... murder?" You pause. "My stay at home househusband is secretly some insane man who goes around killing people?!"

"It's not—"

"Then what is it?!" You raise a brow at him, unconvinced.

"We get a list." He sighs. "And we get everyone's name."

"Wait." You pause. "Why the hell did you agree to marry me then!?"

"That's not—"

You shake the broom at him.

"You were supposed to die years ago but kept avoiding death so I've just decided to marry you to see WHY you're not DYING." Casper braces himself for the broom's impact, but you're too stupefied to give him a proper answer.

"I'm supposed to be dead?"

"Well..." He grimaces. "You can't really... die."

"I'm immortal?"

"Your... soul." He pauses, turning his head to the side. "Your soul is endless, and you constantly give life to those around you... including me."

You pause. "So you married me because I'm a natural healer? Wait. No. You married me to kill me?! This isn't some josei manga, you know?!"

"Yes, but." Casper sighs, shoulders relaxing as you drop the broom. "You are so lovely."

"You're just saying that."

"I am not." He mumbles. "I would have just taken your soul if you were not."

"Oh, so this is pretty privilege?"

"It's not—"

"Wow, Caspie. I thought you actually loved me." You pretend to sigh.

"I do—"

"You didn't kill me because you think I'm lovely? If that doesn't—"

Casper grabs your wrists, holding them in place as he blinks at you, grumbling. "Would you shut up and listen to me for just a second? Goodness, sunshine, I love you. I'd go mad if I did not have you as my beloved."

You tilt your head at him, and he sighs.

"I love you. I'm not going to try killing you anymore."

You sigh, shaking your wrists loose as you press your lips to his, humming. Casper doesn't argue with it, humming as his lips slot against yours, hands moving down to your waist.

"So we aren't getting a divorce?" You mumble.

"No." He grumbles. "What do you want for dinner?"

A smirk spreads on your face as he sighs.

Still. He loves you.

#surprise mf you thought I was never gonna touch that event again did ya #the quality of these fics r like wattpad crackfics to me. send help #☾.fics #☾.events #grim reaper x reader #casper x reader #a date with death x reader #'martha honey I'm coming home— IM BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!?!??!' -> me rn

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jaiistg · 2 years ago

Text

Karma Akabane who is whipped for reader

"I guess I'm stuck forever by the glue, oh, and you"

•You and Karma met because of his and your's parents !! They knew that you two would get along so well,infact you two did get along...Maybe a little too well,to the fact he got attached to you.

•His parents shipped you both together when Young karma asked them why does his hard beats super fast whenever he sees you and wanting to always be by your side.HIS MOM WAS ALL LIKE "MY BABY BOY IS GROWING UP !!!"

•You and Karma are classmates on class 3-A, that was until this fucker got suspended and was now in class 3-E🙄 he would help you with subjects your struggling with.

•After his suspension he couldn't stop thinking about you like "how is she doing?" "Does she miss me?" One day he saw you hanging out with his one and only rival Asano Gakushuu.He didn't blame you since him and Assano🙄 were your only friends.

•He thought he was being slick with hiding his feelings for you that was until he got exposed by koro sensei because HE KEEPS DODDLING YOU ON HIS NOTEBOOK,he was so fluttered he can't even look at koro-sensei in the eye...tsk tsk hope you learn your lesson next time Karma~

•Ever since his classmates found out that he likes you THEY KEEP TEASING HIM AND HE CAN'T HELP BUT BLUSH😭.

•Everytime he sees you the world stops.Its as if you two are the only people in this world.This dude wants to approach you and ask how your doing but is too afraid because he hasn't spoken to you for a long time.

•Eventually,you guys talked and it felt like nothing has changed,He dosent know what he was so afraid of...

•He sometimes gets lonely on his house because his parents are always at work so he calls you and ask's if you can come over,and ofc you said yes.

•His house,the place where you guys first met and also the place where you guys became official<33.

•It turns out you guys are smitten for eachother but can't seem to confess to one another.How did they found out about each other's feelings? Truth or dare.Yeah you heared me right Truth or dare.

(name-chan) truth or dare he asked?

(name) can see his smirk.what is he up to now..? As she face palmed."Truth"

Have you ever liked someone in our school? Karma asked curiously secretly hoping she'd say yes and say it is him

(name) was caught of-guard.Since when did he care about things like this? She thought.

Fine,Yes I had a crush on someone.I still have a crush on them tho...She mumbled the last part but Karma can hear it.

Its your turn now strawberry! Truth or dare (name) said excitingly

He can't help but find her cute."Dare,im not a coward like you!" He said jokingly

Hey!! (Name) said clearly offended."If you have a crush on someone can you text them and confess?"

"What."

"Pleaseeeeeeeeee"

Ofc he couldn't say no to her.So he did it.

Wait someone texted me (name) said

She was shocked.She looked up from the screen and saw karma smiling at her with a tint of blush on his cheeks.

"Is this....True?"

"Duhh,why would I lie to you about what I feel?" he said chuckling but also serious about what he said

I..."

"you?

"I like you too."

"HUH ARE YOU FOR REA-"

•Has he died and went to heaven?? Are you sure you'll go to heaven? Lmaooalakka THE (NAME) LIKES HIM BACK??? SOMEONE SAVE THIS MAN FROM PASSING OUT.

•And yeah! That's what happened, after you two became official you guys told both of his and your's parents !! They were happy that you two got together.

#Spotify #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #karma akabane #karma #assassination classroom #assassination classroom x reader #karma headcannons #karma akabane x you

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defectivevillain · 9 months ago

Text

a heavenly, hellish housemate

pairing: Adam/Reader

The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.***

summary: “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” you break off. “Devilishly handsome?” The angel winks. “I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘Wow, thank you so much for saving my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adam, you’re so sexy and badass.'” He scoffs.

After Adam acts up yet again, Sera decides to assign him guardian angel duty. Adam is pissed, but he goes along with it and starts to look out for you: the human he’s tasked with protecting. He has no intention of ever actually meeting you, but when he saves you from death, he finds himself stuck on Earth with you.

warnings: near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, suggestive humor

author's notes: ***The reader is referred to as “dude,” and “bitch” (you can thank adam for that, lmao) but i typically use those terms with the intent of them being gender-neutral… The reader also uses cologne (but, again, smelling nice isn’t gender-specific, i don’t think…)

This fic won’t be canon compliant. Also, some of the story itself is going to be underdeveloped—in the sense that I still want this to be a “oneshot,” not a multi-chapter fic. Some big-scale things like how Adam gets to Earth and how he will return to Heaven are overlooked.

anyways, onto the fun stuff:

It’s been a long day, you think to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk. Work wasn’t particularly eventful today, but you’re still rather exhausted. You’re contemplating what you’ll fix for dinner when you see a car approaching out of the corner of your eye. You blink and your heart races as you realize it’s veering off the road and heading right towards you. It’s going far too fast and suddenly you’re frozen, trapped as the car speeds towards the sidewalk and heads straight for you in painful slow-motion. At the last possible moment, you’re shoved to the side with unnatural momentum. You fall to the ground and the car crashes into the wall—right about where you had been walking mere moments ago. You stare at it in disbelief.

You have scrapes on your knees and you get the feeling you’ll have bruises on your elbows and arms, but otherwise, you’re unharmed. It’s a miracle—there’s no other way to explain it. By all means, you should have died in that car crash. You weren’t able to move in time… until that weird sensation, as if someone unseen had just shoved you out of the way.

“Don’t get paid enough for this shit,” someone nearby mutters. You’re about to get up when a large shadow overtakes your vision. You look up to find a figure cloaked in white staring down at you; after a second look, you realize that he’s wearing a mask over his face. He’s looking down at you with a strange combination of interest and scrutiny.

“…Hello?” You choke out, once you manage to accept just what you’re seeing. This guy—whoever he is—is ridiculously tall and looks entirely unfamiliar. In fact, he doesn’t look human at all—he has a bright halo over his head and wings extending from his shoulders.

He stares at you in disbelief when he notices that you’re looking back at him. “You can see me?” He asks, clearly surprised. “What the fuck?!”

“Are you my guardian angel or something?” You ask, unable to hide your suspicion. You never thought guardian angels were even real; and, even if you were to think about it, you would expect a “guardian angel” to be clothed in blinding white. This guy has grey horns, golden wings, and a positively dangerous smirk. He does have that white halo, though…

“Ugh, fucking fine,” the guy scoffs, clearly annoyed. You’re not quite sure how he’s sick of this conversation already, when it hasn’t been more than a few moments. “Yes, I am. You’re welcome, baby.”

“Okay,” you remark, still a little unconvinced. Admittedly, the pet-name throws you for a loop—especially when you realize the guy is rather attractive, with shaggy, dusky brown hair and gleaming golden eyes. Averting your eyes, you take a look around you, only to find that everyone seems too preoccupied with the car crash to notice you talking to this strange “angel”—if that’s really what he is. Or, even more frightening… you may be the only one able to see him. You try to collect your thoughts and one question immediately comes to mind. “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” You trail off.

“Devilishly handsome?” He winks.

“I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown.

The guy crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘ wow, Adam, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re so sexy and badass.’”

You stare at him in disbelief for a few moments, before deciding to push yourself to your feet. Even when you’re standing in front of him, the height difference between you both is stark. You squint at him for a second. “Are you sure you’re an angel?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy seems a little too profane to be from Heaven. But, who knows?

“Damn right,” the guy asserts confidently, blowing your assumptions right out of the water. “I’m the angel. Adam’s the name, pulling bitches is the game.”

While you want to focus on that horrid last part of his statement, your attention is captured by his name: Adam. Is he the first human—that Adam? “You’re the Adam?” You question. “Like, Adam and Eve?”

The smug grin on the angel’s face promptly vanishes. “Ugh, this was going so well,” Adam groans raspily. “Don’t fucking mention my ex-wife, dude. She’s a real piece of work.”

“If you say so,” you acquiesce. This entire conversation is giving you whiplash. You wonder just how you got yourself into this situation. And while you’re grateful that this guy saved you, you hadn’t expected to be stuck in an interaction with him. You really just want to go home—this day has been a nightmare, and you want nothing more than to jump into bed and sleep.

“I do say so,” he preens. Wow, this guy’s ego is extremely inflated. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone so cocky and arrogant before.

“Well… Thanks for saving my life, I guess?” You remark uneasily, taking a casual half-step backwards and hoping he doesn’t notice. You’ve been patiently waiting for the conversation to end, but somehow it’s still going—and you’re nearly at the point of just walking away and ignoring him.

“You’re fucking welcome, shrimp,” Adam responds. You ignore the dig. The guy is unnaturally tall—far surpassing the height of even the tallest humans. He must be eight or nine feet tall, at least.

“Well, I have to get home, so…” You give an awkward wave and turn to walk away. You don’t make it for more than a few steps before you notice a presence behind you. Adam is following you, you realize with dread. “Um, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Following you, dipshit,” he scoffs, as if the question is stupid. “This has never happened before. I don’t know how to get back up to Heaven yet.”

“Great.” You groan, resolving yourself to a chaotic day.

Why am I doing this again? You ask yourself as you stare at the angel walking around your apartment. You don’t realize that you utter that question aloud until you hear Adam speak. “Because you’re nice and hot and smart and totally my type?”

“Nice try,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and resolutely pretending that his remark doesn’t make your heart race. He’s the type of person to flirt with anyone—hell, anything —that has a pulse. “Flattery won’t get you very far.”

“It’s true, though” Adam insists confidently, “And you can take my word for it, ‘cause there are some real nasty bastards up in Heaven.” You watch as he continues to inspect your apartment, opening your cabinets and drawers and ultimately having zero respect for your privacy. You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have much to hide—your apartment is pretty ordinary-looking.

“So… when do you go back?” You not-so-subtly ask, as he continues looking around without permission.

“Trying to kick me out?” He grins, seeing through your rather pathetic attempt to hide your irritation. Adam shuts the drawer he was searching through and shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve never been to the human realm before; this shit blows.” He punctuates the statement with a heavy eye-roll.

“That’s not helpful,” you frown concernedly. It may be no big deal for him—he has all the time in the world to return to Heaven, considering he’s already in the afterlife. But you have a life, a job, and things to do. You don’t have the time or energy (or patience) to stumble through reorganizing your entire life just to fit an angel in it.

“I don’t fucking know!” He practically screeches, a sudden switch into extreme defensiveness. Adam must notice you watching him, because he turns around and meets your gaze. “For once. Maybe even the first time. But I know everything else, so don’t get used to it.” He’s quick to add. You’re starting to worry that your eyes will get stuck in the back of your head—from how much you’ve been rolling your eyes at his inane comments.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” You mutter darkly.

“Without lubrication, yeah.” You don’t bother dignifying that comment with a response. You instead shake your head relentingly and tell him you have a pullout bed on the couch, to which he complains incessantly before you offer sleeping on the street as an alternative.

Still processing everything that happened, you tell Adam you need to be alone and lock yourself in your room. Just a few hours ago, you were living your life as normal. Your guardian angel saved your life, but now he’s living here with you. You don’t remember signing up for any of this. You rub a hand over your face and try to fight off the exhaustion that has been setting in since you left work.

Eventually, it’s late enough for you to go to bed—and you fall asleep hoping that you’ll wake tomorrow morning to an empty apartment, blissfully free of a certain angel.

But the universe is not so merciful, and you see Adam sleeping on the couch when you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen. You try to move quietly—so as to not disturb him—but he must be a light sleeper, because suddenly he’s up on his feet and chastising you for being too loud. You head to work already feeling tired, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of your day.

The longer Adam stays at your apartment, the more you learn about him. For example, you learn that Adam is an incessant flirt (although that was clear from the first few moments you met). You also learn that he enjoys scaring the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes, you’ll get home from work and find yourself in an empty apartment. You’ll forget that you’re housing a goliath of a “guardian angel,” until said angel seeps out of the shadows and screams at you, cackling maniacally as you regain your breath.

Adam isn’t a great roommate, either—he’s messy, doesn’t have very many boundaries, and has no qualms about invading your personal space. He has a ton of annoying habits. Even so, you suppose it’s not the worst situation you could find yourself in. Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to have company when you get home from a particularly long day at work. You can vent to him about some dumbass you work with and he won’t hesitate to insult them with you.

Although… Adam doesn’t pay you. He doesn’t have any human money. You’re not even sure if Heaven has currency, and you keep forgetting to ask. All you know is that he’s living here for free—practically mooching off of you. And, for the first few weeks, it really does feel like he’s taking advantage of your kindness—as he eats all of your groceries, never cleans up after himself, constantly plays your Nintendo Switch without asking you for permission… The list goes on.

After more than three weeks of that rather grating behavior, you sit him down at the table in the dining room and try to establish some ground rules. If he is going to continue staying with you, he has to: (1) clean up after himself, which includes everything from washing the clothes you bought for him at the thrift store to doing his dishes; (2) write what he wants on the grocery list, so you won’t come home to an empty fridge and pantry; (3) use his own separate account for your Switch, which you so graciously made for him; and (4) limit how many times he scares you to a few times per week.

You think these demands are perfectly reasonable, but judging from the way he stares at you for a moment before laughing in your face, Adam has never respected someone else’s rules. You don’t break eye contact with him, despite wanting nothing more than to look away from his increasingly intimidating gaze. Eventually, Adam must sense that you’re not budging on these points, because he mutters something about bossy landlords—to which you snarkily remind him that landlords have paying tenants, and that he is living under your roof for free. He shuts up after that.

After that conversation, things get better. Slowly but surely, Adam begins to adjust his behavior to be moderately less annoying. You get the feeling that being annoying is one of his core personality traits, but at the very least you’ve prevented that from affecting your lifestyle. Unsurprisingly, the angel doesn’t follow all of the rules perfectly. Ironically, it seems that Rule No. 4—limiting how often he scares the life out of you—is the most difficult one for him to follow. The fucker is constantly appearing behind you and ripping the breath from your chest. But, you respect that Adam is trying, and the two of you gradually learn to live with one another.

But things come to an unfortunate boiling point one evening as you’re getting ready to go out for dinner. You’ve attempted to tame your hair into something slightly more styled than normal and you’ve used your rather pricey cologne [a miniscule amount of it, admittedly]. You have your keys, your pepper spray in case your date goes awry, and your phone. You’re inspecting your closet in an attempt to decide on an outfit when you hear Adam enter the room.

You turn around to face him, realizing that he looks skeptical as his gaze inspects your form. “Where the hell are you going?” He asks, evidently noticing that you’re preparing to leave. You suppose it is rather unusual for you to be leaving home in the evening like this—typically, once you leave work, you stay home for the rest of the night.

“I’m going on a date,” you respond, picking out a shirt and pants and folding them over your arm.

“A date?” Adam scoffs. “Your ugly ass? Please.”

You don’t bother acknowledging that remark, instead moving to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth, before walking back out to your room. You’ll just pretend that your giant angelic roommate—the one who still doesn’t pay rent, by the way—isn’t here. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far, because Adam continues speaking the moment you exit the bathroom.

“Hey, there isn’t-” Adam begins, turning around to face you. Whatever he means to say fades to obscurity as he stares at you. For a painful moment, the two of you are trapped in a tense silence. Just as it grows to be unbearable, Adam scoffs. “This is for him? Fucking Tom?” Wait… How does he know your date’s name? You squint at him suspiciously, before realizing that he’s holding your phone and evidently looking through your messages.

“Hey, give me that-” You say with wide eyes, reaching for your phone.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”Adam recites, scrolling through the messages from the guy you’re going on a date with. There’s a cruel amusement gleaming in his eyes. “There’s no fucking way.” He cackles.

You stare at him in shocked silence, forced to listen as he rips apart this guy you haven’t even met yet. “Are you done yet?” You eventually ask, when it seems like he’s losing steam. “I have to go, give me that-” You hiss, annoyed and frustrated. His grip is inhumanly tight as he clutches your phone; you have no idea how he hasn’t broken it yet.

“No way, sweetheart,” he grins, a malicious and cruel smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years ,” he says, continuing to scroll through your conversation, “Besides, why are you meeting with this guy if you don’t even know him in the first place?”

That’s the whole point of the date: to get to know Tom. You try to take a deep breath and remain calm. “You’re my ‘guardian angel,’ not my mother,” you feel the need to say, when his eye contact is growing a bit too intense and prolonged.

“Wow, strange, that doesn’t sound like gratitude,” Adam frowns, tapping a finger against his chin.

You grit your teeth. Unless you’re able to sneak around this nine-foot fucking demon looming in the doorway—because really, he’s not acting like much of an angel right now—you’re going to miss your date. You try to make a grab for your phone one more time, but Adam’s grip remains steady. There’s no way you’re getting it back, judging from both his immensely strong grasp and the determined smirk on his face.

Defeat sets in, followed by prickling embarrassment and fury. “You know what?” You say, your voice cracking in your frustration. “Fine. Fine. You win. Okay?” You leave your room and head out to the living room, desperate for some privacy. Adam either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he follows behind you. You feel tears falling down your face before you can stop them. You feel so helpless. This guy swooped into your life and fucked everything up, just for his own amusement.

“Are you crying because of that loser?” Adam asks, surprise coloring his voice.

“I’m crying because of you!” You seethe, glaring at him. You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve. “You ruined my night. And I genuinely wanted to get to know Tom, but you’ve fucked that up too!” This is like an emotionally manipulative relationship, you think to yourself, but without the relationship. So really, it’s just emotionally manipulative. You don’t give Adam a chance to defend himself, instead pushing past him and going back into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You flop onto your bed and curl onto your side, unable to stop the tears sliding down your cheeks. You know it’s a somewhat insignificant thing to be upset about, but you can’t help it. The way Adam just completely decimated your plans, with all the confidence of someone who has never once been questioned, someone who has always been looked up to and venerated and-

You huff and push yourself back up to a sitting position, grabbing the nearby tissue box and blowing your nose. You’re still furious with Adam, of course, but you’d rather just not acknowledge him right now. Even the mere thought of him now is enough to send new tears slipping down your cheeks.

You lie awake a bit longer than usual that night, feeling unspeakably restless. Frustrated, you stare up at the ceiling and try to think about something other than the horrible evening you just had. Eventually, you drift off into sleep—albeit with dry eyes and anger still prickling at your core.

Against all odds, you manage to have a relatively restful sleep, and you wake to the smell of pancakes wafting through your apartment. That immediately concerns you, and you get out of bed with fear drumming in your chest. Did you leave the stove on? Is something burning? You stumble out to the kitchen, only to find Adam standing with his back to you, looking down at a griddle that you don’t remember purchasing.

“Adam?” You ask, blinking traces of sleep from your eyes. Adam stiffens and turns around, an uncharacteristically weak smile flickering on his face before it’s replaced with his trademark wide grin.

“Hey,” he remarks, turning around to flip a few pancakes. When Adam turns back around to look at you, you realize that the apron he’s wearing says Kiss the Cook. You feel a disbelieving laugh crawl out of your throat before you can stop it.

“Where’d you get that apron?” You ask, knowing damn well you don’t own an apron like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grins, which naturally just worries you more. You take a deep breath and go back to your room to change. When you return to the kitchen, there’s a stack of pancakes on the counter—evidently for you. You grab a few pancakes, a plate, and utensils, before settling at the table and beginning to eat. You keep yourself occupied throughout the meal with Youtube videos, but you’re still unable to avoid the tension settling in the air.

When you finish eating, you do your dishes before thanking Adam for the meal. Before you can retreat back to the solitude of your room, Adam takes a deep breath as if preparing himself to speak.

“So…” He starts, “This is hard for me to say………” His voice is almost entirely devoid of emotion. Before you can think about that any longer, he continues speaking. Is he about to apologize? Somehow, you doubt it. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” And there it is. You’re not surprised; you’re just disappointed. You immediately move to leave and his eyes widen. “Wait. No, that’s- Hey, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“Apologizing typically starts with ‘I’m sorry,’” you say, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Adam says with an eye-roll, “I didn’t want you going on that date. Okay?”

“Why?” You ask. You deserve to know the rationality behind his actions—if there even was any. The angel’s eyes are gleaming (with what emotion, you’re not quite sure).

“I’m your guardian angel,” Adam reminds you, “I’m supposed to protect you from harm.” That’s a load of bullshit. You turn around again, fully intent on barricading yourself in your room and never coming out. “Hey, hey, hey-!” He sputters. Adam takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it! Fine. I didn’t want you to go on that date because you’re out of his league.”

That statement only confuses you further. Tom was an attractive guy, and he seemed nice. Why would you be out of his league? “Then who’s in my league?” You sputter, feeling extremely lost. “You?” You scoff.

“Yes!” He exclaims with so much vehemence that it startles you. “I mean, no! Fuck, why is this so difficult? Okay. Listen… I rescheduled your date with Tom. You’re gonna meet with him today, and wear that sexy ass outfit you had on yesterday.”

“Really?” You ask, still skeptical. You want to believe the angel, but you can’t help but think of his actions last night—the unflappable determination on his face as he wrecked your plans for the night. Adam got some sort of thrill out of ruining your night, and that still concerns you.

“Really,” the angel assures you, tossing you your phone. You completely forgot he had it. You remember trying to wrench it out of his grip; when you stormed off to your room, he must’ve still had it. “Check your messages.” You obey and open the text conversation.

Yesterday, 2:45 p.m. Tom: Looking forward to it. Yesterday, 4:42 p.m. You: Hey, I hate to do this, but do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow? My roommate got sick and I need to look after him. Tom: Sure thing. Same time? You: Sounds good.

“Oh,” you remark aloud, lost for words.

“So go on your date and have fun,” Adam continues. “With- with Tom.” The latter statement is spoken with a decent amount of venom, and Adam averts his eyes with a surprisingly irritated expression on his face. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you busy yourself with preparing for the date, equal parts anticipation and something frighteningly similar to appreciation warring in your chest. You shouldn’t be holding any sort of appreciation for Adam’s actions—he was just righting his own mistake. Even so… You sigh and push aside any thoughts of Adam, instead busying yourself with preparing. When you’re finally ready, you walk out of your room and head for the side table—where your pepper spray, phone, and keys still remain from the night before.

You glance around the space, finding Adam sitting in front of the television and playing video games. “I’m heading out,” you decide to tell him.

“Have fun,” the angel says, not bothering to look away from his game. You take a deep breath and leave your apartment, locking your door behind you. Your date is waiting outside, supposedly.

The night passes by frighteningly fast; two hours later, you’re unlocking your front door, shutting it behind you, and trudging into your apartment with severely dampened spirits. You’re unsurprised to find Adam still playing games on your Nintendo Switch. His back is turned and you feel your throat burning. “Hey,” he says, focused on the game. “How’d it go?”

“You called it,” you murmur frustratedly. “You were right. I should’ve listened.” Your eyes are burning now too. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

It evidently takes Adam a moment to process what you just said, but you immediately notice the moment he comprehends it. The room falls eerily silent and you watch the television screen for a moment. (Meanwhile, Adam is staring ahead in complete shock, surprised as to how someone could have fumbled the bag so badly.) Adam then turns around, his game entirely abandoned. “What did that bastard do?” He hisses. “God damn it, I’m going to murder him. He’s going straight to Hell!”

“It’s- I don’t know,” you choke out, placing your hands on the back of the couch. Tears are falling down your face now, despite your best attempts to keep them in. “Maybe it’s my fault.” You murmur.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Adam declares with an unreasonable amount of confidence. “You’re the closest fuckin’ thing to perfection; there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that it was your fault.” You want to believe him, but you don’t. You can’t—not after how badly the night went.

You’re still reeling, so you decide to sit down next to Adam on the couch. For a long moment, the two of you stare ahead silently as the Animal Crossing: New Horizons music plays in the background. Eventually, Adam continues playing and you watch as he controls a purple-skinned avatar with golden eyes, black wings, and a white halo.

Sharing the silence with Adam is nice, but you soon find it more and more difficult to stay awake through it. You’re growing tired—your exhaustion from earlier catching up to you—and your eyelids are starting to sting from fatigue. You’re leaning back against the couch cushions, dangerously close to leaning on Adam’s shoulder. Your limbs feel as heavy as bricks and within moments, you’re surrendering to the urge to succumb to the darkness and the magnetic sensation pulling you to rest your head on the angel’s shoulder.

The next morning you wake up in your bed, despite having no recollection of walking back to your room. That particular mystery quickly fades to the back of your mind once you arrive at work, however. The day seems to drag, but finally, after a seemingly infinite amount of time, you finish your work and can go home to relax.

“Hey,” you say as you enter your apartment after work, surprised to find the living room empty. Typically, you’d see Adam watching television at this time. “Adam?” You ask. There’s no response. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on your coat rack, before walking through the living room and into the dining room.

To your surprise, you find your table candlelit, with boxes of takeout from your favorite restaurant scattered around its surface. “Hey, you’re back.” Adam says. Despite the fact that he probably didn’t mean to scare you, the sudden reveal of his presence is enough to send your heart racing—if only for a brief moment. You still can’t quite believe what you’re seeing; noticing your confusion, Adam continues—sounding almost apprehensive. “I thought… you deserve a nice dinner, since your date didn’t go well.” He breaks off for a moment, a truly murderous expression on his face. Adam shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before motioning to the takeout boxes and looking at you expectantly. “Did I get your order right?” You squint at the boxes and nod; he grins. “Hell yeah! Am I the fucking best or what?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. You move to sit down, but Adam tugs you back. “Hey, hey, not so fast,” he admonishes you, before placing a hand on the chair and pulling it out for you. You roll your eyes fondly and sit down at the proffered seat. Moments later, Adam takes a seat across from you. The two of you quickly dig into your food and you fall into idle conversation about your day.

When you’re both finished eating, Adam clears his throat purposefully. “So,” he starts, “I know I was kind of a dick, but you should go on an actual date with me.” He sounds forceful, but you’re pretty sure he’s just uncertain.

“Sure,” you agree rather easily. Despite all you’ve been through—all the missteps Adam has made, especially when you were trying to date other people—you like the thought of being in a relationship with him. Adam is frighteningly easy to be around, and underneath that prickly, jerkish exterior is a person who genuinely cares about you. At least, that’s what you hope.

“Oh hell yeah!” He fist-pumps, making you chuckle. “You’re about to get wined and dined, bitch. Get ready for a four-course meal—I’ll be the perfect fucking gentleman. Chivalry and all that shit.”

“You do realize chivalry has been dead for, like, centuries,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Adam groans dramatically. “You know what I fucking mean,” he chastises you. And, surprisingly, you think you actually do know what he means. He wasn’t referring to chivalry in the antiquated sense, but more in the sense that every person deserves to be treated nicely. That’s a surprisingly decent perspective, coming from him of all people. “I’m going to be so fucking nice, you’re going to be falling at my feet.” You both know that is definitely not going to happen. You don’t let Adam always have his way—you don’t let him step all over you. And, maybe, that’s one of the reasons he likes you. Maybe, just maybe, he needs someone who is just as independent and stubborn as he is.

You find yourself looking forward to learning more about this mysterious guardian angel of yours.

endnotes: oh my god, they were roommates.

y'all, i can't believe i wrote 5k words for this bastard.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #anyway #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Adam x reader #Adam x gn reader #Adam x male reader #transmasc reader #gn reader #male reader #etc etc

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gor3sigil · 5 months ago

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What being trans means to me

I love being trans. I love transitioning. The thing is, most of the time, I read about other trans people experiences. And I just can’t relate.

I have plenty of tattoos and piercings, and if I have to be 100% honest with y’all, I see transitioning like a bodmod. To me, getting top surgery was one, as I wanted to at least get my nipples removed before I even knew top surgery was an option.

I see HRT as much as a bodmod. A few years back, I wasn’t so sure I even wanted HRT, but after thinking it through and doing a lot of research, I decided to do it. And I never looked back. I’m close to 2 years on T, which isn’t a lot, and I don’t even know if I plan to stay on T for very long, maybe I’ll stop at some point. Who knows.

It goes hand in hand with the everlasting identity crisis I’ve been having since I was born, basically. I was a different person before, and she was so tired, so she left the body to some dude, and he got tired, and they fused, and it was me, and I’m in a trans body, I’m trans, I take T like I paint my nails, I take T like a cigarette, I take T like a hot bath. It’s comforting, it makes me feel good, it makes me feel at home in this body.

I got surgery because I wanted my silhouette to be mine. I changed my name because since I was little, and that’s the only point for which I can say confidently I knew since I was a kid, I never understood why we couldn’t name ourselves. To me, a name was so intimate, so personal, that I couldn’t understand why it had to be someone else’s choice. So I took a new one and changed it.

And now I look at myself in the miror and I’m Cyan, and I got a flat chest, and I have a deep voice, and I’ll do my T shot on friday just like I do every 14 days since almost 2 years, with the same pleasure, with the same smile on my face, the same rush I ever have when I’m excited for my shot.

Close to the feeling I get when I get a new piercing, when I up the size of my lobes, when I feel the first tingles of the needles that tattoo me.

I didn’t “always knew” I was trans. I remember being a kid with a shit ton of OCs, and names for myself that I couldn’t choose, and whose dream was to live a thousand lives before I died. I don’t know who I will be in 3 years. Or in 6 months.

It says on a letter that I suffer from gender dysphoria, and by all means it was true before top surgery. Not so much now. I still am insecure about my body a lot of times because there’s some things missing to my chara design and I am fatter IRL lmao, but with this body I cum, I eat good food, I get drunk, I smoke, I feel hot and fresh water, I swim, I sing, I write this. Even when it’s half broken and it’s raining and my joints ache and I feel like I’m already old, I love this body. I’m not the type of people who will be like “your body is a temple, you HAVE to exercise and eat only fresh veggies” because if I have to be here let me at least have fun. I take care of myself though, maybe not as much as I should, but the best I can.

If I hadn’t overcome everything I did in my life, maybe I wouldn’t have transitioned. Or maybe I would. I don’t care. I don’t need a reason, and neither do you.

This is what I mean when I say that everyone should do whatever the fuck they want because, I wasn’t born trans, or at least I don’t think so. But does it make my transition less valid ? No. I’m better in my skin that ever, even when the low self esteem hits, and I know I would feel way less good if I hadn’t transition. That’s all that matters.

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httpscomexe · 5 months ago

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Ensnared 5

Summary: Your leg is fucked, but so are you. (This is probably the last chapter, might pick it back up, idk)

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past injury with some description, anxiety and stress, mentions of medicine, aggressive dog, manipulation, some yandere aspects, violence, knives, attempted knife play, blood, pv, (Individual warnings per chapter) (Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you)

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 2838 (Find all chapters here)

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Your leg was healing well, considering the crushed bones, enormous scars, and bloody bandages that had to be replaced at least once a day.

It hurt like fucking shit.

You were constantly stressed. The pain in your leg was unbearable when you weren’t either taking pain medications or in a deep sleep after taking sleeping medicine. Then there was also Logan. He was sweet to you, so you didn’t understand why your body rejected him so much. You suppose it was because you naturally couldn’t be attracted to the man that kidnapped you, murdered someone you knew, and then acted like everything was okay.

The bear trap was your fault, you should’ve stopped when he said it was unsafe.

Spilled hot coffee on yourself? You weren’t paying attention.

It was also your fault that the mailman died. Even though it was his three claws that stabbed into the man's throat. But you shouldn’t have whispered ‘help.’

Everything bad that happened, it all led back to you.

And no, there weren’t any twisted mind tricks, or shit manipulation tricks that were making you believe it was truly your fault. It was just literally your fault.

Everything that happened that was bad could’ve been stopped if you were just more careful, but it was hard to be careful when you were walking on eggshells in front of this man. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but even if he did, say… backhand you, it would be your fault for provoking him. And that wasn’t easy.

A bark comes from beside you on the couch. The pitch black german shephard was staring at your sandwich, that was the only time Logan ever defended you, because the dog was trained to watch you, and bite you if you’re being an ass.

“Shut up dog.” He didn’t even bother giving the dog a name. He’s settled for calling him ‘dog.’ But the boy still listens, stepping off the couch and moving to lie down in his dog bed upon hearing Logan's angered voice. “You need to teach that dog to respect you.”

“You’re the one that trained him to kill me.”

“No, I trained him to keep you inside and hurt you only if you managed to get out.” He explained for the 5th time this week, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed.

“Well he bit me the other day…”

“Because you raised your voice at me.”

“You were being mean!” Your voice squeaks, and you turn around to face him in the kitchen. He was wearing his white beater and thick jeans, the teddy bear socks you ordered for him were on his feet, keeping him warm.

Was it wrong to admit you still loved and cared for him?

Probably.

But you did. When you had felt his feet on your thighs a few weeks ago because he was using you as a footrest as you two watched Bambi, his feet were absolutely freezing. “Holy shit dude, did you just come inside after walking in the snow barefoot?” You had pushed his feet off your lap, and he eventually let you search online for some socks. It took some convincing, but he eventually ordered the fluffy teddy bear socks. And now he wouldn’t stop wearing them.

You were just happy he was warm.

“Whatever.” You mumble after he doesn’t answer you, but he walks over to sit next to you on the couch. You still had a pillow placed on your lap which you’ve been cuddling all day and night, the word ‘home’ written on it in bold brown letters, making it pretty homey honestly.

“Whatever?” He groans as he sits down.

“What’re you groaning about old man?” You lean forward slightly, and he chuckles, your powers picking up the vibration in his chest which makes you feel fuzzy.

He was so sweet to you when he was in a good mood.

“Come here puppy.” He pats his lap, and you quickly move forward, tossing your pillow to the side to cuddle into him like an actual dog.

The way he wants you to.

You were the puppy, and he was the owner. He told you, followed by your smart ass biting him at every chance you got. He was honestly lucky you still had enough decency to not shit and piss on the floor out of spite.

But for some reason, you grew on him.

“Good girl…” He whispers, holding you close against his chest, not tight, as he wanted you to be comfortable.

He was always warm, especially his feet. It always brought a sense of happiness and comfort to you, even after you two fought.

You look down at the dog, he’s resting already, snores coming from his nose. But you know he’s still watching your every move somehow.

“Are you okay?” You nod, leaning further against him, seeking the most warmth you could as his hand moves under your shirt to start rubbing circles on your back, something he’s learned that you love, considering it makes your face redden.

“I have a question…” You mumble against his chest, part of you hoping he didn’t hear you.

“What’s the question?” You’re quiet for a moment, debating how to ask it.

“Promise you won’t get mad at me?”

“If you think I’m going to be mad, then I’m probably gonna be mad. Ask it.”

“What do you plan on doing with me…?” Your voice shakes slightly, and you begin to pick at your skin nervously when he doesn’t answer. Gently, he sits you up, making it so you look into his eyes. Your faces are just inches apart.

“Are you scared?” He asks, his voice quiet like he’s speaking to a horrified child.

You nod.

You hated to admit it. But you were scared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slightly at your movement. “Why would you be scared of me?” He grins, his hands cupping your cheeks, making you look even chubbier. “I love you, my angel… I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you…” He finishes his sentence with a kiss. His lips feel like poison against yours. “I love you.” He says again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it back. Say you love me.” He demands, grip tightening.

“I love you too… Logan.” You say his name with venom laced around every word like a snake choking their next meal. Then you had an idea. “Can I please get some water?” A smirk grows on your face, and you rock your hips slightly against him, biting your bottom lip. You’ve never been a seductress, but the growing tent in his pants tells you you’re doing good.

“Of course baby, go ahead.” He lets go of you, and you slowly stand, making sure to make nice sways of your hips as you move into the kitchen, reaching up and grabbing a glass, which you fill with water from the sink.

Your plan was simple. Though you weren’t too sure how it would play out.

You hear light feet behind you, the dog was going to sleep for the night. That makes you worry less. Looking in the reflection of the microwave, you could see Logan was looking away, so you quickly reach over, stealing a knife out of the knife block, shoving the blade into the back of your panties, making sure not to cut yourself, leaving the handle sticking out.

You take a deep breath, and begin to walk back over to Logan who was now facing the TV, both of his arms draped over the back of the couch. His eyes find you, smiling above your glass of water as you take a sip, your devilish eyes on him.

“That’s a different look.” He sits up slightly, but you keep him down by straddling his lap. “Am I finally winning-?” Your lips attach to his, the glass still in your right hand while your left hand gently grabs his jaw.

“You want me Logan?” You whisper, the sound making his hips jerk up against you, and his hands move to your hips. You had to move before he found the knife. His lips quirk into a smile, then he suddenly flips you over onto your back, the blade of the knife cutting your skin slightly, causing your hips to jerk upwards against him, a moan coming from his lips as they attach to the skin of your neck, his body still grinding against yours.

You try to reach behind your back, but it’s almost impossible to lift your body with his fucking boulder of a body lying on top of you.

“Are you lying on something?” His fists move to the sides of your head, then he leans on his forearms, giving you enough room to lift your back up, reach behind your back…

“Logan…” You whisper his name, the smile on your lips gone.

“Yes love?” He sounded so innocent.

“I fucking hate you.” You chuckle a little, then in the blink of an eye, the silver of the kitchen knife disappears in the side of his neck, a gurgle coming from his throat as he looks down at you in confusion, his face reddening and his mouth hanging open slightly before he collapses on top of you. SHIT. He was fucking heavy. It was like an elephant decided to take a nap on your chest. “Shit, get off!” You shout, struggling to move him, having to use your entire body as you manage to slip out from under him, making him fall onto the floor with a loud thump, the knife still sticking out of his throat as you quickly run into his room, grabbing a jacket and his truck keys before darting back out.

And your stomach turns.

He’s standing there. Perfectly fine.

He stands in front of your exit, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife, and he yanks the blade out, blood only gushing from his neck for a moment before you watch as the wound closes in just a few seconds. It takes a moment to realise he’s looking at you now, his key ring around your pinky finger as you stare at him in fear.

“No… Logan- Just hear me out-” You stutter as he approaches you, picking up the knife he threw to the floor as his walking becomes faster, backing you against a wall.

“What the fuck was-”

“I’m into knife play…” You spit it out as if it was a true confession. No, you weren’t into it. Or at least you’ve never tried it.

“You’re into knife play?” You nod your head. “Yea I knew that wouldn’t kill you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before speaking again.

“Well that’s good to know. Get in the bed.” He demands, taking a step back so you could manoeuvre into the bedroom. “Come on, clothes off.”

“Logan-”

“Clothes. Off.” He repeats, pointing towards the bed with the kitchen knife, and you finally listen. You watch from the bed as he lodges the knife between the crack of the door and the wall, pulling the door slightly to see if it could budge, and it doesn’t. “Knife play, huh?” He checks, moving to the bed and pulling your legs closer until they are hanging over the bed, and he settles himself between them. “Sounds fun.” He tells you, then suddenly reaches into the bedside draw, pulling out a pocket knife, flipping it to reveal a sharp blade. “Let me just make sure it’s sharp enough.” He grunts, lifting your arm, drawing the edge of the blade just barely over your forearm, and it easily leaves a paper like cut, making you wince. “Perfect.” He grabs the back of your thighs, and throws you further onto the bed, quickly crawling between your legs, the knife positioned on your stomach, keeping you still.

“Logan-”

“Shut up you fucking liar.” He growls, pushing his lips onto yours as he uses the knife to pull your panties aside, flipping the tool to rub your clit with the handle.

“Shit-”

“No, I said shut the fuck up.” He stops, and his eyes stare into yours.

Now you have a decision.

Let the asshole hurt you, and possibly walk away without getting fucked.

Or give into your desires.

The option wasn’t hard to decide.

“Sorry… daddy…” You moan, rocking your hips slightly, searching for some friction.

If you were going to be stuck here, you might as well enjoy it. But you weren’t too sure he would ever get over the knife kink after he was done with you.

“Daddy, hm?” He smirks, and you feel his body because less tense, less angry as he lies on top of you. “Stay still angel.” He tells you, putting the knife to the side for a moment as he pulls his shirt over his head, and your eyes stare at his body. It was like looking into a bag of freshly baked Hawaiian rolls. You might’ve made it a joke about wanting to bite him before. Being his ‘puppy,’ but now you really wanted to bite him. To taste him between your teeth.

Savour him.

“Mm… Please Logan…” You moan his name. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but now you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You need him.

“Begging too, I like it…” He reaches down, unbuttoning his jeans and removing his belt, tossing the belt to the side before tugging down his jeans slightly, and pulling out his cock, red and angry, already leaking precum. You wanted to just wrap your lips around him, feel him and taste him in your mouth, take him deep down in your throat. “Should see the ways your eyes are growing… Now you definitely look like a fucking puppy.” His lips attach to your throat, biting the lobe of your ear and tugging slightly as his hand rests on your waist, his other arm on the bed, being careful not to crush you this time.

His hand moves, lifting your waist slightly, and you take the hint. Wrapping your legs around his waist and he hooks his finger in the lace of your panties, pulling and breaking it easily before ripping them off completely and throwing them aside.

He pushes into you without any warning, not wanting to waste another second as his lips never leave your skin. You were slightly jealous, but you couldn’t even voice it, the only sounds that came from your throat were the pleasured moans drawn out by the thrusting of Logan's cock into your cunt, giving you to time to adjust as he ruts into you like a starved dog and you’re in heat. You loved it. It felt amazing. You’ve let plenty of larger men fuck you, but barely even thirty seconds into allowing Logan to fuck you, you already felt brainless. Jumbled words of desire, a few ‘daddy’ies and a couple ‘feels so good,’s all leaving your lips as he slams his hips against yours, his hands eventually gripping your thighs and spreading you further as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders, you barely even notice the movements. Then he forces himself into you harder, his cock lathering your walls with your juices as he makes you cum, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let him use you like a doll.

A few minutes pass, and you weren’t sure when, you weren’t sure how, but you at some point move to sit on top of him, riding him like you had the energy of a twelve year old boy seeing the lego store in a mall,bouncing and rocking your hips like your job was just to fuck Logan, and his hips also rock against yours, his entire dick balls deep inside of you as you both lather what most would consider the most disgusting kisses all over eachother lips, spit and some tears from your own eyes covering eachothers lips as you both slobbily kiss eachother, his own lips eventually finding one of your nipples as he licks and bites it, your hands moving to his shoulders to keep yourself steady before his body suddenly shifts again, now you’re against the headboard, and he’s rutting into you again, the bed shaking viciously while his mouth smothers yours, and your mouth smother his.

Then his constant thrusting seems to get faster, and you feel your stomach tighten. You’re both close, and he doesn’t let up.

“Where, puppy… Tell me where…” He says with emotion laced in his face. You knew where he wanted you.

“Inside… Please Logan, inside…” He moans, his body rippling slightly and you feel his warmth seep through you, covering your walls in white. He thrusts a few more times before pressing another kiss to your mouth, more of a peck, then he rests his forehead on yours. “Does this mean you’re done with your stupid attitude?” He asks, you shake your head.

“You’ve gotta try harder than that…”

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #smut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #ensnared

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chrisstvrns · 2 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ | 𝐂.𝐒.

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽… chris & his girlfriend investigate and potentially solve a murder from nearly 80 years ago

warnings: mentions of murder & death. mostly fluff & angst (if what they talk about is considered angst?) pet names (baby, pretty, ma, pretty girl, & mama), not proofread im exhausted

word count: 1.4k

you were sat on the couch of the triplet’s living room, scrolling through your instagram feed when you come across a post from a historical page, of a murder from close to a century ago.

the cover of the post was a black and white photo of a young woman, a wide smile on her face as she posed, wearing a yellow showgirl outfit. the text on the photo read “lola jones, famous manhattan showgirl, died 20 years ago today”.

you clicked on the link to the article in the caption, having always been fascinated by lola’s story, and the murder she was rumored to have played a part in. you skimmed the article, hoping there would be something mentioning the murder. the first paragraph read:

“lola jones, well known manhattan night club showgirl of the 1940s, has died 20 years ago today, on december 4th, 2004, aged 83. jones was best known for being one of the most popular dancers at manhattan's most famous dance club of the 1940s, ‘the copacabana’. jones was rumored to be in a romantic relationship with the late tony starr, a bartender at the club, sometime throughout 1942 to 1944, when he was murdered in the club by a runaway party-goer. to this day, investigators all over the country cannot figure out who it was who killed the late tony, and when asked, jones denied to speak about the situation.”

there was a bunch more in the article, simply speaking about her life. before you knew it, almost an hour had passed and the front door was swinging open, and nick, matt, and chris all filed up the stairs, making their way to the couch as you looked up, reaching your arms out toward chris.

“hi baby” you sweetly whisper, as chris sinks into the couch next to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you onto his lap.

you lean back on his chest, holding his hands in yours.

“i missed you today” he mutters into your shoulder, gently moving his face to kiss your neck as his brothers stare in disgust.

you giggle, running a hand back through his hair

“i missed you more.”

you pick up your phone, cuddling into chris a bit more as you continue reading the article.

“what’s that, pretty?” he mumbles, into your shoulder

“that copacabana showgirl from the 40’s, lola jones? she died 20 years ago today.” you respond, your eyes drifting across the screen

“didnt she kill someone?” nick chimes in from the other couch

“no, she was dating the guy that got killed. it says in the article that she like, refused to ever speak of him or his death since the day he died.”

“but she knows who killed him?” matt asks, as you shrug

“i have no clue. she could, but for the 60 years she was alive after he died, she never once spoke about it. at least, not to reporters or investigators.”

“so its an unsolved murder? they never caught the guy?”

“i guess so”

“what if we looked into it and caught the guy?” nick jokes, causing you all to laugh

“nick, the dudes definitely long gone by now. and besides, thats way to much work.” chris scoffs, gently rubbing your thigh

“i’m just sayin! it could be interesting, even just to try!”

“it could be fun, but nothing would come out of it. hes definitely already dead, whoever it was.”

“i mean, it does still say that if anyone has information you get a $100,000 reward?” matt mutters, scrolling through a news article from a few months ago

“shit, are you deadass?” chris sits up, staring at his brother in shock

“are we serious? theyre still tryna solve the murder when everyone alive at the time is probably fucking dead already?”

you turn your head over your shoulder, looking at chris with a smile.

“what d’you say, chris? we can just do it as our own little fun thing! its exciting!”

“i dont- i dunno, baby. theres like no point in it. fuck, dont give me those eyes. y’know i cant say no when y’look at me like that.”

“gross. get a room. fucking, please.”

you giggle, looking back at nick, then back at your boyfriend.

“soooooo?”

chris cups your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“ill think about it, okay, ma?” he whispers, looking at you with those eyes that always drove you crazy

“thank you baby. i love you” you whisper, cuddling into him

for the next few hours, you and the triplets talk about random nothings, and by 11 oclock, you were all exhausted and ready for bed. nick and matt headed to their bedrooms, while you and chris hung out on the couch for a bit longer, talking about the next days plans and whatnot.

eventually, you make your way down to chris’ room, cuddling up in the blankets. while chris was out like a light within ten minutes, you couldnt sleep.

you kept thinking about lola, and tony, and the club, and who killed tony. the club was always so packed, with so many witnesses there that night, but nobody saw who killed him?

within 15 minutes, you found yourself hunched over your laptop and notebook, scribbling down facts you found online about the club and lola’s life after tony’s death.

“she has a daughter, born in ‘49. so she would be like, what? 75? yeah, 75. okay, her daughter has three kids. 2 sons and a daughter, they're 48, 46, and 44. and they all have their own kids, like, my age, probably? lola’s daughter is antonia jones, and she still lives in the city”

you found yourself muttering to yourself out loud, completely forgetting about chris being asleep next to you as you review your facts aloud.

“what’re y’doing, ma?” chris mutters, his face smushed against the pillow

“chris, look. her daughter is still alive, and she has a bunch of grandkids and i'm assuming great grandkids?”

“who are you talkin’ bout?”

“lola jones!”

with that, chris fully rolls onto his back, eventually sitting up.

“y’still on this?”

“yes!”

“you really wanna do this, huh? y’wanna solve her boyfriend or whoevers murder? from like 80 fuckin’ years ago?”

you nod, sympathetically looking into your boyfriends eyes. “i do. i really do. not for the cops, or for the money, but to get justice. its been 80 years, nobody knows what happened. the poor guy probably had a family, maybe not kids, but his parents, cousins, siblings! they all lost someone, and i bet you theres some siblings grandkids still alive that want some form of justice for their uncle!”

“fuck it, lets do it then.” he smirks, brushing a strand of hair away from your face

“really? you mean it?” you squeal, climbing on top of his lap as he nods

“of course i mean it. anything for my pretty girl.” he mutters, cupping your jaw as you hold his neck

you lean down a bit, pressing your lips together and holding him close. you passionately kiss him for a few seconds longer, before pulling away and just hugging him.

“thank you baby.” you whisper into his ear, tightly hugging him

“dont thank me, its something you wanted to do, and i can see how badly you want this. i dont give a shit what it is, ill do anything for you.”

you pull away from the hug, staring into his icy blue eyes, noticing the sparkle thats always there when you look at him.

“i love you so much.”

“i love you so much more.”

“not possible.”

“dont argue with me on this, okay mama?”

“okay.”

you sweetly whisper, clinging to your boyfriend as he lays down in bed again, holding you close to him as you finally drift to sleep after hours of researching and spiraling.

this was it. you were gonna go back into evidence, news articles, and research from over 80 years in the past, all the way back to when lola and tony started fooling around in what was rumored to be 1942. but was it actually? or is there more to the story?

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: i lowk hate myself for this cliffhanger but im tired and need to go to sleep so im scheduling this to post in the morning gn angels!! <3 & yes that is tara yummy i couldnt find any good yellow showgirl pics for the moodboard ignore it pls n ty

inspo: i was listening to the song today and actually payed attention to the lyrics for like the first time and literally spiraled and told everyone i knew abt it and then decided to write about it & expand on the story we hear in the song a bit more LMFAO

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

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tags:

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #rory's blog𝜗𝜚 #© chrisstvrns #rory's copacabana series⋆✮⋆˙#auroras blog𝜗𝜚 #Spotify

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