#do NOT trap in a box they will eat through it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sluttyten · 2 months ago

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Finding Home

Kinktober Day 5 | Jaehyun Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: zombie apocalypse au, shower sex, thigh riding, handjob, choking, daddy kink, penetration

length: 7242

You’ve been on your own for too long.

Too long you’ve been your own source of survival against the zombies. Too long you’ve been hungry and thirsty.

But tonight, as you settle in to sleep in your chosen tree for the night, you spot a fire glow in the distance. Fire means people, people means food, and fire and people means that they’re fools that are going to draw zombies right to them.

You slip quietly from the tree, making sure that your blades are secure before you set off towards the fire.

You hear zombies moving through the trees, moaning and shuffling as they make for the firelight as well, but as you approach the site, you see why the people that set the fire are so confident. They’ve set up a barricade of stakes jutting outwards. Already a few zombies are caught in the trap, and as you hang back a safe distance, you watch one of the people inside the barrier walk around, knifing each captured zombie to end them.

Quietly, you scale a tree, perch yourself on a branch, and observe the camp below.

There’s one central fire, two men, a horse and wagon loaded down with items. The one man continues walking around the perimeter, killing zombies when they throw themselves on the stakes. The other man sits at the fire, cooking their dinner, and the scent of sizzling sausages wafts up to you on the breeze, setting your stomach growling.

You wait, watching as the man at the perimeter returns to the fire. You watch them eat their fill, reminding you how empty your own belly is. They drink from their canteens, and you’re reminded how dry your mouth is. You wait, observing one man recline beside the fire, his head pillowed on his bag. The other walks away from the fire, taking a seat on a tree stump, and he looks out at the perimeter, occasionally getting up to kill a newly arrived zombie, which doesn’t happen nearly as often once the fire begins to die.

You wait until the one on guard slouches forward, his head propped up by his elbow on his knee. You wait until the faint sound of snoring carries up to you, and then you make your move.

You have practice with stealth, and your feet are silent on the forest floor. You slip over the wall of stakes easily, and then you make for the glowing remains of the fire. They’d left half a sausage in the pan, and you’d seen one of them pull a bit of bread or something out of a box sitting a few feet from the fire.

Hunger runs deep into your bones, making you desperate enough to do this.

You first go to the box, quietly lifting the lid. There is a loaf of dry bread sitting right there beside two small apples. You grab the bread, tear off a chunk, and devour it, licking the crumbs from your filthy fingers as you pick up the canteen left by the one on guard duty. You drink a few mouthfuls of clean water, and then you tiptoe back to the fireside, searching the dark ground for the pan with the half sausage.

You crouch, hands brushing in front of you. The dim glow of the fire isn’t enough to help you distinguish the pan from the ground, but it is enough that when you come face to face with the man sleeping beside the fire, you startle.

He’s not asleep anymore.

You yelp as he lunges. One of you kicks something metallic with a loud clang, probably the pan, but you don’t have the chance to mourn the potential loss of your dinner because the man is wrestling you, trying to get his hands on you, to pin you down, to wrap his hands around your throat. You struggle, hitting and kicking, rolling over him just to have him flip you over again.

He pins you to the ground, hands firm on you, body heavy.

You’ve been on your own for too long. You haven’t felt the touch of another person in two years.

Your arms are caught above your head, his hips weigh yours down. Is it any wonder that you moan a little? You don’t even mind the sharp prick as he suddenly pulls a knife, pressing it threateningly beneath your chin.

“Jaehyun?” The perimeter guard runs up, and a moment later, the light of the fire grows again. You twist your head towards it, just able to make out the sight of the perimeter guard crouched beside the fire, blowing on the growing flames, a flint in one hand.

He’s handsome, you realize, now that you’re this close. His hair is grown down to his chin, dark black. He’s younger than you’d thought he’d be. For some reason you were picturing these two being older men in their forties maybe, but he can’t be any older than thirty years old, if even that.

And then you turn your wide-eyed gaze to the man that has you pinned.

God, he’s possibly even more handsome.

“Johnny, we have a thief on our hands,” the man above you says. “She was eating our bread, drinking our water.”

You whine. “I just wanted your sausage.”

Johnny over by the fire laughs. “Couldn’t think to ask nicely, dear? Jaehyun pulled a knife on you and everything.”

His hand on the knife twitches, he shifts his weight above you, and this time you whimper – not out of fear or pain, but purely out of arousal. The last time you felt a man’s touch was over two years ago, a night with your boyfriend about a week before the zombie virus hit.

Jaehyun scoffs above you. “I could be wrong, Johnny, but I think she’s enjoying this.”

“Sorry,” you hiss, “it’s just been a while since a man’s had me in this position.”

Jaehyun smirks. “With a knife to your throat?”

You tilt your chin up a little. “No, with his dick digging into my belly. Get off.”

“Promise you won’t kill us if I let you up?” Jaehyun asks. “We’ll share our sausage with you.”

Again, Johnny laughs.

A zombie snarls from the perimeter, and you look in that direction, twisting your head in time to see a large zombie collide with a stake, pushing himself halfway along it in his determination to reach the fire and the three of you. Johnny curses and gets to his feet, jogging over to drive his knife into the zombie’s skull.

Jaehyun rolls off of you and sits up, running his fingers through his hair.

You wait a moment, keeping your eyes fixed on the gleam of his knife. He looks over at you again, then says, “You can sit up. I’m not going to hurt you. Here.” He reaches over, locating the pan with the half a sausage in it, luckily not overturned in the dirt. He passes it over to you. “Eat.”

You snatch it from him, quickly gobbling down the spicy, greasy cold sausage. It’s the best thing you’ve eaten in ages.

“Where did you come from?” Jaehyun asks, looking around the perimeter until he locates Johnny. “Are you by yourself?”

You nod, chewing the lump of sausage in your mouth. “About a year,” you say, and then you swallow and continue, “I’ve been on my own about a year. Bounced around a few groups there for a while in the beginning of all of this, but about a year ago I was separated from the rest when a fire broke out overnight. I’ve been on my own since then, making my way, looking for somewhere safe.”

Jaehyun stares at you for a long moment, and then says, “We’ve got somewhere safe. That’s where we’re heading, if you want to tag along.” He gestures at the wagon and the horse sleeping nearby. “We have supplies. You wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”

“I’d like that.” You inhale the last bite of sausage.

Johnny and Jaehyun switch after that. Jaehyun takes watch and Johnny dozes beside the fire. You occupy Jaehyun’s attention for a little while, answering his questions and asking some of your own about the experiences you’ve lived through since the start of the zombie virus. He tells you that he and Johnny have been friends for years, and they actually were separated when it all started, but found each other about five months in.

“I was shocked when I saw him sitting in the dining hall of our community. It was my first week there, and I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Jaehyun laughs softly, “I thought I had to be imagining him since I’d not see him at all in the past few days, but he’d been out on a scavenging mission all week. He and I make a great team, so we come out on scavenging missions together frequently.”

After a while, you doze off beside the fire.

When the first rays of morning light reach you, you jolt awake, fearing that it was all a dream or that worse yet they’ll have packed up and left you here alone. But Jaehyun’s standing a few feet away, fastening the harness on the horse. Johnny is waking up, walking off to piss near the edge of their campsite.

And then you leave with them.

It takes most of the day to travel to their community, and when you see the border fence and the guard tower of a prison, you begin to feel excited. This place looks safe. And it must be because there are a dozen guards that greet the three of you at the gate, and you’re not even mad when they separate you from Johnny and Jaehyun so you can be interrogated by the leader.

Their leader is a grizzly older man who looks like he’s definitely seen some shit. He asks you a million questions, and your answers must satisfy because before the sun sets, you’re being shown through the prison by an excited young man named Mark.

He shows you the dining hall, the gardens in the former recreation yard, the men's showers, the women's showers, the armory, and then Cell Blocks A-F where everyone sleeps. There are sixteen cells per block, eight on each of the two levels, plus they’ve managed to make bunk beds in the open area on the ground floor of each cell block.

“But the last three Blocks, don’t go near them,” Mark warns you. “Zombies got through and they’ve infested them. We’ve done a few recovery missions in there to scavenge the bunks for the ground floors and some other stuff, but it’s way too dangerous for us to try to completely clear them out and live in them. There’s no way for us to refortify where they broke through. And stay away from the silo. No one goes there.”

Noted.

Don’t go past Cell Block F, which should be easy since they’re all in a row. Don’t go to the silo, wherever that is. You don’t even see anything that looks like a silo when Mark takes you through the yard, which is just the big grassy area between the prison buildings and the border fence.

Mark shows you the laundry, where the women working push a set of clean linens and clean clothes into your arms, and then Mark finally shows you back through it all, taking you to Cell Block C, to an open bunk on the floor.

It’s not much, but it’s better than anything you’ve had in a long time. It’s home.

You grow accustomed to the place over the next few days, learning the layout of the prison, learning names and faces of your new community. You’re given the job of helping out in the infirmary since you’d told the community leader that you’d been in nursing school when the world went to shit. Mostly, working in the infirmary means that you’re the back-up for the doctor this community’s lucky enough to have. You clean up scrapes, deliver medicine around the compound, watch the infirmary when the doctor is otherwise occupied.

You’re happy here.

You get to see Jaehyun a few more times in those early days, spotting him in the dining hall or in the mornings as you pass through Cell Block B, the one occupied exclusively by the guard, including those who run scavenging missions. He and Johnny have a cell up on the second level, and some mornings on your way to the infirmary, you catch sight of Jaehyun pushing back the curtain that covers the bars.

“Jae and Johnny are great guys,” Mark tells you one afternoon.

You don’t know if Mark just decided that the two of you would be friends or if the leader assigned him to keep an eye on you, but you’ve been hanging out with him pretty often lately. This afternoon, you’re sitting together on the roof of Block E, looking out at the guards doing drills in the yard. You’ve been watching the two handsome men that brought you here, the way they’re practicing hand-to-hand combat.

“They’re gone a lot,” Mark continues, “Out traveling the countryside searching for supplies. But when they’re here, we see a lot of Johnny in the rec room, entertaining everyone. Jaehyun keeps a little more to himself though, reading in the prison’s library, running laps around the yard, or just in their cell, listening to music. Ten told me that Jaehyun found an old CD player on one of their trips, and now he just collects CDs when they’re out and gets batteries anywhere he can find them to keep it going.”

You sit up there on the roof a while longer, admiringly watching the men move down below you.

It’s a few days later when you wake at dawn.

You change into the shorts and tank top you’d gotten from the community’s clothing bank, and you head out for the main entrance. Coincidentally, you reach it right as Jaehyun arrives; it’s definitely not because you’d been asking around for the past couple days, trying to figure out from others when exactly Jaehyun went on runs around the prison yard.

“Hey,” Jaehyun grins, “What are you doing here?”

“I was thinking of going for a run this morning. What about you?” You start stretching your legs.

Jaehyun watches you, his smile remaining bright. “I take a few laps around the yard every morning. You’re welcome to run with me, if you want, if you think you can keep up.”

“I’ll have you know,” you say, “I have great stamina. I’ll be running laps around you.”

He laughs.

And he’s probably right to laugh. You’ve done plenty of running in the last two years, but not like getting up and jogging four miles every morning.

That being said, you think you do a pretty good job of keeping up with Jaehyun. Several laps around the prison yard before you’re collapsing down into the grass, sweaty and out of breath. Jaehyun stretches out in the grass beside you, his shirtless chest gleaming in the bright morning light, his shirt dangling from one hand.

You want to roll over, to put yourself closer to him, to lick at the sweat on his chest, to press your body against his. God. You’re horny and generally deprived of human contact; you feel like you might cum if he so much as brushes his fingers against yours right now.

You resist your urges, but only barely. And you manage to not cream your panties when Jaehyun offers you his hand to pull you up to your feet. You just walk alongside him on the way to the dining hall for breakfast, then spend your entire eight minute shower fantasizing about his muscles.

Each dawn after that, you find yourself at the main entrance, meeting Jaehyun to go for a run. Each morning, you feel your ability to resist your urges growing smaller and smaller.

One evening while you’re finishing up in the infirmary, there’s a knock on the open doorway, and you turn to see Jaehyun standing there. His hair is pushed back from his handsome face. He’s wearing a leather jacket that really just reminds you of motorcycle-riding bad boy fantasies you had when you were younger, and you want to just grab him by the front of that jacket and drag him against you.

But you don’t because there’s a patient sitting in one of the three infirmary beds, and she might not appreciate the show.

“Hey, Johnny and I are leaving again in the morning,” Jaehyun says, leaning against the doorway. “I just figured I should let you know so you’re not waiting for me in the morning.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

“We’ll be gone just two days. Tomorrow, then back the night after,” he says quickly. “Don’t wander off, and try not to miss me too much.”

You immediately roll your eyes. “You? No. Johnny? Absolutely, I’m going to miss him so much. Who else is going to harass me about practicing my knife skills?”

The past few evenings, you’ve stood in the recreation yard with Mark, Johnny, and Jaehyun learning knife-throwing and hand-to-hand combat. You blame Mark because he’d helpfully told them about how you’d been intently watching their training in the yard that day, and you’d made the excuse of just wanting to learn combat yourself.

“Ah, well, I’m gonna miss you,” Jaehyun says. “Goodnight.”

And then he’s stepped out of the doorway, and by the time you get around the doctor’s desk and to the door, Jaehyun has disappeared down the hallway, out of sight.

Those two days are nerve-wracking. It doesn’t help that the doctor gave you the second day off because you’d been so uselessly distracted the first day they were gone. You walk around the compound on that second day after breakfast. You find the prison library, which you’d not really visited before. You take a stroll through the administration building of the prison, which mostly sits unused now even though it was one of the first buildings they cleared out when the community settled in the prison.

You walk and explore all day until you find yourself late in the afternoon entering a section of the prison that you don’t recognize. It’s a large compound, so that’s not really all that strange to find somewhere you don’t know.

You don’t think anything of it as you brush aside debris on your way down a hallway, as you reach a doorway that’s locked from your side. You flip the lock, open the door, and step inside. There’s nothing special about this place, you think, as you walk in. You can’t quite tell what it is. It’s got rounded walls, no windows. There are overturned chairs and metal tables, and as you start walking along the left-hand curve of the room, you realize that the ceiling in the center of the space is caving in a little, allowing in some sunlight and dripping from the brief rainshow that happened earlier in the day.

The holes in the middle of the ceiling provide just enough light that you can see there’s a railing to your right as you move around the room, and you walk towards it, trying to look over the edge to see what this place is.

To your surprise, the floor just keeps going. Down and down and down, so far down you can’t see the bottom. And you realize that the floor you’re standing on slopes gently downwards, and as you follow along the path with your eyes, it spirals downward with dark squares set along the path.

Suddenly you realize where you must be.

The tall cylindrical shape of this place burrows underground, which is why you’d never seen it when you looked around the compound. But the shape of it, the lack of windows….

You shuffle away from the edge, backing towards the door, but you don’t see the chair tipped over on the ground behind you until it’s too late.

You crash over it, falling backwards. The sound echoes, magnified tenfold in the space with its thick metal walls built to hold maximum security prisoners.

You’re in the silo.

The shuffling, dragging footsteps sound suddenly too loud and too close when they start up. You hear moans and clamor from down below as well.

What was it that Mark said about this place on your first day?

“No one goes there.” He’d grimaced when he said it, you remember that now.

You try to push to your feet, but your foot is tangled in the legs of the chair, and a dark shadow is looming above you, the reek of rot hanging around it.

You scream, tearing your foot free, and in the same move you kick the chair forward, shoving it into the legs of the zombie above you. You hear it collapse as you roll onto your hands and knees, pushing yourself upright and ignoring the ache in your ankle. Another zombie emerges out of the shadow, and you reach for the knife you always keep sheathed at your waist. You swing, connecting with soft flesh, and the creature dies with a low groan.

Squishy hands grasp your wrist. The sweet stench of rot fills your nose, and you scream again, kicking out at the zombie that has hold of you.

You need some light. You can’t see them, can’t see where they’re coming from. You keep trying to move backwards, but you bump into something, hear the ragged, garbled sounds of something trying to make noise that no longer has the ability to vocalize. You swing your knife again, feel the blade sink into soft flesh, past bone.

They keep coming, and the light coming in through the caving in roof isn’t really enough. You can only just make out the hulking, limping shapes of the zombies as they move towards you, as you scramble backwards toward the door that you’d left open. You pray that none of them have passed through the door, that they’ve been too preoccupied with their chase of you to notice that their escape to the all-you-can-eat buffet in the rest of the prison is open.

Again and again you swing your knife, slashing through the air at anything that gets close, anything that touches you.

You feel the spray of zombie gore, the disgusting dribble of them on your skin, on your clothes. You can’t think too hard about it, though, too focused on trying to make it to the door, which you can no longer really see, only heading towards where you remember it being.

And then there’s a voice distantly, frantically calling your name.

“I’m here!” You yell back, shoving your elbow into the face of a zombie, taking a stab at another that leers at you through the darkness, its half-rotted teeth catching just faintly the light from the holes in the ceiling. Your knife sinks into its eye, and you shove it away with your foot.

Behind you, the door into the silo bangs open. Maybe it had swung back shut after you came through.

Light floods into the room, revealing the horde of zombies trying to push their way up the narrow spiral path. Arms are outstretched, faces rotting off. Some of them wear the uniforms of prison guards, others the tattered remnants of the prisoners' jumpsuits. It doesn’t matter what they look like or what they’re wearing to you as you kick one in the face as it crawls along the floor; your foot goes through his face, coming out slimy, and you slide as you take a step back.

Jaehyun’s voice fills your ears, shouting your name as he races into the room.

He’s brought a spear with him, and he lunges forward, kebabing three zombies at once. You stab another. Jaehyun pulls the spear back, swinging it around and smashing the butt of the spear into the head of a prison guard zombie. It stumbles backwards, knocking down a few behind it.

“Come on!” Jaehyun barks, and then he’s grabbing your hand, running for the door as it slowly swings back shut.

Jaehyun catches it just before it closes, throwing it back open to push you through ahead of him, and then he’s coming through, grabbing the handle of the door to slam it shut. He flips the lock into place, and it’s only now that you see the keycard pads beside the door marked with SILO - Restricted Access.

A zombie slams into the other side of the door.

You take a step back.

Another bang from the door.

“Is that going to hold them now?” You ask.

Jaehyun turns to you, his face so full of emotion that you can’t separate exactly which emotions he’s feeling. “Who knows, but let’s go. We at least need to get out of this building.” He takes your hand again, and drags you back along the hallway that led here. He curses as he goes, spitting out a complex series of curse words followed by, “What the hell were you thinking going in there?”

Does he really think you went in there on purpose? “I was just looking around! I didn’t know where I was.”

Your foot is still covered in gore from kicking in that zombie’s head, and your gait is lopsided because of it. Your foot slides each time it hits the ground running, and you hold tighter to Jaehyun’s hand because of it. You want to stop, just for a second, long enough to kick off your shoe so you can run properly.

Far behind you, you still hear the banging on the door, the groan of metal. Neither you or Jaehyun says a thing as you make your way to the heavy duty door that had been propped open on your way in. You didn’t do that, and honestly, it kinda seems like maybe if they don’t want people going in the SILO, then they should leave the heavy duty security door at the entrance of the SILO’s attached building permanently shut.

As you run through it, Jaehyun pauses only long enough to shove it shut, and you’re already on your way, running across the stretch of the yard that runs between the SILO’s building and the rest of the compound. You’ve got a stitch growing in your side, making it hard to breathe. Your ankle is throbbing, your fingers tingle from how tightly Jaehyun is holding your hand, pulling you along the buildings aiming for Cell Block F, which is the closest.

“I told you not to wander off!” Jaehyun yells, still running, still halfway dragging you. “Shit!”

“Sorry, Dad!” You snap at him, lacing your fingers tighter through his and putting on a burst of speed to keep up with him. “Next time I’ll ask your permission before I leave the cell block, if you want to act like my parent.”

Jaehyun spins around, pushing you back up against the wall of the building. “This was exactly what I was worried about! I told Johnny that I had a feeling you would get into trouble while we were away. And looks like I was right.”

“You’re so wise, Jaehyun. So smart and better than me. Gosh, Dad, maybe you should hire a babysitter next time you leave,” you spit the words out, laying the sarcasm on thick.

Jaehyun presses you harder into the wall. “I didn’t say that.”

You attempt to push him back, and when that doesn’t work, you snarl. “Get off of me! I can take care of myself. I had that handled until you burst in. I don’t need you ranting at me all pissed off, acting like I’m a kid, like I need you to take care of me. Newsflash! I was doing just fine for a year and a half before I met you. So thanks, Dad, but no thanks.”

This time, Jaehyun’s hand flies to your throat, pushing your head back against the wall too. You’re pinned between him and the wall completely as he growls, “Call me Dad one more time. I dare you.”

“Oh, sorry,” you put on a sweet tone, cooing, “Daddy.”

Jaehyun snaps, his mouth crushing against yours between one breath and the next.

You rejoice in the last of his restraint melting away, as he kisses you, his mouth working against yours, tongue teasing the split in your lips until you’re opening up for him. You whimper when your tongues touch, when Jaehyun shifts his hand on your throat to angle your head for him. His other hand slides up into your hair.

He pauses, lips freezing against yours.

“No,” you whine as he pulls back. “Jaehyun.”

He’s looking at his hand in your hair when you open your eyes, and the look on his face has your stomach sinking. He looks disgusted, and you wonder if reality caught up with him and he realized he didn’t want to be kissing you, if he’s disgusted by you.

“You have a little bit of zombie in your hair,” Jaehyun mumbles, pulling his hand out of your hair and flicking it to dislodge the gunk on his fingers. “As much as I would love to continue making out with you against this wall uninterrupted, maybe you should shower first.”

Oddly, a wave of relief passes through you. You laugh. “You know, typically, if a guy stopped kissing me to tell me to take a shower, I’d be super offended.”

“Oh, shit,” Jaehyun laughs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You shrug. “It’s understandable. But, Jaehyun, about what we were arguing about, I know I shouldn’t have wandered off to a place I didn’t know what it was. That’s my mistake, I wasn’t thinking. But shouldn’t there be a little more security around the place? I didn’t even realize that was the SILO Mark warned me away from until it was too late.”

He nods. “You’re right. I’ll talk to our leader about it tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

The guards at the entrance give you a weird look when you and Jaehyun walk inside. Jaehyun doesn’t let go of your hand when he stops to talk with the guards, when he explains to them that you’d accidentally entered the SILO, that you’d stirred up the horde inside. His thumb brushes continuously over your knuckles while he talks with them, and when he’s finally done with that, he leads you along to the showers.

The showers are typical prison showers – one big room with showerheads protruding from the wall, drains in the floor. No privacy.

“You can wait outside, you know.” You say as Jaehyun stands just inside the women’s shower room. “I don’t think there are any zombies in here.”

“No, but who knows what trouble you might find if I don’t keep an eye on you.” Jaehyun folds his arms and rests back against the wall. “Go on.”

You maintain eye contact with Jaehyun as you unbutton your pants, as you push them down your legs and leave them piled on the floor. You hold his gaze as you reach for the hem of your shirt, as you drag it up your body, tugging it over your head. It hits the floor too. You back away, still staring at Jaehyun, loving the way that he’s not looking away either. You turn away only when you reach the wall to turn on the shower, keeping your back to him as you unfasten your bra, tossing it back towards your clothes. And then you shimmy your panties down, kicking them away once they fall to the floor.

You glance back over your shoulder at Jaehyun.

He’s blushing adorably there beside the doorway, but still he can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Fuck, don’t move. Hold on.” Jaehyun turns, quickly slipping out through the doorway. You hear his footsteps racing down the hallway outside the shower room.

“What the hell?” You groan, slumping against the wall. “Why’d he have to leave?”

You reach for the shampoo dispenser set in the wall, and while he’s gone you work on washing your hair, rinsing and scrubbing out whatever the fuck piece of zombie was in your hair. You’ve just finished with that when you hear racing footsteps returning. You look back towards the doorway over your shoulder, watching the way Jaehyun skids into view.

He’s holding a change of clothes for you in his hands, and when he walks inside the room now he doesn’t stop there at the doorway. He walks in, dropping the clothes on a bench against the wall, and he keeps coming. You turn towards him, facing him for the first time like this, showing him every part of you.

Jaehyun sheds his jacket as he comes towards you, drags his shirt over his head, and he doesn’t quite get around to pushing his pants down before he’s right there in front of you. He presses you back against the wall, the spray of the shower pouring over both of you as he reconnects his lips with yours, picking up where you’d left off outside.

The rub of his wet jeans against your skin is oddly arousing, but not as much as the feel of his hand sliding up your side, his palm reaching your breast, his thumb passing over your nipple. You moan into the kiss, bringing both of your hands up to his shoulders.

“Jaehyun,” you sigh, pulling back to breathe, but his teeth catch your bottom lip, and you sink back in.

His thigh presses between yours, the rough denim sliding against your skin, nudging up against your pussy. “Say it for me again, baby.” He kisses you, sucks on your bottom lip.

You don’t have to wonder what he means, you somehow just know. “Daddy,” you whimper, digging your nails in against his shoulders. “Oh, daddy.”

You roll your hips against his thigh, thrilling at the buzz that spreads through you when you glide your clit over the denim. Jaehyun’s thumb draws circles around your sensitive nipple, and finally his other hand rises to your neglected breast. He teases both nipples while you grind against his thigh.

“That’s right, baby,” Jaehyun presses his forehead to yours, “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to rile me up, to get me to push you up against a wall, maybe treat you a little rough?” He pinches your nipples right then, twisting them too. “Ever since that night we met, when you were squirming and whining while I had you pinned to the ground, this is what you wanted?”

You jolt forward to kiss him again, but Jaehyun pulls his head back.

“Ah, ah. This is something you should’ve learned that first night, baby. You need to learn to ask nicely for what you want.” Jaehyun brings one hand up from your chest, curling it against your throat to keep your head pinned as he leans in, hovering his lips tantalizingly above yours. “Ask daddy nicely for a kiss.”

You circle your hips against his thigh, gasping sharply. “Daddy, please. Kiss me?”

He presses his lips to yours only briefly, and then leans back again, his hand still on your throat to keep you from following. To make matters worse, he drops his other hand from your tit, dropping it to your hip.

You moan desperately, wanting him back. Needing his touch, more than just his thigh between your legs.

“Baby, if you don’t use your words, how do I know what you want?” Jaehyun pats your hip lightly. “And if you just keep rubbing yourself on my thigh like this, am I supposed to think that you want anything else?”

You whine, rocking your hips forward right as Jaehyun grinds his thigh up between your legs. His thumb presses just right against your throat too, and you see stars in the most delightful way.

“Let’s see how long you can last, baby,” Jaehyun leans close, running his lips along your jaw, tongue flicking out to lick up the water beading down your face from the shower’s spray. “Can you cum from just riding my thigh? Or can you wait for daddy’s cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you gasp, “I can last.”

He looks doubtful, but you’ve told him before, you have great stamina. Although, this is your first sexual contact since before the apocalypse happened, so who knows, you might snap in a second and cum on his jeans.

Your hands slide against Jaehyun’s damp skin, the shower sending rivulets of water down his chest, soaking into the waistband of his underwear and jeans. “I want to touch you, too, Jaehyun. Let me help you feel good, too, daddy.”

You graze your mouth against his, leaning as much into his hand at your throat as you dare. Jaehyun smiles, pressing you back against the wall, but he does nothing to stop you from sliding your hand over his abdomen, down into his pants.

Jaehyun’s eyes simply flutter shut, a pink blush growing high in his cheeks and his ears as you wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock, and you ease his growing erection free of his pants. It seems ridiculous that he’s still half clothed, but you can’t be too irritated by that development since it truly feels so good to grind against the denim, that buzz inside your belly increasing with each pass of your hips.

He kisses you again, crushing his lips to yours, tongue sliding against yours as you both moan while you ride his thigh and jerk your hand along his length. His hand flexes on your hip. You dig your nails into his back, tightening your hand on his cock on the upstroke. Jaehyun is filling out in your hand, cock swelling and lengthening as all his blood flows south.

The shower is tapering off, the timer that allows only fifteen minutes at a time running out.

Neither of you pays the water much attention, too lost in each other. Although, without the water, the sounds of your gasping breaths, Jaehyun’s low moans, the slick movement of your hand along his cock, all those sounds are extra-loud in the tile room.

“Oh, fuck,” Jaehyun moans when you bring your hand to just massage the tip of his cock. His mouth drops down to your shoulder, pinching your skin between his teeth, and his hand tightens against your throat. You want to moan, loving the way that that feels, but you can’t get the sound out, too busy rocking your hips desperately against Jaehyun’s thigh, chasing the feeling that’s brimming in your belly.

Jaehyun falls back, pulling his hands and his thigh away, putting a couple feet’s distance between you and him.

Your legs feel like they can barely hold you, and just as you’re about to give in to the wobbly feeling of your knees, Jaehyun throws himself back at you. You welcome his mouth on yours again, his hands reattaching to your body, pulling you against him instead of pushing you into the wall. His hands slide along your back, your ass, back up to your shoulders, diving into your hair. He kisses you frantically, hungrily, groaning into the kiss as he grinds his erection against your belly.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” you sing praises of his name, kissing him right back, running your hands along his chest and his neck, brushing your fingers over the blushing hot tips of his ears. “Daddy, please, I need you inside me.”

He ruts against your belly a few more times, and then Jaehyun releases you again only long enough to spin you around, long enough to shove his pants down, and he drags you right back in against him.

His arms wrap around your belly, hands rising to your tits. Jaehyun’s mouth fits against your throat, kissing the places where his hand had squeezed earlier, and he thrusts forward against your ass, between your thighs, sliding through your wetness until finally his cock curves up and slides home, sinking into your pussy like it’s right where he belongs.

“Ah, Jae,” you sigh, dropping your head back against his shoulder. He presses you forward against the tile wall, your chest and his hands trapped there as he fucks into you. Your moans echo loudly around the room, the wet sound of your bodies connecting, and Jaehyun’s sounds of pleasure too. “Jaehyun, yes, yes!”

“What’s that, baby? Whose cock is making you feel so good?” Jaehyun’s lips are against your ear, breaths coming out sharp and broken, moans and grunts rumbling from deep in his chest as he thrusts into you repeatedly, hurriedly, chasing after his pleasure.

You know he’s almost there, and you’re not far behind. “You, daddy! Yes, your cock is amazing. I’m gonna cum, daddy.”

Jaehyun bites down on your shoulder as he cums, rolling his hips forward so deep as he shoots into you, filling you with his white-hot seed. Hips twitching, grinding into you, Jaehyun slides one of his hands up to your chin, turning your head to the side, and his other hand moves down from your chest to your belly, lower still until he reaches your clit. He rocks shallowly into you, stroking his fingers over your clit, and in the moment before he kisses you, Jaehyun murmurs in a breathy voice, “Come on, baby, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes.

Jaehyun holds you through your orgasm, fingers on your clit, his cock still pulsing inside you, rocking into you while you tremble in his arms. He kisses you softly, carrying you both through the high of your first real, amazing orgasm in two goddamned years.

You stay like that, kissing softly, bodies moving together slowly for quite a while until things slow down even more, and then stop. Your heart is still racing when Jaehyun pulls out of you, and you’re so satisfied and loose-limbed right now that you don’t think you’d be able to do a damned thing even if a whole horde of zombies burst into the room right now.

“I told you I had good stamina,” you gasp, tilting your forehead against the wall. “Better than you.”

Jaehyun scoffs, planting a kiss on your shoulder. “We’ll test out one of your kinks next time, see which of us lasts longer then.”

You smile, twisting around to face him, and you twine your arms over his shoulders. “Bet it’s still me, daddy.”

Jaehyun pulls back, lifting his lips just out of your reach. “Being a little bratty, aren’t you?” His hand slides down to your ass, and he spanks you lightly. “Don’t make me send you to bed tonight without any dinner.”

You grin. “Oh, please, daddy, send me to bed early. I’d rather eat your sausage than anything else, anyway.”

Jaehyun throws his head back, laughing with his whole chest, his nose crinkling, dimples showing. He laughs until he’s wiping away tears from his eyes, and the whole time all you can do is smile at him and think that you’re ridiculously and completely in love with him. You can’t remember the last time you were as happy as you are right now, here with Jaehyun.

A month ago, you’d just been looking for dinner when you snuck into a stranger’s campsite, and instead you’d found Jaehyun, found love, found home.

a/n: this is like the fifth draft of jaehyun zombie au which is why it's going out so late today. I couldn't decide on the plot until rather late in the day unfortunately. But I really enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it!

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct #nct 127 #nct 127 smut

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 1 month ago

Text

Interference Part 1

Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.

Notes: Descriptions of DA scenario, mentions of drug use

Part 2

You tried to go over every thing you did throughout your day that might've caused your boyfriend to be so upset but couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because you didn't stay up to wait for him to get home last night, even though you gave him till midnight. Or maybe you left some dishes in the sink that he had to clean up.

Either way, his anger was inconsolable and you knew better than to even utter a word as he slammed the doors and walked around the house with a hard set scowl on his face. You just took shelter in the kitchen as you nervously cleaned out the fridge, tossing the expired condiments away.

"This house is always such a fucking mess! You spend at least half the day here, you'd think it would look spotless!"

You knew he wasn't really mad about the cleanliness. You deep cleaned the house every single day till it was shining, he was just projecting. You weren't sure whether to respond to his outburst or just let it go but didn't even have time to make a decision once he came walking into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of your neck raised and your face heated up in anxiety as he stood there staring at you.

That's when you noticed the all too familiar state he was in. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, slight sweat forming around his brows. He was high.

"What are you doing, huh? Throwing shit away? He said, grabbing the box of leftovers you had saved from a few days ago. "What if I still wanted to eat this? Were you going to bother to ask me?"

"I- uh- it's from a few days ago. I didn't think-

"Exactly! You didn't think! Just fucking throwing away whatever you want!"

You weren't expecting the box of expired food to be thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest, sticky noodles getting in your hair and falling into your lap.

"This is my fucking house! My fucking food! You don't get to throw away anything unless I say you can!"

You had barely recovered from food being thrown at you, you didn't realize he made a moved in on you and grabbing your arm tightly, jerking you up to your feet and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchen, the momentum causing you to lose your footing and fall to the floor.

Your senses were kicking into overdrive as you scrambled to your feet just as he grabbed a jar of pickles and launched it in your direction. It shattered on the wall besides you and you felt the sharp pain of small glass pieces cutting your skin.

You had never seen him this out of control before. There was something behind his eyes that scared you more than normal and you knew you needed to get out of his path of blinding rage. You made a run towards the hallway, him chasing you close behind but you managed to close and lock the bathroom door just in time.

"Oh, you wanna play this game now? Ok."

Your breaths were heavy, so much adrenaline flowing through your veins it almost made you woozy. There was a moment of silence, making you think he had walked away but was completely mistaken once you watched the whole door shake at the impact as he attempted to break it down. Another slam and you saw small cracks forming in the middle of the only thing keeping you safe.

You made a split second decision to escape through the window, sliding it open and trying your best to undo the screen that didn't want to cooperate. Another slam.

You looked behind you at the battered door and knew it could only hold maybe one more before he was able to get through- so like a rat trapped in a corner, you began banging on the screen until it popped off, quickly pulling your body to climb out, scraping your hips on the ledge in the process.

The gravel floor did no favors for you as you landed awkwardly, but at this point you couldn't feel anything. Or at least your brain wasn't giving you any time to register the pain. Springing to your feet, you ran out to the front of the house, your first thought to take the car but realized the keys were inside.

That's when you saw him.

He was standing on his porch going through his mail, seemingly looking like he had just gotten home from somewhere. You had heard rumors from some of the neighbors that he worked for the government or something, giving you some hope.

You began running over to him, not daring to look back to see if your boyfriend was chasing you or not.

He has seen you coming over and immediately looked concerned, putting his mail back in the mailbox and practically catching you in his arms once you reached him.

"Please. Help me- my boyfriend. H-he's gonna kill me."

You were crying now, trying to form sentences when he asked you what happened but couldn't.

When you spotted your boyfriend walk out the front door of your house and look over in your direction, a bat in hand your heart stopped.

"Please. Please," you pleaded, hiding behind his tall frame and holding onto his quarter zip for dear life.

"Here, get inside," he said, opening his front door, the both of you entering as he walked over to his kitchen counter where a gun, badge and handcuffs were set. He grabbed the gun and cuffs, clipping both of them on his waist band and turning to you.

"Stay here."

You nodded obediently and watched him walked back out. He didn't close the door so you were able to watch everything from the moment your boyfriend began waving the bat around crazily towards your neighbor to him pulling out his gun and pointing it at him.

"Get down on the ground!"

For a second you thought your boyfriend wasn't going to listen as he stared at your neighbor with fury but seemed to be coherent enough to drop the bat and put his hands in the air, looking over at you.

"Just you wait, bitch. You'll get yours."

By now, everyone was either peeping through their windows or standing on the sidewalk, nosey to see what all the commotion was about as your neighbor pushed your boyfriend to the floor and handcuffed him.

It wasn't long before multiple cop cars showed up, taking over the scene. Your neighbor made his way over to you and offered you a hand, making you realize that you were sitting on the floor, frozen to the spot, hugging your legs.

"The officers are going to want a report but I want you checked out by the paramedics first."

You took his hand but relied all on him to pull you up as your legs felt like jello. The feeling of relief and sadness overtook you as you fell into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of being pushed away and teased for it like you were used to, you got pulled in tighter and long strong arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warm protective embrace.

He let you cry like that for a little until you calmed down enough to walk with him outside to the ambulance that was waiting. He didn't leave as they had you climb inside and lay on the stretcher so one of the paramedics could clean up the small cuts around your arm caused by the glass jar.

"How long have you lived there?" he asked, from besides you on the bench. You hoped he didn't feel guilty for not catching the abuse sooner.

"Not very long. He's been there for years but I just moved in about a few months ago. I don't usually leave the house since I work from home so that's probably why you didn't see me too often," you answered, wincing as the antiseptic touched your raw skin.

Just then, his phone rang.

"Hotchner....I'm actually busy at the moment but you can reach out to my Communications liason, Jennifer Jareau at the office....yes of course....goodbye."

"So you're names Hotchner?" you inquired, wanting to talk about something to keep your mind off the stinging pain.

"Aaron. Hotchners my last name."

"Nice to meet you Aaron. I'm Y/N," you greeted, offering your hand for a shake. He took it with a small smile and shook it gently.

"I wish it was under different circumstances but I'm glad you're safe."

"Thanks to you. I appreciate you by the way. You handled the situation really well."

He did that half smile again and played with his hands, almost nervously.

"Well unfortunately I deal with a lot of high stress situations like that so it was almost second nature."

"Cop?" you prodded, wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumors.

"FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be specific."

He didn't go into anymore detail than that but that was more than enough for you. So he's an Federal Agent. You literally couldn't have picked a better neighbor to run to.

- - - -

After the paramedic was done cleaning you up and you gave your report to the officer, Aaron came over, hanging up the phone.

"I know the house is technically not yours but he won't be back anytime soon and I'm sure you need to get cleaned up and everything. I'm gonna give you my card, I wrote my personal cell number in case you need anything but also feel free to come over if my car is in the driveway."

You took the card, reading his slightly sloppy writing and nodded with a smile.

"Thank you again Aaron. Really, you're a lifesaver."

He pulled you in for another hug, surprising you but you accepted it happily.

"No strenuous activity until those cuts and bruises heal," he advised seriously, making you laugh. You both pulled away and it took you a second to actually walk away, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his safe presence but you did and went back into the house, ignoring all of the mess and taking a long needed shower, thinking about everything that happened.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds bau #agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 10 months ago

Text

❤ Yandere Step-Brother ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Stepcest; Creepy/Obsession; Mild Manipulation.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who makes you feel unsafe in your own house. The same place that used to be a beacon of comfort and protection now turned into a den of insecurity and fear.

Each moment that you spend in your own house makes you feel trapped, stress and caution pinning at your mind.

Ever since he and his dad moved into your house, it feels less like a house.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who always wears an ignorant, indifferent facade as if he isn’t bothered by you.

But the thing is… you know he likes to stare at you.

It’s somewhat obvious - maybe because you’re on the receiving end - but the fixed way he looks at you is downright terrifying, as if he’s planning to eat you alive.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who is not nearly as discreet as he believes himself to be - or does he even care about hiding his weird fixation with you.

You’re highly aware of his shadow looming as he peaks through the bathroom door when you shower. The key going missing exactly at the day you’re going to shower is a doubtful coincidence and you can’t avoid feeling so damn exposed in the transparent glass-box, shame and dread having you tear up a few times.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother whose stare feels utterly creepy on the rare occasions you dare to wear shorts or skirts. His unabashed staring has you regretting the clothes when you notice his eyes sizing you up, trailing after the exposed flesh.

Despite your anxiety and discomfort, you refuse to confess your step-brother’s creepiness to your mom.

The thought of being the reason your mom becomes unhappy kills you inside, so you opt to endure whatever awkward interactions you’ll have to deal with, refusing to say a single word about it to your mom.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother whose presence alone is enough to make you weary and claustrophobic. To be in the same division as him is something you go out of your way to avoid, knowing that nothing good comes out of it.

The reason?

He always finds some shabby excuse to feel you up. It’s either his hand pressing against your chest as he reaches for the TV remote or maybe it’s his crotch rubbing grossly on your ass/back (depending on your height) as he pretends to reach for something.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who is muscular and intimidating enough to keep boys away from you. He owns this fairly frightening glare that warns people not to defy him, his tall muscled figure imposing over other people.

And if you think that it’ll all get better when you leave for college, you may rethink that plan of yours cause he’s going to apply for the exact same colleges.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who’s given you plenty of heart-attacks in the middle of the night as he tries to invade the privacy of your room. The fear that clings to you as the door handle shakes and twists is unbelievable, before he finally relents and leaves you be.

Although that doesn’t stop you from shaking for the rest of night, only able to slightly doze off before waking up in high alert, because you’re paranoid about him getting in.

◾ Yandere! Step-Brother who gets bolder with time.

Leaving you cum-dripping panties he stole from you on your bed.

Stealing your phone in return for a few touches.

Wrestling you into letting him dry-hump you.

He won’t stop. Not until he gets you.

-> A little goodie: Drabble (Noncon)

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x you #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere concept #female reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines

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ghostofskywalker · 4 months ago

Text

More Than The Persona

Tyler Owens/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,248

Summary: Tyler Owens is the poster child for storm chasing, his videos often leading to viewers glamourising these drastic weather events. As a first responder, you're no stranger to the death and destruction that tornadoes leave in their wake, so the two of you don't exactly click the first time you meet.

Note: i saw twisters yesterday and i was pleasantly surprised with how much i enjoyed it, since i also love the original 1996 one. as far as why this was written, i’m procrastinating writing zine fics right now and that's the only explanation I can offer lol. i'd love to write more twisters fic in the future though, i did have fun with it

As you stepped out of the ambulance, you could see destruction wherever you turned. Countless houses were razed where they stood, their contents strewn all across the street. Even the structures that had been lucky enough to only get clipped by the tornado were still damaged beyond repair, in some cases with their entire facades ripped off, now laying somewhere smashed on the ground. No matter how many times you had seen scenes like this, the gravity of the situation never got lighter. For almost all of these people, recovering would take months, if not years.

Crowds were just beginning to collect on the streets as some emerged from storm shelters, but you knew there were some who hadn’t been afforded that luxury. You shared a knowing look with the other members of your team as they began to step over the debris in search of those that might be trapped under rubble.

By the time more pickup trucks pulled up to the scene, you had set up outside one of the ambulances, hard at work treating the wounds of those who could make it over to you. The crates of water bottles next to you were quickly diminishing, but the line of people in need of medical care never seemed to, which was a sitaution you were unfortunately used to finding yourself in.

As the newcomers fanned out through the area, you weren’t the only one who stared. Although not a fan yourself of the self-appointed “Tornado Wrangler,” you unfortunately recognized the man who led a small group down the street. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turned your attention back to the person in front of you. There was nothing you could do about the fact that some wannabe celebrities were trying to profit off of the disaster by getting in the public’s good graces, so you would just have to suck it up and hope they eventually get bored enough to leave.

Hours later, you were still in that same spot, and there was still so much to do. Some of the ambulances had left temporarily the scene, taking those whose injuries were more intense off to the closest hospital. Right now, your priority was getting immediate medical aid to those who needed it, even if you could feel your eyes drooping with fatigue. As you gently bandaged up the arm of a young girl, someone tapped on your your shoulder. “Take a break,” and you could hear the sound of your best friend’s voice even if you were looking at him. “I can tell that you need it.”

You shook your head as the little girl walked off in the direction her mother was standing. “Don’t worry about me Isaac, ‘m fine here.”

“I don’t believe that,” he responded. “At least get some water and take a few moments to eat something.”

After a few more passes back and forth, Isaac practically shoved you from your post. With a water bottle in your hand, you wandered around the area, mind racing as you tried to find a way you could help once you had taken a few minutes to yourself. But of course, you were not granted solitude for long. Right as you had raised the bottle to your lips, a voice interrupted your thoughts. “Need anything?”

Tyler Owens was standing a few paces away, a small box in his hands. The cowboy hat on his head looked pristine, a stark contrast to the way that your work clothes were already too grimy for your taste. “I’m okay,” you said, sending a tight-lipped smile his way and hoping that he would get the message that you weren’t interested in conversing right now. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, clearly not having picked up on the signs. “You’ve been out here for hours and this is the first time you’ve stopped for any kind of break.”

Your gaze hardened slightly as you regarded him. “And how would you know?” He was correct of course, but you had no plans to admit that, especially not when he acted as though he knew everything about you.

“It was just a guess, but I can see that I’m right,” he said, a smile crossing his face that you hated to say that you found attractive. Why did the best looking people have to act as dumb as they did?

By the grace of the universe, a colleague called you over to them right as you opened your mouth to respond, and Tyler didn’t follow as you headed over to help once more. The whole time, you found yourself thinking about him and his team. What were they even doing here, besides getting in the way of those actually trying to help?

***

After that time, it felt like you ran into Tyler Owens at least three times a week. He and his team showed up to the sites of destruction with their video cameras out as they surveyed the damage. Multiple times, you had to shoo them away from you as you worked, tirelessly bandaging cuts, scrapes, and other lacerations that people had suffered from the winds of the storm. Despite the fact that your initial conversation with Tyler had lasted less than a minute, he apparently felt that it was enough to bother you again, and to act as though you were much closer than you were.

This time, you were bandaging up an older woman when you heard his voice interrupt your focus. “Hey medic!”

Resisting the urge to sigh, you turned to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

Unfortunately, the smile on his face didn’t shift at your tone. “Helping, of course.”

“And how exactly is annoying me while I’m just trying to do my job considered helpful?”

“I’m convincing you to take a break,” he said. “I’ve seen how hard you work, and the way you put others first so many times. Sometimes you need to take care of yourself to take care of others.”

Sighing, you finished gently wrapping gauze around the woman’s leg before speaking. “Nice try, making it seem like you have any concern,” you said. “But I don’t have any interest being on in your YouTube videos, and I can take care of myself perfectly fine.”

His smile dropped slightly as he registered your words, the first time it’s happened since you met. Every other time, your words seem to pass right over him, no matter how annoyed you sounded as you spoke, but not this one. He mumbled something you didn’t quite catch before stepping away, and you felt your heart sink slightly in a way you didn’t expect.

“He’s right you know,” the woman you had just bandaged said as she got up from the chair in front of you.

“What?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around the conversation with Tyler.

“You need to take a break at some point. If you’ve been out helping like this after all these recent storms, it’s going to take a toll on you.”

You nodded, knows that both her and Tyler were right. “I will, I promise.”

“Good,” said. The woman left after giving you another knowing smile, and you flagged down Isaac to take your place for a few minutes.

It always felt strange, to sit down on the ground and look at the tornado’s destruction. Children’s toys, blankets, and even the skeletal remains of furniture were on the street now, no telling which homes they had once belonged to. You stared out as the wind picked up a photo and pushed it away from you, before it was eventually grabbed by someone.

As you took a sip of the water bottle in your hands, Tyler appeared from the crowds once more, his hands up in mock surrender as he approached you. “I see you took my advice.”

“I see you’re still dead set on bothering me wherever I go,” you said, but the tone was halfhearted.

“It’s not my only goal in life, but it’s one I get to work on often,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Why?” you asked, finally gathering up the courage to voice the question that had been swirling around your mind since you first met him. “I don’t know you. No offense, of course.”

A small snort of laughter left his mouth. “I don’t know, I think at this point we could be longtime friends.” You raised your eyebrows at him, and the smile on face grew as he realized that this was once again lighthearted teasing. “I keep bothering you because I can tell you need someone to tell you when to stop.”

Immediately, you got a little defensive. “No I don’t.”

“Come on, I think the only time I’ve ever seen you take a break is when someone else said something, and I doubt it’s ever done without some kind of denial.” You looked down at the ground, slightly embarrassed that he had hit the nail on the head. “People all across the community are going to be incredibly grateful for the hours you put in to help them, but it wouldn’t matter as much if you’re neglecting your own care.”

You stopped, staring once more at the destruction in front of you. “Just because I’m not smiling and laughing for the camera doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of myself.”

“Going hours without even a sip of water doesn’t exactly back that statement up you know.”

“Fine,” you admitted. “Maybe you’re right, but it certainly doesn’t help when people like you show up to these scenes to sightsee all the destruction and try to get some clicks out of it.”

His face changed in an instant, growing more somber than you’ve ever seen before. “Is that all you think we’ve been doing?”

You nodded slowly, not sure what to expect from his change of attitude.

“I suppose the way you’ve treated me makes sense now.”

You stopped. “So you’re not just here for fun?”

“Half of what we do can usually be considered stupid, I’ll admit that,” he said, looking over at you. “But it’s not all fun and games, I promise. See over there?” He gestured to where a group of people were standing around a table outside his team’s camper van, the reason for their presence obscured by the growing crowd gathering there. “A portion of our our t-shirt sales is put towards disaster kits, and my team over there is handing them out. Free of charge of course.”

As your eyes focused on the scene, you could see he was right. There was no exchange of money as the team of people handed out boxes of food and bottles of water. You could see a stack of T-shirts sitting to the side, but even those were being handed out to the those that asked whenever requested.

Immediately, you were overwhelmed with embarrassment at the way you had always perceived him, when all this time he had been doing so much to aid those who just had their lives disrupted. Maybe if you had taken the time to look past the thrill-seeking attitude you could have seen that, but instead you had been so wrapped up in your own life and work. “I’m so sorry for the way I saw you,” you said, turning towards Tyler with a sincere look on your face. “You want to help just as much as I do, and I let my opinion the ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona get in the way of understanding that.”

He smiled in a way that was more genuine than any of the others you had seen on him. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “But don’t worry about it, you’re not the first person to make the assumption, and you probably won’t be the last. I willingly drive into tornados for fun, it’s not exactly something you do if you’re not a little bit crazy.”

You laughed. “Yeah, as a medical professional I really can’t condone that.”

“Most people would probably agree with you.”

The two of you sat there for a few minutes more, a comfortable silence enveloping the air before you had to get back to work. There was still so much more to be done, and the daylight hours were slipping away.

But as the two of you got up and you began to walk away, Tyler’s voice stopped you. “Hey.”

Turning around to face him, a quizzical look overtook your face. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you around, alright?”

You smiled, the cautious fluttering of tiny butterflies taking hold of your stomach. It was only a matter of time before this happened, you supposed, but you tried not to let anything show on your face. “Yeah,” you said, a genuine smile breaking through any attempt you made to remain nonchalant. “See you around.”

***

That night, as you laid on the couch watching TV, you saw a text pop up on your phone from a number you didn’t recognize.

It’s Tyler. Before you get mad at me, Isaac gave me your contact info.

You playfully rolled your eyes, making a mental note to confront your friend later, that perceptive bastard.

Do you wanna go out for drinks sometime? I don’t wanna have to wait for another tornado to see you.

Sure, was the response you typed out and sent off, but on the inside, you were a lot more excited.

Okay, maybe you didn’t have to be that hard on Isaac.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x female reader #tyler owens x you #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfiction #glenn powell x reader #twisters x reader

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hipstergecko · 5 months ago

Text

Waking Up.

Hey so remember that DPxDC prompt I wrote awhile back? I've been writing it! Here's a brand new chunk.

Ghost in a Box: Danny experiences extreme sensory deprivation after getting trapped in a coffin like box his parents invented. His box is opened on the JL watchtower after being found in an underground bunker. Humans can't do sensory deprivation for too long. Apparently neither can Danny.

Original Ghost in a Box prompt here.

----

Black bat was waiting. She was quite good at waiting. Sometimes on a mission you had to be patient. Still and silent. Waiting.

The boy that had come out of the box had been in the intensive care unit for days. He had been dehydrated and was terribly emaciated. He had been starving. How long had he been in the box?

They couldn’t ask him until he woke up. So she had been waiting.

Cass sighed and walked silently down the hall to the ICU. After they had gotten the boy into the medical wing, she’d gotten the whole “that was incredibly dangerous” spiel from her dad Batman. He was proud of her though. She could tell. It spoke through the lines of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. The softness of his hands. Hopefully that softness would be given to the boy from the box.

There had been multiple debriefs and meetings to discuss how to proceed with the boy. The majority of heroes were loath to continue opening boxes. What if they were full of creatures much like the boy? Capable of so much damage and danger. They didn’t even know what he was.

The documents they had uncovered called the boy a ghost. But after checking his vital signs, they found he had a pulse. He had a heart, breath, and blood. He was human.

But he was in the box. So he wasn’t. The members of Justice league dark had been contacted and were due to arrive any day now. They had been on assignment somewhere else. Cass hadn’t bothered to find out where they’d been.

None of that mattered anyway.

What had mattered, truly, was that the boy from the box was afraid. Afraid and unable to communicate. And Cass understood him. He was terrified and desperate. And Cass saw him beyond the horrors.

He was a child and he needed help.

So he was hers now. No matter what anyone else said. She reached out to him first and he was her new brother/son/child. Bruce would have to deal with it.

She had stayed on the watchtower, with Bruce’s blessing, since the box had been opened. She barely left the boy’s side much to Bruce’s chagrin. He was not pleased with the possibility of her being in danger. But Tim had pointed out that she was plenty dangerous herself.

She loved her brothers.

She stayed on the watchtower all the time now. Staying with the boy and only leaving the observation room to shower and eat on her own. The doctors had insisted, gently, that she should take some time to herself after those first few days. So she does. Today she took a hot shower and attended a few meetings to keep up as to what they planned to do with her new brother. She also got to spend some time with Spoiler who had just so happened to be on the watchtower that day (she sent a thank you message to Tim over the family chat).

She looked through the observational window, a frown hidden behind her mask. The boy was hooked up to various machines to monitor his vitals. His eyes were still covered and the headphones were still firmly on his head. He looked so small and frail against the bed linens. There wasn’t much more they could do until the JLD members arrived.

The doctors inside the room were gently cleaning the boy. Running a warm soft wipe down his arms and legs, checking his vital signs, laying a warm blanket over him for comfort. She watched impassively at first, then with intense interest as some of the monitors showed brain activity.

Signs of waking. Her new brother was waking up.

She was the first one in the room when the boy jerked awake with a gasp.

---------

Consciousness.

Discomfort.

Gravity.

The air tastes funny. His arm itches. His legs feel heavy.

Weird.

Danny floated on the edge of wakefulness. Or at least what he thought was consciousness. It was hard to tell anymore. Everything was a cycle of dreaming and waking, or was it dreaming and dreaming? It was hard to find reality. Nothing changed except the hallucinations his mind conjured. And even his mind had started to get things wrong.

He couldn’t trust his memories anymore. He couldn’t remember what life was like. If he saw his mother in the box with him, he couldn’t make out the details of her face. Or His father’s laugh. Or his sister’s hair. Everything was fuzzy. Distant. Faded from his memories.

Did he even have a family? Was that something he made up?

He couldn’t remember.

How long had he been in here? He’d stopped counting the days when his eyes ceased to glow. Recycled ectoplasm was good at sustaining a ghost, but not good at feeding a ghost. And him being only a few years dead, he was still developing powers. Well he would be if he wasn’t essentially being purposefully stunted in this stupid box.

What a stupid box. Can’t even sit up in it. It was more like a coffin than a box. It would figure that he finally got put in a coffin. Specially since he died all the way but not quite once already. How lame. Someone somewhere was probably laughing about this.

What was he thinking about? Oh yeah. His eyes stopped glowing. Made it harder to see what was real. He couldn’t see the shadows of his real hands and the lack of them on the images his mind conjured. It was hard to tell the difference. If he could even tell the difference anymore.

He probably couldn’t tell at all anymore really.

He floated beyond consciousness for a moment more, resisting the press upon his mind to wake. Better to sleep. After all, there wasn’t anyone coming to get him. The whispers were silent when he wasn’t in his mind. The voices stopped. The hands didn’t pull at his mouth and eyes. It was the only chance at peace he got.

Something touched him.

Weird.

Wait…

Something, no, someone was touching him. Moving his itchy arm. He felt hands on his legs, moving them under the heaviness.

The hands were touching him.

Danny jolted to full consciousness with a gasp. He violently jerked away from the hands and scrambled back. They’d never moved him before! They’d only tried to! He had always fought them off! They were just hallucinations!! His mind only thought he was being touched!! What happened?! How?! WHY?!

His breath came in larger gasps of air as he spiraled into panic. The hands, glowing and green, decayed and skeletal reached out of the darkness. Whispered words filled his ears, static and chiming all at once. He flailed out at them frantically, touching nothing. He whimpered. They weren’t real they weren’t real they weren’t real.

One of the hands grabbed his arm.

He cried out at the contact. The weak and raspy sound pulling painfully from this throat as he lashed out at the hand and fell back. The ectoplasm felt firm and plush beneath him.

Wait, was that really ectoplasm? Was this real?

Somehow in his retreat, he reached an edge. He slipped.

He fell.

He hit a hard surface and felt the air whoosh from his lungs. He choked on the strange air and grasped blindly around himself. There was no ectoplasm, nothing swishing around him as he moved. He struggled to breathe and reached frantically out to his sides.

There were no walls.

No walls, no ceiling, no swishing stale ectoplasm.

What…

He… he wasn’t in the box.

This couldn’t be real.

He scrambled back along what he felt was the floor until he hit something hard. A wall? He didn’t care. This wasn’t real, but it felt real enough to use as an anchor, so at the wall he stayed.

Danny grasped at his arms. Nails dug into muscle, piercing the skin and drawing ectoplasm. He felt the pain and it grounded him. He was real. He was still real. His breathing was still harsh, the panic still real. The hands still reaching for him weren’t real. The floor and wall weren’t real. He was just trapped in another hallucination.

He just needed to calm down and wait until he came out of it naturally or hurt himself into reality. Either way he would still be in the box.

Abandoned in the box.

He dragged his nails down his arms, leaving behind gashes that wept. He wasn’t concerned though. His ghost form would heal fast enough that it wouldn’t make a difference. All he needed was to stop seeing things that weren’t real. He’d shed enough tears over illusions of his friends and family. Been through enough terrors and memories to doubt his mind. He knew he was in the box. Once he found the box again he could try to go back to sleep.

He’d lost the will to do anything more what felt like a lifetime ago. All he had left to his obsession was protection. Self protection. Survival. Keep his human half alive. By staying a ghost and surviving the horrors of his mind.

It was all he had left.

He ran his hands up his arms to start tearing at his skin again and found… wetness? He hadn’t healed yet? He lifted a hand to his face and licked the wetness on his fingers.

Copper tang. The faintest taste of ectoplasm.

It tasted like… blood?

Danny’s heart stopped in his chest. Wrong. His heart stuttered in his chest and he scrabbled at his neck. He fingers found his pulse.

Oh no.

He had a pulse. He was human again!

The darkness surrounding him was suddenly suffocating, pulling at his breath and stealing his rational thought. He was real, but he was going to die. Humans can’t survive as long as he had without food and water and air! He couldn’t keep control of his ghost form and his human half was going to die! He had to change back or he would fail at doing the only thing he had left!!

He started hyperventilating and desperately grabbed at his ghost core. An immediate searing pain shot through his chest. The sound he made was akin to someone tearing paper and he fell over on his side. He began trembling all over.

That hurt so bad. That hurt so bad.

He couldn’t think. He could breathe but that just brought him closer to death. Tears welled from his eyes and caught on something just beyond his eyelashes, turning the blackness somehow darker. He was going to die and the recycled ecto had failed and he was going to die and the static wouldn’t stop and the hands wouldn’t let him go and he was going to die alone and forgotten he was going to die again nopleasenopleasenotagain-

Something touched his hands.

Danny jerked back and away, nausea surging up his throat. He pushed himself up only to vomit stomach acid. The only thing in his system. It burned as it came and went. His stomach clenched so hard that he curled over on himself. His muscles shook with strain as he hyperventilated. He couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move…

Something touched him again. A gentle pressure on his back. Warm and soft.

He tensed beyond what he thought he was able. Rigid, but shaking in fear. He had no thoughts beyond the sheer terror of what he thought was unreality becoming reality.

Moments passed. And nothing happened.

The pressure on his back stayed. It did not grasp at him like the hands did. It remained gentle and soft. A warmth. It was different. It was scary.

It felt nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Danny’s breathing calmed. Slowly, he felt things around him. He felt the blood trickling down his arms. The cold floor under his legs. The soft, long shirt on his body didn’t close in the back or reach down past his knees. He was warmer than the floor which was strange, but made sense. He was human again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he turned back human. It was his greatest fear. To turn human in the box and die alone and small in the dark enclosed space.

But he wasn’t dying. He was breathing. The air was fresh. It tasted strange. His hands fluttered along the wounds on his arms. He felt pain and knew it was real. And the pressure on his back felt real.

Did… did someone open the box?

Hope hit him so hard that he began to cry softly. He couldn’t let himself hope, but he couldn’t deny it. Not when this all seemed so real. His crying grew harder. Harsh stuttering breaths that he couldn’t even hear. Which was kind of odd. Why couldn’t he hear himself? Did he still have ears? He slowly reached up and felt where his ears should be. There was something covering them. A hard plastic thing that went up over his head. Slowly his hands moved in front of his face. He found his nose and his mouth. They were still there. Then he touched the places where his eyes should be. He felt cloth.

His eyes and ears were covered?

Another hand touched his own and he jolted. It was as gentle and warm as the other hand. He could finally hear his ragged cries as the hand took his gently and intertwined the fingers. A gentle squeeze had the tears coming hard and fast. From fear or hope? There was no telling. A sheer outpouring of emotion.

Someone had opened the box.

And they were holding his hand.

He desperately hoped this was real.

----------

That's it for now! Honestly I'm just writing snippets of story beats and then stringing them together when the anxiety has quieted. I have an AO3 account now, but I'm still posting everything here first!

Nyeeeh keep an eye out for more I guess.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #ghost in a box #hipster writes #homemade soup

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dr3amfyr-e · 4 months ago

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modern!jace bf thoughts ( wc. 1117 )

i’m shaking and foaming at the mouth I NEED HIM. i had to expel this from my brain before i could sleep, i’ll prob write more about these at some point. or maybe i’ll abandon this blog in a week 🤷‍♀️ we’ll see. i am able and willing to expand upon any of these, ask box is open >:)

jacaerys who is, first and foremost, a gentleman. he’s opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket.

he buys you flowers — he knows your favorite kind, dw. he’s like the kind of boyfriend who makes lists of what their partner likes, but he doesn’t make a list, he just knows.

is it a little unnerving? maybe! but he just loves you :3

jacaerys who thinks to be loved is to be known. he wants to read your favorite books and listen to your favorite songs. he wants to know your coffee order and try it, so that he can experience something he knows you love. ( his is a caramel macchiato. btw. )

jacaerys who is so attentive and mother hen. he can clock if anything is wrong, like any change in your demeanor. in your vibe.

he’s brushing the hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ears. he’s fixing your jacket collar and re-looping your scarf. ( i want to say he fixes your posture, but look at his )

he can, and will, fix any problem you have. just tell him! confide in him! he wants you to!

he’s kind of a worrywort. did you eat? would you like to eat? how much did you sleep? are you okay? are you okay? hey, are you okay?

jacaerys who always smells good, and has clean clothes, but will force you to hug him when he’s sweaty from football ( ⚽️ ) or a run. gross!

speaking of running, if you stay with him at his family’s home in Dragonstone at any point over the summer you will be going for a run with him! sorry!

he’s talking you through it ( the run ) . he’ll go at your pace and coach you. you don’t have to go far either! he thinks you’re bonding by doing this 😊 ( he is wrong )

jacaerys who craves physical affection. he wants you touching him RIGHT NOW. PLEASE.

he’s got his arms around and/or his hand in yours, just, all of the time. fingers interlocked too, he will be adjusting your hand to achieve this position! :)

you’re sitting on the couch? he’ll be next to you in a sec! god forbid you want to sit in an armchair, he is in your lap ( jk. not really. ). he goes out of his way to be directly next to his partner. he’s standing next to you, sitting beside you. if you have class together, his seat is next to yours! eating together, he’s sitting next to you there too. he will also lay on top of you; if you’re vertical so is he.

but, to be more serious: he thrives on the reassurance. if you’re holding his hand, he knows you’re with him. if he can wrap his arms around your waist from behind, it’s reassurance that you’re not going anywhere, he’s got you.

( children of divorce* just act like this, dw )

jacaerys who feels all of his emotions. he does not bottle things up 🙅‍♀️

he cries: when he’s frustrated, when he’s upset, when he’s angry — especially in front of his mom ( this is canon )

sure, he’s confident and self-assured. but he’s also vulnerable, and it’s good!!!

he confides in you ( a big believer in ‘date your best friend’ ), he hopes you feel safe to do the same <3

i talked about it in this post — he can be really mean. it’s defensive, he doesn’t mean to, but it happens much more than he’d like ( he’s still unlearning things from his childhood )

it rears its head when you’re arguing, or if he feels trapped. and he’s good at it too, hitting the most tender spot he can.

he feels awful afterwards. he’s always quick to acknowledge what he did and apologize. if you cry, he’ll probably cry too ( that’s just how the cookie crumbles 🤷‍♀️ )

he’s on your level, holding your face in his hands, telling you how sorry he is. and, maybe he’s kissing the tears off of your cheeks — but, that’s between you and him

he’s aware of how unhealthy this defense mechanism is, he’s working on it! call him out! make him aware! he might not like it in the moment, but afterwards he’s appreciative. ( he’s in therapy! — all of rhaenyra and alicent’s kids are . )

jacaerys who drives and lets you mess with his radio. so often it’s his siblings and step-siblings he’s driving around, and he just wants to listen to his podcast, please, luke, don’t touch the radio.

but you? whatever! you can spend the whole car ride adjusting the station, or trying to pick a song on aux and he won’t care! or, you could talk over the radio ( he’s yelling at his brothers for this ) ! he just likes your presence.

both-hands-on-the-wheel driver, he might hold your hand at stop lights though. when he has to break hard he puts his arm out in front of you, to stop you from going forwards ( do you guys know what i’m talking about? ) he has supreme big brother reflexes

jacaerys who wants you to like his family so bad. they’re so important to him.

his best friend is his fifteen-year-old brother and he’s a major mama’s-boy, and he’s not embarrassed! he is a little nervous for you to meet everyone. it’s too hard to explain, so he doesn’t.

“ that’s my step-mother. yeah, she was married to my grandfather before she was married to my mother. um, so my step-siblings are technically my uncles and aunt. yeah, it’s kind of confusing. “

jacaerys who loves taking pictures of you. digital or film or phone, he’s on you like paparazzi. candid king.

you’re also going to be all over his instagram, sorry. he’s an instagram story fanatic, so you’re featured often. he prob has a highlight dedicated to you titled “ <3 “ or something.

jacaerys is a big kisser.

he’s kissing you on the mouth, often. probably when he shouldn’t.

most of the time it’s chaste kisses in parting, or sweet pecks because he just remembered he can do that!

also big on kissing your forehead and cheeks. and the column of your throat.

he’s polite and respectful! he will also make out with you any chance he can! slipping tongue in the stairwell at one of his mother’s galas. we are in public. ( he doesn’t care )

jacaerys who is such a lover boy. he just wants to love you, and show you how much he does. he takes pictures to immortalize memories ( okay roland barthes ) and engages in the things you love to experience you more intimately. he wants to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and cherished — like you deserve to be.

he wants to love, and to be loved.

#* i’m projecting #I NEED HIM #hashtag need that #jace is the kind of guy to fuck up a chicken parmesan #gross af — but whatever he wants!#also his favorite kind of bean is kidney and he fucks with cherries #don’t ask me how i know that #𖦹｡⋆ jace #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen

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lowkeyrobin · 8 months ago

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MINHO ; just like the rain

summary ; youre the rain to minhos storm clouds

warnings ; language, talk about mental health and self hate, mentions of death

track ; rain, sleep token

word count ; 874

masterlist

Minho was fairly reserved and didn't talk to many when he had the opportunity to. He'd lost friends, his memories, his life, coming to the Glade. He lost everything and for what, to run around a giant maze for the rest of his life? He was trapped in a cycle of sleep, eat, run, map, eat, and sleep, and he had been for years now. He felt worthless, and hated himself deep down. Thomas and Newt knew but didn't know how to help over his shrugging off of the situation. They decided if he needed to talk, he would if he wanted to or if he was ready.

But, upon your arrival, he found some sort of comfort in you. Your calm and friendly demeanor just had him spill himself one night at another Greenie bonfire. You listened to him talk for hours and gave him a whole motivational speech and reassured him he'd be alright.

And now, he could finally say that the viscous cycle of overworking and hating himself was over, and it had been since the first time you smiled at him.

You were the rain to his storm clouds.

Just like the rain, you cast the dust -his self hatred- into nothing. You washed the salt in his wounds from his hands.

You had your hooks in him, drawing him closer and closer each and everyday. He could see you in his dreams and in his fate, yet still deny the persistent questions from Newt and Thomas, and even Fry and Winston.

He went out of his way after spending hours in the map room just to talk to you and hear all about your day. Even the sound of your voice comforted him and sent a shiver, almost a tingling sensation, up his spine and into his brain.

He jogs to your side, wondering what you're up to at this hour at night. You snuck out in the middle of the night, wanting to feel the cold, wet rain against your skin for a bit. It wasn't pouring but it wasn't lightly sprinkling either, a fair amount of water soaking you.

His feet almost fall beneath him due to the mud under the grass, making him lightly gasp as he reaches out to you, now turning around as you heard him.

"Y/n!" He gasps, recalculating his footing to not fall.

You quickly reach your arm out for him and catch him at the forearm. You steadily help him back on his feet with a smile and chuckle while his face heats up from embarrassment.

"You good?" You ask, wiping away any stray rain around your eyes before it seeped in, not wanting to try and be bothered by it in the moment.

He nods, looking away for a moment. "What're you doing out here?"

You shrug, loosely hanging onto his wrist, not noticing, although he does. "Enjoying the rain"

"Why?"

"...It's nice, I guess. Makes me feel like there's hope outside the Glade"

He nods, seeing and feeling you drop his wrist. He slings an arm around your shoulder, a usual act of affection between you two.

You hear the rain pitter and patter against the Homestead as the force of the little raindrops increases. However, it’s soothing. You feel like you can stand here with Minho forever. He provided an odd comfort, even when silent, as just knowing he’s there beside you could rid you of any worries or fears.

"Are you not cold?" He asks, feeling goosebumps rise along his arms and legs.

You shake your head no with a shrug, "Why, are you?" You tease with a smile.

"No, no, no. Definitely not." He defensively speaks, playing into the joke as he retracts his arm from your shoulders and crosses them. His sassy personality was showing through even in the middle of the night. "I'm never cold, ever"

"I'd be really concerned if you were never cold, Minho. Maybe we should send a note down with the box asking about it" You speak, playing around with him. "Maybe we should stop hanging out. What if it's a contagious disease?"

"No, no, I mean, just get cold! Just like, not around you," He shrugs, taking back his last words.

"Oh?" You question, your lips curling into a smirk. "Around me?"

"I, uhm-"

"Hm?"

Before you can process what he's doing, Minho swiftly moves his hands to your jawline and smashes your lips together. You swear you hear a lightning strike as he does so, and rest your hands on his shoulders, not denying this new act of affection. You could get used to this.

You're the first to pull away, shocked and confused.

"Minho?"

He's silent, face burned up as he can't look at you.

"Min-"

"Don't talk about it"

You take a moment to think before patting him on the shoulder, turning back towards the Homestead.

"I'm going back to bed. Enjoy the rain"

He nods, crossing his arms again as he looks out towards the Deadheads again. He hears you slowly trudge off across the Glade, the squishing of the mud and wet grass below you drowning out as you walk further and further away.

"Damnit"

"Language!"

"How the hell did you just hear me?!"

#lowkeyrobin #tmr minho x reader #minho x reader #tmr minho #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner x reader #maze runner x gn reader #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #the maze runner #maze runner #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

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curseddollfaye · 10 months ago

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toxic baby daddy! toji x reader headcanon

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- you meet him through a friend of a friend. Your bestfriend Moonie insisting that you need to find someone! Although you had no issue in the looks department by any means. Men that tended to try and get your attention were just..meh. You knew what you wanted in a man and none of them could provide you with that.

- well, until you met him of course. you remember clear as day. Sitting in a very expensive restaurant where you were told to meet him at. Glancing around you expected a middle aged man to be your date. Probably expecting you to open your legs just because of where he planned to dine you. hah…

- and then he walked in , tall. 6’1 to be more precise. green eyes bore into yours as soon as he walked in. a scar decorated the corner of his right lip. and god was he muscular…so muscular. your legs might have squeezed shut instinctively

- if there was video recording of your face the entire night you might as well have the ground open up and swallow you hole. hearts practically taking your pupils face. you learned so much in such little time. his grin was surreal, the way the veins in his hands popped out whenever he grabbed hold of his steak knife to cut into his food.

- “So tell me a little bit about yourself sweetheart, I love hearing a pretty woman talk”

- safe to say you were a goner pretty quickly.

- and the feelings were mutual between you and him. you had him with your heel in his chest from the get go.

- long story short, you ended up dating not too long after. you learned about his ex wife who tragically passed away. you learned that he had a son named Megumi who was just shy of 3 when you met him, you learned Toji was a very wealthy business owner. Casinos and Clubs all across the country.

- He was older than you, but that didn’t bother you one bit.

- you ended up getting pregnant after two years of dating.

- splitting up wasn’t on your bucket list. But a few months after your daughter turned 3 months you had found some pictures hidden in Tojis wallet as you were grabbing his card to pay for family’s take-out dinner. His ex girlfriends face decorating each and every one of them, and her tits staring right back at you.

- a huge argument ensued. “Tch…come on baby. ‘Yer overreacting over something that doesn’t need it…” as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. your tear stained face was something he will never forget. Your beautiful smile replaced by something close to betrayal. To be honest Toji didn’t know how he would have reacted if the situation was flipped. He knew he fucked up. He just didn’t really know how to say sorry.

- he did feel bad. All they were, were just some silly Polaroids he meant to throw away after finding them in some old box in the garage.

- sure she was naked but it’s not like they turned him on. gross. only you did that to him.

- all night he tried, to no avail.

- “So you’re just not gonna eat because ‘yer mad at me? Don’t be ridiculous doll face” He scoffed a laugh and shook his head.

- “Hmm, fine then. I guess Rin and I will just eat alllll those stupid little candy snacks you like so much”

- “Ya think these cookies are expired? Wouldn’t want your man to die now do ya baby?”

- “go to hell Toji” you had slammed the door right in his face. you didn’t know what had hurt more. the intimacy of them or the way you had pushed out a 7 lb baby out of your vagina 3 months prior and were a wreck emotionally. your body and mind adjusting to having a tiny baby to look after. as well as a energetic 5 year old.

- he lets you go. because he doesn’t want you to be unhappy. even if it eats him up when you tell people you’re single.

- Or when you post your little thirst traps on Instagram (they’re just pictures or videos you post of yourself but Toji begs to fucking differ; you’re beautiful. they’re all thirst traps to him. he knows how men think)

- really you should have known better given his reputation of being a little bit of a player. but your heart outweighed the negative. oh well.

- you live and you learn…right?

- wrong.

- because even 2 years later you still let him fuck you. I mean who wouldn’t? He laid it down on you and you needed your fix even as a single mother. Who better to get it from than your asshole baby daddy?

- he doesn’t fuck anyone but you, states “ best pussy I’ve ever had. Why would I need someone else? Tch…silly girl”

- “fuck yeah…take me baby…heh…You like that? Hmm? Look at yourself in the fucking mirror and tell daddy how much you love his cock stretching out this tiny pussy sweetheart” fuck him and his big add hands holding your hips as he plows you from behind. unforgiving pace as he reminds you who you’re always going to belong to.

- still provides for you although you’re not together. Not only because he’s still batshit crazy about you and in love with you. You’re the mother of his child. Kids if we’re being real. Megumi loves you to death and you love him. He would never take that away from the both of you, which is why every month without fail an additional 300k is wired directly to your bank account. which is just spending money for you because he takes care of everything anyways… ‘the least he could do’ you have to mumble to yourself when the guilt eats you up of the outrageous amount of money he spends on you.

- Not that he would miss it anyways.

- generous and gorgeous

- is a DILF personified.

- watching him pick up your tiny daughter and press smooches all over her chubby cheeks when he comes to pick her up sends you into a spiral

- thoughts of giving him another one enter your mind for a sec…

- before you damn near concussed yourself from how hard you slapped your cheek to get rid of them.

- stays the night at your house often (when he feels like it) “You don’t want the kids to miss their daddy do you?” He throws you a stupid lazy grin.

- Which leads to nasty dirty fucking whenever the kids are tucked in their respected rooms and asleep.

- the next morning you find yourself in a situation when you’re date knocks on your door arriving just as planned to take you out for breakfast.

- A bouquet of flowers in your dates hands a smile graces his lips.

- When the door swung open and he was greeted with a bare chested irritated Toji. It quickly disappeared. Sweats hung low on his hips and his hair messy from last night’s activities. He fucked you so good you forgot how to walk.

- Toji blinked at the man standing in front of him. Of course Toji always made himself at home in your house. Not because he paid for it, but because if anything in his eyes you were still his. “You got lost on the way to jackass city or something? You know what time it is?” Toji grimaced in annoyance. Yawning lazily and scratching his bare chest. A lighter and a pack of cigarettess held in one hand.

- “Um..” your date watches as Toji smacks the red pack against his palm before taking one out and placing it in between his lips. Hands flickering the lighter as he heats up the end of his cigarette and take a drag. Toji’s green eyes locking into his.

- He figured out what the fuck was going on and he didn’t like it one bit. “You walk up these steps, ringing and knocking on the damn door while my kids and my woman are tryna sleep…” Toji blows the smoke in the poor guys face and flicks the ashes into the floor. A grin permanently on his face before he continues. Muscles flexing as his jaw clenches.

- “You must’ve lost ‘yer damn mind kid”

- Putting out the cigarette on an ashtray outside that’s sole purpose was just for Toji’s use. The door closes in your ex- dates face.

- Safe to say you don’t even remember you had a date and didn’t need a reminder when your date blocks you off his phone and deletes your number.

- toxic baby daddy! Toji who curses at himself and keeps himself up at night when he thinks about how badly he fucked it up with you. because throughout everything he still loves the hell out of you. you’re perfect in his eyes.

- and he’s determined to get you back.

#toji smut #toji zenin #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x female reader #toji headcanons #dilf toji #toji drabbles #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji imagine #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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Mission Control 22

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

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

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

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

It’s not calm. It’s just nothing. You’re not afraid, you’re not angry, or sad, or anything. Just empty. The tension clings to his touch as he draws away and you’re left just like that. Numb, but not quite.

You turn onto your back as the soldier stands. You watch him in the strange haze of your existence. Your eyes close as the fire crackles around the fresh log he lays on it. You sink into the depths of your heedless mind.

When you rouse again, it isn’t for long. He’s dressed in black. As always. But you know by his stance, by his armour and cowl, that he is on his way out. He pauses to pet your head before he goes. You don’t react.

You shut your eyes again and let the sleep take over your addled body. The pain recedes to a dull thrum and your thoughts slow to a placid ripple. Hours unfurl in shadowy ribbons. When you wake again, you can sense the time passed. Close to a day.

He is still gone.

You get up, keeping your injured foot off the floor, and hop around in search of your keeper. You lean on the wall to keep your balance as you make your way through the cabin. You stop in the bedroom door and stare at the blood stain on the wooden floor. You quiver at the memory of the intruder’s fate.

You retreat to the kitchen and sit for a while. Your appetite sours your stomach. You don’t know how as your thoughts threaten to make you nauseous.

You flinch as the wind rattles the windows and whistles just outside those battered walls. The world slows and so do your thoughts, just enough to sort them. How did that man find you? How did he get past the traps? Is he the only one? No, you can’t believe that the villain who took you has only a single enemy.

You get up and go to the fridge. There’s a covered plate with a note on it. ‘Eat’. You bring it to the table and remove the foil. Two hard-boiled eggs, a peeled and separated orange, a cup of cottage cheese, and whole wheat crackers. It’s not fancy or especially tasty but it’s more than enough.

As you wash the plate, you notice the mug. Another note. ‘Drink’. There’s a packet of instant coffee tucked behind the paper torn from the same notebook he kept by the bed.

You add boiling water to the mix and gratefully down the caffeine. The familiar taste is comforting. You stay at the table for a while, your eyes skimming the front room. The place is as bland as the meal.

Then you see it. It wasn’t there before the chaos. You stand and hobble through the open doorway and across the room. You stop before the armchair and the stack on the seat. There’s an unopened package of pencils, a sharpener too; beneath, several puzzle books, another book of blank pages, and a rubik’s cube.

Under all that, is something else. A dress. Yellow linen, with eyelets around the waist and short sleeves, and buttons down the front. The buttons are pearl and you can tell it is true vintage.

You leave it on the chair and take a puzzle book. You open the box of pencils and sharpen it to a point. You open the pages and the smell of paper invades your nose. It’s nice. You love that smell. It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks just tasting that scent.

You sit and do a puzzle. You stop as your cheeks ache. You’re smiling. Something so simple is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done. Just writing the letters. Knowing the answers. You close the book and hold it in your lap as your eyes glaze over.

You sit hunched on the couch and sob. It could be the pain, it could be the horror of what you witnessed, it could be the terror of what’s to come, the isolation of this cabin, it is everything and anything. Your grief bubbles over and constricts your ribs to the point of breathlessness. You let it all out until you are spent and your cheeks are raw.

You shakily set down the book on the side table and stand. You angle over to the chair on one foot and lift the dress. You look down at the dark shirt; his. You don’t even remember him putting it on you.

You strip it off and pull on the dress. It smells like laundry detergent. It’s soft. It’s lovely. It makes you feel a little more human.

You limp, touching only the toes of your wounded foot to the floor, and go into the bathroom. You can only see to just below your chest in the mirror. Your face and your hair are a disaster but you don’t care. The dress is nice. It’s cute.

You just watch yourself as you run your hands up and down the fabric. You stay there until you can bear to stand no longer. You come back out, hopping again, but before you can reach the front room, there’s a clatter at the door.

You cry out as your heart lurches. You search around for anything, something to defend yourself. What if it’s not him? What if it’s another villain?

The door swings open but does not assuage your fears. It is the soldier but he is not himself. He has his cowl still in place and his body seems to steam as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His muscles are tense beneath the taut fabric, bulging in his armour.

You cannot see his expression but you can imagine it by his posture. He marches forward mechanically and you whine as you throw up your hands. He grabs your head between his large hands and you struggle with him, dancing on your toes as you cry out in agony.

“No, please,” you beg.

That little bit of joy flies out the door and fades into the billowing winds. You push against his stomach as he tries to pull you closer. You ball one hand and beat on his chest as you strain to keep him from smothering you.

“No, don’t! No, no, not like this,” you plead as you snake your hand up.

You writhe in his grasp as you get a thumb under his cowl. You slide the strap from his chin and the mask shifts. You continue to push against him as you flip it up, getting it just above his mouth. You tear at it again and unveil his face.

You look up at him as his eyes fall to you. His scar is a torturous shade of white as he clenches his jaw. His eyes are dilated and dark. Just like the first time he returned. Your insides quake at just the thought.

He clutches at your dress and pulls you closer. You squeak and shakily press your hand to his cheek. You caress him with your fingertips as he crushes you again him, your arm folding between your bodies. You brush through his sweaty strands and tremble.

“Please, be nice,” you quaver. “Be soft to me, soldier. Please.”

He squeezes you until you can’t breathe. You flutter your fingers around his ear and whimper once more. Then he slackens his hold on you and unhooks his arm from your waist. His eyes clear and his hands rest lightly on your hips.

He opens his mouth and outlines a word with his lips, ‘soft’.

#captain america #captain hydra #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mission control #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #series

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sixpennydame · 4 months ago

Text

Part One: The Feint

Pairing: Boxer!Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Word count: 4.5k

Summary:

Choso's life is simple: eat, sleep, train, fight. But everything changes when a mysterious doctor comes into his life.

Author's notes: This is me, branching out and writing for something other than Attack on Titan! But I just love me a dark-haired, misunderstood man. Thank you to my beloved @littlerequiem for beta reading.

Series content/warnings: No curses AU, bare knuckle boxing, violence (in the boxing ring and out), mentions of blood and broken bones, eventual smut

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

AO3 | Playlist

Line dividers: @saradika-graphics

The first time you meet Choso, he’s covered in blood.

It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’re a doctor.

Or rather, you used to be. It was all taken away from you. Now you’re forced to treat fighters in an underground fighting ring, patching up broken bones and open wounds.

This was your life now, and you’d resigned yourself to that.

You hear your door slide open. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you say, your back turned.

“Ok...” you hear a low voice respond, “but can I sit down? I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

You look over your shoulder to see a tall man, blood oozing from a wound to his head, the rag he has pressed against it drenched.

“Oh - yes, of course! Let me just...”

You grab sterile gauze and your other instruments from the cabinet and run over to him as he sits down. He looks lethargic, and a little disoriented. You remove the soaked rag, assessing the large gash along his eyebrow.

“That’s deep,” you remark, “you must have been hit pretty hard.”

“Wasn’t too bad. I just bleed a lot,” he answers nonchalantly.

The blood from his head runs down and mingles with blood on his chest.

He notices your downward glance. “That isn’t all my blood.”

“Ah,” is all you can think to say.

You’d hate to see what the other guy looks like.

“Well, let’s get you stitched up then.”

He follows you to your examination table and sits down. You start by cleaning off the blood around the wound, gently dabbing the area while keeping pressure on it. His eyelid is already starting to swell, the deep purple bruising spreading under his eye and to his cheekbone. As you clean his face, you notice that he has a long, dark scar that goes across the bridge of his nose.

“Have you had any blurred vision? Vomiting?” you ask, going through the checklist of a concussion.

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just need you to stitch me up and then I’ll be out of here.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. I need to check that you’re ok.” You turn on your examination light and he squints, then you prepare a needle with local anesthesia.

“This might sting a bit,” you warn, and when the needle goes in, he winces for a moment, but his stoic expression soon returns.

You get right to work on the wound, silently putting in one stitch, then two, then another, concentrating on mending the skin together.

“I haven’t seen you before. You new?” His voice breaks the silence and your concentration.

“Yeah…I’m just here for a little while.”

He hums a response, and you can feel his eyes glance up at you.

“That’s good. Nobody should stay around here for too long.”

“And how long have you been fighting here?”

He sighs. “Too damn long. But fighting is all I’ve ever known….I can’t really do anything else.”

There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice. You know what it feels like to be trapped, to not have any other recourse. It’s what got you here, afterall.

You make the final stitch, tie the knot, and cut the thread.

He makes to stand up, but your hand on his shoulder stops him.

“I need to check for any signs of a concussion,” you say.

He sighs, but with a nod, he settles himself back down. You put your hands on each side of his head, turning it from side to side gently.

“Any pain?”

“N-no..” His dark brown eyes are looking everywhere but at you.

You go through the rest of the list, checking his vision, coordination, and balance—-he passes it all without a hitch.

This guy can really take a punch, you think to yourself.

“Am I good, Doc?”

“It would seem so, but you need to let that wound heal for a week or two before you fight again.”

“Nope, can’t do. I don’t get paid if I don’t fight.”

He jumps down off the exam table and walks towards the door.

But you grab his arm, pulling the man towards you.

“Hey. You might not care what happens to your body, but I do. And if you’re going to be under my care then you’re going to follow my instructions. No fighting until you get the all-clear from me.” Your voice is forceful and authoritative, and the surprise in his eyes shows that it was not what he was expecting from you.

“Yes…ma’am…er, doctor…” His phrasing is suddenly polite. “I understand. No fighting.”

At that, you let go of his arm. “Good. Come by next week and I’ll see if I can take out those stitches.”

“Next week. Will do, Doc,” he says before walking out the door.

But the following evening, he’s back in your office, straddling one of your chairs and leaning on its back.

“I’m bored...” his low voice whines.

“And so you decided to come here,” you reply dryly while wiping down your examination area.

He doesn’t take the hint, merely watching you as you do your work. Last night, his hair was up in two pigtails that spiked at the top of his head; today, his black hair flows down, almost touching his shoulders. Cleaned up, he’s handsome, even with the swelling from the black eye.

You walk over to him with a small bag of ice. “Here. If you're gonna just hang around here, we might as well take care of that swelling.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He takes the bag, putting it on his still tender bruise.

“I’m not a doctor.”

He furrows his brow at your statement.

“Not fully, anyway. I’m a doctor in residence.”

Was a doctor in residence, but you leave that part out. It’s better not to tell him too much.

Your words seem to be an acceptable explanation. He leans his arms on the back of the chair, then his head. “Well then…what’s your name?”

You tell him. There’s an awkward silence.

“And what’s yours?”

“Choso. Choso Kamo.”

Normally, you don’t bother learning the fighters’ names, or even asking. What would be the point? They’re either too punch drunk to answer you, or they’re in and out of your office without a backwards glance.

But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know this guy a little more, right? The night’s been slow, and it doesn’t seem like he means to leave any time soon.

“And you said you’ve been fighting for a while?” you ask while attempting to grab a jar of cotton balls on a high shelf.

“Yeah. A couple years. I’m paying for my brothers to go to a boarding school outside the city. The public schools are shit here, and I want them to have better opportunities than I did.” He suddenly becomes quiet, contemplative. “I don’t want them to end up like me.”

That was not the answer you were expecting from him. You’d assumed all the fighters here were adrenaline junkies or extreme pain addicts, with overinflated egos to match. But Choso didn’t seem to fit any of your preconceived notions. He’s fighting for his family because he feels he has to.

So you’re not the only one who feels trapped in their circumstances.

He walks over to you, looking down and smiling. “Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I chose this life.”

There’s a silent energy between the both of you as you meet his gaze, but it’s gone in an instant when he looks away, reaching up and getting the jar.

“Did you need this?” he asks, his voice suddenly low and sweet.

“Yeah.... thanks.”

Your fingers graze his as you take the jar and there’s a flutter in your stomach. For someone so beat up and bruised, there’s a gentleness about him; you can see it in his eyes.

The moment between the two of you, however, is cut short when the door is kicked open and a bloodied and bruised fighter is rushed into the room.

By the time you get them bandaged and stitched, and your workspace clean, Choso is gone.

Ah well, you think, better not to get too attached anyway.

But the next evening, he’s back in your office, just like clockwork, leaning in a chair or sitting on a counter, just ever so slightly in your personal space. You use it as an opportunity to check his wound, reprimanding him for not regularly putting on antiseptic ointment.

Your leg brushes his as you dab the ointment on, attempting to ignore that he’s once again watching you silently.

You clear your throat. “You need to take better care of your wounds, Choso, or the scar isn’t going to heal properly. Or worse, it’ll get infected.”

”I don’t really care about scars. I’ve always had them, it seems.”

You look into his eyes, then down at the scar across his nose.

”How’d you get that one?”

“That?” He points to his nose. “That was an unfortunate incident with my father and a metal baton.”

He then tells you about his life, about having an abusive father and an absent mother, and about raising his younger brothers practically on his own. As a teenager he’d given up on school but had found an aptitude for fighting, first in back alleys and parks, and now, in his early twenties, in the underground bare knuckle boxing matches run by various shady gambling organizations.

The gambling here was somewhat legal, but the matches were anything but, pitting fighter against fighter in a bloody free-for-all where the only rule was don’t hit them hard enough to kill them. The fact that Choso was still alive and fighting after all these years was impressive.

Slightly masochistic, but impressive.

From here on, every evening, Choso would come like clockwork. He’d find his way to your office, where you’d assess his wound, put on more ointment (he would always forget), give him some ice for his bruising and just listen to him talk. The man was an open book to you, and after a few days, you felt you had a good idea of who Choso was and what made him tick.

Like how he hates confined spaces but has no problem with heights; that if he’d gone to college, he would have been a preschool teacher because he loves kids; how he likes board games but gets too competitive.

He was odd but sweet, carrying himself in an unassuming way that contrasted vastly from the other fighters that passed through your door. Even though he was part of such a cruel world, he seemed so… innocent, as if he was experiencing life for the first time.

You, on the other hand, kept information about yourself general and brief during your talks with Choso. To tell him about yourself and your life would mean that you trusted him; that he was more than just another fighter coming through your door.

Even moreso, you were afraid of what he’d think if you told him what got you here in the first place.

And so every question Choso asked was met with a quick answer or total silence; that didn’t seem to stop him from asking questions, however; the man was as relentless with curiosity as he was with fighting stamina.

And when seven evenings had passed, you could tell the man was aching to get back into the ring.

“It’s itchy,” he said, gently patting the healing wound with his fingers, just like you’d taught him to do when he felt the urge to scratch it.

The bruising and swelling around his eye and the side of his face had gone down considerably in the past week, faster than you were even expecting.

Something else you didn’t expect was the fact that you really enjoyed his presence in your office every night, so much so that you felt a small pang of longing every time he left.

“Come here, then. Let’s have a look at it.”

He walks toward you, reaching up to pull his hair back into a ponytail, his shirt raising just enough to show his toned stomach. You quickly turn away to reach for your glasses.

There’s a crinkling sound behind you as he sits on the tissue paper covering the examination table. You can feel his eyes on you and you take a few breaths before turning around, avoiding his gaze.

You’ve been this close to him countless times, but why does it suddenly feel different now?

There’s cheers coming from the arena down the hall, and that usually brings commentary from Choso about the fighters, but right now, he’s quiet. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

“You look cute in your glasses,” he says in a low voice that sends vibrations to your core.

“Stop it. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“But it’s true.”

”Shhh...” you command, but his comment has you visibly flustered. You clear your throat as you assess Choso’s wound.

“I’m going to take out the sutures now. It shouldn’t hurt.”

Your examination light clicks on above the two of you and you tilt his head up slightly. He smiles boyishly before looking away.

Realizing it’s pointless to ignore whatever is happening between the two of you, you prod, “Was that your way of flirting?”

”I’ve never been very good at that,” he confesses. “Just stating the facts. One of my many observations of you this week.”

”Oh yeah? And what else have you observed?”

”You purse your lips when you concentrate.”

You suddenly relax your lips as you start cutting the threads of his suture. “I don’t do that.”

He smiles. “And you do this little throat clearing sound when you’re nervous.”

As if on cue, you clear your throat. He smirks triumphantly.

”See?”

”So you’ve discovered every one of my physical ticks. You have them too, you know.”

His eyes glance up to you. “And they are?”

”Well…you...” you snip a few sutures, pausing to pull them out and put on a tray, “...sigh loudly.”

”I… sigh loudly?”

”Yeah…as if you’re bored or tired or something.” Snip goes another suture. “And you have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you’re physically capable of hiding any of your emotions.”

”Unlike you. You’re like a stone wall. You get defensive and distant every time I ask a personal question.”

“I do -” your words come out clipped and harsh, and he gives you a knowing look, “-not..”

Snip.

Silence.

“Ok, fine. What do you want to know?”

“You’re not wearing a ring, so you’re not married. Boyfriend?”

“No.” You want to leave it at that, but that would just prove him right. “I don’t really have time for…relationships.”

Desperately wanting to deflect, you ask, “What about you? I’m sure you have a hoard of fangirls.”

“Me? Fangirls?” He laughs at that and you give him a reprimanding look to keep still before you continue your work. “You clearly haven’t been to any of the matches. It’s mainly old men drunk off their asses. And I don’t really talk to…girls.”

You take out the last suture and dab at the slight bleeding.

“I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

Your brow furrows at that, and so he adds, “I want to talk to you. And it’s a challenge.”

“A challenge? In what way?”

“No matter what I ask, you’ve barely told me a thing about you. But there’s some things I can tell.”

His hand reaches out and pauses for a moment, before his fingertips caress your face.

“You seem sad,” he says gently, “and alone.”

“What does that mean, alone?” You back away from him. “I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to pity me.”

“That’s not what I meant -”

He walks toward you, but you turn away.

“Your wound is healed and your bruising has gone down. You should be fine to fight now, so there’s no more reason to come here.”

You can feel his presence right behind you. He says your name but you don’t turn around.

It’s time to stop this. There’s no use in letting someone into your life.

There’s a loud sigh, and then you hear the door to your office open and close.

——

“Goddammit, Choso, why are your hands not taped? Where’s your head been lately?”

Choso stays silent. Was he really gonna tell his trainer that he’s been sidetracked all week because he was thinking about you every moment?

That would get him a slap across the face, and he’d like to avoid that.

This is the first time he’s been back to the arena since that last night he saw you. And every day he’s thought about whether he’ll catch a glimpse of you walking to your office, or in the hallway. After things fell apart so terribly, he wonders if he’d even have the nerve to talk to you again.

Choso’s trainer pushes him out the door. ”Go to the doctor and ask to borrow their tape. Surely she has some.”

Shit.

The cheers and boos of another fight echo against the brick and metal of the hallway as Choso makes his way to your office, each step making his heart beat just a little bit faster.

Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe you’ll turn him away.

(Of course, if he got injured tonight, you’d have no choice but to treat him, that thought had crossed his mind.)

Just as he makes it to your door, it flings open, nearly hitting him in the face. He stops it right as a man with long blue hair slinks out.

”Oh! Sorrrry man!” His voice is innocent, child-like. “You almost got knocked out before you could even fight.” He smirks while holding open the door ceremoniously. “The doctor will see you now.”

Confused, Choso watches as the man practically skips down the hall but his concern quickly changes when he sees you slumped over your counter.

”Doc…”

He cautiously walks towards you.

”Go away.” The words are harsh but your voice is weak and defeated.

Choso gently puts a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards him, but you refuse to look him in the eyes. He lifts your chin up to look at him.”What happened?”

That’s when he sees it. Your bottom lip is split and bleeding.

Choso’s eye squint, studying the wound. “Who did this to you?”

You say nothing, but with the freshness of the wound, he puts it together. And suddenly, he’s seeing red.

He turns on his heels, ready to burst out the door and catch that blue haired bastard who hit you, but you grab his arm, pulling him back to your side.

”Don’t, Choso!” You plead. “Please...”

Your eyes well up with tears and Choso’s hand instantly cups your face.

“What happened?”

You hesitate, as usual, but then, “…I’m in trouble...”

”What kind of trouble?”

You look down, grabbing some gauze on the counter to put on your lip. Once again, Choso is met with silence to his questions.

”Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

”Why do you keep coming here, Choso? No matter what I do…you just keep coming back. I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you.” The words come out of his mouth so naturally, words he’s wanted to tell you for days. “You are one of the only people here who is kind to me. I could tell that you really cared. I don’t get that often, if ever.”

He moves closer, placing his hand on top of yours. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Outside the doors of the office, the voices of the gamblers in the arena raise to a crescendo. A muffled sound announces the next fighters.

But here, it feels as if time has stopped. Choso can’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart in his ears getting louder and louder. His focus becomes completely on you, as if the rest of the world has melted away. It’s the same feeling he gets right before a fight, but this time he’s not looking to conquer anything.

Or maybe he is.

He brings your hand off your face and leans down, his lips mere millimeters from yours.

“Let me in.”

Your breath is ragged and uneven and if he closed his eyes, he swears he’d be able to hear your heart beating as well. But after a few seconds, when neither of you move, he begins to doubt himself.

Then your voice - your sad, soft voice - breaks the silence.

”Choso...”

That’s all he needs to hear to have his lips crashing into yours. It’s a desperate kiss, a hunger arising in him that he’s never felt before. Your arms wrap around his neck and he lifts you up and onto the counter, pressing himself between your legs. He can taste the blood from your lip and it seems to spur a deeper want of you inside of him. His hands roam under your shirt and you moan into his mouth. He wants to touch you, taste you, know everything about you -

“Choso!” A loud voice resonates outside the office.

Both of you break away from the kiss, breathless.

“Shit. I’ve gotta go.” He looks at the door, expecting his coach to barge in any second; when he doesn’t, he looks back at you. You look so vulnerable right now, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to see how much further this can go, how much more you’ll open up to him, but he knows he can’t miss a fight.

“Wait for me. It’s not safe for you to leave by yourself tonight. I’ve just gotta.…go do this real quick.”

This. As if his livelihood doesn’t depend on it.

“Alright,” is your answer.

And with that, it feels like Choso has been hit with a shot of adrenaline. He kisses you again, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically, because he hears you suck in a breath.

“I’ll be right back.” He looks down and sees some medical tape on the counter. “And I’ll return this.”

He runs out the door and down the hall, the tape in his mouth as he winds it around his palms and knuckles.

You’re gonna wait for him.

He’s never wanted a fight to finish so fast.

”Choso! Where the hell have you been? You’re up!”

He ignores his coach and starts warming up, jumping a bit and then throwing a few punches. Just outside the door beyond are the lights, the cheers, and his opponent.

But right now, all he wants is you.

”And weighing in at 187 pounds….the man who always brings a bloodbath…CHOOOOSOOOOO!!”

——

You hear the announcer scream Choso’s name and the cheers that follow.

Let me in… he’d said.

You’re not sure if you’re shaking from being hit in the face or from the intense kisses that you shared with Choso just moments before. Maybe it’s a little of both.

You wring your hands and pace the floor, your mind racing, trying to understand everything that just happened. Sooner or later, you knew the people you agreed to work for would come to collect - but no matter what you did, it never seemed to be enough. They take and take and take…

And that man with the blue hair - it seemed like he’d taken such joy in hitting you, seeing the fear in your eyes when he made his threats.

Maybe you should just leave, right now. Pack up your stuff and get out of the city, leave everything behind.

But it would be no use, you knew they’d eventually find you.

And Choso…he told you to wait for him. It felt so good to be in his arms, touching you, kissing you. He made you feel wanted and safe, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’ve never been interested in watching the matches before, but now you find yourself walking down the hall and into the dark and crowded arena. The crowd is lively, throwing out words of praise and curses at both the fighters. You stay in the back, and through the clouds of cigarette smoke, you see him.

It’s only been a few minutes since the fight started, but Choso’s body is already coated in a layer of sweat. There’s a wild look in his eyes but his face is serious, almost calm. He weaves and bobs in between his opponent’s punches, getting his own punch across his cheek, then one to his chin. Choso takes a few steps back as the man ambles forward, shaking his head a few times while his trainer yells something to him from the ropes.

The opponent lunges toward Choso but he puts him in a headlock and starts punching his face repeatedly. In an ordinary fight, a referee would break them up, but there are no referees that you can see. The man eventually works himself free from Choso’s grasp, his nose bloody and more than likely broken. He attempts a jab but Choso counters; he hits him hard across the cheek and the man falls to the ground.

”Finish him off!” “Beat him to a pulp!”

”Choso! Choso! Choso!”

The voices raise higher and higher, egging the victor on. But Choso merely walks to his corner, drinks some water, spits it out, and leaves the ring.

In a matter of minutes, it’s all over, the loser in a pool of blood.

You rush back to your office, knowing you’re going to have to set that man’s nose.

——

True to his word, Choso comes to your office at the end of the night.

You’ve just finished treating his opponent and stitching up a cut on his right cheek before sending him away with his trainer and crew. You’d also noticed that the bruising on the man’s knuckles was deep purple and swelling fast; no broken bones, but it looked as if he’d hit something hard and immovable, not another human body.

When you look at Choso, who’s freshly showered and wearing a grey hoodie over a white t-shirt, leaning against your office door, he looks as if he’s just had a walk in the park.

You put on your jacket and grab your things before making your way toward him.

”Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

His hand, that just moments before had beaten someone to a bloody pulp, was now outstretched toward you.

An offering. And a surrender.

You decide to accept.

Part 2 / Part 3 / Series Masterlist

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#jjk fanfiction #jjk choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso kamo smut #kamo choso #sixpennydame punch drunk love #punch drunk love part one #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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mythmash · 3 months ago

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Something Taken, Freely Given

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: Modern!AU, Sickfic, Fluff, Sukuna being really bad at feelings A/N: This was written for the amazing @chaoskrakenuwu! JJK Masterlist

Sukuna had three major rules when it came to living with him.

Don’t interrupt his workouts.

Don’t eat the food specifically labeled For Sukuna - Don’t Fucking Touch in the fridge.

And the most important — do not touch his stuff without asking.

There were other rules too, little things that came with interacting the temperamental man. Things like don’t look him in the eyes for too long, don’t laugh too much around him, don’t stand too close to him. Rules upon rules, more akin to the guidelines you’d see at a zoo, warning you not to spook the animals. Blaring red signs, all telling you that any interaction with Ryomen Sukuna beyond simple pleasantries would be a fucking nightmare.

He had few acquaintances and fewer friends. The two unlucky roommates he’d had in college lasted only a semester, claiming they’d never recover from the trauma of surviving in the same space as him.

It was how he preferred things. People annoyed him, either too much or not enough for him to deal with. Always irritating. Always annoying. Always complaining.

If they didn’t like the way he was, they shouldn’t bother him. Or talk to him. Or look at him. Or breathe near him.

He was perfectly fine being alone.

Or so he thought until you’d crashed into his life and tangled yourself so deeply within his life, his mind, his heart that there was no separating the two of you.

He doesn’t know how it happened. One minute your friends were introducing you — him greeting you with a once-over and a firm fuck off — and the next he was carrying boxes of your stuff into his apartment. Somewhere in the middle, there’d been a few quickies, then a few dates, then the disgusting process of accepting that he did, in fact, care for you.

You’d been so smug, like a predator that’d been lying in wait for months, finally finding the perfect moment to trap their prey.

That’s exactly what you’ve done, Sukuna thinks.

You’ve trapped him.

You’re everywhere. Your stuff takes up half of his apartment, fitting so perfectly in all the empty spaces. Your pictures take up valuable space in his phone, photos upon photos all neatly organized in albums and categorized by date. Your perfume lingers on his pillows.

He couldn’t escape you even if he wanted.

You don’t even care that you’ve disrupted his once peaceful life. You invade his space to stick those slimy, colorful face masks on him, or grab his hands to test your infinite collection of nail polish or run your fingers through his hair so he won’t notice you change the channel to one of your annoying shows.

You help yourself to his leftovers even though he makes sure to keep the fridge stocked with your favorite snacks. You sit yourself at his feet when he’s doing sit-ups, gleefully meeting his every rise with a little kiss to his face. You poke through his books, his phone, his extensive record collection like you own them.

Sukuna watches as every rule, every wall, every defense he’s ever built for himself comes crumbling down.

Against his every instinct, he lets you do all of it.

You’re a witch. A cruel, devious witch who’s used her beauty and sexual charms to cast some kind of curse on him.

How else could he explain why your smile haunts him every minute he’s not by your side? What other explanation is there for the worry that seizes his heart when you collapse halfway to the kitchen at three in the morning with a fever that almost burns his hand?

He forces himself to keep calm. His voice does not shudder when he tells you you’ll be okay. His hands do not tremble as he helps you back into bed. His eyes do not well as he dabs your face with a damp cloth while you’re stuck in a fitful sleep.

You wake only minutes before he’s meant to leave for work, fever slightly calmed, and Sukuna does not acknowledge the immediate relief that floods his body.

“I’m fine,” you tiredly assure him. “It’s just a cold.”

There’s a brief argument of you trying to convince him to go to work — you think you’ll be alright on your own, and Sukuna thinks you’re full of shit.

You know him better than anyone, possibly even himself. How could you think he’d be okay leaving you like this? A million questions swirl in his mind. A million little worries he never thought he’d have to consider growing and growing until they’re a furious storm of anxiety and frustration.

What if something happens, and he’s not there? What if you can’t get a hold of him? What if he misses your call? What if he doesn’t see your text? What if you’re so out of it that you can’t call or text? What if no one else can check on you?

What if? What if? What if?

“What if Uraume stays with me?”

If it were anyone else Sukuna would immediately refuse, but you know — because you know every in and out of his being — Uraume is the one person he would trust enough to put your well-being into their hands.

He begrudgingly agrees, compromising — another thing he never used to do before you came around — by staying at your side until Uraume arrives. It takes him another ten minutes to leave, too busy going over rules, emergency contacts, and the endless supply of his medicine cabinet. He spends another minute vaguely threatening Uraume about keeping you safe, finally leaving when you threaten to stay with one of your friends until you’re healthy if he doesn’t stop.

Sukuna doesn’t hear from you the rest of the morning. It sets him on edge, threatening to push him over with every passing minute.

He’s two seconds from just leaving when Uraume texts him. It’s simple and to the point — a picture of you on the sofa under a pile of blankets, bleary eyes focused on the TV, with a brief rundown of the food and medicine Uraume gave you. It does nothing to soothe his yearning to be there with you, but Sukuna takes what he can get.

He gets three more updates from Uraume. The first is a picture of you sitting up with a bowl of soup in your lap and your hands tightly holding a thick blanket around your shoulders. The second is a few sentences letting Sukuna know that you were given medicine, and your fever had gone down.

The third is a selfie that comes ten minutes before the end of Sukuna’s shift. Uraume stares blankly ahead, giving the camera thumbs up while you’re in the background, asleep in bed, and, more notably, cuddled around Sukuna’s pillow. After cropping Uraume out, Sukuna spends the last few minutes of his shift admiring the picture, itching to leave.

Not caring about possible tickets or road safety violations, he’s home in record time. His shoes are barely off before he’s telling Uraume thanks, now get the fuck out. Uraume nods, as used to Sukuna’s poor personality as you are, and leaves without a word.

Sukuna beelines for the bedroom, the stress from the day already melting away the moment he lays eyes on you. You look exhausted, bundled tightly under the blankets as you lay across the bed to spoon his pillow.

He checks your fever first, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. You’re still warm, but much better than you’d been that morning. He hums, satisfied with Uraume’s care, and leaves you to sleep. He doesn’t bother with dinner, deciding to get ready for bed early tonight.

He’s careful — because he’s always so careful now — crawling into bed with you. You have three blankets over you, and Sukuna takes his time peeling each one back without disturbing your rest. When the final blanket, a thin, ratty thing he’s had since childhood, is pulled back, Sukuna stills.

You’re not wearing much, dressed down to the thinnest pajamas you own, but you have one of his hoodies laid over you with your arms through the sleeves.

He’s having a heart attack. That’s the only explanation for the tight clenching of his chest at the sight of you in his clothes, under his blanket, wrapped around his pillow. It’s definitely a heart attack, and not at all the terrifying realization that he’s spent the whole day scared for you. It has to be a heart attack because the other option would be an admission of feeling that he’s certainly not ready to deal with right now.

He doesn’t dwell, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. You settle against him instantly, relaxing under the weight of his arms. He holds you close, pushing any thoughts of fear and feelings out of his mind. There’s no need for that, not when you’re here in his arms.

Truthfully, he doesn’t need to wrestle with himself over it. He knows. Deep, deep, deep down, in a part of his heart that’s been long sealed away, he knows.

You’ve ruined him, and he’ll spend the rest of his life all the more thankful for it.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jjk fics

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lixies-favorite-cookie · 4 months ago

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an ocean in a world full of puddles ◦ Chapter 1

-After being brushed off by Chan once again, you are stuck waiting in the lounge room for him to arrive. What are you going to do when it isn't Chan that arrives, but instead Felix? And it feels like you've known him for years."

words ◦ 5k

genre ◦ series, angst, fluff, the beginning of a wild ride

warnings ◦ chan is painted in sort of a negative light because he is always busy, felix is sort of shy around you at first, but lowkey flirty near the end as he starts to get more comfertable, theres a lot of fucks in this, i keep calling yall im dumb im sorry, fem!reader, felix calls her a lady once,

a/n ◦ The strikeouts are intentional to show how chaotic the reader's mind is and how she feels like her emotions are so invalid she has to just erase them away. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected. I found myself struggling to describe certain aspects of this and was quite disappointed by the outcome (but please do not let this deter you. If anything, read it and let me know what you think/what I can change. Plus, I know the other parts are going to be way better than this).

also i listened to heather while writing this up until the phone number bit... then i listened to slow down by chase atlantic...do with that information as you will

A VERY VERY SPECAIL THANK YOU TO THESE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE that helped me through the different struggles and stages in this fic I thank most of my unnecessary errors being fixed because of them @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, @luvtak

masterlist ◦ a loved lived in between the stars and the sea

The human condition: a soul filled with passion, but not a mouth to spill it into.

It was ironic really.

Your soul was filled with passion, but you had a mouth to spill it into.

That mouth just didn't want your passion-

Your fervor-

Your ardor-

Romance practically coursed through your veins, your blood cells shaped like the hearts you saw the world through.

Chan was filled with passion.

Chan was filled with ardor.

Chan was filled with romance.

But Chan didn't want poetry-

Chan spilled too much soul into songs.

Songs that made him too busy for you.

The two of you saw the same goal, but spoke different languages-

Your love was often-

Lost in translation.

You shout, frustration poking in the pit of your stomach painting the car red you dig the pencil into the words scratching them out so hard you cut holes in the page that sounded so stupid

all of this was so stupid

your feelings-

stupid

your issues-

stupid

the thought that Chan was anything other than perfect-

stupid

Why couldn't you just be content with everything you have? So many girls would pay to be in your place, tripping over each other just to be in his presence, and yet, what, you're unhappy because you spoke different languages?

What the hell does that even mean?

You were trapped inside an inescapable box, the sharp edges of your unrealistic expectations like shackles that cut into your skin, bleeding with a passion only ever found in fiction.

Why were you always stuck?

stuck in the stars, stuck in the sea-

stuck in this stupid line of stupid traffic, waiting for a stupid meal that Chan probably will be too busy to eat with you, writing some stupid piece of poetry that was about as poetic as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

stupid

“Finally,” you mumble as the car in front of you inches up, allowing you access to the next window. You politely bow, grab the trays from the worker’s hand, and drive off.

Your life quickly turned from the hope of a story to the reality of a routine. The road, the walls, the button your finger grazes as the doors to the elevator slam shut, the number of steps it takes to get to his room, the feel of cold metal underneath your palm as you open the door, the same hunch of his shoulders, the same glow of his laptop, the same empty look in his eyes.

the same

Most of your relationship is spent looking at him like this.

"Hey channie," you say, setting the food down on the empty spot beside his keyboard.

"Hi, love." His voice is nothing more than the ghost of a mumble, blending with the click and shift of his mouse, moving different blurs and blobs of color on the screen. Chan tended to get tunnel vision when he was working, even if that meant you were left stranded in the shadows of his forgotten responsibilities.

"I um brought you dinner." you clear your throat, pointing lamely at the boxes beside him like he couldn't clearly see they were there. He perks up, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"Oh baby, thank you." The tension in his shoulders melts. "I'm sorry, you know how busy I am sometimes; right now it feels like I'm drowning in work," he chuckles, absentmindedly shifting in his chair.

you're always busy

You push a smile through the tangled ball of suppressed emotions climbing up your throat.

"I know you're busy, but do you think I could eat dinner with you today...please?" Your stomach twists in painful knots. It was pathetic really, the way you begged for attention like a needy dog more than a doting girlfriend, but you were desperate, scrambling to fan a flickering flame that felt long sputtered out.

stop

You knew what you were getting into when he asked you out—the stress, the anxiety, the workload, the long hours. Chan was always upfront and honest about the struggles of being an idols girlfriend, never wanting to veil your eyes from the harsh sting of realities rays.

then why does it still feel like your soul is burning?

He flicks his gaze to the screen, guilt gnawing at his core. There was so much to do in the day and just never enough time to do it. "I don't know, I don't really have a lot of time right now..." He mumbles, picking at the seam on his shorts apologetically, "Do you think you could wait about 20 minutes? I'm kind of on a roll here."

When your relationship was first blooming, your spirit would often shatter with those words, but pain only holds power when it isn't welcome, and as long as you are loved by him, you will accept the feeling with open arms.

"I'm going to go sit in the lounge room then." You try to keep the disappointment out of your tone, but it leaks through the cracks echoing in your chest, radiating in palpable waves. You clench your jaw, picking up your tray of food.

does he not care?

"Okay," The squeak of his chair indifferently swiveling back to its previous place echoes in your ears. Louder than anything you've ever heard.

he didn't even kiss you

1 hour 45 minutes and 13 seconds

That's how long you have been waiting in the lounge room for Chan to walk in the door.

that is how long you've been wallowing in a sad pathetic heap staring at your uneating supper

1 hour 45 minutes and 15 seconds now

16 seconds

17 seconds

You spin around when you hear the door creak open, anticipation fluttering in your stomach, only to plummet when you see Felix standing in the entrance, too busy shoveling a fork full of noodles in his mouth to notice your presence.

Felix was a familiar face, mostly associated with sweet smiles and bouncing eyes; you have only ever talked to him on a handful of occasions, possessing the basic relationship of hellos in the hallways and smiles when you enter the same room, but besides the couple times where he offered you some of his freshly baked brownies or told you which room Chan was in, you haven't actually had a conversation with the boy.

You groan, dramatically deflating in your seat.

Of course, it wasn't chan

Felix yelps, his heart leaping in his chest, only to wrap around his bones, doing trapeze tricks inside his ribs when he lays eyes on you—why, out of all the days he could have seen you, it was on the one day he was least ready, and the way your whole body slumps like a deflated balloon, it becomes crystal clear you weren't exactly jumping up and down to see him either.

Does Cupid have a vendetta against him or something?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was in here," he stutters awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix it without a mirror. Disappointment quickly brews into guilt watching the way his eyes shift, hurt drooping his shoulders down.

"No, I'm sorry, it's not like that; I just thought—" You falter. What the hell did you think? Sorry, but I thought you were my boyfriend who left me here all by myself, and like usual, my stupid, hopeful heart really believed this time was going to be different. "You were someone different." You sink into the couch, a dull ache spiderwebbing through the chasms in your chest.

"Let me guess." His eyes crinkle with sympathy. "Chan."

You glance down at your ribs—some silly part of you really believed your shirt had blossomed with the crimson stain of your sorrows.

"How could you guess?" you mutter sarcastically, picking at the skin of your nails. Why did it seem like everybody else got the memo that if you were to search the thesaurus, your name would be the first word under forgotten?

"Well, really, it was a toss-up between you being with him for the past 5 years and the fact that he has been glued to his computer for the past 5 hours," he grins. "Pick your poison."

Your gaze drifts back to the couch that sits idly in front of you, lonely in the middle of the room, out of place, without the implant of another person's body.

"W-Well," he starts, shifting his bowl in his hands. "Do you... I don't know, want some company...maybe."

He's so awkward, so unsure, like a baby deer wobbling on unfamiliar legs, struggling to stay upright. You tilt your head, your lips pulling up into an adoring grin; you never really noticed it before, but he was sort of shy. You had a terrible tendency to take your time observing people unintentionally, causing discomfort to the victims of your restless brain—assessing in silence.

His ears burn when your eyes gloss over with an opaque glaze. His heart drops only for those silly little butterflies that always appear when you are around to swarm their wings around the lump growing in his throat.

Well, that was a bust.

Why couldn't he just be normal around you?

"O-Or not, that's fine too. I-I get it; you're probably l-like waiting for Chan or whatever. I-I can go get him if you would like." He jerks his thumb behind him, forgetting he was holding something for a second, stumbling to catch it right before it falls. You snicker, biting your lips to contain your laughter. His eyes flutter shut, scrunching his nose in embarrassment.

He was cute

Why haven't you talked to him before?

"No, please sit down," you lazily gesture to the couch in front of you. "It's not like Chan's going to be coming down anytime soon."

He sighs, his whole body melting with relief, practically forming into the couch when he shuffles over, adjusting himself to comfortably sit with his legs wide and his head tilted down. He picks up his fork just before whispering, "I'm sorry that he kept you waiting," and stuffing his face. You smile, the sight all sorts of endearing. The amount of food stuffed into his cheeks puffs them out, forcing his mouth into a pout that's smeared with red sauce. For a moment, you almost forget that you're supposed to be groveling, but why would life want to let you live when instead it could remind you constantly how much it sucks?

"I'm used to it." You learn to live with the absence of air when your hope always causes you to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have to be," he murmurs, his hand politely veiling his mouth while he chews. He's staring at his food like his noodles were an impossible labyrinth he's forced to escape, completely oblivious to the cataclysmic sentence he just uttered. Your jaw drops, stomach fluttering with butterflies, butterflies that you could’ve sworn burned out a long time ago. When most of your time is spent in a constant state of apocalypse, you forget the side effects of a romanticism, felt before your soul was littered with the echos of war.

"Oh?"

"Are you not going to eat?" He questions, forehead creased with concern as he gestures to the food that was currently burning a hole in the table. You stare at him stupidly, mouth ever so slightly agape. Did he not notice that there were swarms of zombified insects burrowing their way into your belly, kaleidoscopes charred wings creating panic in your pounding heart?

(cookie interruptions: I was today years old when I found out that a kaleidoscope was the technical term for a swarm of butterflies)

Why was he making you feel so jittery?

"Oh," you blink, giving an imperceptible shake of the head—a weak attempt to gather your disoriented thoughts.

Honestly, you had forgotten it was there.

"I was waiting to eat with Chan..." You mutter through the tufts of wool still stuffed in your head, wrapping your fingers around the tray, but when you pull open its flappy lid, your lips pull into a sneer glaring at the congealed sauce and cold noodles. You weren't surprised that your food had spoiled over the 2 hours you had been waiting, but it didn't make the frustration that bubbled in your gut any less apparent either. "But clearly, that hope was shortlived," you scoff, chucking the useless tray back on the table.

Felix clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He often found himself tiptoeing on the edge of insanity, always rewriting the words he wanted to say, terrified you had written a line in the sand the waves had washed away.

You were a star with a heart tied to the sea, where he would have more success breaking the bond of the moon than turning the tides of the ocean that suffocated your soul.

So for now, he will coast the cosmos alone, waiting for the day you will finally look his way.

"You can have some of mine... if you want," he whispers, shyly scooting his cup over to you. "It's salmon-flavored; it's really good."

"Are you sure?" you blink, utterly flummoxed.

"Yeah, of course!" You swore you could trace the stories of the sky in the gaps where his freckles glowed.

"Thank you; I promise I won't eat too much," you joke, pulling out your fork. "I don't mind it, really. I can always make more as long as you're eating I'm okay," he grins, sliding his hand out of the way to allow room for yours, grateful for his generosity; you bite back a smile, digging into the hot noodles; a spicy flavor pulled straight from the sea explodes on your tongue as soon as the food meets your lips.

You swear you just tasted heaven's gates.

"Holy shit, this is delicious," you moan, rolling your eyes back in your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirks. "It's my special recipe."

"So you do more than bake, huh?" you waggle your brows lightheartedly, though you were sort of impressed by his broad palette of skills.

"You know that I bake!?" He was still recovering from the shock that you even knew his name—the way he often dissolves into the wall when you enter the room.

"Of course, I know that you bake; I always have to eat at least half of the plate of brownies Chan brings home." You giggle, picking at the noodles, wanting more but feeling guilty for hogging the whole bowl.

"Oh, I'm full," he stretches, rubbing his stomach like a stuffed cartoon character.

"Are you lying?" Cynism was a side effect of being a creative romanticist—your artistic brain didn't limit itself to only forming one conclusion, while the stories that ended up on paper were solely portrayed as having happy endings—you knew this philosophy was neither sadistic nor realistic, for even if the fictional characters made up of the fluid of your mind betrayed each other, what would a human, evil in its rawest form, do to you?

well that was melodramatic

"You know you're a very skeptical person," he jests, pulling his lips ever so slightly up.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; there's a difference," you state, stuffing your face when you finish studying him down to the very twitch of his right calf muscle.

"Aren't hopeless romantics supposed to be happy-go-lucky all the time? Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and stuff?"

"You know we are called hopeless for a reason," you snort, unrealistic standards were more of a curse than a blessing.

Scratch that, having unrealistic standards is just a curse

“Being a hopeless romantic is like being an ocean in a world full of puddles.” Your soul speaks like his fingertips have felt its walls a million times before “devastating.”

He stares at you gobsmacked, blinking like you just hit him over the head with a mallet. Your mind kicks into gear, anxious little butterflies flipping on the switch for damage control.

that must have sounded so self-centered

"I-I didn't mean, like, in a cocky way, I'm better than other people. I just meant it's impossible to pour my passion anywhere because everybody else doesn't have room to take it. If anything, I-Im the bad one in this scenario.” You stutter, sporadically shaking your hands, worried that the misconception is going to create a concrete opinion. He quickly waves you off, seeming anything but bothered.

“An ocean in a world full of puddles that's pretty deep,” he implores, treating the words like age-old wine to be sipped with both time and deference. “You know you should really consider being a poet 'cause that like moved my soul.” Only Lee Felix can make humor sound so honest.

Why was he so ...amazed

"I like to think I'm a poet." Your cheeks are painted red as you bashfully tilt your head down.

but right now not so much

“You can't think you're a poet,” he chuckles. “If you ever wanted to read somebody your stuff, I would be happy to help��Maybe it could fix your uncertainty." Something twinkles in his eyes, something nervous yet desperate, something you couldn't quite pinpoint while your stomach was sprinting in circles—the mere thought of showing somebody else your poetry was the equivalent of slicing your heart in half and presenting it to the world on live television.

basically, something that will never happen never ever

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I don't really write poetry per se; I just write my..." You trail off.

What do you write?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassures, his warm smile cooling the icy anxiety that crystallized around your core.

Why do you do this to yourself??

Stupid Felix and his stupid power to loosen your lips-

stupid. stupid. stupid.

To be a poet is to be vulnerable; no great art is ever created comfortably.

Fuck it

“I write my dreams,” you blurt, peeking out through your clenched eyelids to see if Felix caught the spit of a sentence; clearly, he did the way he lifts his brows thoughtfully.

“Elaborate”

A man of many annoying questions you see

“Why,” you groan, sinking into your seat almost comically.

"Because I want to listen to you," he laughs like whiskey and wine, both husky and rich. You choke, your heart imploding into a million tiny, rose-shaped pieces.

"Nobody wants to listen to me ramble on about hopeless fantasies that will never come true," you sputter, still trying to reshape your rose-shaped shatters into something that resembles an organ.

"I do."

Oh well, there they go again, forming right back into roses-

He made all of this seem like a complex game of chess, every move of hesitance quickly countered by a block of honesty.

From the moment you could write, you found out that paper was not volatile the way people were, how you could erase a word written but, in time, in life, you cannot erase a sentence said—that philosophy stuck with you, forever rendering you apprehensive to vocalize your feelings.

Maybe it was your soft spot for the stars that made you speak, but either way, when your mouth opened, it felt as though all your past doubts had washed away, and for once, you were free.

"I have always held onto my dreams through the tip of a pen, existing in between the lines of my poetry. But I don't write about deep philosophical pearls of wisdom; I write about love, passion, beauty. I write about coffee and cream, roses and vanilla. I write what I think romance tastes like, how the contrast of the most iconic confessions has been written in the rain, a usually gloomy, grey thing completely transformed through the lenses of love…" You sigh, tilting your head against the back of the cushion in bliss.

"I write the way I want to love, for I know it's the only way to quell my heart's aching urge to live anywhere but reality."

He stares at you eerily still, blinking once, twice, three times."

Why wasn't he saying anything?

Perhaps you were drunk off Felix's promises, or the cracks Chan created in your chest made you bleed with a passion only ever reserved for your poetry. But either way, you felt naked—exposed under his exploring eyes.

"What?" You croak, picking at the sleeve of your shirt.

Why did everybody act like you were crazy?

Was there something wrong with you?

You are floating in the asteroid belt, a thousand tiny rocks hovering around your head.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places." There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, a million roaring waves crashing against each other; you run face-first into a meteor, bouncing around the surfaces of a weightless space.

How many brain-altering revelations could Felix bestow before your brain cracks?

"You know, I haven't even told my friends that," you deflect. It was a dangerous game, diving too deep into your thoughts, and right now, with him—with that statement, danger could quickly bleed into destruction.

"So, I'm not your friend?" Clearly, Felix catches on to the sudden swerve of the conversation, how he eases into it with such grace, jestingly poking your knee.

"This is the first time I've ever had a real conversation with you," you scoff, poking him right back. His jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know, I just gave you my food. I think that deserves an upgrade into friendship territory," he states matter-of-factly.

Two can play at that game-

"I don't have your number; usually friends have each other's number." You place your elbows on your knees. He has been playing a metaphorical game of chess with you this whole time, his pawns moving ever so slightly forward. He forced your hand, the comfortability in your eyes making openings on the board you never meant to create. His rook, his bishop, his queen—they kiss the place right below your king.

You had one more trick up your sleeve-

You were a creative romantic whose moves were nothing less than a story, and you were going to be damned if you let your king be captured.

Now, where's the happy ending in that?

(cookie interruptions… I dont know what this is nor why i am so dramatic but hey what can you do ALSO LISTEN TO SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC I BEGTH OF YOU )

He leans forward, pressing his tongue against his cheek. The fabric of his shirt stretches across the hard ridges of his abs—

No, stop it, bad y/n.

"Do you want it?" He leans his head ever. So. Slightly. Forward

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'll give it to you," soft, smooth voice-

you narrow your eyes,

"What will Chan think?"

"It doesn't matter what Chan thinks-"

"Tell that to Chan-"

"Maybe I will." His lips-

"You know, if Chan saw us here right now, he would not be very happy." You suck your teeth.

Check-

He scoffs. Moves his bishop.

You're right back where you started.

"You're not his pet."

"Yeah, but I am his girlfriend." Block.

"Those two words are not synonymous," he says. Moves his queen.

Too many openings, too many moves, too many pieces on the board.

Too many outcomes.

Do you even still want to play?

Weren't you the one who started the game?

You bite your cheek, his eyes burning like molten amber, glinting in the overhead lights.

Should you have really asked for his number?

What would Chan think if he saw it in your phone?

Who were you kidding? He would actually have enough time to look at your phone.

"You know," he leans back, extending his arms to drape across the couch, pushing his thighs ever so slightly apart. Gone is the man with smiles like sugar; determination wisps across his face like spits of fire, overtaking every feature."If I give you my number, I'm going to have to help you unlearn your engraved cynicism." He's closing in on you, moving all his pawns in one fair swoop. You're surrounded, swarmed.

"You can't ungrave something it's scientifically impossible." You shift your king. One last dying breath-

Before-

"I can try."

Checkmate

And like every person of honor does when they have nobly lost a battle they created-

You run away.

“I have to admit, as much as I loved this conversation, I really should be going,” you say, picking up your tray of forgotten food to chuck in the trash, leaving Felix's bowl on the table. He jumps up, scrambling to pick up his mess while you dart out the door, tossing the tray in the can just outside the room.

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling to catch up with your speed. Your finger, out of habit, moves to press the button to the elevator doors—that is, before he catches it, his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“Now, what gentleman would I be making a lady get her own door?” He bellows, voice deep and low, a sound echoing through his chest as the fabric of his shirt kisses your back. He’s so close, so close, so—

How long has it been since you've been touched?

Heat. You're drenched in it, painted in it, enveloped in it.

His hand grazes your skin as he slides up your wrist, his finger extending to press the button.

Your breath hitches.

Body shutters.

Every atom erupting in flames.

The elevator doors slam open-

Your brain clicks back into place-

“Will I be seeing you again?” Your hot, so hot. He’s hot, so hot. Breath—it tickles your ear. Disoriented, so disoriented.

“I still don't have your number,” you manage to utter, slipping into the doors. His face will be the final thing you see as you descend down the shaft, lifelessly walking to your car where you will go home, go to sleep, and start your routine all over again. He smirks, flicking his eyes to your pants.

“Yes, you do.”

I do?

The doors inch shut, and a small, teeny-tiny part of you wants to wrench them open, pull him in, force him into the stanzas of your story. You are tired—tired of waiting for your life to begin, tired of repeating the same vicious cycle.

But that wasn't you talking-

That was the hopeless part of your personality,

The unrealistic-

The fiction-

Life wasn't a game and reality wasn't a book.

You had a good thing going wth Chris and you were going to be damned to ruin it just because of one fun conversation.

You reach one finger into the back pocket, feeling around for what Felix could have been talking about.

There's no way.

Your skin brushes across a smooth surface—something that definitely wasn’t there before.

There's no fucking way.

You pull it out.

It's pink and folded and definitely written on. You unfold it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just in case you ever need an editor or a friend.

Oh well, fuck the game. He just flipped over the whole damn chessboard.

Read Chapter 2 here

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lace-coffin · 11 months ago

Note

hello! Could you do something about Asa after he spends like, a good your looking for his newest member of the collection, and when he finds them, their just, surrounded by diff bugs?

Theres like, crickets in their hair, moths and butterfly all over their arms a few spiders crawling around their legs and their holding a praying mantis in their hands and staring at in awe. Their also babying talking it and cooing at it, when they look up and realize Asa is staring at them, they raise their cupped hands a show him the giant mantis resting their, saying with a cherry yet soft voice and smile "I named her Apple!"

I would appreciate it very much if you wrote something about this :)

But you don't have to, for any reason really.

Have a lovely night/day! Be sure to drink water and eat 💕

How would Asa Emory react to finding his new pet coddling his bugs?

Asa Emory/gn!Reader

Tw for bugs and power dynamics

Requests are open!

Asa moved through the halls of the hotel with efficiency, he knew them like the back of his hand, however that apparently wasn’t helping since he’d managed to...misplace his new pet.

You were supposed to be in your room, you were lucky you had even been granted the luxury of not just being crumpled into one of the boxes, but here Asa is, speeding down the halls and jumping/swerving around his traps like some kind of sick ballet in order to find you. You absolutely won’t be getting out of this without some serious punishment.

Asa curses at himself under his breath for making his place of operations so huge, it seemed like a good idea when he set up here and it was but damn if it wasn’t his Achilles heel in this situation.

Fifteen minutes of searching later his heart is picking up in an unfamiliar way, usually he’s not one to care about others or a stray victim but something in him can’t help but worry about loosing his newest subject already. Whether it’s because he cares for you or because he hates not being in control is anyone’s guess. (He’s soft for you and won’t admit it)

Finally as he’s cracking open a door at the end of the hallway he hears a sweet laugh echoing from further along. Bingo. You’re so dead when he finds you. As he’s about to slam the door open he realises this is infact where he keeps his enclosures for his specimens, he sighs and opts to open the door slowly and quietly as not to startle the bugs.

You don’t even notice Asa enter the room, currently too enthralled in cooing sweet words to the giant mantis in your hands.

Before Asa can demand to know where you’ve been and why, his breath hitches in his throat. There you are, sat on your knees next to the enclosure cases, covered from head to toe in his beloved bugs. The calm careful way you handle them and talk to them like they can understand tugs at his heart, his face softens at the sight, anger long forgotten and replaced by a feeling of fondness, the same one he felt when he was originally scouting you to join his collection.

The crickets cling to your stands of hair, a little messy since you had left your room before Asa got to around to brushing it but he’ll fix that later, sitting contently like they’d never been disturbed in the first place.

Moths and butterflies tap their tiny feet along your arms, fluttering their delicate wings, taking off and landing back with you when they please.

Asa takes in the scene breathlessly, if he hadn’t already been weak for you then he definitely is now. As he approaches by a few steps some thick hairy legs come into view, creeping slowly over your thighs and onto your lap. Tarantulas, two of them, using you as a lap cushion without a care in the world. You really are something special. In the back of his mind Asa makes another note to keep approaching slowly, despite you needing a punishment he’s not exactly wanting his eight legged pets to kick hairs at you in fright.

After a few minutes of blissfully observing one of the tarantulas unhurriedly totters off your leg and begins to move across the room. “Oh, where are you off to little guy? I need you over here with me, I’m already probably in big trouble with sir” you sigh. “I don’t want to loose you and make it worse, besides, I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch”

In a strange way you suppose you understood Asa’s need to keep you under wraps right now, not wanting this beautiful specimen to disappear from your sight, much like Asa with you.

You swivel on your knees to coax the spider back into your palms, nudging its abdomen for encouragement and letting it waddle back into your hands. From your new position you catch a glimpse of heavy black boots in your peripheral. Oh.

You turn your attention fully to the man above you, heart racing at the idea of what’s about to come, however as you reach his eyes they aren’t filled with the rage or disappointment you were expecting. The black orbs are filled with softness, fondness, almost something sweet you can’t decipher.

Without thinking you present the giant mantis to Asa, still on your knees. “I named her apple!” A beat passes and an array of emotions flutter through Asa’s steely heart, his blank face still giving nothing away. After what feels like an eternity he crouches down in front of you, cupping his hands under your own, assisting in holding the mantis. “A fine name for her, pet. Do you know what species Apple is by chance?” He says in his firm but calm, leading voice, slipping into the tone he uses when teaching his lectures without even realising it.

“Uh-no, no I don’t sir…tell me?” You say, wincing a little at the stumble at the beginning, hoping asking him to tell you didn’t come off as rude or undermining his authority. Asa smiles, not letting anything on.

“She is a Giant Asian Mantis, or Hierodula membranacea, If you want to get technical. These are the most commonly kept mantis as house pets and come in an array of colours, but as you can see, apple is mostly light green. I think your name fits her nicely.” Asa explains matter of factly, hands still cupped under yours for Apple to totter onto.

“Woah” you say without thinking, watching Apple move to Asa’s palms and taking in the information. Asa exhales from his nose in a small chuckle. “Woah indeed, however I think it’s time we get you and Apple back to your respective rooms” Asa says with a quirked eyebrow, giving away that your not going to get away with this unpunished just because he finds you endearing.

Asa helps you round up the specimens and places them back in their individual tanks. After making sure you both wash your hands thoroughly he takes your now clean hand and walks you back to your room, letting you ask him more bug questions as you walk.

Despite how lovely this has been you’ll still be given a stern talking to once you return, Asa can’t bring himself to punish you for your little adventure and entomology lesson but isn’t one to let you off the hook without some kind of consequence, after all he expects your complete submission and obedience and won’t settle for any less. But for now that convocation can wait, and Asa can get you comfy on your knees infront of him, manoeuvring your head via the ring on your collar and finally working the comb through the snags in your hair with care.

I hope you enjoy this! Your rq was super fun to do and the idea was really cool! Thank you so much and feel free to send me more < 3

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #the collector #the collector x reader #writing #my writing

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 1 year ago

Text

Prompt: "Oh my God, look at that — it’s a mistletoe!” “…Absolutely fucking not. Don’t give me that look! I’m not kiss— ugh, fine, you menace."

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

"Did you hear about the mistletoe infestation in Octavinelle?"

Leona glanced up at you, attention momentarily diverted from the chessboard where he was currently obliterating you. An eyebrow was raised in silent question, and you continued.

"Apparently Octavinelle has mistletoe on all its doorways, and it won't come down even with magical means. Nobody knows who did it."

"...And?"

"And what?"

Leona looked at you properly, pinning you in place with his gaze. "How is that relevant to our game right now, herbivore?" His eye caught onto movement, and he glared at Grim, picking him up by the scruff of his neck. "Oi furball, don't eat the chess pieces. Unless you want me to eat you." Leona made a show of snapping his teeth at the cat-monster, making him squirm and try to break free from his position in mid-air.

Grim coughed up the knight and pawns he had stuffed into his mouth, pointing at you, "Nyah! They told me to do it! Eat them!"

You gasped in indignation, glaring at your partner in crime for exposing your little scheme strategy. "Grim, you traitor!"

Grim wriggled in mid-air, still in Leona's hold as he demanded to be put down on the ground. Leona looked at you with a smug look on his face.

"Is it frustratin' to lose against someone cleverer than you, little herbivore?" He hummed, eyes glowing under the soft evening light that streamed through his open windows. "Usually I'd appreciate your sneakiness, but you better keep these schemes for the likes of that octopunk," he drawled, voice sweet yet holding that sharpness of a predator as he dropped Grim to the floor.

You let out a nervous chuckle as Grim quickly ran to hide behind you. You focused on the game in front of you, face scrunched slightly as you thought how to make your inevitable loss less devastating.

You missed the way Leona's eyes sparkled with amusement and a rarely seen warmth as he watched you map out your next move on the chessboard.

He watched as you walked right into the sweet little trap he had placed for you, gradually chipping away at your forces. Much in the way a predator may play with his prey before finishing them, he dangled tiny threads of hope in front of you, examining you carefully, noting every time you brightened only to realize that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

After a long, arduous game, he finally uttered the phrase you had wanted to hear for so long. "Checkmate," he said, keeping eye contact with you as he placed his last piece in place.

"Finally," you huffed, leaning back into your chair as you frowned at him. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"That's what you get for tryin' to cheat," Leona smirked, leaning back into his chair. "That's rich, coming from you," you mumbled under your breath. The flicking of his ears in your direction and the narrowing of his eyes let you know that he had heard you, loud and clear.

Stupid beastman hearing.

Leona said nothing of your remark, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand as he turned his head to stare outside the window. The sun had been directly overhead when you had walked into Savanaclaw; now it was sinking down low, pretty orange and pink splashes coloring the sky. Grim had left the two of you a while ago, when both of you were too invested in the game.

You carefully collected the chess pieces, placing them in their special box. The chessboard was set aside with similar care, the table in front of you left bare. Leona didn't move from his position, still looking outside the window.

You smiled, turning your gaze to the setting sun. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Leona glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, letting out a soft hum as acknowledgement.

"Aren't you getting late herbivore?"

"As Prefect of Ramshackle, I decide when curfew is for my dorm," you winked at him, a mischievous glint to your eyes.

"Abusing your authority now, are ya?" Leona huffed in amusement, regarding you carefully as he lounged in his chair. You shrugged, mimicking his relaxed position. "Maybe, haven't got any complaints from the ghosts yet."

The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly at the cheeky reply.

Most people were either too intimidated by the Savanaclaw housewarden to mouth back at him. But not you. Ever since his overblot, you had taken it upon yourself to try and match his wit with yours, his (mostly empty) threats with a cheeky yet not unkind remark.

Leona was amused by you.

He watched you check the time on your phone, tail swishing languidly as you looked up at him with a small smile on your face.

"Looks like I do need to get going."

Leona stood up from his chair wordlessly, moving towards the door without a backwards glance at you, knowing you'd follow him anyways. He didn't need to escort you out; you knew your way in and out of Savanaclaw dorm like the back of your hand now. But there were always some foolish Savanaclaw students eager to pick a fight with you, wagering whatever they might have on them at that moment to just have a chance to battle against you. You never let an opportunity go wasted, and things would often end with a triumphant you skipping away merrily, while he had to deal with those miscreants coming up and complaining to him about losing a fight they picked.

Leona claimed that he walked you to the mirror connecting the dorm to the Mirror Chamber because he was sick of people crying to him about losing against you. But both of you knew that that was just an excuse.

As you walked side by side, you talked. Well, it was mostly just you speaking, with Leona offering his input every now and then. The setting sun painted the halls of the dorm a glorious golden hue, warm and comforting. Even the shadows casted on the ground seemed to dance in delight.

"And then, Ace-" you stopped in the middle of your sentence, eyes fixing onto something. Leona followed your gaze to find an innocent looking plant hanging from the main doorway of Savanaclaw, white berries shining in the last light of the day.

"Oh my God, look at that — it’s a mistletoe!" You exclaimed, as though seeing the plant for the first time in your life.

"…Absolutely fucking not."

You turned to give Leona your most betrayed look. Leona frowned at you, "Don’t give me that look. I’m not kissing you."

"It doesn't have to be a kiss on the lips, you know," you said, trying to get him to cave in. "Or are you too scared to kiss me? Or-" you gasped theatrically, a gasp that could put Rook to shame as you eyes lit up with a familiar cheeky light, "is it because this would be your first kiss? Oh Great Sevens, are you afraid of losing your first kiss?"

Leona narrowed his eyes at you. He knew what you were trying to do. He also knew that you would back off if he doubled down on his refusal, too mindful of boundaries to actually go against his wishes.

He didn't want that to happen.

"... Fine, you menace," he muttered, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. You yelped at the sudden movement, finding yourself pressed flush against Leona's body.

One hand left your waist in favour of raising your face, to make you look at him. Eyes darkened with intent peered into yours, before slightly chapped yet soft lips captured your own.

You did not have enough time to register the surprisingly sweet yet heated kiss that you two exchanged. Pulling away from you Leona smirked, his hands dropping back to his side. "Satisfied now, herbivore? And for the record, that wasn't my first kiss."

You looked up at him, cheeks dark and palms sweaty, unmoving even as he walked away and inside the dorm. You stood there in complete silence, a hand coming up to touch your lips in a daze.

"Shishishishi, you look a little red there, Prefect."

You didn't need to turn to know who it was. Ruggie approached you, slinging his arm over your shoulders and effectively breaking you out of your trance. You looked at the hyena beastman, cheeks turning darker at the amusement in his eyes.

"Remember to pay me for the little thing up there, hm?"

You smiled, nodding your head. "Of course, I'll get you your favorite donuts. We had a deal after all."

Your eyes flicked over to the little parasitic plant that worked a lot better than you thought it would.

Back to Masterlist...

#twisted wonderland #twst #ice writes #leona #leona kingscholar x you #leona twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar #twst writing #gn!yuu #gn!reader #merry twstmas event #400 follower event

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lieslab · 8 months ago

Text

Waiting for us

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: After going to a carnival and getting stuck at the top of a ferris wheel, you crumble in your boyfriend's arms.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 5K

Trigger warning: Heights, anxiety, depression, mentions of nausea, parental issues, child abuse and neglect, self-hatred, self-harm, and mentions of not eating.

A/N: To whoever requested this, I don't know how you feel about carnivals. I don't know how you feel about ferris wheels and heights either, so I guessed. One of my most precious memories is my local county fair during warm summer days. I hope this warms your heart as much as it warms mine <3

_ _ _

You were playing pretend again. You were like a dancer frozen in time and trapped in a music box. Life cranked the knob and the music twinkled in the background. You spun, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.

Life was hard, it always seemed to be. The weight of mental issues on your shoulders made it worse. Around and around you went playing the game of life. However, lately, it was just…different.

The gears in your music box had rusted over time. They creaked and your music was beginning to warp. Years of endless dancing made you grow fatigued. You could barely find the effort to keep going and yet, you continued on and on.

You were supposed to be happy today. You were trying your best, you really were. Your boyfriend had the whole day free and the two of you were supposed to enjoy the carnival together. He met you at the door with a grin and you tried to return it, but something was off.

He noticed how defeated you looked instantly, but he ignored it. Feelings for you were fickle and you tended to struggle with them a lot. Talking about them was difficult and it made you uncomfortable.

He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that you were off. The brown bags beneath your eyes had shifted to plum purple. Your cheeks seemed a bit more hollow than usual. There was a lingering darkness that surrounded you, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.

Feelings for both of you, it was a bit of a struggle. Neither of you wanted to be a bother towards the other. It was one of the things that you both needed to work on in the relationship.

When you arrived, you had high expectations. You thought the situation would cheer you up, but it didn’t. Carnivals were supposed to be filled with bright colors. Laughing people and screams from carnival rides. The oiled scent of fried food and the bubbling of excitement flowing through your veins.

Everything felt entirely different this time. The colors were more muted and the background sounds seemed faint. The scent of fried food made your stomach churn with nausea. You couldn’t imagine eating a single bite without throwing up.

You felt empty on the inside and you’d felt that way for a while. After a slew of personal issues, it was difficult to find your happiness. Things tended to control you more than you wanted them too. You didn’t know how to stop it.

There were eyelets in your limbs with strings laced through. You were pulled in different directions and none of those were in the direction you wanted to go. A puppet on a string, you struggled with everything.

Beside you, the warmth of Seungmin’s hand clutched yours firmly. He let you through the entrance after the two of you paid and he stopped on the path that led down the way.

“So what do you want to do first?”

Your eyes scanned the area as you debated. The more you saw, the more you just wanted to go home. Your anxiety was growing with the more people you saw and it was overwhelming.

“What do you want to do?” You asked.

Seungmin clicked his tongue and glanced around the area. “Well, I suppose we can go on the ferris wheel if you’re not a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken and I don’t mind heights.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“It’s not a challenge if you cop out.”

“Fine, let’s get wristbands and then we can go on the ferris wheel. Just for that, we’ll go on it more than once. I’m not a chicken.”

“You’d look cute with tail feathers.”

You rolled your eyes and walked with Seungmin towards a ticket booth. Since you planned to spend a few hours here, you both decided it was a better option to get wristbands. Who knew how many rides the two of you’d go on.

After retrieving your wristbands, the two of you headed to the ferris wheel. Since the carnival was in a larger city, the ferris wheel was bigger too. Small colorful enclosed baskets went high up into the setting sun before they curved and came back down.

Soon, the neon lights in the place would be turned on. Seungmin specifically brought you here for that reason. Everything looked better in the evening at carnivals. The neon colors popped and the air was electrified.

When neon colors clashed together with upbeat pop music and laughter from everyone, it was otherworldly. To experience something by yourself and yet everyone was experiencing the same thing around you in their own little bubbles, it was magical and he loved it.

The cabins looked like hot air balloons. The wide tops bulged out with the help of curved titanium rods and the supporting frame. The baby blue frame had been detailed with royal blue shadows to create the illusion of a basket.

Neon lights wrapped around the whole piece and glittered neon blue when the time was right. Other baskets were created similar and with different colors. The whole thing was much larger and more sophisticated than the average county fair ferris wheels with metal bucket seats.

When it was your turn, Seungmin gently led you in front of him and let go of your hand. The attendant held open the small metal gate for you to climb in. Once you were in, Seungmin moved to the opposite side and sat down.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you. You lied to Seungmin, you hated heights, but you knew that he liked the ferris wheel. Seungmin liked anything with beautiful detailing and photographic qualities. He was probably going to take photos of the view and upload them to Bubble later.

A round table sat in the center of the two of you. You let your arms rest on it and let out a soft sigh as the two of you were slowly eased up. The soft breeze was enough to catch your hair and pull it back. When Seungmin realized it, he let out a small laugh.

You pulled up your arm and let your chin rest on your hand. Trying to ignore the growing fear, you let your eyes shut. Seungmin pulled out his phone and began to snap photos.

“I think I was wrong about you. It’s clear that you’re not a chicken.”

“I told you,” you mumbled. Your stomach churned and the beginning of nausea was beginning to creep up. You forced yourself to suck in a deep breath and try to calm down.

The ride kept going up and then stopping as more people got on until it finally began going up and didn’t stop. Your eyes squeezed shut tighter and you eventually shifted. Your palms dug into your eyes as you buried your head in your hands.

The movement caused Seungmin to glance over. He frowned and spoke up. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I hate heights,” you mumbled.

“Then why did yo-”

“Because you wanted to see the view and I didn’t want to let you down. You were teasing me and I didn’t want you to think I was a coward.”

“Baby, you know I was just kidding, right? If you would have said something, I wouldn’t have made you go on the ride. I could have gone by myself and gave you some money to go get a snack or something.”

“I don’t want your money!” You snapped. The situation wasn’t such a big deal, but with everything going on in your life recently, you were upset. Things kept going wrong and the pressure gauge was beginning to crank up. How long were you going to keep things to yourself until you blew?

Seungmin stared at you for a moment, unsure of what to do. There was more tension between the two of you. He couldn’t see your face as you hid it with your hands, but he knew you were struggling.

The longer the silence went on, the more he realized he needed to say something. It was clear that you weren’t going to address the elephant between the two of you. Something was going on with you and if he had to, he was going to pry it from you.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud creaking sound interrupted. Down below, someone screamed. Your hands jerked from your face and you looked around with wide eyes. The ferris wheel halted with you and Seungmin stuck at the top.

Gears ground together and shouts filled the air. In the middle of your panic, you slipped your hand into Seungmin’s and he squeezed it back lightly. You sucked in a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes shut again.

“What’s going on?” Someone shouted at the ride operator down below.

The ride operator had hit the emergency stop button when things started to go wrong. He cupped his hands together and yelled back, so everyone could hear him.

“I don’t know, but hang tight. Don’t worry, we’ll get it figured out soon enough. You guys might be stuck for a bit.”

Around the wheel, there were a plethora of different responses. Below you, someone complained and another one groaned. Someone else tried to see the positive side of things and complimented the view. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept hold of Seungmin’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin spoke softly.

All you could do was frantically shake your head back and forth. Seungmin shifted in his spot and the cabin began to rock slightly. Your panic grew until the comforting scent of Seungmin’s cologne filled your nose.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around your neck and tugged you closer. Comforted, you buried your head into the side of his shoulder.

With his other hand, he reached over and gently began to loop his fingers through your hair. The soft gesture always comforted you when you were struggling. You buried your head further into his shoulder, but it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to block the world out and forget this entire thing happened. You wanted to be back on solid ground. You wanted the comfort of your bed. You wanted your heavy limbs to find comfort in the cotton sheets and silk pillowcases.

“Come here.”

You didn’t fight it when he gently pulled your body closer. The way he moved you around, you felt like a small child. His fingers found your hips and he pulled you onto his lap. Your legs straddled his and the table behind you pressed against your back.

Seungmin shifted back and you fell back with him. Your head landed on the curve of his collarbone. His arms wrapped around the small of your back. Despite the horrific scenario, you found yourself being comforted.

“Is that better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

His left hand began to lightly draw patterns on your back. He could feel how tense you were in his arms. You were worked up about everything.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you and I won’t let go.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The breeze picked up and swept your hair off to the side. Seungmin’s head rested back against one of the metal poles. In the distance, birds were happily chirping and unaware of your predicament.

Seungmin was nervous, but he wasn’t outright terrified. He knew the ride operator was trained and the carnival had protocols in place. He knew that they’d know what to do to get them out of the situation safely. Besides, being worked up about it would only add to your stress.

In his chest, your eyes were squeezed shut. You sucked in deep breaths trying to find rhythm in the madness. Your fingers clutched the back of Seungmin’s shirt. After a while, he began to hum, hoping it’d calm you down.

When you began to relax, he let out a sigh of relief. He let his eyes shut and continued to find comfort in you. You were his warmth. You were there for everything for him and he wanted to be there for you too.

“Baby, I think we need to talk about something.”

You shifted your head with your eyes shut. Instead of being buried in his chest, your cheek pressed against it instead. You kept your eyes shut, so you didn’t have to see the staggering view down below.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to ruin our day, but I really think I need to talk to you about some stuff. I know feelings are uncomfortable for you, but over the past few weeks…no,” he shook his head. “It’s been longer than that. I should have brought it up, but you like your independence. I know you find it hard to lean on me.”

A lump began to fill the back of your throat. Despite the closed eyes, you could feel the burn of tears welling up. You thought you were doing a good job, but clearly not. He knew something was wrong.

“I don’t like seeing you suffer alone. You mean everything to me, you know? I’m sorry I don’t say it enough, but I mean it. I’m not good with words, but you make me feel mushy on the inside.”

“Everyone says you’ll come around when you’re ready, but you haven’t. You just slowly keep getting worse and worse. I’m afraid for you, baby. I’m afraid something is seriously wrong and I know how you struggle. You’ll drown silently before you ever reach out for help.”

“It’s partly my fault, I should have brought it up sooner. I just…” He trailed off and squeezed his arms around you tighter. “I’m so afraid of saying the wrong thing and losing you. So please, please tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can’t fix it, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Your breathing hitched as your fingers curled into him tighter. You weren’t sure how to get the words out. You didn’t know how to say it, but you had to try. He was right, you were tired of drowning.

“Do you ever…do you ever just feel like everyone’s against you?” Your voice came out shrill. You tried to swallow to hide it, but it stayed there. “Like no matter what you do, you just can’t win?”

“Sometimes, yes, but I remember all the good in my life and I focus on that. I cherish the little things I have and the relationship I have with the people around me. I have my band, my fans, and my family. Plus, I-”

“They hate me,” you weakly got out.

“Huh?”

“My family.”

Your eyes finally opened to view the scene down below. Your teeth sunk into the soft skin of your bottom lip as you tried not to sob. Below you, friends and families were gathered and laughing.

You could see them now. The mothers on the carousel holding their kids up and making sure they’re okay. The fathers clutching the handles of the rides and screeching in delight as their child giggles beside them.

The sickly sweet artificial taste of bright pink cotton candy melting on the tongue of a three-year-old. Above them, their parents beam and ask how it tastes. It’s the first time they’ve ever had something this sweet before.

On the other side of the carnival, a grandparent is playing skeeball with their grandkid. The two are laughing and the grandparent feels like a kid again. The potential of winning a large prize makes them aim carefully and try their hardest.

A couple is announcing their pregnancy to their parents right before they play mini golf. They’re all so thrilled, the parents are hugging and kissing. The soon to be parents are ecstatic and clutching tightly to each other via hands.

Parents are everywhere. It’s the adopted kid who happily runs and leads his adopted father towards his favorite ride. It’s the stepkids who are warming up to their new stepmother. They’re nervous and looking over at their father for reassurance. He breaks the ice by buying them all lemonade and sprinkled candy apples.

Families and parents were everywhere. Compared to what you went through with yours, this was like a mini trip to hell. You couldn’t help, but feel stung by defeat being here. In front of Seungmin, while admitting this, you felt three inches tall.

Your limbs were weighed down with sadness and melancholy. The scene was beautiful up here and yet, you couldn’t help, but feel blue. The sky was filled with swirls of lavender and citrus oranges. Some god had blown the sky full of confectionary kisses, but you couldn’t focus on it.

There was an ache in your bones and a longing. A longing for a life of love. Being in a romantic relationship didn’t fill the void left behind by parental issues and it never would. You could be in the happiest relationship and the hollowness could still creep up.

Everyone wants to be nurtured and loved. Every kid deserves to be loved, but not every person deserves to be a parent. There are no regulations as to who can be a parent. For some, it’s the best thing to ever happen to them. For others, it’s a life-long burden.

“Am I difficult to love?” You went on. “Is there something wrong with me? I don’t think my mother loves me very much. I thought I meant everything to her, but lately with her actions, she just…” You trailed off, unable to finish. “I just want to be good enough.”

Seungmin’s heart cracked in his chest at your words. The ooze of hurt surrounding you filled the air and it curdled his marrow. You were the love of his life, how could someone not love you?

It was like someone had gotten out the scissors and began to snip through his heartstrings. Every word you uttered, it was another snip and another gust of pain. How could your parents not love you?

“Is that how you feel?”

“I can’t handle it, Seungmin.”

The use of his name and not a pet name was like a slap to the face.

“It’s killing me and I-I can’t deal with it. How do I become someone else?” Tears started to drip down your cheeks. “How do I become better? How can I be a better kid? What am I missing?”

“Do I need to act differently? Do I need to get plastic surgery done, so I can look better? I feel like my mother’s little barbie doll. She controls me, but she doesn’t really love me. I want to be loved. I want to be needed. I want to be wanted, and I-”

Your voice broke off. Seungmin shut his own eyes trying not to cry at your words. He knew you had issues with your family, but he didn’t know it was this bad. You hid everything so well. You kept it from everyone and kept it locked away because that’s what good children did.

Good children shut up about the abuse and neglect they received for the sake of their parents’ image. They uphold the look that their parents have conjured up. They do such a good job, you’d never know.

You’d never realize those bags beneath their eyes are from lack of sleep. You’d never know how much they’ve been screamed at. You wouldn’t know how much they’ve destroyed themselves to keep their parents happy. A child will do anything to please a parent.

On and on it goes until a child breaks. The moment you do, there’s a target on your back. You’re not strong enough, you’re not brave enough, you’re not smart enough, and you’re not good enough. Just wanting their approval, you believe them. How could you not? You just want to make your parents happy.

But bad parents deserve to be outed. It is a privilege to have a child. You are creating the next generation. You have a choice in playing a role in what type of person you want your child to become.

How dare you break them down into bits of self-hatred and disgust when somewhere out there, another mother would kill to have a chance to lift their child up. Someone out there dreams of telling their child that they are precious. Someone strokes the face of a child in their dreams and they will never have it.

“It hurts. It hurts so much and I feel like I can’t do anything right. I can barely eat and I’m either not sleeping or I’m sleeping all the time. I feel like I’m slowly rotting from the inside out. I don’t know how to escape it. It got so bad the other day that I…I…”

The words got stuck in your throat and they wouldn’t come out. It hurt to admit that everything got so bad that you needed some sort of release. Shaken like soda, you were ready to explode. Self-harming had always been a release for you.

It made you feel like you were doing something right. You were punishing yourself for everything you weren’t. For not being good enough. For not being able to endure the pain. For not being strong enough. For being unloveable.

Your blood was tainted with sadness. It oozed out bright red and all you could do was watch with a sigh of relief. For once, you were finally doing something right when everything else seemed to be wrong.

You didn’t have to finish the sentence, but Seungmin knew. His arms tightened around you and he pulled your body towards him even more. He wanted to take it all away. He’d embody this sadness and soak it up like a sponge if he could.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried not to cry. You were outside, but there were people below you on either side. If you started to sob, you knew you’d gain their attention. Plus, it might stress out the ride operator down below.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhh.” Seungmin’s hand comfortingly rubbed your back. “It’s alright, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Your voice tightened again, “I just want to be loved.”

“And loved, you are. It seems like I need to do a better job at showing you that because you don’t feel like it. You mean everything to me and I’m sorry your parents are that way.”

“You’ve grown up and turned into such a wonderful person. It’s shitty that they can’t see that. Despite everything, you have turned out amazing. You have a golden heart. You’re precious on the inside and out.”

“Do you really think that I’d fall in love with just anyone?” He continued. “I’m so picky with who I date that Lee Know believed I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life and then I met you.”

“I’m a burden.”

“If you mean making me stutter like an idiot and making my heart flutter, then yeah, you’re a burden. You’re a burden when you send me those goofy selfies and make me blush so hard that I can’t help, but smile because you look cute.”

“You’re such a burden because every time you text me during rehearsals, I blush and look like an idiot in front of my band members. Do you know how many times I’ve been teased by the old man?”

You sniffled.

“Every time he teases me, I tell him that it must be hard for him. Not a single person has looked his way. Why do you think he’s always flirting with the fans on Bubble? He’s like a dog in heat. When he’s horny, everyone knows about it.”

The sudden confession made you snort. Seungmin smiled and kept talking. “You’re my pride and joy. You know how you have your photocards of me in your wallet? Yeah, well, I made some of you.”

“Really?”

“Duh! I’ve gotta be ready to show off my significant other at all times. I could talk about you for hours. You know what?”

“What?”

“You’ve got me so smitten that I asked Hyunjin for date recommendations. You know how he’s the romantic one? Yeah, I caved. You’ve got me wrapped around your little fingers.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You sat up with teary eyes and another sniffle. Seungmin stared at you and gently brushed his thumbs beneath your eyes. “Oof.” His face scrunched up. “Crying doesn’t look the best on you.”

You ignored his teasing comment. “And what did Hyunjin say? What was his suggestion?” You reached up with your palms and rubbed the wet tears away.

“Look at me.”

You pulled your hands away and glanced up at him. You didn’t have time to react as he cupped your face. Before you knew it, he tilted his head and connected your lips.

Up above the world, the two of you shared a soft kiss. Your lips were seeped in salt from your tears, but he didn’t care. All your previous negative thoughts began to fall away.

So wrapped up in everything, you forgot about the person who meant the most to you. You forgot about the joy he brought. You forgot how he seemed to melt away every bad thought and warm your heart. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he tugged your hips closer.

“I got it!” A voice called from down below. There was a creak and the ride began to boot up. Around the two of you, there was a faint hum and the neon blue bulbs around your basket tinkered to life.

You pulled away from Seungmin wide-eyed and breathless. The two of you glanced around and the ride began to descend. Seungmin’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist.

“We’re going down?”

“We’re going down,” he echoed.

“Thank, fuck.”

He leaned back when you let your chin drop to his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his back and you let out a final sigh of relief. His hands found your back.

“I know I’m not perfect and I won’t be able to give you what your parents couldn’t. I just hope you realize how good you are and how much you mean to me. Your parents are assholes and you deserve the entire world. I’d do anything for you.”

“I just wish things were better with them.”

“I know. The next time you feel like hurting yourself, please talk to me. I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll make an exception and let you cuddle me.”

“Really?” You pulled away from him with bright eyes and a smile. He nodded with a fluttering heart. You looked good with a smile.

“Um…” Your smile fell. “I’m sorry for ruining our date. That was a lot and I-”

“No worries, it’s okay. I’m glad we got to talk about it. You know how I said crying doesn’t look good on you? Your best look is the one where you’re smiling.”

“What if I was wearing something ugly?”

“Doesn’t matter, the smile brings it together.”

“You’re being cheesy now.”

“Hyunjin said being cheesy was good.”

“You should stop getting dating advice from Hyunjin. I don’t want to date him, I want to date you. We should just do whatever you want to do.”

“I’m so sorry this happened. Please forgive me!” The ride operator was incredibly apologetic as he opened the small metal gate. “Were you crying? I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright,” you smiled at him and shifted off of Seungmin.

The two of you left the basket and you were happy to finally be back on the ground. Seungmin linked his hand through yours and shook his head. “You’re right, I’m never listening to Hyunjin ever again.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“I want to go get us our favorite slushies. Try not to cry and season yours with your tears. I highly doubt salty slushies taste good and I’m not buying you another one.”

“Touché.”

He led you through a path of people and towards a slushie stand. As you passed a stand with fried food, your stomach loudly rumbled. Your cheeks went bright red as you mumbled an apology. You hadn’t eaten in so long that your hunger was finally starting to come back. You felt a million times better after the conversation with Seungmin.

“Scratch that, we’ll get food and then we’ll get slushies. I bet I can eat more fried food than you.”

“No way!”

Seungmin smirked, “then prove it.”

“I will!” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Seungmin instantly jerked his hand up and gently pinched the tip of it. You pulled away and gagged. “Ew! Gross! You’ve got cooties!”

“And now you’re infected too. Boo-hoo. Whatever shall you do now?”

“Another kiss?”

“Only because I feel bad for you. My kisses are rare, you know? My lips could warm the arctic if I traveled there.”

“I hope you never read any of Hyunjin’s poetry again.”

“Just for that, I’m telling Chan you want to call him grandpa from now on. Since you need a new family, he can be the first one to test it out on. Just wait until he hears about this. You’re never going to hear the end of it. I’m texting the group chat and maybe you can call Lee Know ‘kitten’ or something.”

“Seungmin, no!”

“Last I checked, I was your baby.”

“Baby, no!”

He grinned and took off into the crowd. You screeched and sprinted off after him. He pulled out his phone and dodged and weaved. You yelled after him, not caring that people were staring at the two of you.

As you flew by an elderly couple, the pair watched you dart down the path. The woman laughed as she squeezed her lover’s hand. “I remember how those days were.”

“We were just two young kids in love. I’m glad that it’s still playful and timeless as ever. I can’t remember the last time I ran that fast.”

“Me neither. I treasure those memories a lot. We might not be able to run, but we sure can fly. I’ve heard they're letting adults ride on the carousel. Want to give it a shot for old times sake?”

“Of course I do, darling. If it’s with you, absolutely. I’ve said it years ago and I’ll say it again, I’d do anything for you.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡|

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