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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years ago

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Like a Moth to a Flame- Pt. 2

It’s been way too long since I’ve been motivated to work on this piece. But at last… at long last… part two is ready for takeoff! Once again I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for inspiring this piece of monster fuckery (even though there’s no fuckery in this story… yet).

Enjoy!

Part 1

•••••

You become more distracted and nervous than usual over the next week or so. The slightest sound nearly makes you jump out of your skin and you keep making careless mistakes at work. Even your boss checks in with you to make sure you aren’t sick or losing your grip on reality. You assure him everything is fine and blame your poor performance and skittish nature on a made-up relative’s failing health. In truth, you can’t go for more than a few minutes without thinking about the blonde beast, his beautiful yet terrifying presence seeming to loom over you wherever you go. But you don’t dare tell any of your friends or coworkers about what you saw.

Who would believe you? At best, they’d think you were telling a bad joke and at worst they’d try to cart you off to the nearest mental hospital. So you keep your thoughts private, suffering in silence and staying up late to research who or what you saw that night.

And it's during one of your late-night Internet searches that you stumble across a forum dedicated to winged, humanoid creatures known as “mothmen.”

While the stories mainly originate from the Eastern United States, there have also been purported sightings as far as Japan. And though details may have varied slightly, the key features of the monsters always remain the same: massive height, glowing eyes, and of course the moth-like wings. You’d spent hours poring over your laptop that night, reading the information and accounts posted by other “mothman survivors.” Some stories were rather nice. One woman claimed the mothman she encountered was gentle, bordering on intelligent. She wrote about the gifts and trinkets it brought from time to time and it’s attempts at communication. But the majority were horrifying, with several people posting tales of the beasts attacking without provocation, leaving them injured and afraid. Someone even posted a picture of the deeply scarred claw marks on his chest and arms, claiming them to be the work of a particularly savage mothman. Regardless of their validity, one thing was for sure: the mothmen were unpredictable.

By the end of the second week, you’ve grown so desperate to stop the near constant waking nightmares that you decide to take a proactive approach to the matter. It’s a simple plan: set a trap, wait for the monster to reappear, and collect photo evidence. Even if it’s only to soothe your own self-doubts, you need to have definitive proof of its– of his existence.

On Friday night, you come home late from work, so late the sun has just barely set over the horizon. After a hot shower and a quick meal of instant noodles, you grab a shallow bowl from the cupboard and fill it with lukewarm water. One of the contributors to the website claimed that mothmen like sugar water, much like the insects they resemble. Another had proposed they might even enjoy the taste of cloth or fiber, but you weren’t about to sacrifice one of your favorite sweaters on a wild hunch.

You spoon in a generous amount of sugar into the bowl, mixing well to create a saccharine slurry before heading for the farthest living room window. Unlike the one you’d spotted the mothman from, this one is partially obscured by a rickety fire escape, the metal encrusted with decades worth of rust and snaking up the side of the building. Opening the window and leaning out of it, you place the dish of bait on one of the steps before hauling yourself back inside. You shut the window and settle yourself on the couch, a blanket and book in your lap and your phone’s camera at the ready. Hours tick by, the waning moon slowly creeping by in the night sky as you hold your silent vigil. As you wait in suffocating silence, you start to feel foolish and begin to think your “mothman” might have been nothing more than a product of an overactive imagination and one too many late nights in the office. Even with all your research, all you had to go by was a few wild stories posted by Internet strangers and a missing frying pan. You finally nod off around two in the morning, unable to keep your heavy eyelids open.

•••

WHAM!

A noise from outside jolts you awake from your spot on the couch, followed by the sound of creaking, groaning metal. The whole apartment seems to shake and an unearthly screech accompanies the final creak as you hear the fire escape give way before clattering into the alleyway. Other tenants on all floors start opening their windows and doors, shouting and swearing about the noise and the landlord “not keeping this shithole up to code.” It’s utter chaos for a few minutes and then silence falls once more, your neighbors still grumbling as they retreat back into their homes. You scramble off the couch and to the window, gazing into the alley for any sign of life. The moon isn’t as bright as last time, but you can just barely make out the mangled remains of the fire escape and the faintest glimpse of gold. Throwing caution to the wind, you grab a well-worn hoodie, your phone, and the kitchen knife. You make your way down the three flights of stairs to the alley door, opening it cautiously should you encounter an angry cryptid on the other side. But there’s no one there, so you take a deep breath and head out into the apocalyptic looking alley. Metal is strewn everywhere, with part of the railing still clinging to the side of the building like a deranged centipede. Snapped metal bars jut out at odd angles, creating a maze of twisted, rusty spikes and sharp edges. You slowly pick your way over and around the wreckage, using your phone’s flashlight as a guide so you don’t end up tripping and accidentally impaling yourself.

“Hello?” You call into the darkness, “Mothman? A-are you there?”

Your call is rewarded with a shuddering groan and the sounds of scraping metal. You shine your light on the biggest tangle of steel, watching as something large moves underneath it. The pile of metal shifts upwards and falls away, while a large, dark figure rises from the shadows. They’re silhouetted against the dim moonlight but just as intimidating as before, hunching over as the appendages on their back shake and rustle. You turn the flashlight on and find yourself looking into a familiar pair of glassy, blue eyes. The mothman stares back at you, folding his wings against his back and cocking his handsome head from side to side.

“You- you’re real.” You breathe, feeling your heart jump into your throat as you surreptitiously pull up your phone’s camera. The monster chitters in response as he sniffs at the air, stepping over a piece of rusted debris to get closer to you. You quickly snap and picture... and the alley is suddenly lit up with blinding light.

You’d forgotten to turn off the flash!

The mothman blinks in response and lets out a groan, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. You drop your phone and crouch down, knife forgotten as you cover your head with your hands and prepare for him to lash out. But no claws come to tear at your flesh nor are there any angry roars or shrieks. Instead the beast starts to emit low, rumbling noise, like a growl but far less sinister. You hear metal being dragged across the concrete followed by the sound of heavy footfalls. You cautiously open one eye to see a pair of clawed feet and muscular calves, only to squeak in alarm when his face abruptly appears in your field of vision. You fall backwards in surprise, landing heavily on your rump while the mothman squats mere inches from you. His eyes are fixed on the ground, gently running his nails over the now cracked screen of your upturned phone. Even in the dim lighting you can see his curious, wide-eyed expression and it suddenly dawns on you what that noise he’s making is: he’s purring. Or near enough to it.

“W-What do you want?”

The monster looks up when you speak, cocking his head slightly before turning back to paw at the phone once more. He’s more insistent this time, his swipes becoming bolder as the phone scratches across the concrete. He gives the device a few well-placed taps before making eye contact once more, his brow furrowed as he briefly switches from purring to a chittering cry. With a gulp, you gingerly set down the blade, reach across your body and flip the phone over, the still lit flashlight illuminating the alley once more. The beast’s eye’s blow even wider, enchanted by the light shining upwards into the starry sky. You sit in silence for a few seconds, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and the guttural purrs coming from the mesmerized mothman. As your heart rate slows, you begin to notice more intimate details about the creature before you.

For one, his wings are covered in the same fur that rings his neck and, though it’s shorter and more fine, they look just as soft.

Second, he’s incredibly warm. A steady heat rolls off his body in waves that seem a stark contrast to what one might expect from a bug-centric cryptid.

But most noticeable of all is his smell.

It’s not a bad smell by any means; in fact, it’s downright pleasant. The odor is a cross between lemonade and petrichor, a soothing blend of sweet citrus and earthy musk. You find yourself unconsciously breathing more through your nose, feeling lightheaded as his scent floods your senses and making you relax into the cold pavement. As your eyes lazily drift over his naked form you see he’s holding something in his other hand, protectively clutching it against his chest. You tilt your head to get a better view, the subtle movement getting the monster’s attention and causing him to drag his eyes away from the light and focus on you again.

“What’s that?” You ask softly, almost dreamily, and point to his chest. The mothman’s eyes follow your finger down to his right hand, pulling it away to reveal your (still remarkably intact) bowl. It’s largely empty of its contents, but some of the sugar water has stuck to his fur and cooled into sweet, matted clumps. He squeaks at the sight of it, almost like he’d forgotten about the bait and dives into it to eagerly lap at the ceramic bottom. When it fails to yield anything substantial he huffs and turns his attention to his dirtied mane. He dips his head as a long, pink tongue slithers out of his mouth and curls around the largest tangle, laving over the sugar-crusted mat before quickly retreating. He chitters in satisfaction at the taste, barely glancing up at you before diving back down for more.

“So you do like sugar.” You mutter under your breath, a small chuckle bubbling up in your chest on the exhale. The mothman pays you no mind, too engrossed in his work to notice how you shift your body into a more comfortable sitting position to watch. After a few minutes, the creature stops licking at himself and looks back up at you, eyes still wide and expression almost curious as he cocks his head to the side once more. Tentatively shifting his weight forward, he extends the empty bowl to you.

“I don’t have any more.” You whisper softly, confused yet intrigued by his gentle actions. The mothman grunts and takes another shuffling step, hand still outstretched and his brow softly furrowing. He seems insistent, almost annoyed that you won’t accept his generous offer. Not wanting to anger him, you gingerly extend your own right hand, pinching the rim of the bowl between thumb and forefinger before carefully pulling it from his grip. Holding the bowl against your own chest, you take a stab at what he wants from you and raise the ceramic dish to your lips to give a noisy, pretend slurp. You feel like an adult humoring a child in a game of “tea party,” offering him a cheesy smile and an “mmm” of satisfaction as you pull the empty bowl away from your face. The creature’s own face splits in a too-wide grin, wings flapping excitedly and chittering happily at your display. A quiet gasp is ripped from you throat as you finally get a good look at his teeth.

They’re practically perfect; two rows of pearly white, blunted incisors frames by sharpened, too-long canines on either end. And the smile he’s giving you is nothing short of exuberant, beaming like a drop of sunshine made incarnate. You find yourself returning his smile with a genuine one of your own, amazingly unafraid in the face of this otherwise inhuman beast. But your relief is short-lived as the monster suddenly shifts onto his knees and bounds towards you on all fours.

“Woah, woah, woah!” You squeak, scrabbling backwards and nearly skewering yourself on a jagged piece of wreckage in an attempt to get away. “Take it easy! Down, boy!”

The mothman stops with his face mere inches from yours, clawed hands planted on either side of your hips and still grinning from ear to ear. Carefully, he lowers his golden head to rest against your left shoulder, nuzzling into the sensitive flesh and purring softly in your ear. It’s an act of unbelievable tenderness, of affection, and it stirs something deep within your jackhammering heart. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you relinquish your hold on the empty bowl and raise your right hand to his head, gently placing it against his temple. At the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the creature freezes for a second and you suck in a quick breath, prepared to pay the price for your boldness. But simply leans further into your touch, closing his eyes contentedly and pushing against your palm like an obedient pet as his purring reaches a fever pitch.

“Good… good boy.” You exhale slowly, thumb brushing across the apple of his surprisingly warm cheek. “That’s a good boy.”

You stay locked together for what feels like ages, the only sounds your own heavy breathing and the monster’s soft purrs of pleasure as you stroke him. Finally you finds your voice again and you softly stammer out, “Do you– do you have a name?”

His eyes open slightly at your question, briefly raising his head with a small chirp. Removing your hand from his face, you splay your palm across your chest and give it two quick pats.

“Y/N.” You say slowly, enunciating each syllable, “I’m Y/N.”

The creature cocks his head for a second and pulls away from you to get into a kneeling position. You pat your chest and repeat yourself once more. The mothman then takes one of his own massive paws and places it on his own chest, mirroring your movements.

“M-Mir…” He chokes out, voice raspy but surprisingly human, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. “Mir… io. Mirio.”

“Mirio?”

Hearing his name fall from your lips elicits another bright smile from the mothman, wings giving a single flap as he curls his hand into a fist atop his sternum.

“Mirio!” He says more boldly, giving his chest two hearty thumps for emphasis.

“Mirio.” You repeat softly, “That’s a nice name.”

His eyes soften at your words, almost as if he understood the compliment. He opens his mouth once more, but before he can speak, a new voice cuts through the night air.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?”

You whip your head towards the source of the noise, moments before you feel a rush of cold air accompanied by a sharp hiss. Someone is picking their way through the wreckage to your location, their own flashlight sweeping over the heaps of rusted metal until it lands on your startled face. Squinting into the light, you can barely make out the silhouette of a man and you feel a bolt of panic shoot through you. You turn back to face Mirio only to find him gone.

“Mirio?” You speak into the darkness, as if uttering the word might make him reappear. But there’s only empty space and silence, punctuated by the heavy footfalls of the stranger coming ever closer to you. It’s only when he’s within a few feet that you can make out the telltale flash of gold on his chest: an officer’s badge.

“Are you alright?” The man asks of you, still shining the flashlight directly into your face. “Are you hurt?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes. I’m fine, sir.”

“Are you sure?” The officer asks quizzically, extending a hand for you to take. You graciously accept his offer, retrieving the forgotten bowl and phone from the concrete with your free hand before hauling yourself back onto your feet.

“Y-yes I’m sure.” You stammer out, “I just, uh… I heard a noise outside my apartment and came to investigate.”

“Awfully late to be investigating strange noises in an alley.” He says incredulously, cocking one eyebrow and shining his light over the ruined fire escape at his feet for emphasis. “Especially in this part of town.”

His light catches on something glinting at your feet and your eyes follow it to land on the forgotten kitchen knife on the ground. His own eyes snap back to you and narrow suspiciously, free hand slowly moving towards the holster resting against his hip.

“Are you alone out here?”

“Yes, sir!” You squeak back automatically, “I swear it’s just me. I live in this apartment complex.”

You gesture to the brick-fronted side of the building to your right as proof of your innocence, praying to all the powers that be that he buys your story. The officer narrows his eyes at you, muttering a quiet, “Huh. Could’ve sworn I saw someone…” before clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

“Well in any case, you should probably head inside now, miss. There have been reports of criminal activity in the area as of late and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt. What with all this rusty metal lying around.”

“Yeah, no use getting a tetanus shot over nothing!” You say jokingly, giving a nervous chuckle as the officer nods solemnly. You don’t dare go to pick up the knife, deciding it’s better to lose another kitchen utensil than land yourself in any more hot water. With a few more parting words, and a declined offer to let him walk you back home, you quickly skirt around the remains of the fire escape and into the safety of the stairwell door. Your mind and heart are racing as you plod up the stairs to the third floor, buzzing with questions without answers as you finally enter and lock the door to your one-bedroom sanctuary. Exhaling a breath you don’t know you were holding, you walk silent over to the living room windows and cast a final glance into the alleyway below. You can see the officer’s flashlight bobbing along as he makes his way around the scattered remains of the fire escape, only to switch off once he reaches the end of the alleyway and resumes his patrol of the neighborhood. But you still wait by the window for a few more minutes, wondering (and perhaps hoping) if you’d catch a final glimpse of flaxen hair or hear the steady beat of wings.

Silence reigns above all, the soft glow of the moon your only companion now.

With a heavy sigh, you peel your eyes away from the wreckage and plod off to your bedroom, stripping off your hoodie and sweatpants as you go. Curling up under the covers, you grab the pillow closest to you and hug it to your chest. If you close your eyes, you can almost believe you can still feel the warmth of his face on your neck, or smell the aroma of him lingering on your skin.

“I hope you’re alright… Mirio.”

#bnha mothman au #mothmanmirio #mothrio #togata mirio x reader #mirio x reader #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #like a moth to a flame

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

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off the grid | one

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 3384

chapter warnings: cussing / mature language, slight flirting, nothin’ too cray

notes: as mentioned on ‘perfectly wrong,’ i tend to write short chapters, but that means there will be quite a few chapters ahead.

> series masterlist <

The jetlag must have hit you bad because the sun is shining in brightly through the windows and it's about to be 1PM.

"Aw, fuck." You say to yourself as you sit up and rub your face to wake yourself up. You feel like you've been hit by a truck, but there was no way you were going to spend your day sleeping and getting yourself on track. Time is of the essence.

You head downstairs to the bathroom to wash up and start getting yourself ready for today. The TV is on a random channel while you toast yourself some bread to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You didn't feel too hungry, solely because you were more excited to get out there and try the local food.

As you finish up your sandwich, you start to make your way back upstairs to get into your outfit, but you suddenly stop when you hear a voice outside in the hallway. At first, it didn't cause any alarm because it sounded distant enough to make you think it wasn't coming towards your way. However, that quickly changes when the voice is right outside the door and is clear as day.

"Yo, Yana! Open up!" The knocks came suddenly on the door. You hesitated, wondering if Yana had also just left without giving anyone a heads up because who in the hell was this man pounding on her door at this time? The day barely started for you. "Yana! Come on! Quit playing around before I knock this door down myself!" You definitely didn't want that, so you cross your arms tightly near your chest as you walk to the door. You reach for the door handle to swing it open, revealing a somewhat flustered male standing in front of you with a huge tupperware of food in his hands.

"Uh, hi? Can I help you?"

"You're not.. Yana?" His eyebrows furrowed. He welcomes himself in, almost causing you to trip over yourself as you move aside, checking the bathroom and quickly glancing up and around the loft.

"Last time I checked, I sure wasn't." You shut the door and cross your arms tightly as you watch him stand there. You couldn't help but notice how attractive he was - standing at a good 5'9-5'10, fair skin, grey, ash-blonde hair that was parted down the middle, with some layers falling around the front of his face. His lips were pink and plump, and you couldn't help but gaze at his beautiful eyes, which for sure had grey tinted lenses in at the moment. You could see his resemblance to Yana. He seemed way too unreal though, in a good way. You quickly checked your appearance in the mirror through the bathroom, making sure your hair wasn't a mess or that you weren't a mess in general. But lo and behold, you were still in your Hello Kitty pajama shirt and shorts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to barge in like that. I'm Yana's brother, Jimin. Park Jimin." He softly smiles at you and shows off his pearly whites, his hand on the nape of his neck as he quickly checks you out from head to toe. "Nice jammies."

"Well, I wasn't necessarily expecting an intrusion at this time." You wrap your arms around your chest to cover up Hello Kitty as much as you can.

"Right, sorry. She wasn't answering my calls or texts so I came over here to check on her, plus my mom asked me to bring this over. Any idea where she might be since you're apparently occupying her space now?"

"She didn't tell you anything?" His right eyebrow raises.

"No? Care to fill me in?"

"She put her loft up on a home exchange website, so we decided to swap homes for a bit. She's down at my apartment in California right n-"

"California? Since when? How long is she going to be there for?" He laughed a bit. "You're talking about my sister Yana, right? She doesn't go anywhere. She barely even leaves her house."

"I'm pretty sure we're talking about the same Yana." You pursed your lips into a fine line before chiming in again. "I just got here yesterday afternoon, so I'm sure she's still getting herself situated. We're switching back after Christmas."

"Why didn't she say anything?" You can tell the question wasn't necessarily directed towards you and moreso just Jimin thinking out loud, but you respond anyway. He has such a soft demeanor that you don't feel threatened by him being around you at all, even if this whole thing was accidental.

"I don't.. know? I'm really sorry, I don't know what to tell you." You shrugged. You felt bad Yana's own brother was out of the loop, but you get it. You were in the same spot as she was. You just had to do what you had to do without anyone holding you back sometimes.

"Nah, no worries. I'll get a hold of her somehow." He shakes his head and makes his way to the kitchen. He places the tupperware he has in his hands in the fridge, then toothlessly smiles back at you as it closes. "Since you're here, help yourself to my mom's food."

"Mm, are you sure? I mean I don't want to-"

He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. "Seriously, Yana isn't here to eat it and it shouldn't go to waste."

"Why don't you eat it?"

"Because I have my own at home." He smiled. "You're not going to get out of this one, you know?"

"Thank you. Or, um, thanks to your mom." You rub your arm as you chuckle nervously while following him to the door. The fuck Y/N, don't start acting up around him now.

"Sorry about that again." He turns to smile at you again, hands now deep in his pockets. "I didn't catch your name?"

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet you." Jimin nods and chuckles. "I promise I don't just barge into people's homes like that."

"Mhm, your sister must think you're a handful."

"If anything, she's the handful, clearly." He cocks his head to the side. "California, huh?"

"The golden state." You shrug and chuckle. Really, Y/N? The golden state?

"I bet." Is all he says before he starts to back away from the door. "Well, I don't want to take more time out of your day. You must have some plans to get through. Thanks again, Y/N."

"Yeah, no problem." You watch as he walks down the hallway. As he descends down the steps, you gently shut the door and walk upstairs to finish getting ready so you can finally start your first adventure. To where? You don't know and that's a-okay.

[Y/N] 1:56pm: Hey Yana, I hope you're settled in! Your brother came here to drop off some food and to check on you. I may have told him you were in California, but I didn't say anything else after that. I'm sorry :( Hopefully that doesn't cause issues. Let me know if you need anything.

[Yana] 2:05pm: Hey! Haha no worries, I'm struggling a little with the sleep schedule but I'll be fine. Thanks for letting me know! Was he mad?

[Y/N] 2:07pm: No, he just couldn't believe you were out there since he claims you don't leave the house often. Haha.

[Yana] 2:08pm: Wow, he said that? Very Jimin like. He's 25 years old going on 80 so he shouldn't be one to talk. Agh, can't live with him, can't live without him. I'll deal with it. Hope my little brother didn't bother you too much after that! Many apologies if he did!

From what you gather, Yana is super sweet and you can tell she has a close relationship with her brother. You were quite surprised Jimin was her little brother, simply due his slightly overprotective nature and how he threatened to break down the door. Nonetheless, Jimin seemed to be concerned for his sister's wellbeing and you could tell he was sad when he realized she wasn't going to be around for awhile. You truly hope you didn't mess anything up or cause any issues for her plans though. It reminds you of your own friends and how you'll probably get the same earful in the next couple of hours. Until then though, you stick to the plan and tuck your phone deep into your bag before navigating the nearby streets to do some exploring.

Meanwhile, Jimin tosses his keys onto the kitchen counter as he enters the apartment he shares with his two bestfriends.

"You find her?" Taehyung sits on the couch with one foot up. He's holding a cup of tea in his hand while watching a movie on TV.

"Yana?"

"I'm sorry, were you looking for someone else besides your sister?" Taehyung asks sarcastically, which Jimin ignores.

"No, but I met Y/N." Jimin flatly responds as he plops onto the couch next to him and pulls up Yana's number to get a hold of her.

"Who is Y/N?"

"She's living at Yana's."

"Wait, what? She has a roommate now?" Taehyung looked at him, completely and utterly confused with this whole conversation.

"Nope. My sister is apparently in California cause she swapped homes with her."

"That's a thing?"

"I guess so." Taehyung watches as Jimin puts the phone to his ear.

"Yana, what the hell?" Jimin says into the phone as he stands up and walks towards his room.

"Calm down, fool. Why did you barge into my place like that? Perfect impression to give Y/N while she's still settling down."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to California for the holidays?" He ran his hand through his hair. As guessed, he indeed had a very close relationship to his sister. Knowing she wouldn't be around for Christmas made him a pretty sad. He knew Yana had been wanting to get away for a bit, especially with the personal things she had going on, but he had wished she talked to him about what was going on first. He wanted to help in any way that he could.

"Because I knew if I did, you'd try and stop me."

"N-no!" He stuttered. "No, I wouldn't."

"Yes, you would've. Or, you would have tried to come with."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Chim, I just really want my own time in a new setting, away from everything that's familiar. Just for a bit." Jimin sighed. He wasn't going to argue.

"Alright, I get it. Please just stay safe out there, okay?"

"Yeah, I will. I'm surprised you haven't ran to mom yet." He chuckled.

"Jeez, is that what you think of me? A tattle-tale?"

"Mm, sometimes." She laughed. "You can be quite the baby."

"Hey, woah! This wasn't supposed to be about me." He grabbed his chest, feeling a little attacked by his sister. "Look, I'm not gonna say anything but eventually she's gonna notice. You know her."

"Then let her, I'll deal with it then."

"Alright, go for it." Jimin threw his hand up in defeat like Yana can see him somehow. Mom wasn't scary; if anything, she was always super supportive. However, Jimin and Yana both knew she'd be nothing but a worried mess knowing Yana was out in California on her own. "Let me know if you need anything from me, okay? Watch out for yourself down there."

"I will. I'll talk to you later, I'm gonna try to get on with my day before all I do is sleep. I love you."

"Love you too." Yana hangs up the phone, sighing at the mess she created with her luggage sprawled out in the room. She tried digging for something more appropriate for the Los Angeles weather at the moment, in which the sun was shining warmly but the surrounding morning air was cold. She headed back into the living room to scroll through her phone and figure out what to do with her day. She could go for some good coffee and breakfast right now, but where? Something walkable? She figured she could also uber around until she got used to the public transportation around here.

Some pancakes, eggs and—

Knock, knock, knock.

Yana sprung her head up to face the door, unsure of who could be here this early. She too was wondering if you had just left without notice, or if it could be the mailman delivering a package. But, this early? Is this how they did it in California? She peeks through the peephole to see a rather tall figure, wearing a beanie, hoodie, sweats, a coat and sneakers. He held two cups of coffee in his hands as he waited patiently for the door to be swung open.

"Hi." Yana said, cocking her head to the side as she held onto the door knob. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why she was answering the door and not his bestfriend.

"Hi, I'm sorry. Is Y/N here?" Yana chuckled and shook her head. Figures. They were exactly on the same page with this swap.

"No, I'm sorry. She's in Seoul." His eyes widened.

"Seoul? As in South Korea Seoul?" She nodded.

"Yeah, we swapped homes for the month. Sorry, I'm guessing she didn't tell you anything." He shook his head. "Come in. I'm Yana." She smiled, having him return the smile back.

"Namjoon." He steps in and directly goes for the kitchen to place the coffee cups down. "Help yourself to the coffee I brought over."

"Thanks." She smiled softly.

"So, when exactly did this swap happen?"

"I just got here not too long ago, actually. Y/N just got situated too."

"Damn, that recent?" Namjoon shook his head. "I don't get why she just upped and left like that."

"I'm sorry, I'm sure it wasn't anything personal."

"No need to apologize." He chuckled. "I'm kind of just thinking out loud here. It's a little random, that's all. I'm sure I'll hear the reasoning soon." He leaned his back against the counter. Yana thought he was really attractive, with the way he leaned back against the counter, buff arms crossed at the chest. She knew her reasoning for agreeing to the swap, especially with the troubles she's had with her ex, Jackson. But, to be honest, she wouldn't mind running into this man every so often. He showed off his dimple when he smiled and chuckled earlier, giving off some sort of calmness to his personality.

"Yeah, I'm sure you will."

"Did you guys know each other for awhile or something?"

"Nope, met completely out of the blue on the home exchange site."

"Nice." He nodded. He was just confused and almost shocked that you left without briefing him and Yoongi. Not that you owed them any explanation, but you've all been so transparent with each other due to the nature of your relationship. Why did you go off so far? Why didn't you let them tag along? What kind of Hannah Montana ass life are you living? "Definitely not something Y/N would do." Namjoon did a little head tilt.

"Are you her.. significant other?"

"God, no." He made a sour face. "We've been close since high school. Me, her and our other friend Yoongi. It's always been us three." She nodded.

"That's sweet." He smiled at her toothlessly, keeping his gaze on her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt her cheeks heat up, so she couldn't help but break the staring game by looking down at the floor.

"Sorry, you must have things to do. I'll get going." He pushed off on the counter.

"I was actually just trying to figure out what I could do with my day. Any recommendations?"

"Tons. Depends on what you're looking to do to start off your first day in LA." She chuckled.

"Not too much since the jetlag will hit me sometime soon."

"I can show you around if you'd like? It's honestly not easy getting around here without a car. Uber is cool and all but those surcharges can get to you." She smiled but hesitated to answer. They had literally just met, but she didn't feel any weird vibes coming from him. If anything, he was already showing how down to earth and laid back he was. "Only if you'd like, of course. I promise I don't bite or anything." She chuckled.

"Actually, yeah. I'm down for that. I just need to go get ready."

"Take your time." Namjoon hung over the kitchen counter to go through his phone as Yana walked away. He figured he could help her get some breakfast and take her down to Santa Monica, for starters.

Later that afternoon, Namjoon brought Yana back home to rest up early. There were only so many things you could do from early on and he could tell she was getting pretty tired even though she tried her hardest to keep up, which made him feel bad. He got to his apartment that he shared with Yoongi and threw his beanie and keys off to the side of the dining table.

“Yoongi-ah!” He called out for Yoongi. The boy came out of his room, looking like he had just woken up from a deep nap.

“Why are you yelling for me?”

“Did you know Y/N was in Seoul?”

“Our Y/N? In Seoul?”

“Yes, that’s what I just asked.” Yoongi scratched his head and sat down on the couch, head tilting back to rest on it.

“No. The fuck? Since when?”

“Like a day or whatever ago, I don’t really want to calculate the time difference right now.”

“Why is she there?”

“Dunno. Wanna find out?” Yoongi scrolled through his phone and shook his head.

“They’re 15 hours ahead, so it’s like 8:30 AM there. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. She’s probably ti-” Namjoon instantly went into the Favorites tab of his phone to quickly pull up your contact info and call you. “Alright, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.” The first time he called you through Facetime, you didn't pick up. So he tries again, completely ignoring the whole time difference shpeel from Yoongs.

"What?" You asked groggily on the other line, eyes still closed while you had the phone staring up at the ceiling so Namjoon couldn't see you.

"How's Seoul?"

"Namjoon, leave me alone. It's 8AM."

"You’re usually up by that time when you’re here, get up out of that bed.”

“Clearly, I’m not home. You just said it.” You groaned.

“I told you she would be mad.” Yoongi peeks his head into the small Facetime frame on Namjoon’s phone. “Just for the record Y/N, I told him not to call you.”

“Why didn't you tell me?! I brought coffee only to find Yana at your apartment.” Namjoon continues to ignore all cues.

"You met her and she had coffee. Sounds like a win-win to me."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He whined.

"Because I knew if I did, you and Yoongi would try and come along."

"Ah, wait, wait. Is that so bad?!" Yoongi chimed in, a little hurt from that statement.

"I love you both dearly, but I really just wanted this to be solo-dolo." Namjoon sighed.

"Are you okay at least?"

"Yes, I promise. I'd be even more fine if you both let me get a little bit more sleep."

"You didn't do this because of Romeo, did you?"

"I'd be lying if I said no. Look, for the most part, I just wanted to get away from LA for a bit. Get away from work and all the other stressors that home has been bringing. Okay?”

"I get it."

"Now stop going to my house and scaring Yana, you giant."

"I took her around today."

"Don't start with the funny business, Joonie."

"And what if the funny business comes to me instead?" He pulled the camera close to his face, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows. ‘You’re ugly,’ You hear Yoongi faintly say in the background, who is now completely out of the frame.

"Bye." You hang up and turn over to try and head back to sleep. Let's get this straight - you love Namjoon and Yoongi. You've done a lot of things together and you always look for their company. But, there were things you needed to get past on your own. The work stress and the impostor syndrome, keeping up with LA, your ex and the on and off years you've been putting yourself through all the hurt.

You felt like you really couldn't blame anyone but yourself, especially with Romeo and how he had been treating you. He had been treating you like a convenience and he never showed any effort. Yet, you always gave in because this was a man you loved for nearly the past 5 years.

It was just time. You were done. You had to remind yourself who you were.

#bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin #park jimin #off the grid #otg #writing #jimin x reader

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james-rowan · 3 years ago

Text

Here’s my (very late, sorry 😓) contribution to the @dualrainbow Pride event. Thank you To_Dragons for helping me edit.

Ships: Montagne/Blitz, Lion/Doc, Valkyrie/Finka and Castle/Maverick

The Pride Festival

The Austin Texas Pride Festival was held on a hot, sunny afternoon, and it smelled of fair food, sunscreen and energy. It was colorful, and bright, mrainbows everywhere, adorning stalls, signs and, of course, people.

To the European operators who had been to Pride events before, it was not only loud, but bold. From the outfits, that ranged from simple rainbow wristbands to full on outrageous outfits (or just a jockstrap), to the signs and stalls and performance stages. Couples were embracing, kissing and making out openly and passionately, without shame or guilt, not only couples but the rare poly groups, finally able to carry on with open affections and taking full advantage. The atmosphere was infectious. It had already claimed Maverick and Castle, who walked very close to each other -despite the heat- hands in each other’s back pockets. They also were very unrestrained with the kissing.

And Montagne thought that he and Blitz could be overly affectionate. But then he was still waiting for his lover to meet them there. He had flown out on his own specifically for this.

Their group included the aforementioned Castle and Maverick, Valkyrie, Finka, himself, Lion and Doc.

They had traveled from Fort Polk, Louisiana, where they, that being the FBI SWAT, SEALs and GIGN, and one tagalong (at her vehement request) Finka, were doing training with the U.S. Army rangers stationed there. After two weeks of a field exercise in muggy swamplands, their Pride group had been excited to go somewhere dry, but unfortunately Houston did not live up to the Texas desert stereotypes; it was almost as humid as Fort Polk. But at least here there was civilization. And Montagne himself was excited to finally see Blitz.

“Schatz!”

Speaking of whom, he was charging at them, looking very much the part of a Pride attendee. He caught his lover in his arms, swinging him around once, despite the soreness from training, then dipped him into a deep kiss. that gained the awe and cheers of not only from some in their own group, but several onlooking strangers as well.

When they finally parted , Lion muttered, “They’re acting like they haven’t seen each other in a year.”

The couple ignored him as Blitz held Monty out in arms length to appraise his outfit. He tutted, “Not to live up to the stereotype, Schatz, but what are you wearing?”

Montagne looked down at himself. He was wearing a lightweight button down with rolled up sleeves, dark trousers and shined shoes, nothing offensive, if a bit formal compared to everyone else, but the reason was important.

Blitz himself was dressed the complete opposite, wearing a loose stringer tanktop that exposed his toned shoulders and even his pecs when he moved just right. Jean cutoff shorts, sneakers with colorful laces, large sunglasses, a backwards ball cap, wristbands: every article of clothing was either rainbow colored, or had an inclusive pride flag adorning it.

“Euh… what’s wrong with it?

“If it were any other day, nothing,” Blitz said. “You look sharp and sexy as ever. But this is Pride, American Pride, ja? Look around.”

Almost everyone was wearing Pride merchandise, had flags draped on their shoulders, or had face paint of various LGBTQ+ symbols, from obvious t more subtle. The bolder were the ones wearing much more and the even bolder much less.

Blitz grabbed his hand, “Come, we’re fixing this.”

“Aren’t we a little old for…”

“Psst, nein. This will be fun, ja? To dress up as we please, get swept up in the atmosphere.”

“We can already dress as we please.”

“I mean colorful, and silly, no fashion rules to hold us back. Come on!”

With that Blitz dragged him off, leaving the rest in their wake.

“Well,” Finka chuckled. “Hi to you too, Elias.”

“Those two are disgusting,” Lion snickered. “How long have they been together? A year?”

“Two,” Finka said. “With no signs of slowing down.”

“Their honeymoon phase is going to last forever at this rate,” Valkyrie said.

“That explains why Gilles is going to…” Lion stopped himself, eyes wide.

“What is Gilles going to do?” Valkyrie was now very interested.

“Olivier, you wanted to show me something?” Doc, the amazing man he was, quickly interjected.

Had it been a few months ago, Lion would have been confused, but now Doc had bailed him out enough times during conversations that he immediately went, “Ah right, this way.”

“We’ll go with you,” Valkyrie smirked.

“Non, non, it's private,” Lion said.

“The good Catholic boy he is, he cannot share,” he said, steering Lion away before he could reveal too much.

Out of earshot, Lion mumbled, “How can you be nice while mocking me at the same time?” Lion was a bit prickly at the Catholic comment. It has always been a point of mockery for people outside the church.

“I could ask you the same. You have quite the talent for it. Far more than I can hope to achieve.”

“Most of the time I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” Doc’s tone softened into a reassuring one, giving his side a squeeze. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have found common ground, mon coeur,” he said. “People also tend not to question when a Catholic needs to do private things, no? With Islam it works quite well.”

Lion took a deep breath, but understood. It was nothing malicious. “Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to fuck that all up.”

It had taken years to come to a mutual understanding, let alone to find a way to deal with their mutual attraction to one another. It was a rocky, long road, but here they were. Lion hoped one day they would be exactly like Blitz and Montagne, or even just Castle and Maverick.

Lion brushed his forefinger against Doc’s hand, tentatively seeking to hold it. Their relationship was so new, so fragile, like a baby bird or sugar glass, too easy to hurt or shatter. A hundred things, even things gentle or nice, could ruin a relationship, if you looked into it. And considering their history, before they got together… where just one off hand remark would destroy a truce they had established between each other, setting them at each other's throats once again. Lion never wanted to go back to those times. He’d do anything to keep it from degrading back.

Doc immediately took hold of his hand, as if he had been waiting to do so all day, giving a loving squeeze.

Warmth flooded Lion, he felt a giant stupid grin spreading across his face. It was almost too much, as he felt pricks in his eyes, as he squeezed back. He glanced sideways at Doc, finding him gently smiling, mellow as always when he was content. He wanted nothing more than to sweep him up and kiss him fiercely, but maybe then it’d be too much. He’d settle for this for now.

After browsing a couple stalls, he remembered something. What did the relationship advice he found on that one website say? That he should always seek to compliment and let someone know how much their actions mean to him, so he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words.

“You know,” Lion said, barely able to be heard over the crowd. “I’m so glad you’re willing to hold my hand.”

“Willing? I want to,” Doc corrected, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

Lion smile only grew wider, and he had to look away as red creeped from his ears to his cheeks now. “J’taime.”

“J’taime.”

The warm fuzzy feeling in his chest threatened to burst, helped along by with the anxiety, the pervasive fear that this was about to be ripped from him at any moment.

They grabbed something to eat and sat down on a bench. If American food was considered greasy, their fair food was simply lard on a plate, with maybe some sugar or ketchup for seasoning. They commented on this to each other, when something caught Lion’s eye. There were older women and a couple of men wearing t-shirts, that said “free mom hugs.” (the men’s shirts said ‘dad’) As implied, they hugged everyone who came up to them. Some hugs were light and quick, and some deep and heartfelt, lasting many minutes. Lion’s eyes followed one of them until he came upon a group of them, holding signs, the same message written on them.

“Is that what I think?”

“Hmm?” Doc looked up. “Ah, probably. Hold on.”

To Lion's horror, his fellow frenchman asked a nearby American who they were; the man explaining with a bright smile that they were a charity organization that helped LGBTQ+ youth, and they gave out hugs - of course -, for any who had been rejected by their families for their sexuality.

Small talk ensued, in which Lion was only half-participating in as he ate, and when the man finally left, Doc nudged his side.

“You’ve been glancing at them this whole time. Go on, go talk to them.”

“I don’t need a hug.”

Doc tsked, “That’s a lie.”

“Huh?”

“If anyone needs a hug from a father figure, it is you, no?”

“I…” Lion paused then shook his head. “No, I’m over it, I put it behind me. It happened over a decade ago, after all.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, one of his infuriatingly knowing smiles tugging at his lips.

“They are for this who were disowned for being homosexual, Gustave. I was not...”

“And your father would have accepted you being with another man? Or is it only teens getting their girlfriends pregnant that he takes moral issue with?”

Lion didn’t have an answer for him. Well he did, just not a verbal one. There were so many reasons his father wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m over it,” he repeated, but this time with less conviction.

“Then it would be of no consequence,” Doc said, squeezing his hand. “Go on.”

It was an awkward walk to approach them. He had to remind himself he was a soldier, he had faced death multiple times, fought against some of the most dangerous people in the world and this- This was just a civilian man at a pride event. Much older than him, sure, with a kind face and beard. But he realized as his step grew increasing hesitant that it wasn’t the human he was afraid of, but his soul, and what it could do to his own with just a few brash words.

What was he even going to say? “Hey I saw your sign, my dad hates me, can I get a hug?” That was ridiculous. Maybe lean into the role this man was offering to play, “Sorry dad, I was a fuck up, I can't change?" Or… "sorry you were not capable of loving me the way I am?" Both sounded completely rude to say to a stranger.

But as he approached, the older man met his eye, and there was no need for questions, nor words. The dad only smiled at him and opened his arms.

Lion found himself in the other man’s embrace before he even realized, hugging him as if his life depended on it. The older man matched his energy, a hand on the back of his head as if Lion really was his own child. Time seemed to stretch on and on; Lion had been anticipating a quick hug, just a little taste of what he got so envious of every time he saw someone have a loving moment with their parent, but no, his body refused to let go and so did this stranger. This stranger who held onto him with a fatherly patience Lion once thought only existed in fantasy.

The lump growing in his throat ached. He tried swallowing it down, but it only made it worse.

He shouldn’t have done this. He thought he was over it, yet it hurt, it hurt so fucking much…!

He wanted to run, he wanted to stay, he wanted…

“It’s alright to cry,” the man whispered. “I got you.”

“My real father disowned me.” Lion wasn’t proud of how strangled his voice sounded, or how he let some tears escape.

“I’m so sorry, son,” the man replied, rubbing his back gently. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Nobody does.”

“I never could give him a reason to love me.”

“Children don’t need to give a reason. They’re supposed to be loved by their parents, no matter what mistakes they made, real or imagined. You deserve to be loved.”

Lion was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to will away the need to sob. This was a happy moment, a validating moment, with kind words, and warmth, why did it hurt so much then? His fingers clutched at the man’s shirt, as he gently rocked them. It didn’t feel infantilizing, it felt relieving, needed, like a hole finally being filled.

“You can cry, you know,” the man whispered again. “Emotions are made to be expressed. You don’t have to be strong, not here, not with me. I know you’re hurting, Don’t worry, I’m here.”

A choked sob escaped, and Lion pressed his face into the man's shoulder. “There you go, let it out, I’m proud of you.”

There was no coming back from that. He broke down, and it was ugly.

Lion sobbed into his arms, all rsesemblance of control disappearing, but the father held him through it all. It lasted way longer than Lion thought possible, but they eventually subsided, and he was still being held as he calmed down. When he felt strong enough to break the embrace, he was met with a gentle, fatherly smile.

“Do you feel better?”

“Oui.. yes, thank you,” he wiped his face with his own shirt. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” the manhe said. “I’m just doing what fathers were meant to do.”

“Merci.”

They talked for a little while after. About what happened with his father, his family, himself. The cynical side of him expected them to reveal their ulterior motive, asking him for charity donations, to attend a church service, or even a cult, but they didn’t offer him any flyers or business cards, just warm words... water and tissues. At least he wasn’t the first grown man to cry like this in their arms. They were genuinely good people.

Doc had been waiting patiently for him on the bench, and stood up to embrace him and kiss his cheek upon his return. “How do you feel?”

“Drained,” he said. Then he added, “Relieved. I guess you were…” he caught himself. “No, you were completely right.”

“I’m glad you went then, mon coeur.”

Lion needed a smoke. Before got to know him, Lion would have assumed the doctor was too high and mighty for a nicotine fix, but then found out he was a man in a high stress job like the rest of them, and didn’t judge. Except on the mandatory substance abuse powerpoints they all had to sit through every few months.

He lit up, drawing the smoke in and letting it mellow him out. Every so often he would think back and a few more tears would leak out.

He wiped his eyes with his thumb. “You know why I was so happy that you took my hand?”

“Non,” Doc said, rubbing his back. “But please tell me.”

“I was at the store with my mother and father,” he said. “I was just following along, and I see my mother offer her hand to hold, you know, this gesture…”

He made it. Doc patiently nodded.

“Well I was nearest to her, I think. I was so happy, I remember feeling loved, all warm, because my mama wanted to hold my hand.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Lion took a deep breath. His voice shuddered, “She let go, non.. she threw my hand away from her, in utter disgust. As if I were disgusting. She snapped, ‘I don’t want your hand.’”

Lion ducked his head. “It was a small thing, yes, but it hurt, it hurt so much. Turned out she wanted my father’s hand, not her son’s, not mine.”

It was a few beats later before Doc said, “How old were you?”

“Four, maybe five,” Lion said. “I hate that feeling, those moments where you finally feel happy and loved, and the next second someone shatters it completely. Despair is a good word for it, I think.”

“How often did these types of things happen?”

“Plenty, I was a disgusting child, after all.”

“No,” Doc said. “She was just… cruel.”

Lion huffed, not a wry laugh, just disbelieving. “You’re not going to tell me that she tried her best?”

“Did she?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Then I think not,” Doc said softly, cupping Lion’s cheek. He leaned into the warmth.

"I still get this horrible… fear when I want to take someone’s hand, or show any affection. So I usually don’t.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, mon cher. And if I ever make you feel the way your mother did, I want you to tell me.”

Lion nodded, looking down, not entirely sure if he would. Doc tilted his head back up. “Hey, I mean it.”

Lion took his hand and almost went for a kiss, but the deep moment was interrupted by Blitz and Monty approaching. Lion quickly turned away so neither of the two could see his red puffy eyes, but he did see Monty was wearing a stringer tanktop, tie dyed rainbow, and adorned with rainbows in body paint and a look of subdued embarrassment any time Elias had his back turned. Blitz was going a bit overboard on this look.

“Have you seen Meghan?” Blitz said, “unless you have a bag?”

Doc pointed them into the right direction, as Lion quickly drank his water.

“Olivier, are you okay?”

“He just needs some alone time with me,” Doc saved him. Again.

The pair offered their sympathies to Lion (much to his annoyance) and wandered off to find the two women.

“Don’t you ever dress me up that garishly,” Lion snickered.

“Please, mon coeur, I have taste,” Doc said, before grabbing his knee and squeezing, voice now whispering in his ear. “Besides, I prefer you out of your clothes.”

He nipped his earlobe before Lion could exasperate out his name, earning a yelp instead.

Any semblance of protocol melted into genuine, unmasked joy just to be in each other’s company, in a welcoming space where they could be open about themselves Gustave himself was intent on kissing his lover better.

Finka and Valkyrie had been watching a stage performance when Blitz appeared at Valkyrie’s side, grinning, as usual, and... now covered in glitter?

“Meghan, can we borrow your purse?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to have to carry around Gilles’s shirt all day.”

Valkyrie turned fully to see Montagne, who had trailed in after him, no longer wearing his tasteful, understated ensemble, but had been attacked by rainbows and what looked to be the same shimmer bomb that Blitz must have been caught in.

“No, you’re going to get glitter in it,” Valkyrie frowned.

“Please? I’ll clean it out for you myself.”

“Glitter?” Finka said, turning around. “We have to ride back with your boyfriend, and you wore glitt-”

Finka must have caught sight of Montagne’s giant pecs escaping the too small, flimsy shirt, because she turned bright red and turned back to stare very intently at the performer.

All Valkyrie herself could think was ’damn Montagne is strong and it shows’, but that was it, of course. Her girlfriend however was bi, with a particular weakness for large people with muscles.

“Och, I almost forgot,” Blitz said cheekily. “You have any sunscreen? Gilles wasn’t prepared for this outfit.”

“I don’t think any of us were prepared,” Finka snipped, still keeping Montagne out of her line of sight. She pulled out a sunblock bottle from her cargo pocket and tossed it over.

“You alright there, Lera?” Blitz asked as he caught it.

“I’m fine, it's just hot,” she replied, still avoiding eye contact, “The weather, I mean.”

Blitz grinned, “He is hot, isn’t he?”

“Mon cher…” Montagne groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just…”

Meghan clapped her hands, “Okay, go away, go be gay somewhere else. We have enough that of our own over here.”

Blitz ignored her, looking at Finka with a grin, “What do you think of us getting temporary hair color? I was thinking of dyeing our hair rainbow.”

“Well, you’ve gone this far,” Finka said, pointedly staring at Blitz’s eyes. “Might as well go full golubok.”

“Hah, ja, I like the way you think, I…”

“Here,” Meghan said, grabbing Gilles’s shirt from Blitz’s hands and stuffing it into her purse. “Go dye your hair now. Go on.”

“Alright, all right.” Blitz grinned, holding up his hands and going. Montagne sighed deeply, a twitch working its way through his cheek before following. Odd, but not her problem. She had someone much more important to worry about.

“You’re into muscles, huh?”

“You know I am,” Finka said sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Valkyrie laughed, “It’s fine, he got great boobs.” That caused Finka to snort. “You know, for a man.”

Finka laughed longer than she expected, but it was always nice when her girlfriend had one of her genuine laughs.

“It's always nice to see real muscles,” Finka said. “Real ones, from being big and strong, and healthy.”

“Oh, you mean some like mine?” She flexed, tattooed arms positively sexy as the bulged.

Finka’s eyes got a hungry glunt to them, she put her hands on Valkyrie’s arms, feeling the solidness beneath her fingers, “Yes, just like that.”

Finka kissed her girlfriend long and deep, and Valkyrie relished being able to do so in the open, without the anxiety of having some bigot laying eyes on them and causing a scene. It was annoying enough to deal with the old people (and the occasional man similarly aged man) she had never met before tsk at her for daring to have tattoos and being too buff, saying she was too pretty to mark herself up like that and ask how she was ever going to find a man looking like that. She had already broke the glass ceiling for women in something as prestigious and hardcore as the Navy fucking SEALs, but there were still so many in American society that were convinced that women existed to look pleasant to men, regardless of if said women even wanted a pet man or not.

The kiss was broken when Finka’s wristwatch timer went off, and her girlfriend quickly drank from her water bottle. It was such a practiced motion, Valkyrie wasn’t entirely convinced Lera was aware she was doing it, and it made her heart ache. When she was finished, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Later they were browsing stalls, and Finka gravitated towards one that was selling pride flags and shirts, not only the standard colors for each identity group, but also the ones that represented multiple identities within the same flag. Finka fingered a nonbinary one with a heart in the bisexual colors on its center. Interesting choice.

“I’d love to see you wear one of these, babe.”

Finka smiled, but shook her head, “I don’t know…”

“Come on, I’m not trying to pull a Blitz on you, I’ll wear one with you.”

“And what am I going to do with it afterwards?”

“Keep it? We’re not in Russia, our base is in Greece, basically its own sovereign territory.”

“When you went through SEALs, there were dissenters that tried to prove your were lesbian so they could get you removed from the program, didn’t they?”

Valkyrie shrugged, “Yeah, but they failed.”

“The last thing that the Russian government wants is one of it most elite spetsnaz operatives in an international effort to be homosexual,” Finka explained. “Its not illegal, yet, but my existence could be considered ‘propaganda.’ I might not just be removed from Rainbow, or Spetsnaz, or the Russian military, I could be jailed.

“Ah.”

“You know what Russian prison is like? I might be able to survive the system if I wasn’t sick, but I am diseased. They’d deny me my medication, not let me stay hydrated or fed or exercised and I’ll...”

“Hey, hey,” Meghan said, quickly drawing Lera into a hug. “I’m sorry, it was just a silly idea.”

“I’m…” she took a deep breath then nodded. “Thank you.”

Meghan kissed her forehead, holding her hands. Lera usually had to be stressed, well, more stressed than usual, to go on such a downward spiral so quickly. Being at such a Pride event, probably, if anyone found out. Finka didn’t believe her own Rainbow Spetsnaz brothers to out her, they were too close, but it was still risky.

“The Soviet Union used to accept openly gay people, did you know that?”

Valkyrie shook her head.

“Not a lot of people do, even in Russia. It was the early years, of course, but they gave gays rights they never had before. But then, of course, the Soviets needed more bodies. Bodies for war, and bodies for work, and of course, they believed gays were the reason that their population wasn’t pumping out babies at a fast enough rate.”

“Oh.”

“It all comes down to child production, doesn’t it? You know this.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Valkyrie said. “Not even just governments but families too. When my grandma found out I was lesbian, she sobbed, crying about how she won’t have any grandbabies from my father’s line. Then she blamed my father for raising me too military, while blaming my mother for letting me compete in high level sports.” She adopted a shrill, tottering grandma voice, ‘Sports always turns girls into dykes. I wanted greatgrandbabies from every child! But you made her want to turn into a boy!”

“Blin.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“My own parents alway knew I would like girls,” she said. “Enough to be surprised and confused when I brought home boyfriends that I was genuinely happy with. They cited my, uh, how you call it, boyishness? Well, I never felt comfortable in the woman’s role and they, knowing what my siblings and I had…, they didn’t really feel a need to pressure us to do anything but stay as healthy and active as possible.”

Meghan slowly began to realize this was turning into much more than a simple sharing of stories, and squeezed her hands in support.

“I never liked being…. I don’t know how to put this. I didn’t like the gendered language used for me. And I never felt when people were talking about women, they were talking about to me as well. Just as I thought the rules and expectations boys are taught growing up applied to me as well. You know, don’t cry, be tough, treat women with respect, fight those who try to push you around. Then I learned of this new concept a couple years ago, someone could be neither. I laughed at it at first but...”

“Lera…” Valkyrie said softly, with a loving smile. “Do you want me to use they/them for you?”

Her… their eyes lit up. “Would you? I mean, I’m not sure just yet, but I would like to try them out. “Non pun intended?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” they were positively beaming. They were so beautiful.

“Just to see. I mean, I still have to use she and her at work but, just in private.”

“Of course, babe.”

Valkyrie cupped their face and kissed them deeply.

She ended up buying Finka something, a silver bracelet in the colored stones in the nonbinary colors as the setting. Something simple and discreet yet powerful where it mattered.

Montagne had texted the couples to be on their way back to the group when Blitz finally realized he wasn’t just looking like a rainbow, but rather a discontented victim of a rainbow being sick.

“What’s wrong, Schatz?”

The giant man sighed, folding his arms over his chest.

“So… there is something wrong…?”

“If it were any other day, I wouldn’t have minded, but today…”

“Where else could you do this…?”

“It is not the location, it is the look!” he gestured down at himself. “The timing of it!”

“I don’t understand… ok, ja, I can see why I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Montagne raised a glitter encrusted eyebrow.

“Ok, completely carried away.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is not the fun you were having that I have a problem with, I am used to your antics.”

Blitz went pink, and bashful. Like a puppy being scolded.

“And you know I love your antics, ge added quickly. But why of all days,” Gilles trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose, and very nearly getting glitter in his eyes.

“Because… its Pride…”

“Yes, you’ve been saying this the whole time.”

“We can go wash it all off, I’m sorry,” Elias said, crestfallen as he moved past him towards the bathrooms.

Montagne caught him around the chest with his arm just as the rest of the group returned, “Non, it's fine… its fine. Perfection is not needed.”

He saw Doc and Loon quickly fumble for their phones, thankfully behind Blitz’s back. Once they nodded, he guided Blitz back to in front of him. “These past few years I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing but make me happy. Your antics, your jokes, your dedication, your downright sweetness, even the way you tap your helmet during exercises. Even before we started seeing each other, your smile would light up my heart and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Gilles…”

Gilles sank to one knee, pulling out a shining wedding ring from his pocket.

“Will you marry me?”

Elias had clapped his hands over his mouth, unable to process this. Their group, except for the GIGN of course, were surprised and estatic. Valkyrie even exclaimed “So that’s what you French bastards were hiding.”

Blitz still hadn’t answered, his eyes shining.

“Elias?”

“Ja! Natürlich sage ich ja, du großer Dummkopf!”

“I assume that's a…”

Blitz very nearly bowled him over to give him his acceptance kiss. He lifted him up as he stood, Elias straddling his hips and swung them around, a dazzling display as the glitter caught the sunshine.

“I’m sorry I got irritated, I just wanted this to go a certain way,” he breathed when their lips parted.

“Schatz, you could have proposed to me covered in mud and sweat.”

“I know,” he said. “But I still wanted to make an effort. I wanted to do it right.”

“You did,” he said. “Look at you, covered in rainbows, just to make me happy, ja?

“Mmm,” he said as Elias lowered himself back to the ground.

Blitz understood now. Gilles was a traditional romantic after all, wanting the candlelit dinners and picnics at the parks on Sundays. He wanted that to extend to his proposal but Blitz was too excited to have silly fun to notice.

“Hey,” he said. Despite the heat they couldn’t stop embracing. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“If you want,” he whispered. “We can still have your perfect proposal night.”

“Two proposals?”

“Ja, why not? I’ll still be excited.”

Gilles gave it a thought. “I’ll have to make things more romantic between us,” he murmured. “Just to throw you off so you don’t know when its coming.”

“Oooh,” Blitz said, draping his arms over Gilles’s shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

They dazzled them with another sweeping, showstopping dipped kiss, because of course they did.

“I agree with Lion,” Finka laughed with a grin. “You two are disgusting.”

Blitz laughed into Gilles’s mouth, and flipped her off without looking away.

“Great, now those two set the standard for romantic proposals,” Maverick said.

“Does that mean we’re going to be competing now?” Castle said, perking up.

“I’ll win,” Valkyrie declared. “The rest of you might as well quit now..”

“Pfft, nah, man, if anyone’s winning that it's me.”

“You know, we French have romance in our blood,” Lion said. “I wouldn’t even have to try and I’d win.”

While they dissolved into bickering, the silent ones of their pairs all shared a look, realizing at once what their partners had implied.

Blitz and Monty still had yet to look up from their glitter makeout, oblivious to what they had just started.

#rainbow #rainbow 6 seige #rainbow 6 #dualrainbow #montagne #blitz #Valkyrie #finka #lion #doc #lion/doc #finka/Valkyrie #monty/blitz #gay #nonbinary #coming out #pride #lgbtq #lesbian #bi

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impaladolan · 4 years ago

Note

I have an idea for capture (smut) hehe. So maybe y/n gets curious about who G is and goes snooping in his office before she can find anything or maybe she sees a pic of her from when they knew each other to add some spice?? Idk but then he strips her naked (I see him wearing like his work suite) and spanks her over his knee, maybe she wets herself and he starts mocking her and then sits her up so she’s straddling him and fingers her for being a good girl 🥰

Capture - Grayson Dolan [6/-]

summary: mischievously snooping around the house when “capturer” is gone, y/n’s on a mission to find out his true name, but bad behavior deserves consequences, right..?

warnings: smut, degrading + daddy kink, & of course swearing.

a/n: i’m in love with this prompt, it’s too good not to use. ty sweetie! 😊😚

The loud shutting of a door that reverberated through the entire house had quickly awoken you from your light slumber. You blinked a couple times to gain your surroundings, as one usually does when they first wake up. The sound of an engine starting had made it to your ears, the slide of a garage door following. It seemed to be an early hour, not even the sun was awake and shining quite yet. You weren't sure why, but you felt the urge to get up and look out at who was leaving. You knew almost for sure that it was just you and your capturer, but there could always be someone else that you didn't even know of.

This house is pretty large, it wouldn't be doubtful.

You get up from laying comfortably across the covers, hurrying your legs towards the huge window.You slowly pull away the drapes, the view of headlights clouding your already blurry vision. After quickly rubbing your eyes, attempting to rid the morning crusts from them, you're able to focus your eyes back out the window and watch as an expensive looking car entered the driveway. You couldn't tell what color or even type of vehicle it was, but the cab lights were on and the familiar silhouette was visible enough to know that it was him.

The vehicle continues to slowly drive through his driveway, only stopping when he comes in close contact of the oversized gate. It looked like he rolled his window down, reaching his arm out to tap something, you weren't exactly sure, but when the gates opened and closed, and he was out of view; you smiled.

You knew exactly what to do while he was away...

Something that's been bothering you for awhile, other than being forceful abducted and cooped up in a beautiful home, was the loss of not even knowing his name. Now, no one in their right mind would go snooping around in a strangers home, but no one in their right mind would steal someone either. So, it was a pretty good exchange.

You giddily rushed over to your bedroom door, twisting the knob and it opening without any trouble. It's quite weird he trusts you enough to keep all the doors unlocked and accessible.You close the door behind you as you exit, the extremely freezing floors bothering your feet the moment you stepped foot on them. It still appalled you as to why he kept it so damn cold around here, it doesn't make sense.

You run your hand along the wall, noting where his room is and training your eye on a certain door handle at the very end of the hallway. It could be just a closet, but it looked odd compared to the rest of the hallway's doors.

You find yourself finally in reach of the knob, not a second thought coming to you as you freely twist it open, yet another unlocked room. It's like he wants you to go around snooping.

You widen the double-doors to get an entire view of the room, a very cluttered yet clean looking office is what you've been opened to. It was a pretty spacious room, bookshelves decorating the walls leading up to his large desk. The entire room had a very dark and intimidating aura, almost ominous if you think about it too much.

You continue your tiptoeing walk towards the large desk, planting your hand upon the oak-finish and letting it travel around the curve. You plop down in his comfy office chair, softly giggling as you swivel around, eyeing the small picture frames set up around his computer. They were all innocent little family pictures until one of them caught your eye;

A picture of you.

Your breath became caught in your throat and you mind began to race, but you couldn't think too much of it. You were in a mission and you'd be damned if you never figured out his name.

Brushing the odd picture aside, which was luckily one of your better photographs, oddly from high school, you decide to tap on his computer. Swirling the mouse around, it comes to life in an instant and you can't help but notice that it doesn't have a password either.

"What the hell is up with this guy?" You mutter to yourself, furrowing your brows in confusion as you click open the browser page. The confused look upon your face morphs into an annoyed one as you're met with the home screen of the one and only PornHub website.

You didn't expect anything less at least.

You click away and into a new tab, looking for some sort of an email address or identification, anything that could help you find what his name is. Just about as you were about to press on something labeled with G, the door slams open, and your heart falls to a crash on the floor.

Fuck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He storms in, his dark and booming voice frightens the life out of you. Your eye quickly widen, your mouth falling agape and trembling. He stuck his large hands into his pockets, and did a painfully slow stride towards you. Even in immediate shock, you couldn't help but roam your eyes upon his sturdy physique. The tight fitting clothes wrapped around him and exposed his menacing frame, what looked to be a standard white dress shirt and dark colored slacks. His sleeves were halfway rolled up and his hair looked so soft and touchable, something you wouldn't mind rested between your legs..

But you soon jump back into reality when he's become only a few feet in distance from you, his towering, sculpted body looking down upon you. You shrink under his gaze, unable to move or get up from his chair.

He takes a few steps closer to you, an unnerving smirk rising on his lips. "Think you're cute, going through my things darling?" He daringly asks, but you're focused on the visible veins stretching from his pocketed hands and up his forearm, essentially leading towards his bicep that you could still see, even through his shirt.

"I asked you a question." His tone snapped even further down, shaking your core like a rattle. "Uhm, I-I-" You were speechless, unable to even create any words and speak them through your mouth. You knew you were in for it, and deep. There's no talking him out of anything, especially with his tempered demeanor.

"Up." He demands, suggesting the motion with his hand. You quickly oblige, standing up from his chair and nervously crossing your arms across your body with wide eyes. He moves out of the way, letting you walk past him and hurry to the door. You could feel the burning hole in the back of your head as he watched you.

"Take it all off, right fucking now." He abruptly orders, making you turn and give him a bewildered look. He lowers his eyes, examining your small, shuttering frame. Before you would be under the fearful wrath of him, you decide to follow his orders and strip.

You firstly pull your oversized shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest to his darkened eyes. He was sat in the chair you were initially in, his elbow sat upon the desk and his chin rested between his fingers.You refrain from meeting his glare, but just the thought of him watching you in such a vulnerable state made you excited, needing for his touch already.

Your body shutters from the cool air around you as you slowly slide off the warm sweatpants, leaving you in only a black, sleek thong that surely kept his eyes trained on you.

You finally look up, shielding your breast from his view as you notice the tightening of his firm jawline. He lifts his chin, inaudibly asking you to walk over to him, and you do. You take slow strides around the oak desk as he turns his seat to face you. He pats his lap, keeping his sinister stare on you.

You come in close contact with him, almost sitting yourself upon his lap until his hands grab your thighs, pulling you over him with your abdomen over his knees and your ass high in the air. "Think you were getting away so soon?" He chuckles, connecting his warm hand to your freezing backside and roughly ripping the only garment shielding you from him. You shook your head just as his hand firmly planted itself against your ass, an alarmed cry emptying from your mouth.

"You don't stop counting until I say so, understand princess?" He softly rubs at the red mark he had just given you, sending sparks up your spine to make your mind foggy.

"One-"

"Two-"

"Eleven!"

"F-Fourteen-"

"Twenty-y.."

Twenty different times he spanked you over his knees, and you fucking enjoyed every single one. Your wetness dwindled from your aching heat and down your inner thigh, while your ass remained dark red like a cherry.

"You're fucking soaked, darling." He seemingly mocks, running his hand down towards your drenched pussy, slipping his long fingers flush against your folds. You reach your hand behind you, wrapping it around his forearm and steadfastly grasping it. "Please.." You beg, turning you head to give him a weary look of plea.

Taking initiative, he pulls you upright in a straddling formation. "Needy fucking slut for Daddy, yeah?" He seethes, entering two of his long, sleek fingers and swiftly thrusting them upwards. You slam your eyes shut, grinding your teeth against your bottom lip."Yes-ss!" He curls his submerged digits, grinning like a maniac at your needing state. Your legs began to tremble from beneath you, and you ran your hands up his arms, holding onto his flexed biceps for support.

Your breathing began to rapidly increase and that familiar knot began to ravel within you. He adds another finger, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your sharpened nipple, sending your head back in ecstasy. Your grip around him tightens as his other hand travels down your abdomen, sending goosebumps all over your exposed skin. He slips his thumb down to your clit, soothingly massaging it in wide circles, making you gasp for air.

“You think you deserve to cum on my fingers so soon?” It sounded like he was chuckling, watching as you fall apart above him. You nod incoherently, almost letting loose to just his words. You open your eyes, gazing into his own like you were asking permission. He read your mind like a book, nodding his head in a slow yes.

And you finally were able, to let go.

You came upon his fingers like it was your first time ever, a yelp emitting from your throat and echoing around the room. It halted his actions, letting you gain consciousness again.

“Get back to your fucking room before I make you regret ever leaving it, now.”

to be continued...

#dolan twins #dt #dolan twins smut #grayson #ily #capture #graysonbailey #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan gifs #graysondolan #grayson and ethan #grayson!capturer #grayson dolan #dick grayson #grayson x reader #grayson imagine #grayson blurb #smut

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obae-me · 4 years ago

Text

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin.

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat?

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible.

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots.

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it.

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…”

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.”

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?”

“I’m a doctor,” he explained.

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.”

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?”

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind.

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.”

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?” You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was?

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?”

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?”

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.”

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!”

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?”

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name.

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles.

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet.

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city.

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away.

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?”

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…”

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.” Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you.

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.”

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?”

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot.

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck.

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin.

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #human au #mostly #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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antisociallilbrat · 3 years ago

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Let Me Shoot You

Read on Ao3

Summary: Bill Denbrough a freelance photographer, finds his next muse in a certain Stanly Uris. And he's beautiful.

Warnings: G*n violence and major character death

“You’re gorgeous, you know?”

Stan jumps back from the mirror, not having noticed the man walk up behind him. He was too focused on trying to see what the shirt would like on him if it was worth buying. Fully prepared to tell the stranger off, it’s weird to compliment people you don’t know, his comeback dies on his tongue as his eyes lock onto brilliant blue ones.

The stranger laughs awkwardly, “I’m sorry, that came off a little weird, it’s just I’m a photographer, I have an eye for beauty you could say.”

Tall, muscular but lean built, brunette hair hiding streaks of auburn, that boyish smile he keeps giving Stan, if this man looks for beauty then he has to go no further than looking in a mirror. Stan just raises an eyebrow at him. What does a guy looking like that has any business to be flirting like a guy like Stan ?

The guy raises his hands to his chest in mock defense, “I’m legit, I promise. I’m Bill, Bill Denbrough,” he extends his hand for a handshake, Stan stares at it before giving in and shaking it. Of course his hands are soft. Bill’s cute and Stan’s single, he can let him hit on him with his cheesy photographer pick-up lines.

“Stan. Just Stan.”

“Okay just Stan, ya know I would love to shoot you sometime.”

“Like with a gun?” he asks sarcastically optimistic.

Bill chuckles, “No no, you’re too pretty for that. I mean like a photo shoot. You really could be a model, assuming you’re not one already. Here, take this,” he digs through his satchel, “this is my business card, text me if you want to take me up on my offer. My cell phone number is on the back.”

He takes Bill’s business card, it looks legit, even has that fancy glossy shine to it. ‘Denbrough’s Photography’.

“You really want to photograph me?” He knows he’s not unattractive , but him being considered model-worthy? Not him.

“I never lie, Stanley,” Bill grabs him by the chin and forces him to look at him, he tries to flinch away from him at first but Bill holds his chin steady, “Don’t discredit yourself, Stanley, some people would kill to have your eyes, they’re dripped in honey radiating a spring day,” he softly runs his thumb over Stan’s cheek, “your facial features tread the line between sharp and feminine, you’re beautiful.” A blush is warming Stan’s cheeks, and Bill looks like he’s in some sort of trance as he studies Stan’s face. This is by far the strangest experience he’s had in a department clothing store.

“Bill?”

His trance breaks, Bill’s hand falling from his face, “Uh sorry, I just get really passionate about things I find beautiful,” he says, almost bashfully.

“It’s okay,” he can’t bring himself to look at Bill, not until the heat in his face dies down.

“So you’ll contact me? For a shoot?”

Is he really? Not likely. Will he use it as an excuse to see Bill again in the hope that he’ll spill romantics about him again and make him feel as he just did? Probably. “Let me go home and think about it first.” He already seemed insecure in front of him, he can’t seem easy either.

Bill gives him that boyish smile again, “Well I hope you decide wisely.”

“So you’re telling me a hunky photographer just approached you in the store and offered to take your photograph?” Richie asks between mouthfuls of popcorn.

They were supposed to just be watching their tv show, but his roommate caught him looking at Bill’s photography website on his phone, leading him to have to explain his unconventional meeting with the photographer.

“More or less,” he answers.

“Here, lemme see,” Richie takes his phone out of his hand before he can object. He scrolls for a minute, “Damn Stan, this guy is like an actual photographer. His shit is good.”

He knows that, he's been stalking Bill’s website since the moment he left the store. His stuff was good. Most of his works are portraits, making ordinary people look heavenly . Stan couldn’t figure out he did it. Maybe it was just a mixture of skill with a camera and good lighting.

“There’s something up with their eyes. Did you see that?”

Yeah, he noticed that. The muse’s eyes are always blown wide, and it’s like they’re truly seeing you through the photograph. It’s the picture’s best quality in Stan’s opinion. “Yeah, I think it's a lighting technique or something.”

Richie tosses his phone into his lap, getting a huff of annoyance out of Stan. “Are you going to take him up on it?”

“Yeah, maybe, I’m not sure yet.”

“I think ya should, maybe get a dick appointment while you’re at it. The guy sounds obviously into you.” Stan pelts Richie in the face with a popcorn piece.

Maybe though, maybe this one time Richie is right.

To: Bill Denbrough

Hey, it’s Stan. Are you still curious about taking my picture?

To: Stanley Uris

Hey Stan ! That depends, did you realize how pretty you are?

To: Bill Denbrough

Proper grammar? I’m surprised. And maybe I’m just curious to see if you can make me as attractive as the people on your website.

To: Stanley Uris

Been stalking, I see? I will, but you’re so beautiful it won’t take much. Where do you want to shoot?

To: Bill Denbrough

I like birds, so maybe at a park?

To: Stanley Uris

Haha okay, I see you Bird Boy, let’s go to a park

He was admittedly a little nervous. How was someone supposed to act or even dress in a situation like this? Absentmindedly he tugs at the ends of his sweater as he sits on the park bench, he really hopes what he’s wearing is okay. At his apartment, it seemed nice enough, and his curls were actually working with him today when he was styling them. Oh, he really hopes Bill approves.

“Stan?” Stan jumps in his seat, Bill walked up behind him again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you again,” he laughs.

“Yeah, well, you did,” he murmurs to the ground. How does he walk so silently?

“My deepest apologies Stanley,” he says sarcastically. Bill glances at what he’s wearing, “You look really nice. You made my muse even prettier.”

“Really?” He hates how eager he is for Bill’s approval.

Bill brushes a curl out of his face, Stan doesn’t flinch this time, “Yes, really. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

Once again he’s a blushing mess and it feels like he’s drowning under the intensity of Bill’s gaze, “Thanks, Bill.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” He pulls on the strap of his satchel closer to his chest and looks around, “I’m actually really happy you picked this park, I’ve done shoots here before,” he takes Stan’s hand, “Come on, I know a quiet little spot.

The two start walking through the park, heading towards the tree line. They pass families and others enjoying the warm summer air, eventually walking past all of them till they were completely alone. Stan tries talking to Bill a couple of times, trying to pry more information about himself out of him. At first, Bill responds, but the closer they are to the tree line, Bill starts to ignore him. Maybe he’s just focused on thinking of poses to put Stan in.

Finally, they get to a spot that’s practically hidden from view, trees, and bushes surrounding them to make an alcove of sorts. The sun shines down in the center, and flowers in the bushes make a makeshift halo. A slice of Heaven on Earth.

“Here we go,” Bill let’s go of Stan’s hand. His hand feels almost numb, how did he not realize how hard Bill was holding it? “Why don’t you go stand in the center?”

“You want me to just stand there?” he asks jokingly.

“ Yes. Just go.” He sounds annoyed, was it something he said? He waits for Bill to say anything else, maybe to explain, but Bill just gives him an impatient glare.

Sighing, he shuffles over to the center. Maybe this was a mistake. He probably read the flirting signs from Bill all wrong and now he’s annoyed at him. Bill was the one that took his hand and called him beautiful, if that wasn’t flirting then he doesn’t know what is. Facing Bill, he has no idea what to do with his hands, and awkwardly stuff them in his pockets.

“Beautiful Stanley,” he gets down on a knee in front of Stan and takes his camera out of his bag, and takes a picture. He becomes blinded in an instant

He instinctively covers his eyes, “Bill! That flash is so bright!” He tries to open his eyes but sunspots are obscuring his vision. Blinking a couple of times, his vision starts to finally clear. Bill is still on his knees in front of him, and, and what is he holding?

When he realizes what’s happening, Stan doesn’t get a chance to scream before a silenced gunshot goes off.

Stumbling backward, he grabs onto his stomach, his hands coming back slicked with his blood. He finally falls down when the pain is piercing through his abdomen becomes too much. Shifting himself onto his stomach, he tries to crawl, his hands still wet with his blood making it difficult. He wants to scream, to say anything, but blood is dripping from his mouth and the pain is making it too much.

Laughing comes from behind him before strong hands grab hold of his sweater, flipping him over. Bill is cowering over him, so close, and looks mesmerized as he watches Stan’s face. “This part never gets old.”

Bill pulls out a rag from his bag and brings it to Stan’s face. He tries to weakly push his hand away, but Bill coos at him and runs a hand through Stan’s curls. “Shhhh, I’m trying to help Stanley.” He wipes away the blood that’s dribbled down his chin. “There we go, good as new.”

“W-wh-why?” he croaks out.

Bill giggles, “Because Stanly, you’re beautiful. ” He grabs his camera again and the last thing Stanly Uris sees is a blinding light

A/N: I just realized I never posted this here, whoops

#stenbrough #stanbrough #stanly uris #stan uris #bill denbrough #richie tozier #it 2017 #it 2019

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stellahaze135 · 3 years ago

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Xigbar’s Dangerous Game

A Kingdom Hearts/The Most Dangerous Game Au Self-Insert

Part 1

Warnings: Abusive parents.

Synopsis: Y/N wins an getaway trip to the beautiful Destiny Islands, but she doesn’t know that she will meet her destiny on this trip.

Y/N couldn’t believe her luck! She had just won an all expenses paid vacation on the gorgeous Destiny Islands BY HERSELF! Most people she talked to raised an eyebrow to her going alone, but she really wouldn’t want it any other way. On the outside, everyone saw a perfectly happy normal family. Two loving parents, and their doting daughter. But as they say, you never know what goes on behind closed doors. Inside the house, they’d see a VERY different story! Her parents always wanted a boy, someone they could be proud of. They wanted the All American Son with great grades and a sports star. What they got was her. A shy timid daughter who never had any interest in dolls or clothes, or boys. All she wanted to do was create.

So from the very start they had resented her, and it only got worse as her mother experienced miscarriage after miscarriage. After that they not only resented her, but DESPISED her for simply NOT being what they wanted and never could. Then the beatings started, her father would come home VERY drunk, and see something not done to his liking so he’d blame it on Y/N. Not long after the first slap from her father, her mother joined in as well, but her ‘punishments’ were usually the most severe. Boiling water splashed on her back, hot iron to the hand, and once she sent Y/N into the garden to pick herbs for dinner to then unleash the near starved guard dogs on her.

She could never let her real emotions out unless she wanted more bruises or cracked ribs, so she created her paintings, but she couldn’t enjoy them cause then had to turn around sell them, and give ALL her profit to her extremely abusive parents. The only way she could even hold the memories of her creations was a website and social media page for selling them.

So when she entered the random giveaway being held at her job, she never thought in a MILLION years that SHE would be the one to win! Her parents even tried to take the prize from her, and use it for themselves until they found out it was EXPLICITLY for Y/N and her alone as the winner. So here she was, on an airplane in a first class seat, sipping away at a mimosa. Relishing in the freedom, and ability to BREATHE for once in her miserable life. She sighed relaxed back in the seat, and thought of ALL the things she could do.

Upon landing, and checking into her hotel she found she didn’t know what to do first with her newfound freedom. So she decided to check out her room first, and go from there. When the elevator door opened she was met with the grinning face of a rather attractive man, despite having one eye and a rather large scar across his left cheek, the long salt and pepper hair in a ponytail, his shining golden eye, and an enchanting smile really suit him.

“Like whatchya see?” His gruff yet laid back voice teased causing her to shake off her stupor.

“Ummm sorry! A-are you getting out, going up, or going down?” She asked a light blush on her cheeks.

“Well, I don’t know about going down another floor, but there’s something I could definitely go down on.” He replies as he looked her up and down with a wolffish grin.

“Oh great you’re a creep.” She replies with an eye roll. “Look I’ve been on a plane for the past 15 hours, and all I want to do is just get to my room. So if you don’t mind could I just please use this elevator?”

“Whoa! Easy there doll! Just takin’ in the beauty I don’t really ever get to see.” He said as he stepped out of the elevator with his hands up in a sign of defeat, and noted the blush deepening on her cheeks. She toke his place in the elevator, the doors where about to close until the man turned around, and put his hand up to stop the door from closing. “Y’know what I have an idea. If you’re not too beat, meet me in the hotel restaurant in about three hours, and I’ll buy ya dinner as an apology for my crassness. What do ya say?” He asks.

“Yeah sure, why not, I gotta eat anyway.” She responds with another eye roll.

“Perfect! And hey you end up not feeling like it, don’t show up!”

“What’s your name?” She asked as he stepped back and let the door start to close.

“Xigbar. How ‘bout you babe?”

“Y/N”

“Y/N. Pretty name to match the pretty lady?” He…winked? as the door closed all the way, and she was met with her reflection on the elevator doors.

It was then that she noticed the intense blush on her face. She was most definitely not used to that kind of attention from anyone let alone a VERY attractive stranger. Who JUST asked her out on a date. A date that she’s NEVER been on thanks to her parents. Good thing she went on a shopping spree the night before her plane took off. So thankfully she had the foresight to get a form fitting pretty little black dress.

#kingdom hearts #the most dangerous game #self insert #Xigbar #xigbar x reader #my fics

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ladyhaesoo · 4 years ago

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hotel blue moon | 7

"Zombie Kid. Have you read my books?"

“I’m too old for fairytales.”

part 1 | part 6 | part 8 | read on page (not for the mobile app, but prettier)

a/n: han sejoo is from chicago typewriter, a drama about writers and ghosts!

Unfortunately, trips must end, and at the end of them one must return to reality. For Moonyoung, that meant Sangin.

He appeared at her hotel room carrying bags of food and a deep, deep frown. Moonyoung and Kangtae had stopped at another roadside restaurant on the way back and eaten some cheap meat, but Moonyoung never said no to food. She was always still hungry anyway.

She let him set things up on the table, mostly ignoring when she knocked some empty cups over. "How was your trip?" he inquired, mixing the noodles and serving them into a ridiculous paper plate. "Where did you go?" He had that tone on, like he was trying to scare her with polite inquiries. She rolled her eyes.

"Hwaseong. It was fun."

"And Moon Kangtae?"

She could almost still feel his leg pressing against hers like it had in that cafe. Skin, fabric. His eyes on her, from every slow line up her legs to the quick scan after that man had almost hit her. Had fun? he'd asked. "He was fun too," she said finding her lips curling into a satisfied smirk—you'd almost think something had happened. And while it was a true shame that nothing had, there was always the next time, and the next time, and the next. Moonyoung had absolutely no intention of leaving the man alone now.

"Moonyoung," Sangin was saying, and she rolled her eyes and dragged herself back to the far less interesting present company. "Do you like him? Do you want him?" His tone was accusatory and annoying, but she didn't care.

"Yes. Moon Kangtae. I guess everyone I like is a Moon. Did the Moon clan do me a favour in a past life?"

Sangin didn't even bother to look offended. "Moonyoung, you don't know anything about him! You can't just go off on a trip like that with a stranger! Hwaseong? That's hours away! What did you do? "

"Ruined an election," she said, then held up a hand when Sangin looked like he'd burst a vessel or three. "Don't worry, none of the cameras were on me, and I wasn't recognised."

"Who the hell is this guy?" Sangin muttered. "Seungjae told me she gave you that report on him. I went to that hotel. That place isn't any fancy hotel. Ruined an election? They don't even have a website! This guy isn't trustworthy, Moonyoung."

Her smile dropped. That, at least—was true. About the hotel, anyway. As for trust—she didn't trust anyone, and she was too smart to be scammed and too violent to get hurt. Sangin, of all people, should know that. But the hotel... it remained a problem. Oh, she'd asked him a few questions, but his answers hadn't been particularly helpful, and she'd pushed it aside in favour of more interesting things, but... "I don't want his hotel," she told Sangin all the same, because she wasn't interested in him being right or reasonable. "I want him.”

Still, once Sangin was gone, she looked up Hotel Blue Moon and—

—he was right. No website.

She dreamed of the hotel once again. Towers rose into the sky, a palace grander than the one she hadn't seen in years, with pointed roofs and balustraded balconies. Windows both lit and unlit left a pretty silhouette on the night sky. And above all of it—a shining blue crescent.

They met for dinner at a mall near the restaurant where she had a short reading. She waited at the exit once everyone had left, tapping her foot. Sangin had tried to convince her out of it, but Moonyoung had ignored him until he left, looking disgruntled and snapping at the art director.

Kangtae arrived, looking—somehow—even better than usual. She smirked when he got to her, tilting her head back. "We match," she said, and he looked between the cream collars of his shirt, and her own matching outfit, and nodded. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was close enough to walk, which was perhaps not ideal, as Moonyoung was still tossing up whether or not she would drag him back to her hotel room after dinner. It depended on how the night went, she supposed—though looking at the fit of that suit, she was leaning just a little more towards it. "Was that a signing?" he asked as they approached a crossing.

She hummed. "A reading." An American businessman who was apparently a very big fan had made a deal with Sangin to push distribution at his existing stores in the US, and in return she was one of the writers doing a reading at the brand new opened store. The eye of attention, fortunately, was not on her but on thriller novelist Han Sejoo—fortunate because, as much as she liked attention, she did not want cameras hovering around her before her date. Since Han Sejoo was there, they had all run after him, which made for a nice change.

"What did you read?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Zombie Kid. Have you read my books?"

He shook his head no. "I'm too old for fairy tales."

She scoffed. "Is there a rule that says adults can't read fairytales? You're not that old—the perfect age."

Kangtae looked amused, though she couldn't think why. "I'm older than you think."

She leaned up as much as her heels could allow, as though checking for wrinkles. "Are you? How much older? A few months? A year or two?" She mock-gasped. "Are you a vampire?"

Kangtae's let his mouth slowly pull open, teeth glinting as he smirked at her, and she barely avoided visibly shaking. That was—definitely intentional. Bastard. "You've caught me. I'm a hundred of years old vampire. Is that in one of your fairytales?"

The crossing lights stopped. They were two minutes from the restaurantùbut only ten from the parking lot where her car was, and a fifteen minute drive to her hotel room. Dinner was suddenly less appetizing than taking him there. "Eat me and it will be," she said, leaning to say it almost into his ear.

Kangtae looked, just for a second, like he was really going to eat her, right there on the sidewalk—but whatever he was going to say or do was interrupted by a flower inserting itself between their faces.

Moonyoung took a step back to stop her eyes crossing as the flower bobbed in and out of focus. An old woman in an apron and neckerchief stood there with a basket of similar flowers, still holding the one out. "Mister, please buy a pretty flower for your pretty girlfriend. Oh, you're so pretty! Mister, do you like flowers?"

"What—" Kangtae started to say. Moonyoung frowned as everything on his face, so open just seconds ago, vanished behind a mask, face hardening. "We don't want flowers," he said in the end.

"I do," Moonyoung said, taking the flower, even though it was nothing special—white, trumpet-shaped, with thin petals. "How much is it?" she asked.

"Oh, you're so pretty, it's free for you," the old woman said, her smile just that little bit too sweet, voice just too high, to be genuine.

The light changed right after Moonyoung took the flower, and the old woman walked away, mutterin about pretty flowers under her breath. Moonyoung turned around just as her high-pitched voice disappeared—but a car hid her, and when it passed, she was gone. She looked at Kangtae. "What was that?" she asked.

He looked at the flower, then at her—and then, almost as though he had never been tense, his brows relaxed, his lips pulling up into a smile as fake as hers on a camera. "Let's go?" he asked. Moonyoung watched, fascinated, as the man pretended he hadn't been tense at all. Was it self-control? What about the woman had angered him, anyway? She hummed and turned to face the front, picking at the thin petals.

Who was Moon Kangtae?

They got to the restaurant and found it had overbooked, and Moonyoung would ordinarily complain, but she had something to say that she would rather not be interrupted by waiters and servers.

"Your CEO called me," Kangtae said though, before she could bring it up.

Moonyoung felt her lips pulling up. One wrong word and she was perfectly ready to eviscerate Sangin. "What did he say?" she asked.

"He said that you like pretty things. That you wanted to eat me alive, so I should stay away from you."

She let out a little laugh. Trust Sangin to try to ward someone away from her by warning him about her—hadn't he just been telling her about stranger danger as if he was her parent last night? Or maybe he just thought they were both dangerous for each other. It wouldn't surprise her; Sangin was terribly boring about people. Practical, he called it. "So? Why are you still here?"

"I'm not scared of you."

Moonyoung smirked. "You should read my fairytales. They have lots of beautiful witches—you'll like them." Kangtae looked amused, but Moonyoung had something more to add. "And they have castles, just like your hotel."

He raised his head, taking a step closer, the mask drawing back down over his features. "What did you say?"

"Your hotel. It's just like a palace, isn't it? I saw it twice."

He swallowed, and there it was—that tension. He was almost searching her eyes. "When did you see it?"

She raised her head. "At night. I dreamt of you."

"What was in the dream?" he asked, voice low enough to be illegal. She moved closer still, until there was just a whisper between them.

"You," she said, raising the flower between them. "Me. My bed." She paused, watching as his eyes flicked down to her lips and back. She held the edge of a petal to her lower lip, barely stopping herself from sucking it in. He was barely breathing. "You protected me." She added at the end. "And... Hotel Blue Moon."

One moment passed. Two. For those moments, she thought he was going to say something. Explain—somehow. But then the shutters were back, and the tension bled from Kangtae's head to sit in his shoulders and back. She had never though he was the looming sort, but apparently he was. "Forget about that dream, Ko Moonyoung," he said, strained voice at odds with the smile on his face. "And forget about that hotel."

And he turned around and began to walk away.

#kdramanetwork #psycho but it's okay #it's okay to not be okay #pbio fanfiction #iotnbo fanfic #mine #minefic #pbiofic #hotel blue moon #experimenting with posting in between episodes because like...i wanna know what time is good for posting even tho ik this will #probably get lost in the tags amongst liveblogs and gifsets #but hey lets try it!#anyway the ust in this one........ i have to say i was like !!! at the damn vampire line and IM THE ONE WRITING

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

Text

SVT’s Wonwoo: Daytime Scares

—

Fic Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: created by Admin Grandpa

Main Characters: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Jeon Wonwoo

Other Characters: OCs [Ae Jae, Mi Jeong, Yoojin, and Minjae], Chaeyoung (BlackPink), Yongsun (Mamamoo), Seventeen [Seungkwan and Mingyu]

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, college!Wonwoo

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 11.6k

Plot Summary: Wonwoo is nothing more than an attractive stranger in your ethics class. You have no relation with him whatsoever, but that changes when you suddenly have a nightmare that he tries to kill you. That’s a whole level of psychoanalyzing you would rather not dive into. But now things get weirder when he’s starting to talk to you.

→ Based on the AU prompt: “I had a dream that you tried to kill me and now I’m scared of you”

Sleepovers typically mean movies, gossip, and face masks. It’s a fun time to be with your friends and it’s good for lowering stress after midterms. The only level of stress here is would be finding a movie to watch—which probably should have been selected beforehand. But, in your defense, it was hard enough to schedule this hang-out; who has the time to actually schedule the activities?

So, right now, you lay comfortably on the carpeted floor of Ae Jae’s studio apartment with Mi Jeong. You two are on your phones, trying to find a movie to watch. Meanwhile, Yoojin scrolls through her laptop—connected to the projector—browsing through her Netflix account.

“What about Hustlers?” Minjae asks.

“I could really use some J.Lo right now,” you say with wiggling eyebrows.

“Ugh, we can all use a little more J.Lo,” Mi Jeong says.

“That movie is too recent,” Yoojin says. “We can’t find that on a streaming site.”

“Hello?” Ae Jae says. “Have you heard of Dailymotion?”

“Do you want me to just pull up one of those illegal websites?” Minjae asks.

Yoojin turns around to face her. “Ma’am, that’s called pirating.”

“Exactly.”

Mi Jeong laughs at them. Yoojin gives her a pointed look, but you all know it’s no bad intentions.

You set your phone down and sit up from your previous position. “Might as well. We can probably browse through the other movies and figure out some other options to choose from.”

“What I’m hearing is,” Ae Jae says, “is that we don’t have to pay to watch these new movies.”

Yoojin rolls her eyes and moves out of the way of her laptop. “I guess we have nothing to lose.”

“No fear of the viruses?” you ask.

“Potato, potato,” Minjae says.

Yoojin shrugs. “Fire away, Minjae.”

You watch her practically jump over from her previous spot to the TV to type in one of her illegal sites, which you may or may not have frequently used—thanks to her. You can only laugh at her antics.

It’s nice to be with your friends again. It’s been a while since you had properly sent time with them. With the assignments and overlapping work schedules, you’ve all kind of distanced yourselves from one another and, with midterms coming up, things were just piling higher. After midterms week finished, when things calmed down, you and your friends aligned your schedules to catch up with one another.

But who knew it would take nearly two hours to figure out what to watch? Granted, one of the flaws within your friend group is the fact that most of your friends (you included) are incredibly indecisive.

As Minjae moves from one page to the next, everyone else silently scans the movies presented in front of them.

“The live-action Lion King is out,” Mi Jeong says. “That could be an option.”

“Hm,” you say. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the same as the original one.”

“It is,” Minjae says. “But we can just put it on a list of things we could watch. We can still look.”

“Let’s just do that,” Yoojin says.

About ten movie pages (and a list of six possible movies to watch) in, Minjae gets into the horror movie section. You tense up from the movie covers—each one making your stomach twist in apprehension. The one thing each one of your friends know is that you get easily scared, which means you dodge horror movies like the plague.

“Oh, what about It: Chapter 2?” Ae Jae asks.

You start to whine, realizing where this is going. “Nooo.”

You’re ignored.

“I still haven��t watched the first one,” Minjae says.

“What?” “That was literally everywhere.” “How did you manage to miss one of the biggest horror movies?”

Minjae shrugs off the questions. “I just never got to it.”

“It’s a good movie,” Mi Jeong says. “Right, (Y/N)?”

You scowl at her. “No, it’s not.”

Yoojin snorts. “You probably didn’t even watch it.”

“Yeah.”

“Since (Y/N) and I haven’t watched it,” Minjae says. “Should we just watch it?”

“NOOO—”

Everyone ignores you.

“Since it’s kind of old,” Ae Jae says. “They’ll probably have it in higher quality.”

“NOOOO—”

“You’re probably right,” Yoojin says. “Oh, 1080hd. That’s fancy.”

“GUYS. IS ANYONE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME?”

“I found it!”

You let out a long sigh, kissing a month’s worth of sleep away. You mumble under your breath. “Guess no one cares about my well being and health.”

You move yourself to properly lay between Mi Jeong and Minjae, throwing another pillow down. All three of you are on the carpeted floor with too many pillows to count. Ae Jae moved herself and now, she lies on her bed with Yoojin. A blanket is placed on your head and shoulders, ready for cover whenever Pennywise’s face appears on the screen.

You’ve never wished for poorer eyesight until now. You will never understand the trolls that found this clown attractive. A shudder runs down your spine, seeing his face flash in the lightning from the sewer. You quickly pull the blanket over your head to erase the image.

You feel a couple of tugs.

Mi Jeong’s pulling on it. “Jesus Christ, it’s just a clown!”

“John Wayne Gacy was just a clown too and he turned out as a murderer. This one just happens to be supernatural!”

Minjae starts to tug down the blanket as well. “Be apart of the friend group!”

“NO!”

A pillow is flung towards you, in courtesy of Yoojin, who yells down at all of you. “Be quiet!”

“I want new friends.”

It’s 3am—you’ve all moved on from It and onto some generic cartoon movie. You were the main advocate for another movie, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrific images Pennywise provided. Mi Jeong and Minjae are both asleep on each side of you—both with pore strips still attached on their noses. Yoojin snores lightly from Ae Jae’s bed, whereas Ae Jae is up with her elbow propping up her head.

“Hey,” she says.

“What?”

“You up?” She gives you a teasing smile.

You roll your eyes at her. “This is your fault. Of course, I’m up.”

“What? You really can’t sleep because of the movie?”

You stare at her, but refuse to actually move. “Believe it or not, terrifying images of a killer clown that’s telling me I’ll float isn’t a good sleeping mechanism.”

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again, once the words come to her. “They help Mi Jeong sleep.”

“She’s got a different way of thinking.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Ae Jae says. “Do you just want a melatonin instead?”

You’ve got nothing to lose. “Sure.”

She manages to get up, without waking up Yoojin, and walks over to the bathroom. She opens the cabinet, looks through it, and pulls out her melatonin gummies. She pops the lid open, walks towards you, and hands it over. “Take two and you should be asleep in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.” You take a couple, as she advises, and hand the jar back to her. You slowly chew on them, keeping your eyes on the screen in front of you. The images start to pass like a blur and you can’t retain what you’ve just watched.

About twenty minutes later, your eyelids start to droop, feeling the melatonin kick in. You begin to feel a bit tired, so you fully close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in a sewer, blindly moving through a lightless tunnel—with no clue as to how you ended up there. It’s dark, you note to yourself, and it smells foul. The muddy water splashes with each step and it rises as you go through, practically filling your boots. There’s a mist as well, blocking nearly half of your sight of the tunnel. You try to squint through the fog, trying to make out what’s ahead.

You’re able to see a small light at the end. As if you had no control over your body, you run towards it—but it never gets any bigger. You can feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest as your legs keep you running.

But then you slip.

You swear you had felt a pull on your leg, but you couldn’t tell due to the murkiness of the water. You end up on your hands, your lower half is soaked, still in the water—you can’t even make out your reflection. You look closer at it, trying to see what could be underneath it. Suddenly, a hand pushes your head down.

The dirty water fills up your nose and you struggle to escape from this person’s hold on you. As you’re submerged, you hear it. The familiar voice, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve heard it.

“Can you float?”

You freeze, hearing those words.

The hand lets go and you resurface, taking in a deep breath of much needed air. You look up at your tormentor, who looks down at you with a smirk. His teeth are sharpened, shining with the little light of the tunnel. His eyes are dark and long eyelashes curl on top of his eyelids. Raven-black bangs stick to his forehead—from sweat or water—you couldn’t tell. You look up a bit further, spotting the deviled horns on his head.

You put it together.

It’s Wonwoo. But, what’s he doing here?

He tilts his head at you, pitying you as if you were a lost kitten. His lips fully curl from a smirk to a sinister smile. He lowers his head closer to you.

“Can you float?” he asks.

You don’t have the words to answer him; you don’t think you can find any.

He asks again. “Can you float?”

Before you say anything, he shoves your head underneath once more.

It’s been two weeks since the sleepover (and the last time you had proper sleep). Classes have started up again, but you’re already tired. It isn’t even from the goddamned workload (which you are definitely not doing). Since the sleepover, you’ve had the same recurring nightmare over and over. Same place, same face.

Right now, you sit at a table in the dining hall with a single coffee mug that’s already empty. You wait for your friends to arrive at the table, tapping away at your phone, trying to make yourself busy.

“What’s up,” Chaeyoung says. She takes the seat in front of you and sets her plate on the table. She spots the sad coffee mug and looks between it and you, before asking. “Is that all you’re getting?”

You set your phone down. “No, I also had a bowl of ice cream earlier.”

“(Y/N), it’s noon.”

“Sugar means energy.”

She lets out a sigh—not surprised, just disappointed. You would think after knowing you for so long, she would get used to your horrible eating habits. She is your meal buddy after all. She takes a stab at her food. “So how was your mid-semester break?”

“I think we both know that break is a joke.”

“Still.”

“Well, I got to meet up with some of my old friends, spent some time with family—you know, all the good stuff.” You lean on the table with an elbow propped up and a hand underneath your chin. “How was yours?”

“Eh, I did the same thing. It was nice to chill for a bit, but then I remembered how many readings I have to do.”

You force a smile at her. “I haven’t done any of mine.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. You start laughing too, at yourself and at her.

Yongsun comes around to the table. She sets down another cup of coffee for you, which you previously asked for, and her own plate as she sits herself next to you. She looks between you and Chaeyoung. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing really,” you say. “Just talking about how oh-so productive we’ve been since break.”

She gives you a bitter look with regret evident on her face “That break is a joke. I got nothing done either.”

“Glad to know everyone is on the same track.” You take a sip of your coffee.

“No offense,” Chaeyoung says. “But you look really tired. Are you okay?”

Yongsun laughs, nearly choking on her food. “It’s the exams creeping up, that’s why her eye bags are a darker shade.”

Your eyebrows slightly rise. “Not wrong, but doesn’t mean I don’t feel attacked.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Chaeyoung asks.

Yongsun takes a closer look at you. “You know, now that she’s said something. She’s not wrong. Are you okay?”

You sigh and take another big sip of the coffee. “My friends made me watch It.”

“That’s all?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Kind of.” You set the coffee down and lay your head on the table. “I’ve just been having the same nightmares for a while now and I can’t sleep.”

“What do you see?” Yongsun asks.

“Why? Are you going to psycho-analyze them like you do with the others?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh my god.”

“Now,” Yongsun says. She fully turns to you, pointing at you with her spoon. “What happens in your nightmares?”

You hesitate. “The nightmare overall…. it makes sense but there’s a piece that I can’t figure out.”

“What?” Chaeyoung asks. “You know what, just explain the entire dream and we’ll figure it out.”

You scratch the back of your ear, feeling a bit sheepish of the whole thing. “Do you guys know Jeon Wonwoo?”

There’s a silence, but you can practically see them racking their memory for him. You look between them, seeing if either one of them would know him. It’s ideal that they don’t, but if they do, they could probably picture it better.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Yongsun mutters under her breath. She speaks louder the second time. “That name is so familiar but I can’t pinpoint where.”

Chaeyoung looks confused as well. “I get that. I feel like I know him too.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

You let out a long sigh. “Because my nightmares are essentially him just trying to kill me.” You don’t take notice of Yongsun’s frantic typing on her phone. “I don’t understand why it’s him specifically.”

Chaeyoung hums, nodding along to what you’re saying. “Maybe it’s just a random face from memory—you could have just seen his face and now it’s stuck. Is he ugly or something?”

“He’s in my ethics class,” you say. “And he’s definitely not ugly.”

“So he’s attractive and trying to murder you?”

“Mmhm, basically.”

“Is there a kink you aren’t sharing with us?”

“No, who wants to be murdered?”

“There’s lots of college kids who want to be murdered, (Y/N),” Yongsun says.

“Okay, fair point.”

“In other news though.” Yongsun pauses and sets her phone down for all three of you to see. “I found him and I can confirm that he is hot.”

You take a peek at the Facebook profile—the familiar face is in the little profile image and you shudder out of habit. You move away from the phone, feeling uncomfortable from his face. “Yup, that’s him.”

“Jesus,” Chaeyoung says. She grabs the phone and zooms in on the image. “This is the face you’re seeing? How can someone look like that?”

You grimace. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?” Yongsun asks.

“I sit in the front, far away from him, so I don’t have to look at him anymore.”

“What do you think this means?” Chaeyoung asks.

“From my perspective,” Yongsun says. “Maybe you’re scared of how attractive he is.”

You and Chaeyoung squint at her, both not understanding. She continues. “This can mean a lot of things. I need the context.”

You try to recollect your dream memories. It isn’t hard, considering the fact that you’ve had the same nightmare for a couple of weeks. Although, there have been odd additions every once in a while. Just last night, you were on an empty road rather than a sewer. Sometimes there was the pile of children there and would start floating in front of you. Wonwoo stood in front of it, just staring at it, before turning his head to you to start shoving you into the water.

You shrink in your seat. You feel like throwing up.

“Well?” Yongsun asks. “Any details?”

You grimace again. “I would rather not share while we’re eating.”

Chaeyoung looks at you with a bit of worry in her eyes. “Do you think you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” You drown the rest of your now-cold coffee down. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like Wonwoo’s a friend. How hard could it be to avoid him?”

Another restless week passes and you’re convinced your sleeping schedule will never bounce back. You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up somehow—it’s your third cup of coffee of the day and it’s done nothing for you.

It’s 11:20am and class is supposed to start in ten minutes. The class is already half full of students. Everyone else fiddles with their phones, or talks to others about weekend plans. You sit in your seat with a laptop out, fully blanking out, but attempting to stay awake. Granted, you can just ditch, but attendance counts and if your GPA is below 3.0, you can kiss that scholarship goodbye.

You groan from the thought of being in this class for an hour. You lay your head on the table, feeling the cold table pressed on your cheek, and closing your eyes for just a moment.

Suddenly, a chill comes over you and you feel more awake than ever. You open your eyes, only to see Wonwoo walk in. His backpack is slung over one shoulder; he wears a soft, black cardigan that’s tugged on his hands to form sweater paws. He has his hair down, tousling through his bangs with his long fingers. He looks like such a soft boy.

Despite his boyish looks, you felt your body physically react. Chills run up your spine and you felt the hairs on your arms raise. You feel more alert than you’ve been in weeks. You quickly sit up and straighten out your back at his presence. That’s right: you’re in ethics. You always forgot, until you came to class, see him and the nightmares become daytime horrors.

You let out a sigh. Somehow, you feel more exhausted than before, despite feeling more awake in Wonwoo’s presence. Once the professor arrives, she immediately starts her lecture. Frankly, you can’t even remember what she’s talking about. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You simply type away, your note page expanding as each minute passes.

An hour eventually passes and you let out a breath of relief.

“Alright class,” she says. “Remember for the next class, we will be working on our papers, so bring those laptops fully charged and be prepared for discussion.”

Everyone, including yourself, groans.

“We need to start preparing for the final and, from my previous feedback, I hear this is really helpful. So, prepare yourselves.” Your professor shuts off the monitor and starts to shut her books. “Now, get out.”

No one had to be told twice; everyone practically floods out of the room, ready to take a nap or eat, or whatever else college kids do. With the combination of your previous exhaustion and the lecture, you were moving slower than usual, not wanting to tire yourself out further. You could feel your body nearly shutting down again. You close your eyes once more as you rotate your neck around. Once again, you feel the chills creep up your back.

You follow your instincts and open your eyes, spotting Wonwoo from the corner of your eye. Unknowingly, you flinch, immediately looking away from him. He tries to smile in your direction on his way out, but you move your body away from him, trying to look preoccupied as you shove your books into your bag.

Once he leaves, you let out a long sigh you didn’t realize you held in. Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes—only to see the images of Wonwoo from your nightmares with devil horns. You sit back up, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the sight of him out of your mind.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

“Paging Sleeping Beauty, are you awake?”

You slowly sit up from the library table, trying to keep your eyes awake as you lean on your hand. “Yes, sir. I am physically present.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“When am I ever okay?”

“Fair.” He sets down his books in front of you and takes a seat. “How much did you get done?”

“I just finished the draft and took a lil nap.”

“In a public space?”

“I didn’t get robbed. I’m fine.”

He blinks at you, shakes his head and tries to move on from the odd comment. “Anyways,” he says, pulling out his laptop. “I finished my essay earlier during class, so.”

“So it might be garbage?”

“Hell no.” He opens the laptop, mindlessly moving the mouse around. “I’m just saying, consider the conditions when you read this. I was in a highly stressed environment.”

Seungkwan and you have the same professor for ethics (just at different times), so it only made sense to work together for this paper. You two knew each other from a previous class and bonded over a mutual friend of yours, Soonyoung. Obviously, suffering is the only way to bond with other college students, hence your blossomed friendship with Seungkwan.

You rub your eyes, trying to keep yourself awake in front of his laptop. But, it doesn’t help and the words start to blur together. After the third sentence, you lean back and close your eyes in an attempt to regain your focus.

“Hey.” You feel his hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You reopen your eyes, to see concern in Seungkwan’s eyes. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to answer. “I just haven’t been getting much sleep lately and there’s only so many sleeping pills a person can take.”

“Is it stress?”

“Not… not exactly.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning his chin on his hand. “Do tell, (Y/N). If not stress, is it a lover?”

You give him an unamused look at his teasing. “Ha ha. No.” You shift in your seat. “I’ve been having nightmares about this guy in my class.”

“Ooooh?”

“Stop it.”

He pouts. “Can you at least tell me who? I might know who it is.”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit apprehensive. The problem is that he does know everyone. Apparently, everyone else seems to know Wonwoo, one way or another. He does have that reputation of looking like a moody emo bad boy. The fact that he’s good looking means he gets away with being creepy. But then again, he is polite to everyone—a very well mannered boy. You sigh, feeling the exhaustion hit all at once.

“I have a suspicion that you know who it is,” you say. You let out another sigh. “It’s Wonwoo.”

His eyes sparkle with interest. “Jeon? Jeon Wonwoo??”

You let out another sigh and place your head in your arms, muffling the groans you make. “Jesus, of course you know him.”

He makes a face. “Why?” Before you can answer him, he leans closer to you. “What’d he do?”

You can feel yourself inwardly cringing before the words even come out. You feel embarrassed about making a big deal about this small thing. “He’s done nothing to me. He’s just scary.”

“Wonwoo is one of the least scary people I know.” He moves away, looking off into the distance as if to collect his thoughts. “Minghao… He’s on that list, but Wonwoo? He’s like a scared cat…” At this point, he’s just mumbling to himself.

You look up, resting your head on your folded arms. “Earth to Seungkwan?”

“Right, back to you.” He pauses. “So these nightmares, are they that bad that you’re losing this much sleep?”

You nod.

“Wow, is he that scary to you?”

“Well, considering in the dream that he’s trying to murder me… I would say he’s pretty scary.”

“Okay, but what’d you think about him before?”

“Before what?”

“Like, before you started dreaming about his face and death.”

You blink, staring at him for a bit, lost in thought. You haven’t really thought about Wonwoo without the devil horns, but then again, you don’t really talk to him. It’s a required class, so there’s a lot of people in this lecture hall. Also, it’s a lecture hall, it’s not like people have a chance to interact with one another. The only reason why you’ve heard of him is because of your mutual friends. You admit though, he is attractive.

But you couldn’t let Seungkwan know that. He would never let it go and he’s friends with Wonwoo. Who knows what he’d do with this information.

“I was neutral about him,” you say. “Since I don’t really know much about him.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even find him attractive?”

You grumble as you begin to sit up. “Can we not talk about this and go back to suffering?”

“Ugh.” He throws his head back in a dramatic fashion. “I wanted the tea though.”

“This ain’t a tea shop honey, so I’m not giving you any.” You put your attention back to his laptop. “Let me just go over this draft and you can trash mine.”

You push your laptop towards him with the draft of your paper open.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Fine, but I want details later.”

“Boba break?”

“Boba break.”

Your professor sets down her books on the podium. “Alright class, please pull out your drafts. Your classroom partners are already assigned on the classroom page. If you can’t find it, it’s also on the projector.”

Your eyes don’t move away from your computer screen. The list of peer review partners has been pulled up and you scroll through it to find yours. You can only stare once you spot it.

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

This can’t be right.

You look from your screen to the projector. Your names are clear on the screen.

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

Someone clears their throat, snapping you out of your inner panic. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

To your right, Wonwoo stands with his messenger bag, a couple of textbooks in his hands, and a polite smile on his face. You can only nod, feeling the chills run up your back. He takes the empty spot next to you and sets down his things. Having him sit so close to you… it’s even scarier than you even imagined.

He glances at you with a small smile. Ugh, he is handsome. You’ll give him that.

As he turns his head, you get a closer look at his profile. In an instant, you see the devil-horned image of him flash. You shudder, turning away and wordlessly setting your laptop closer to him.

You manage to speak up, but it gets quieter as you talk. “Here’s my draft. You should be able to make comments… suggestions or something…”

He gives another smile (although you don’t see it) and hands you his laptop. “I have my draft on here too. I’m sorry, but it’s still a bit messy.”

His voice is so soft, despite his cold features. You take another glance at him to take his laptop. Your hands brush against his and you try to ignore the goosebumps that raise on your arms—whether it’s from fear, you can’t tell.

For a while, it’s quiet. Everyone is working on peer-editing their partner’s drafts, including you and Wonwoo. You both read through one another’s drafts. Ugh, he’s such a good writer. This was supposed to be a rough draft, but he makes it look like the final draft. This thesis makes sense; the support from the text is present; the counter-argument is made and redirected back to the thesis. Meanwhile, your draft probably looks even more half-assed than you originally intended for it to be.

You go through the document again to try to give some feedback on his draft, despite how hard it is to make something up. By the end, you only manage to give him three comments. Turns out, you had finished earlier than you’d thought. You look around, seeing everyone still working and interacting with their partners, before looking over at him.

He stares intensely at your screen, still scrolling through the hot mess you call a rough draft. Every couple of seconds, he types a comment and you feel yourself flinch at how hard he presses on the keyboard. You knew it wasn’t the best, but there’s no way for it to be the most awful thing you’ve written. You hadn’t even realized you’ve been staring until he turns his body towards you.

You lightly flinch at the sudden eye contact and, unconsciously, inch away from him. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he sets your laptop next to you.

“I wrote a couple of recommendations as to how you could expand on your argument further. I think you have a solid thesis and the evidence you provide from the texts are very strong. I didn’t know what else I could add, so I did the best I could to add some comments to help. You don’t have to use them, but they were just some ideas I thought you could use.”

He gives you another smile and you couldn’t help to feel a bit touched. Typically, people half ass these types of assignments. To see that he actually put effort into it and even added in ideas you can use...

You push his laptop further away from you and he immediately scrolls through it, before you can get a word in. That’s probably why the word vomit began and you haphazardly try to explain things, without even looking at him in the eye.

“I couldn’t really add in as much as you did. I thought it was really well thought out and made some really good points. I just made a couple of comments on word choice, grammar, and how it all connects. You’re a really good writer so you don’t have to really pay attention to these things. They really don’t make a big difference or anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you anything particularly helpful…”

You trail off from your nervous rambling, glancing up at him to take in his reaction. He looks rather sheepish; his hand rubs the back of his neck and light blush dusts his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing… I’m not that good…”

This vision of Wonwoo is definitely a 180 from your nightmares. The stoic and heartless image of Wonwoo with devil horns flashes once again. But then, you take another look at him. All you see a shy boy, flushed from a couple of compliments from a classmate he doesn’t even talk to—well, at least, until now.

You both sit there for a bit in silence, fiddling with your laptops in an attempt to work on your drafted papers. From what you can read, he put a lot of thought into his recommendations. After about five minutes, as the conversation around you begins to stir up again, he turns his body to you.

“Are the comments okay?” He pauses. “Were they able to help you?”

You hum and give a small nod. “I think with your suggestions this paper will be a bit easier to write.. I’m sorry for not being able to help you much with yours.”

He speaks in a small voice that you almost don’t hear. “You did help though…”

You give him a sheepish smile. “Not really. I gained more from this than you were able to… it’s unfair, sorry...”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, you tried your best.”

You let out a light laugh. “Did I though? I’m sure you’ve gotten more helpful feedback from other people.”

“Well, most people here don’t really care about this since this doesn’t ‘count for points.’”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Alright,” your professor says. “Considering how much you’re all talking, I’m assuming you’re done exchanging your drafts. If you’re done, you can leave. Consider it a reward for finishing early.”

You start to pack your things, as does Wonwoo. The both of you remain silent for a while, but, as you get up to leave, he speaks up with a soft voice.

“Did you want to work together on this paper later sometime?”

Before you can answer, he continues. “I just meant, like… I know you and Seungkwan work together and I was wondering if I could join you two or something. You don’t have to! I was just curious since Seungkwan and I work on it together too and I just thought it would be good if we all meet up.. together or something…”

“Oh…” Frankly, you didn’t even know they were working on the essay together too. No wonder Seungkwan’s draft was so good—that son of a bitch. On one hand, you already know Seungkwan is most likely to agree. On the other hand, you are still unsure you’re mentally prepared to willingly spend more time with him.

He’s nice, but you’re apprehensive as to how your brain is going to interrupt this. Who knows what your unconscious can unload? What if he transforms into a demon in your next dream? What if he turns into one of those gross monster-sized spiders and eats you whole?

Another chill runs down your spine, but you fake an unbothered smile. “I’ll talk to Seungkwan.”

He smiles back; it’s small, but genuine.

You sit at the library, tapping your fingers on the table as you wait anxiously for the boys’ arrival. You flip your phone over again, to check the time and any new text notifications from Seungkwan. You were starting to regret all your life’s decisions. Okay, maybe that’s too dramatic—even for you. But, you are regretting your decision of joining Seungkwan and Wonwoo’s study session.

To be honest, when you said you would talk to Seungkwan, that was 100% a lie. So, when you get a text from Seungkwan… you are more than shocked to find that he has oh-so graciously arranged the study session for you. That also meant getting a couple of pokes from him.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As if he knew someone was talking shit, he enters the library and easily spots you in your usual corner. He drops his backpack onto the table and sits himself across from you, pulling out his laptop and textbooks.

“Sorry,” he says. “I had a couple of questions for my professor and…. I forgot how much that man likes to talk.”

“Hm, sounds like someone I know.”

“Ha ha, very funny (Y/N).” He opens his laptop and starts to skim through his books, but, eventually, he gets bored and looks back at you.

You feel his eyes on you and look up from your own laptop. “What?”

“From our last conversation, you said you were scared of Wonwoo.” Save it for Seungkwan to be blunt rather than beating around the bush.

“I didn’t say that—”

“It was implied.”

Your lips purse, finding yourself at a loss of words. “What about it?” you mumble, shrinking into your seat.

“Soooo,” Seungkwan says. “Why did you agree to the study group?”

You frown, squinting at him. “I’m sorry, but who decided to put us all into a group chat???” Your frown becomes a pout. “You can’t just put me in a group chat, ask about a meeting time, and think I’m going to be the asshole who says ‘oh no, I can’t make it.’ Then have you point out that I’m not doing anything.”

He shines a bright smile at you, ignoring your negative tone. “You wouldn’t have joined so otherwise.”

“Ha! So it was a ruse!”

“Of course it was.” He leans back to his seat. “You were so scared of him—look at you now, you’re making plans with him.”

“You made the plans.”

He waves a finger at you, “Semantics.”

You can only roll your eyes at him and type away, trying to sort out and prioritize on your latest assignments. “Why do you care so much about what I think about him?”

He blinks and you swear, for a second, he seems to have run out of words. You raise an eyebrow at his silence.

“Well... “ He stammers. “I—I just... just want all of my friends… to—to get along and be… friends.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you hum along, but you don’t believe a single thing he says. “It’s all the subconscious. I never had a problem with him in the first place.”

“Problem with who?”

You both turn around to see Wonwoo and another boy standing next to you two. From the unfamiliar voice, you can assume it was said by Mingyu—the other participating victim in the groupchat Seungkwan made.

“No one,” Seungkwan says. “Problem with no one—right, (Y/N)?”

You can only stare wide-eyed as you glance between them. “Yes, what he said.”

Mingyu laughs. “Uhm, okay.”

They both seat themselves at the table with you and Seungkwan—Wonwoo on one side and Mingyu on the other. They both give you a friendly smile and start to pull out their materials. You can only smile back awkwardly, typing away at your laptop.

“No offense,” Mingyu says. “I’m glad to be here, but I’m confused why I’m here.”

“It’s a study group and you’re our friend,” Seungkwan says.

“We’re not in the same class.”

“Moral support.”

“For what?”

He glances at you, which makes you narrow your eyes at him. He turns his attention back to Mingyu. “For things.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Wonwoo says. “Shall we get started?”

“What should we start on?” you ask.

“I was thinking maybe the essay since that’s due the soonest,” Seungkwan says.

You all nod along, even Mingyu.

“So, I’m not involved either way,” Mingyu says. “This is fine, I totally don’t feel left out.”

Seungkwan shrugs. “You can do other assignments too.”

Mingyu pouts and his silent sulking is ignored.

You and Wonwoo chuckle at their antics. “Sorry buddy,” he says. “This plan wasn’t scheduled well.”

“Hey!”

Wonwoo ignores Seungkwan and turns to you. “Were you able to work on the essay?”

You shift in your seat, feeling awkward from suddenly being in his direct line of vision. “Yeah, I did—it’s coming along. Thanks again, by the way.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad I could help,” he says. “Did you want me to look at it?”

Your eyes widen, meeting Seungkwan’s, who makes a face. To be honest, you haven’t worked on it since you opened it during class and you’re too embarrassed to say you’ve been procrastinating. It’s due in two days and who says you can’t write an essay in one night (who isn’t a professor).

“Are you having trouble concentrating again?” Seungkwan asks. Before you can answer, he interjects himself. “Is this because you’re still having sleeping problems? Dude, just keep popping those pills.”

The other two’s attention have been turned to you. You inwardly groan from the eyes and try to focus on Seungkwan—but your body responds for you with a grimace. “Can you not say it like that? It’s melatonin and they’re technically vitamins.”

“Hmmm, sure.”

“You have sleeping problems?” Mingyu asks.

You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal though.”

Seungkwan snorts. “Sure it isn’t. It’s not like you were nearly falling asleep when editing my essay just a couple of days ago.”

You smile. “I bought you boba though.”

“But can I really be bribed?”

“Of course not,” you say. “Because no one can afford your high maintenance.”

Seungkwan’s jaw drops from your bluntness, but there’s a small smile in it. Mingyu doubles over in laughter and Wonwoo tries to hold his in—the smile on his face gives it away, causing you to laugh as well.

Seungkwan quickly straightens up in defense. “This is what I get for trying to be nice.”

You give him another teasing smile.

“Okay, okay,” Mingyu says. “How bad is this sleeping problem?”

“It’s..” You click your tongue, recalling as to how bad your sleep schedule has been since these nightmares began. “It’s really bad, dude.”

“You know,” he says, turning his body towards you. “There are foods good for sleep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one time I made this banana almond parfait.”

“Oooh, sounds fancy—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Seungkwan says. “But I doubt that’s going to help (Y/N)’s situation.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks.

You’d almost forgotten he was there for a second.

“It’s a subconscious thing.”

Wait a second.

“So it’s psychological problems?” Mingyu asks. He props his chin into his hands. “Do tell.”

You stifle a laugh.

Wonwoo is the one who speaks for you. “Mingyu, you just met her and you already want to open up her psyche?”

“What’s a better way to get to know someone?”

“Anything else, bro.”

Mingyu’s lips purse, then form into a pout. “Booooooooo.”

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s just move on. We actually have to work on this essay.”

“Boooooo!”

“Shut up, Seungkwan.”

“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Chaeyoung says. “Lizard people are real.”

Yongsun nods along, digging her spoon further into her ice cream. “I’d buy into it. Matthew McConaughey has a lizard smile.”

You can only sigh in disappointment and put your head in your hands. “Why am I friends with you people?”

Your comment is ignored and Chaeyoung continues to talk. “Controversial statement: Shawn Mendez? Lizard person.”

“Oh my God, he kind of does.” Yongsun shows her screen to the both of you. “He has the same lizard smile as Matthew.”

As the two continue to converse other celebrities with lizard qualities, you sit at the other side of the booth, playing with your food. Dining hall food isn’t great, but it is free. What’s the point of these dinners, if you’re just going to want to throw it back up from these types of conversations?

A couple of weeks ago, y’all had a whole conversation as to how Ted Bundy got away from his crimes for such a long time (to be honest, he wasn’t even really attractive so….). Then, last week, y’all talked about white boy names—the looks you got from people with those names were absolutely hilarious. Side note: you don’t give a solid shit to anyone named Todd (what Todd have you met that WASN’T an asshole?).

By now, you’ve just learned to sit back and let these topics just… happen. At some point, these conversations are going to bite you in the ass.

“(Y/N)?”

You look up from your plate.

“I thought that was you,” Mingyu says with a smile.

You return it with one of yours. “Hey, Mingyu, right?”

“Yeah! I’m Seungkwan’s friend—although, I’m more known for being Wonwoo’s.” He pauses, before mumbling to himself. “And Jungkook’s…”

“Wonwoo?” Chaeyoung asks.

“Jeon Wonwoo?” Yongsun adds.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “You know him?”

“We’ve heard of him,” Yongsun says, nudging your rib. You smack her elbow away.

Chaeyoung scoots herself over. “If you want, you can sit with us.”

“Sure,” he says. “I have class in an hour, so I have time.” He sits himself next to her and looks between you and the other girls. “So, what are we talking about?”

Yongsun swallows her ice cream, pointing her spoon at him. “Lizard people.”

You push her spoon out of the way. “Can we please move away from this subject?”

“They! Are! Here!” Chaeyoung bangs her fists on the table, along each syllable.

You put your head back into your hands. “Oh my God. You need to stay off the internet.”

“Lizard people…” Mingyu says slowly. “What is this exactly?”

You look up, eyes wide and warning. “You do not want to ask her that.”

“So, there are theories that some people roam around Earth—”

“And, so it begins.”

Chaeyoung ignores you. “—as lizards. They are living amongst us and planning to overthrow the human race.”

“We’ve possibly identified a couple of them,” Yongsun says. “Hear us out. Matthew McConaughey and Shawn Mendez. Thoughts?”

“You do not have to answer them, by the way,” you say to him.

As if Mingyu was possessed by someone else, he nods along as he listens. “I could definitely see that. They have weird face structures.”

Your jaw drops from his participation in your weird dinner discussions. Your respect for him as a person has dropped. “Dude, don’t encourage them!”

Chaeyoung points at him, as if he isn’t present. “I like him better than that Wonwoo guy.”

“Ditto,” Yongsun says.

“I thought you guys didn’t know him?” Mingyu asks. His head tilts to the side—for a second, he looks like a puppy.

“We don’t,” Yongsun says. She slurps up the remaining ice cream melting from her bowl. “(Y/N) mentioned him and we looked him up—he’s just as hot as (Y/N) said.”

Your cheeks flush and you flick some of your water in her direction. “That’s not what I said!”

Her lips purse in response and she continues to slurp from her bowl. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung gives you a look, which you refuse to acknowledge.

On the other hand, Mingyu’s attention has been turned to you in interest. His eyebrow raises and you start to squirm.

“So,” he says with a twirl of his fork. “What have you said about Wonwoo?”

You’d honestly thought this conversation was behind you, especially since you had dodged away from the topic during your study group a couple of days ago. The difference between Seungkwan and these two is that these two have very little regard for your opinion. While they are your friends, they are also very invasive and you are very sure that they will ignore your protests. It’s almost as if they had heard your thoughts—they answer the question for you.

“She said he’s attractive,” Chaeyoung says.

“Technically,” Yongsun says. “She said he wasn’t ugly and I think she also said he murders her.”

Mingyu turns to you with surprise.

Just when you thought you had died before, you were sure that you have died now and were stuck in your customized purgatory hell.

“That,” you say into your hands. “Was not what I said.”

Yongsun squints at you. “Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you defining your death kink with those weird dreams.”

You stare at her for a while before deciding on what to say. “Are you on crack? I was sure that your crackhead energy was drained last week during your history exam.”

“How dare you? I am completely sober.”

“Debatable.”

You both turn back to the other two at the table, where Chaeyoung continues to eat and Mingyu stares off with confusion evident in his features.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But what’s the piece I’m missing?”

“I’ll give you a short version,” Chaeyoung says. “You see, (Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her and we think it’s a loo—hey!” She grabs a napkin to wipe her, now, wet hair.

You give her a bright, fake smile as she playfully glares at you and the glass of water you’ve flicked on her. Yongsun chuckles at your antics and turns to Mingyu. “Either way, it’s 100% repression.”

“Repression of what exactly?” you ask.

“Attraction,” Yongsun points out.

You flick some more water at her, ignoring her yelps. You turn your attention to Mingyu. “Ignore them and everything they’ve said because it isn’t true.”

“Lies!” Chaeyoung says. “Yongsun’s right. It’s probably repression because Wonwoo is definitely hot—stop throwing water at me!”

You ignore her once again, flicking more water from your glass. “I did not say he was hot. I just admitted that he wasn’t ugly!”

As you continue to attack your friends with your water, Mingyu stays silent, but makes note from the conversation. Oh, how things will become more interesting….

You continue to type on your laptop, wrapping the conclusion paragraph with one last sentence. You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” you mutter under your breath. This god forbidden essay is done and you can easily turn it in. You look up from your screen, where Wonwoo continues to type on his.

His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and his eyes are narrowed, as if to physically focus on the words. You have to admit: the glasses suit him and his oversized sweater. While he has worn them every once in a while, this is one of the rare times you’ve seen him this close up. He looks like a soft boy molded from a John Green book.

You look a glance around and, seeing how he’s gathered the attention of a few people, you can tell you aren’t the only one who’s noticed. To be fair, if it wasn’t for your nightmares, you would be a lot more attracted to him.

Admittedly, it has been nice to spend this time with him—you managed to reduce some of those nightmares and get a bit more sleep. You might even admit that he’s a friend more than just a classmate now.

Speaking of friends, Seungkwan and Mingyu are pretty late. It’s been 20 minutes of just you and Wonwoo. You don’t mind, but you all made a plan to meet here (since the essay is due tonight).

“Are you done with your essay already?”

Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your inner ramblings. You look towards his direction, freezing from the sudden eye contact. “Huh?”

He clears his throat. “Are you... done? With the essay?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s probably bad, but it’s done.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Let me see.” He gestures to your laptop.

“Compared to your English major ass?” You pull the laptop closer to you. “No.”

“(Y/N),” he says with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s not even bad.” He gets ahold of the top of your laptop, lightly tugging it away from your grasp. You can only pout as the device is taken away from your hold and he begins to read. You place your chin into your hands, watching Wonwoo’s eyes dance from sentence to sentence.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until he makes eye contact with you and sets your laptop back near you. If he noticed, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, pushing them closer to the bridge of his nose. When his face comes to view, there’s a small smile. “I told you your essay was fine. In fact, you could probably turn it in right now.”

Your lips purse, considering the idea, even though you were already planning to. Originally, you wanted Seungkwan to check it too—especially since he saw the real rough draft of it, which was a blank document.

“I kind of wanted to wait for Seungkwan,” you say. “Since we all agreed to do it together.”

He nods along with your words. “It makes sense.” He looks at you with a head tilt, thinking aloud. “Where is Seungkwan?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you say with a small laugh. “Is Mingyu coming?”

He checks his phone, wrinkling his nose as he squints at the screen and scrolls through his messages. “Honestly, I have no idea—last time I checked, he was supposed to.”

“Yeah, I ran into him yesterday and I assumed he was coming too.”

“Oh yeah,” Wonwoo says. “How was the lunch?”

“It was actually pretty funny beca—” You stop. You didn’t mention anything about lunch… so, how did he know about that? Your eyes narrow at him. “Did Mingyu tell you already?”

“Uh.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift. “Kind of?” He hunches a bit more over his own laptop, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mingyu basically tells me everything.”

Mingyu basically tells me everything.

Oh, no.

You try to recall exactly as to the different topics during that one hour lunch with him. He was almost late to his class, since he was in a heavy debate with Yongsun and Chaeyoung as to whether or not Perry the Platypus cosplayers are considered furries…

It was a conversation that you had to be there for, in order for the context to be understood.

There was also the topic of whether Twilight should be watched for ironic purposes and/or the cinematic value of it. There was also discussion about what was the weakest element—which Yongsun was debating on the side of water.

You were getting off track; curse your friends for having such bizarre conversations. That line shouldn’t have triggered you, but for some reason, it feels off—as if there was something you were forgetting. You look at Wonwoo, who’s sitting across from you with flushed cheeks.

Wait a second.

She said he’s attractive.

Death kink with those weird dreams.

(Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her.

Just when you thought things were just starting to become normal-ish between you two.

Your face flushes as you remember all the things your friends said… which were most likely echoed to Wonwoo through Mingyu (seeing how much blush is present on his face).

There’s only one thing you can say. “I can explain.”

He lets out a little, breathless laugh—but it sounds more like an uncomfortable one.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear.”

He pushes his glasses up once more. “You—you don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should explain myself. It’s not supposed to sound as bad as they made it out to be and it’s not even your fault. I don’t even know why my subconscious chose your face out of anyone else’s. Yongsun said it’s repression, but you probably already know that and—” You sigh. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not really your fault.”

“Yeah, but I guess, it’s just in general.” Your fingers glaze over the keyboard, absentmindedly toying with the keys. “Over break, I watched a horror movie with my friends and then I started getting nightmares. Again, I don’t know why your face was there, but… it just was.”

“I’m not mad,” Wonwoo says. “And it’s not your fault—you don’t have to apologize.”

There’s a small silence, which is just you and Wonwoo looking at one another with wide eyes, unsure as to what happens next.

“I will say,” Wonwoo says with a small voice. “I’m a bit flattered.”

“That I dream of you murdering me?”

“No.” He lets out a small laugh. “That your subconscious ‘chose my face.’”

You chuckle rather sheepishly when he took the words from your previous rambling. “Yeah… Seungkwan suggested that it was just a face that was most memorable.” You let out a long sigh. “And Yongsun likes to psychoanalyze into things.”

“So, do you… think my face… is attractive?”

You look up at him from your keyboard, only to see him dodging your eyes. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows. On the table, you can see that his hands are curled underneath the sweater paws, moving as he fiddles with his fingers. You can feel yourself shrinking into your seat, shyness overpowering you.

“Well….” you say. “You are… attractive…” You say the last part quieter than you intended, but Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours once the words are said.

His face turns a shade darker and he smiles a bit wider than before. “Even.. Even if I was part of a nightmare?”

You nod, but look off to the side to shake off the embarrassment.

“I think you’re attractive too.”

Your head turns to him, but his concentration is back to his laptop. While he can act like he didn’t say anything all he wants, the redness of his ears give his emotions away. You press your lips to repress your smile.

A bag being thrown into the table interrupts your moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” Seungkwan says, clearly out of breath. “This ladder here wanted to stop by Starbucks and there was a line.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Mingyu yells.

“It’s Starbucks! You should have known!”

“You couldn’t have sent a text?” you ask.

“My phone died,” he says with a pout. “Speaking of which, do you have a charger??”

You can only sigh in disappointment, but rummage through your bag nevertheless. “You’re lucky I brought this one.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know, I know. Now sit down and shut up, people are looking.”

When you open your eyes, you’re running—from what, you are unsure of. This tunnel is nearly pitch black dark. A part of you is calm, but the other is panicking. Probably due to previous experiences you’ve had in this subconscious. You continue to run, refusing to look back at whatever remains behind you, but you can hear its footsteps echoing.

Your shoes are soaked and continue to splash against the muddy waters, as you continue to run. It stays dark for so long, but then it gets lighter, as if the sun poured itself into the tunnel. The footsteps stop. Whatever’s behind you diminishes.

But you can’t stop running towards the light, which burns closer and closer. The light embraces you, shining brightly and bouncing along your surroundings. You try to shield your eyes from the sun, only to be greeted by shimmers. Your vision starts to clear, enough for you to identify your surroundings.

You’re at the park. But what for?

You stand in the grass, surrounded by trees and rose bushes. The flowers are just in bloom, blossoming towards you, as if you were the sun itself. The skies are clear of clouds and the sun shines down, but it isn’t beating. Butterflies flutter and graze above the ground, but they don’t get close enough to you. The birds are chirping lightly, sounding like a song’s melody. The air is fresh and the aura is soothing.

As you walk through, you start to soak in the aroma. To the side, you notice a small hill with, no doubt, the best view. A picnic blanket is laid out, along with plates and other objects.

Someone else is also there.

It’s a familiar figure, but you can’t make out who it is from the distance.

You call out. “Hello?”

The figure turns and there Wonwoo sits. He has his glasses intact, but, instead of the casual wear, he’s a bit more dressed up—his white button-up showcases his nicely built chest and his slacks reveals how long his legs are.

He smiles at you, white pearls sparkling and eyes shining—you feel as if it’s almost like the buds have bloomed as well. For a moment, you think you’re stuck in a picture.

And then the wind blows, brushing his hair against his forehead.

“Are you coming, (Y/N)?”

---

Your eyes shoot open. The warmness in your chest is gone and is replaced by the coldness of your sheets. You shift under the covers and attempt to sit up.

The grogginess stays, but one thing remains in your mind—what was that and why did the dream change?

It’s 11:15am once again and you sit at your unofficial reserved spot. Your head lies on the desk, awaiting for the other students and your professor to arrive at the lecture hall. Tiredness continues to overpower you as your eyes consistently flutter to shut and reopen.

A knock on the table interrupts your attempted naptime. You look up to see Wonwoo’s face above yours. He gives you a small smile as he sets his bag on the seat next to yours. From his presence, you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, in an attempt to wake yourself.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

You can feel yourself internally curling from his close proximity. “Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He lets out a small, airy laugh. With a shake of his head, he jokes. “Still getting nightmares about me murdering you?”

A blush creeps up to your face. “Ha… Not really,” you say. It’s not like it’s a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth. You unconsciously move yourself a bit further from him as you recall the image of him surrounded by roses. “It’s probably just insomnia—bad sleeping habits most likely piled up.”

He nods, humming along as you speak. He rummages through his bag, pulling out his laptop and notebook. His side profile is illuminated through the sunshine that’s reflected on the window. He looks like he’s sparkling…

You quickly turn away as soon as he moves his head towards your direction. God, you were starting to stare a lot more than usual. You shake your head as you try to refocus on what you were doing.

What were you doing?

Closing your eyes, you try to regain your train of thought—only for you to lose it immediately after. You eventually decide to pull out your laptop and open up your lecture notes. On another tab, you see the essay that you’ve already turned in.

“Oh,” you say. You turn back to Wonwoo, “I almost forgot, did your essay turn out okay?”

“Yeah, it took a little bit of editing but I turned it in on time.”

“I’m sure it turned out great,” you say. “You’re definitely getting an A.” He gives you another shy smile and his cheeks start to blush. You shift into your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re really smart anyways,” you mumble.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re getting an A too,” he says. “It was really well put together. At least, from what I remember.”

“Ehh.” You shrug your shoulders. “We’ll see.”

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N),” he says in a softer tone. “You’re really smart and it’s okay for you to brag.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. His red ears have made a return.

On the other hand, you position yourself in your seat to straighten up and hide your smile. You take the opportunity to glance around, noticing the other students who’ve entered the lecture hall. Others are starting to enter as well.

You check the time on your laptop and it looks like it’s time for class to begin. Your professor arrives as well and sets up her materials.

“Open up your textbooks and turn to page 304. We’ll start with the four categories of ethical theories.”

Without turning from your laptop screen, your hand hovers over the textbook in your bag, but Wonwoo’s whisper interrupts your movement.

“Did you forget your book? I’ll share mine with you.”

You should probably say no, but your hand speaks for you, moving away from the bag. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He gives another smile, leaning closer as he scoots the book towards you. Your professor continues to lecture, going over the slide’s content, but you can’t concentrate—not when Wonwoo’s this close. He smells like fresh laundry, the kind that you want to wrap yourself in before the warmth is gone. When you look at him, the sparkles return, along with the image of him from your dreams.

“Hold up,” Seungkwan says. “Yongsun thought that water is the weakest element? It’s clearly fire.”

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu yells. He sighs in disappointment from the recollection of the conversation and moves his strawberry milkshake to the side. “Fire is just a stupid element that can be destroyed by water AND all living things need water in order to survive. There are so many benefits to water and—” He stops himself with another sigh and takes a long sip of his milkshake.

Next to him, you shake your head with a small laugh. Taking a fry from your plate for a bite, you can only observe and let the conversation take its course. While your focus remains on the other two, your eyes glance over towards Wonwoo, who sits in front of you.

“I think earth is debatable,” Wonwoo says. “But, I feel like fire is the weakest due to the fact that it’s more destructive rather than productive.”

While the essay was already due, Seungkwan invited you to dinner at a nearby diner. You figured that it’d be nice to not eat dining hall food for once, so you agreed. But when you got there, you didn’t expect Mingyu and Wonwoo to already be there—hence your current position in front of Wonwoo, next to Mingyu, in a booth, while they’re arguing about the strongest element.

You blame Yongsun and Chaeyoung for this chaos; if they hadn’t pulled him into this conversation, he wouldn’t have brought it up now—which also dragged Seungkwan and Wonwoo into the discourse.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say. You continue to gnaw away at your fries, even when all three of their eyes land on you. Typically you’d refuse to engage in these conversations, but you refuse to let them walk around without an argument.

Seungkwan clears his throat, as if he was asking you to elaborate. Meanwhile, Mingyu continues to sip on his shake and Wonwoo has an eyebrow raised.

You let out a sigh from the eyes and toss the half-bitten french fry back to your plate before speaking. “You can argue that fire is the weakest, but we cook with fire and that’s what allowed our society to thrive because we started to have less time devoted to farming.”

Seungkwan and Mingyu’s jaws slightly drop from your point, while Wonwoo smiles.

“We can technically live without fire,” Seungkwan says. “We can go back to farming and let the animals thrive.”

“First of all, cold temperatures are a thing and fire provides warmth. Secondly, did you not hear me? Cooking gave us more time to further develop society, so, without it, we would figuratively and literally be unable to live.”

“She’s got a point,” Wonwoo says.

“Thank you.”

Seungkwan’s mouth moves, but no words find their way out.

“Wow, I left Boo Seungkwan speechless,” you say, as you begin to finish off your fries. “You’re welcome.”

Mingyu looks on impressively. “Niceeee.”

“That’s a very hard feat,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll give you points for that.”

Seungkwan has suddenly regained interest from Wonwoo’s words. He leans his chin on his hand, moving uncomfortably closer to Wonwoo, who attempts to swat him away. “When did you two get along so well?”

“We have class together,” you say with narrowed eyes.

“And I sit right next to her,” Wonwoo adds.

Mingyu smiles slyly. “Since when did that happen?”

You miss the way he looks over to Seungkwan. Wonwoo blinks at the question and you suddenly have developed more interest towards the salt on the fries.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Seungkwan says.

“You invited me,” you say. “But okay.”

“I know that,” he says with a huff. “But it just feels like a moment we shouldn’t be in.”

You roll your eyes in response, but the smile on your face shows no malice. Wonwoo remains quiet—scratching his neck, feeling the heat creep up to his face.

“So, are you dating yet?” Mingyu asks as he glances between you two.

“Oh my God,” Wonwoo mutters. He lays his face onto the table with a thud and you almost choke from Mingyu’s directiveness.

Mingyu goes on, ignoring both of your reactions. “You both like each other right? Well, at least, I know Wonwoo does.”

“DUDE!”

“Oops.” Mingyu’s lips pull back. He turns to Seungkwan. “Should we leave now?”

“Please don’t,” Wonwoo whispers.

Your jaw drops as you watch Seungkwan nod, smiling at you like nothing’s happened. Seungkwan and Mingyu side out of their side of the booth, but. before they leave, Mingyu drops one hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t worry about the check. Consider it a present from your cupids.”

“You owe me one, (Y/N)!” Seungkwan shouts from the door. They both head towards the door, giving both of you little waves with their fingers.

Both you and Wonwoo sit in silence, not knowing what to say to the other. But, in all fairness, Wonwoo owes you the explanation.

You swallow, suddenly feeling your throat dry up. “If it makes you feel better…”

He looks up at you from the table.

“I like you too.”

A smile grows on his face and he starts to sit up slowly. “Really?”

“What can I say?” Your smile mirrors his. “My subconscious chose you before I could.”

He lets out a chuckle, readjusting his glasses and fiddling with his fingers, before settling them on the diner table. They’re free from the usual sweater paws and tap against the bright countertop.

“Just to be clear,” he says. “You aren’t scared of me?”

“Well, I was before,” you pause. “But that was before we even really talked or hung out. And now….”

“What about now?”

You blush, remembering the roses, the sparkling, the picnic—it all sounds so… nice. You couldn’t think of the words and Wonwoo could sense that.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

A sigh of relief escapes you. “Maybe next time then.”

His smile grows. “So, there’s a next time?”

You nod, feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounds in your chest. His hand moves towards you, closer and with caution—so yours meets his halfway. When your fingers intertwine, he looks from your hands to you with sparkling eyes and you can feel the warmth return to your chest.

This.

This is what feels right.

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imagining-supernatural · 5 years ago

Text

What Happens in Vegas...

Part 1 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You wake up in Vegas with a brand new wedding ring on your finger next to Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 1641

A/N: I am super excited about this series! And it’s completely written (except maybe an epilogue), so I won’t leave you hanging when writer’s block hits.

What was a Vegas weekend without waking with a major hangover and a random naked guy next to you?

Ideal. That’s what that would be.

Yet, here you were. Hungover as hell. With a naked guy next to you. In your hotel room. So you couldn’t even sneak out.

Not Ideal.

Aw well. This was your last Vegas weekend ever, so you might as well go out with a bang.

The form beside you groaned and shifted until you could see his face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, prompting him to squint at you, slowly waking up. It didn’t take long for his blue eyes to open. Eyes you’d only seen on the big screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Who are you?” He shot back, voice still scratchy with slumber.

“This is my hotel room so I think my question should get answered first.” Sitting up, you pulled the sheet up to your chin. It was pretty obvious what had happened last night, but if he was even half as drunk as you had been, he wouldn’t remember. So… there was no need to flash your assets.

Sebastian Stan – yes, the Sebastian Stan – looked around for a moment before his thoughts were gathered enough. “I… don’t remember. I mean, I think I remember you from a club? But the rest of the night is blurry.”

“Yeah. I’m dealing with a lot of different kinds of headaches right now.” As soon as he left, you were going to dig out your medication and down a pill or two. You must have forgotten to take your pills last night.

His eyes widened when he looked at your hands holding the sheet up to cover your body. “You’re married? Fuck, how did I not notice that last night. I—shit.”

“Married? I’m sure as shit not—” Now it was your turn to ogle the giant ring on your left hand. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

The look of disbelief he was giving you sent your mind into hyper drive. “You’re saying that we…”

“Not necessarily. I mean, maybe it’s just a ring, you know? Maybe, shit I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake and we won it from one of those machines where you put a quarter in and twist the knob and you get a toy, you know?” By this point, you weren’t talking to Sebastian anymore. You were muttering to yourself, trying to calm the fuck down. And, for the record, when you tapped the diamond you knew it definitely wasn’t plastic. There was still the hope it was fake. Glass or something…

“And even if we did have a ceremony, that doesn’t mean it’s legal, right? Like, there have to be documents filed with the state and shit. I feel like I would have remembered that. But if we did file those, we’re in Vegas! The town that probably processes more annulments than any other city. It can’t be that hard. We’ll sign some papers at the courthouse and bam! No more marriage, no legal financial obligations when I die. I mean, this isn’t how I expected to end my weekend, but whatever, it’s an adventure. Something to tell my fri—”

“What do you mean, when you die?” he interrupted, latching onto the one part of your blabbing that you definitely hadn’t meant to say aloud. “You got plans to get in an accident or something?”

You could see the worry in his eyes and it took you a second to process what was beneath his question. “Oh, no. No, I’m not gonna kill myself. Don’t worry about that.”

“So what did you mean?”

How much to tell him? As a stranger, you didn’t owe him anything. But he was your husband, maybe. At the very least, you were both naked in the same bed. And anyway, what could it hurt? Telling him the truth wouldn’t change your prognosis and it might light a fire under his ass to figure out how to cut all ties with you.

“I’m not planning on killing myself, or anything. But my body seems to be doing a great job on its own. I have cancer, can’t afford treatment, and this weekend was my last weekend to cut loose before getting my affairs in order, you know?” Hopefully he would let that all slide. Not question further. “But that’s not your problem. We need to focus on figuring out if we really did get married, and if so how to—”

“Won’t your health insurance cover treatment?”

His well-intentioned question startled a bitter laugh from you. You relaxed back into the pillows, starting to say more than you needed to. “Yeah, sure. It already covered the chemo and radiation I went through. Those didn’t help enough. And I can’t afford to cut my hours back again at work. If I do, corporate will shunt me down to part time and take away my benefits. Ain’t that the American Dream?”

Shaking your head, you determined that it was time to get away from your sob story.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I can, uh, get dressed and poke around a bit to figure out how to see if we really are married. It can’t be that hard. I mean, how many accidental, drunken, Vegas weddings do you think happen here? There’s probably a website somewhere called, like, help-i-woke-up-married-to-a-stranger.com or something.”

That stupid joke rewarded you with a half-smile on Sebastian’s face. “By the way, wife, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. And,” you shrugged, “I already know yours.”

“Yeah?”

“How could I not? You’re in the fucking Marvel Cult.”

“Cult?”

You grinned. “What else would you call it?”

After a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the headboard, sheets pooling around his waist and you tried extra hard to keep your eyes on his face. “Cult’s a good word actually. All the secrecy.”

“Y’all got so many devotees, man. Like, if all of you sent out a tweet that said something about taking over the world, it would be yours.”

“You one?” At your eyebrow raise, he clarified. “A devotee?”

“Ha, no. A fan, sure. I’m far too lazy to get in a cult. While y’all storm the capital, or something, I’d be at home watching YouTube videos of Kelly Clarkson singing while I’m eating chips and salsa.”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

At his question, you got defensive. “She’s a goddess.”

“Kelly Clarkson devotee?”

“I—” you stopped to consider that before tilting your head. “I suppose so. But only because she wouldn’t want to take over the world. She’d tweet something like Everyone come over to drink wine and chat and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

He grinned and you found yourself wishing this was real. That this really was the morning after your wedding to a handsome man.

But that wasn’t your life.

“Never thought I’d marry a Kelly Clarkson Devotee.”

“Not to, uh, cut this marriage short, but I have to be on a flight tomorrow morning. So we should probably get on with figuring shit out today. Get that annulment if we’re actually married.”

A playful frown toyed with his lips. “You’re divorcing me because I made fun of you for being in the Clarkson Cult?”

“Yes,” you played along. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I just can’t stay with someone who doesn’t share my absolute love and adoration of KC. If I’d have known this last night, I would have definitely left you at the altar.”

Briefly, you caught sight of a shy smile before he turned his head away. “So, uh, you mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all. I’ll start researching,” you motioned to your laptop that was laying over on the desk.

After he nodded, he started looking around the room. It took you a minute to remember that you were both naked. Though it shocked you that he would be as shy about his nudity as you were, you didn’t point it out. Instead, you pointed to your travel blanket that was draped over a chair within his reach. With a grateful nod, he grabbed it and secured it around his waist as he stood.

As he walked over to the bathroom, you found yourself staring at a wrinkle in the sheets, letting your brain start shutting down just enough to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You glanced up.

“I, uh, I just… Look. With my job I just wanted to ask that you not share anything on, you know... Twitter or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. No one would believe me even if I did.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t really know what it’s like to be in the public eye, not like you are, anyway, but I’m sure it’s not all glitz and glam.”

With a nod of thanks, he disappeared into the bathroom.

That brought up a whole new side of worry. If you were married and did need to get the annulment, how would you keep it from getting out? You needed to make sure all of this stayed out of the press. You couldn’t let your reputation tarnish his. Not when you were going to die and leave him to deal with your bullshit.

As soon as the shower started, you darted across the room to quickly pull on some clothes. Once you were no longer naked, you dug out your medication and popped a pill, knowing you’d definitely need it to keep up your strength. Hopefully it would also work some sort of wonder on your hangover headache as well.

Once you swallowed your medicine, you grabbed your laptop, only to have a paper fall to the ground. You bent down to see what it was and stopped cold at the calligraphy written across the top:

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

PART 2: THE FIRST DATE

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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resonanteye · 3 years ago

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via https://resonanteye.net/horror-movie-reviews-day-one-the-horror-of-everyday-life/

horror movie reviews: day one, the horror of everyday life

a series of reviews, two each day, of horror movies.

day one, movie one: # alive.

1: half the people are crazed and trying to kill the other half of the people, panic and mass casualties, violent infection, etc – yes, it’s 2020-2021 thank you, continue

2: infected people trying to get in and infect people who are quarantined, aggressive mental illness -yes, yes

3: your neighbors are all worse than you ever knew -yes. yes

4: cops eating each other -please do go on

5: oh no several days how will you ever survive with only ramen

two whole days of lockdown

6: so you’re warned to have plenty of food and water, yet you don’t immediately fill up the bathtub at least, or the sinks. and you don’t go into the zombie neighbor’s abandoned apartment to see if there’s food

7: too much tech, not enough walkie talkies. I doubt.

8: I get it, people expect the end of the world to be like, a switch flipped, but no. this shit draaaags forever

9: the golf club is reminiscent of funny games. maybe an intentional nod to his change in mental state

10: slapstick!

11: finally, foraging.

12: the Mormons are at the door

13: we have skipped two weeks, without water or food?

14: and finally the lights out- wouldn’t that go before the running water?

15: oh the melodrama. don’t be a moron, but this magical dude has been alive a month without water

16: Kim Yu-bin is keeping track of her shit. I bet he gets her killed. nice waterworld callback with watering the plant.

17: of course he’s that stupid, he’s the protagonist and you’re a competent woman in a movie. how else would it justify you endangering yourself for him?

18: oh, wait. he HAS water? from where?

19: finally the tech is worth a damn. and she’s feeding him, which is ok because yes helping each other matters but

20: ok yes the tech is nice, good point, this is a scene from hackers vs zombies. slapstick is fine. zombie big mad. give me back my hand you bastards

21: Jun-u. I had been ignoring his name the entire movie. This is a bad habit of mine with zombie stuff.

22: finally some decent fuckin plot movement. there’s kids, in a good movie he’d have to kill one. instead, a treasure trove of all the survival gear. it’s handy when someone else did the preparation FOR you. I mean damn

23: oooh she’s only alive to help HIM. what a fucking surprise

24: reminds me of the pandemic “share a window” website crossed with a gentle, normal mukbang (not a weird fetish feeder one)

25: the zombies are going hooome. the zombies are going hooooooome

26: ok yes sounds scary, looked scary but it seems like there’s only five of them at her door

27: she’s skilled. of course. melee fighter. I like that this isn’t the dumb-ass slow zombies, nor the superhuman ones. just regular people.

28: another pile up!

29: don’t drink koolaid from strangers, but spam? NO NOT THAT EITHER. of course there will be cannibals in this that aren’t sick, that’s another nice callback (the road) (dead alive). I’m still holding out hope a kid zombie gets killed, although it’s unlikely at this point.

30: holy fuckin generational-divide-monologue for the ages

31: oh damn a gunshot in South Korea.

32: look, Kim, I wasn’t given any backstory for you, but I really want you to outlive “regular dumb guy”. the suicide subplot is going nowhere and we both know it

33: it’s never a good look to be fighting zombie hordes on the stairs. I don’t know why, it just isn’t good. just stay in the damn apartment. please.

34: regular Joe, you are doing the right thing by staying behind, keep that up.

35: FUCK THIS SHITTY APARTMENT

36: finally, machine guns. sorry, I’m American. I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half for logic to set in

37: where are they even going? she’s cooler than him, why isn’t she getting messages? so I guess his Instagram saved her? is that a subversiveon of what I’ve been complaining about? I think it is.

7/10 excellent slapstick, callbacks, just enough humor without ruining the narrative. subversive ending in that he’s only in the movie for the sake of saving her life, and neither died. points deducted for lack of depth to the woman in the film, too much depth for the guy, and for showing us a lack of water then changing that enough to keep someone alive for 20 days. (also, he didn’t even fill up the sink, the hell)

number two, day one: condemned

this movie is about squatting, a lifestyle I’m too familiar with. let’s see how close to the mark it gets. oh, and zombie infection stuff. that too.

1: the supe is always the strangest thing in any building in NYC. always. this isn’t a narrator. this is realism.

2: when will rich kids learn that poverty isn’t an aesthetic? when will something that poor people authentically live through, be safe from commodification and the thievery of the privileged? where does class/cultural appropriation end? why are people using their yacht money on a tiny fuckin house? find out on the next episode of generation x, when we discuss the occup- wait no- this is just a zombie flick. sorry about that

3: I know she’s saying other shit on the phone but all I hear is “the rain was such a blessing”

4: montage is always good with good music over it. going anywhere in the city is basically a montage in reality

5: cigarettes cost 14 bucks in New York holy fuckin shit I’m old

6: ominous: “what could be worse than where you are now”, teens having sex, neon lighting, drainpipe footage, “what difference is a day gonna make”, “I won’t make the same mistake like I did in Vladivostok”

7: this bondage shit on the third floor is giving me a real, serious flashback to a job I did briefly which paid incredibly well. every time these characters show up I have a flashback, every time I watch this.

8: every character in this movie is someone I’ve met. every fuckin one. even cookie. I hate that and love it at the same time. I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in bad beat city but this is accuracy.

9: the glitch hallucination is wonderful. don’t show me people’s bad dreams, though. it’s a waste of film. especially someone’s dream who doesn’t know that squats don’t get the garbage picked up. at least he was gentle about her tourist status. (yes, that was fucking gentle. she’s visiting, but they LIVE there. he’ll show you the life of the mind)

10: the colors in this movie reminds me of Mermaid in a Manhole, an amazing movie itself- this is a compliment

11: yes punk means you puke and say “did you SEE that” yes it does

12: the way sickness spreads in close, unmaintained quarters is accurate too. these old buildings were originally tenements and were notorious for being built in a way that contributed to outbreaks of diseases. ny poverty history

13: the glitch used as stand-in for visual mirage is again amazing and continues to be throughout

14: that walk up all the stairs after a day at work to complain about the horror of everyday life, with a back crack and sore feet.

15: the cops are also accurate

16: the plot takes a nice strong left turn here, and it’s perfection. since the development of the plot cookie was leading us to doesn’t matter to the people in this building, it’s better to truncate it. and then we can get to business.

17: yes. if you die in a squat, you’re getting rolled in a carpet and left blocks away. you’ve got to. nobody’s gonna kill you but nobody’s going to be on the street over your ass either.

18: guitar axe skyline lightning. that may be a summary of the whole movie.

19: absolutely pitch perfect “you ruined new york city” rant for the ages

I used to live there

20: if the building wasn’t shit, this would be a nice Shining callback

21: FAWKKING

22: this movie just will not let you have any expected outcome. it’s brilliant.

23: I’ve lived in a brownstone that had a cellar which connected to every building on the block and beyond. that was in Philly, but the construction of this landscape is perfect.

full disclosure- I own this DVD and have watched it a lot. it’s one of my favorite movies, structurally and visually, and I think it’s one of the best horror movies made this decade.

#true stories

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botan-shirabuki · 4 years ago

Text

Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Sweet and Sticky

Pairing: SLBP Totoyomi Hideyoshi x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 1 - Popsicle licking

Summary: A Modern AU where a lon

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for semi-public graphic oral sex)

Word Count: Approx. 4.4k

Notes: Well since I’m back writing again, I decided it was time to participate in my first writing challenge brought to you by @voltage-vixen ! This was so much fun to come up with, and I’m excited to share what else I came up with!

Since this was my first fic, it was a bit longer than I initially intended, but I am proud of what I wrote. I recently started to love Hideyoshi, so I had to contribute to his tag on Ao3 LOL.

Also, I wrote this with my MC Nomi as the female protag. I was told to have fun with this and I’ve always wanted to share a fanfic starring my ocs so I’m starting with this!

Ao3: here

"I don't think I've been this exhausted since high school."

"Ah, then maybe I should take you out here more often."

Nomi toweled off the sweat on the back of her neck as she smiled at her boyfriend. She and Hideyoshi had just finished a bike ride following the shoreline for the past hour. Admittedly, she wasn't much of an athlete, but Hideyoshi was eager to show her the view of the beach and surrounding area from the top of the hill at the end of their trail, so she agreed. Now, her thighs burned like crazy as she walked her bike back to the rental station.

Despite his casual tone, Hideyoshi was clearly worried about her. He had asked her multiple times along the way if she wanted to turn back before they got to the end of the trail, but each time she insisted she'd be fine. He mentally scolded himself for not turning back anyway as she spent half an hour sprawled out on a bench when they got to the top. As retribution, he helped her reapply all of the sunscreen she sweated off before they headed back.

Now, as they chatted away, Nomi felt no hard feelings at all. She knew she would regret it the next morning, but any time spent away from school and with her sunshine boyfriend was time well spent in her book. The two were by the beach near the bike station when an unfamiliar voice called out to them.

"Excuse me? Miss?"

Nomi turned around to see an unassuming young man approaching her with a camera. He had a polite smile on his face as he waved at her. "Hi, I work for a local travel agency and we're trying to get some updated photos for our website. Would it be alright if I took some of you?"

Suddenly, very self-conscious, Nomi felt her cheeks heat up. "Oh, me? I don't know, I feel like I probably look pretty gross right now..."

"Oh don't worry about it! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you looked the part," he looked towards Hideyoshi, "Would it make you feel better if he was in it with you?"

Nomi turned to Hideyoshi, her eyes full of uncertainty as she waited for his word. She couldn't read his expression behind his smile. "I think that would be great!" His tone was totally cheery, easing away any apprehension she initially had.

"Okay then I'll do it!" Nomi gave the photographer a smile and a nod. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

The photographer nodded and circled them around to their other side. "I was thinking you two smiling and pushing your bikes with the beach in the background."

They proceeded to cooperate with him and arranged themselves so they could get the ideal shot. After a few pictures of them smiling at the camera and holding their bikes up, the photographer suggested changing things up.

"Why don't you two uhh, look at each other. Really sell that you're in love!"

"Sell that we're in....ahahaha...." Nomi hadn't meant to laugh, but the concept of making it known that she loved Hideyoshi through a photo baffled her. What did that even mean? All she could do was laugh, something she often found herself doing when she was uncomfortable. When she looked up at Hideyoshi, he was smiling at her. This time, his affection for her shined through his amber eyes. Anytime he looked at her like that made her bashful, but remembering that they were in front of a camera made her almost double over in coy giggles. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this."

"Oh, no, I got some great shots, thank you two so much!" The photographer didn't seem upset at all. In fact, he too had a smile on his face, as if their energy had affected him through the lens of this camera. "If you don't mind, could I have your information so I can send you release forms and the final photos?"

As they exchanged emails and business cards, Hideyoshi remained quite personable and friendly. But Nomi could sense that he wasn't all the way there. His eyes didn't have that gleam to them, but she couldn't think of a reason why he would be that way. She nodded and followed along with their conversation until the photographer gestured to her again.

"I'm honestly so glad you two agreed to do this. My client told me that cute girls tend to catch the most attention, so I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

"Cute? You're too kind," Nomi could feel her awkward side jumping back out again. She never knew how to take such compliments.

Hideyoshi merely shrugged, "I can't blame you at all, she's as cute as they come." He nodded to the photographer one last time, "We'll stay in touch then, yeah?"

The photographer smiled, "Of course! Enjoy the rest of your day," before he left, he turned back to them, "Oh, and by the way, on the other side of the bike station is a brand new artisanal popsicle stand. It's been a big hit since it opened and I highly recommend it!"

"Ooh, artisanal! Let's try them!" Nomi couldn't help but perk up at the mention of food. "That would be perfect, thank you so much!"

After parting ways with the photographer and paying for their bikes, the two got in an unexpectedly long line for popsicles. They had waited 15 minutes before Nomi's aesthetic decision to not wear a hat began to bite her in the ass....or.....on the forehead.

"Ahhh, I'm burning up. Will you watch my stuff while I go cool off really quickly?"

Hideyoshi maintained a neutral, yet positive face. "Sure thing. You wanted the blueberry peach jasmine, right?"

As she shimmied out of her shorts and shoes and took her hair out of its scrunchie, she kissed him on the cheek. "Yup, you know me so well! I'll be back soon, I need to go before I turn into a hash brown!" With that, she scurried off across the hot sand. Hideyoshi watched her go, and as an unfortunate result, watched the eyes of several other men -in the line and nearby- follow her too.

Without much else on her mind, Nomi made her way out to where the water was waist-deep and dipped her head beneath the surface. The water was cool enough to instantly soothe her sizzling scalp, yet not cool to the point that it would make her shiver if she stayed in for too long. Realizing this, she slicked her wet hair out of her face and waded in the water for a bit, riding along the gentle waves as the sun kissed her face. The warm breeze that had her sweating buckets earlier now provided a gently relaxing breeze.

Nomi found herself staying out there for a little longer than originally intended. The salty residue in her hair felt gritty to the touch as it dried; she submerged herself one last time for good measure and made her way back out of the surf.

Her thighs felt like they were tied to weights as she trudged out of the water. Her neck felt heavy as water trickled down the back of her thighs. When she set foot on the wet sand, she considered plopping down right where she stood, she was so tired. Maybe she really had underestimated how out of shape she was. Her head was facing the water when she heard it:

"Oh no, look out!"

Wha--? Bonk.

Something bounced off the back of her head. Her exhaustion caused her to stumble forward, so much so that she felt herself toppling forward when somebody caught her by her shoulders. When she caught her balance, she turned around to see a generically handsome stranger.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm sorry for..." Nomi trailed off when she realized she had nothing to be sorry for. "I was...in the way, I guess?"

He smiled, "Nah, you're good, you're good." His eyes raked over her, quickly, but not fast enough so that she didn't notice. "Hey, actually have I seen you around here before?"

Great, now Nomi wasn't just uncomfortable, she also had no idea how to answer that. "...I...was just by the popsicle stand a few minutes ago....?"

"No, it must have been from somewhere else," he pondered, though his eyes wouldn't leave her.

Nomi's eyes darted around, nervous and confused, "I...don't know what to--"

"Nomi!"

She turned her head to see Hideyoshi standing with their popsicles in one hand and her shoes, shorts, and bag in the other. His lips were pressed into a firm line. "You ready to go?"

"Oh! Of course," The fact that he would let his irritation show so plainly on his face would normally make her want to solve whatever issue there was, but at that moment, she honestly just wanted to leave. She nodded at the guy as she started to walk towards Hideyoshi, "Uh, see you, then," she barely mumbled out.

His once charming enough smile had faded into a neutral expression and he waved once. "Likewise."

---

The two of them made their way off the beach and to the parking lot where their car was. There was a small storage shed at the top of a short set of stairs facing away from the shore and, more importantly, the sun. They sat, leisurely enjoying their chilled treats and talking about whatever. Nomi was glad things were normal between them, but she couldn't forget the look on his face back on the beach. Of course, he wasn't thrilled to see some stranger attempt to talk to her, but she sensed there was a little bit more to it than just that.

"So...how was the line?" she started, trying to figure out how to pry.

"It wasn't too bad. It sped up when I got to the front." He didn't give her much to work with.

"Oh, good..." she began, staring at the sand still clinging to her feet. "The water was really nice, we should have gone out there earlier."

Hideyoshi shrugged. "We could always come back tomorrow."

Nomi nodded, but carefully continued on, "And that guy--"

"Pear and ginger." Hideyoshi cut her off, but the way he did so made it seem like it wasn't totally on purpose. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at what was left of his popsicle. "I would have never thought to mix those two flavors, let alone sell them as a popsicle."

Nomi let out a little laugh. "Yeah, they really know what they're doing with these flavors." Her eyes returned back to her feet. Well if he wasn't going to bring it up, then maybe it wasn't that big of a deal after all. She sighed and relaxed her shoulders before she set her focus back on the brilliant berry color of her own. "The bar was probably pretty low to begin with, but this is the best popsicle I've ever had." With that, she closed her lips around it, drinking down the juice that had melted while she was talking. It was thoroughly sweet, yet still so very fresh tasting. Nomi found herself making a small noise of satisfaction bubbling up from the back of her throat as she swallowed.

"You don't even notice it, don't you?"

"Hm?"

She turned back to him, surprised by his statement. He was looking right at her, his previous facade of content replaced with a rather wistful look in his eyes. What was going on in his mind?

"What do you mean?"

Hideyoshi smiled a little, "People really love you. There's something about you that draws them in, whether they know you or not," his smile deepened as he recounted a feature he loved about her. "And of course I understand why: it's because they can tell what a great person you are from the start."

Nomi felt her cheeks tingle from hearing such a compliment. "Hideyoshi, I..."

"But of course," he seemed to take a mildly self-deprecating tone, "when I see other people drawn to you, a totally irrational part of me wants you all to myself, even though I was drawn to you in the same way. But it's unfair to you to try and keep you like that." He ended it with a sigh, like he was letting out a breath he'd been holding, and put his popsicle back in his mouth.

There was a moment where they didn't speak, the sound of crashing waves and distant chatter filling the silence, before Nomi finally got her words together. "I don't think you should worry about that because you have me." After she got that out, she felt more confident in what she was saying. "You do have me all to yourself! Of course, I can't just never talk to anybody else ever again, but hey," she placed a reassuring hand on his knee, "I'm here with you. I'm having a great time with you. There's nobody else I'd rather spend a day like this with."

For a moment, he seemed surprised by her confession. When he smiled again, his eyes had that gleam to them that she loved. "Nomi..." He moved in closer to her on the step, their eyes locked. "Thank you for saying that." He reached out and placed his hand on her forearm, right above her elbow.

Nomi didn't think much of it as she continued on, "I mean it, I don't think there's a thing I wouldn't enjoy doing with you!"

Hideyoshi froze, but then he had a sly glint in his eyes. "Oh, anything?" he asked, lifting her forearm and leaning in towards her. "Well in that case..." Without waiting for any reaction from her, he stuck his tongue out and licked a trail up her arm all the way up past her wrist and into the center of her palm.

"H-Hey!" Nomi said, suddenly flustered to high heaven.

Hideyoshi didn't back away. His face was so close to hers that she could faintly feel his cool breath fan across her chin and neck when he spoke. "You let your popsicle melt in your hand that whole time." There was a chuckle in his voice as he winked at her.

"I--oh!" Nomi stammered when she looked at her hand. Sure enough, what was left of her popsicle was a smaller shape than she last recalled; the violet ice had a completely shiny exterior and a matching trail of liquid trailing down her fingers to pool at the point of her palm where Hideyoshi had just finished licking. "Darn it, I really liked this too," she stuck the remaining lump of ice between her lips to slurp off the excess melting, unable to stop the little satisfied moan she made at its impeccable marriage of flavors.

"Don't worry too much about it. We can always go get another of we have to," He seemed somewhat casual about her getting another one, but he was still right up near her face and his eyes were now focused towards her stained lips. "You know, I saw that guy on the beach throw that ball at you."

Her eyes widened, but his closeness kept her from having any more of a reaction. "He did? What for?"

His thumb was rubbing a small, soothing circle on her wrist, though it only made her heartbeat pick up. "Probably so he'd have an excuse to talk to you."

Nomi's eyes darted side to side, "What would he have possibly wanted with me?"

Hideyoshi's smile was unmistakably amorous by then. "I think I have an idea."

Slowly and gently, he lifted his hand holding his popsicle to her mouth. Her lips were already parted enough for the tip of the wooden stick poking out to slip between them. She let out a surprised "Hmm?" when she felt the cold wetness of the ice part them further so it could slide across her tongue. Her eyes locked with his again. She let out another instinctive moan as the sweetness of pear and tang of ginger enveloped her tongue. Encouraged by her reaction, he Slowly dragged it out of her mouth before pushing it back in. He watched her wide, deep blue eyes stare back at him, flustered, but nevertheless wanting and curious. He ran the popsicle across her tongue like that, completely enchanted by the visual, until a small trail of its juice dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. Without hesitation, he took the popsicle out of her mouth and licked up the trail just as he did on her arm until he reached her lips, which he claimed in a passionate and skillful kiss.

Nomi made yet another surprised noise, but she accepted the kiss with her open mouth. Their cold lips came together fervently, as if in an attempt to warm each other back up. Hideyoshi had her back up against the railing, so she turned her whole body towards him for a more comfortable position. From there, she returned his kiss in full force, grasping at the back of his tank.

"Is this what he wanted?" she breathed when they parted for air. She took the rest of her popsicle and sucked down the slushy remainder before tossing the stick aside.

"Hells yes," he said, his voice already husky. His lips traveled down to his neck while his hands on her hips travelled upward until his thumbs and index fingers hooked under the strings of her bikini. Her head fell back against the wooden poles behind her, giving him better access to the column of her neck. She had been so abruptly aroused that she didn't even consider that they were out by a public beach during the middle of the day; they had been alone by the parking lot for so long it didn't seem like an issue. She didn't even feel particularly exposed when he pulled the triangles of her top aside to gently graze one of her breasts with his teeth.

"Hideyoshi!" she gasped, tugging on his shirt in a bid to get his attention.

He looked up at her from where he was nibbling at her tan lines. "Nomi?"

She found herself choking on her words. She was never really any good at voicing her desires. "There's...something I want to do, actually."

His eyes were burning with desire, and now intrigue, "Oh? And what is that?"

"Um..." she glanced aside to the top of the stairs where the last bit of his popsicle was now melting into a puddle on a wooden plank. "I...the popsicle..."

He was rolling one of her nipples beneath his thumb, "What about the popsicle?"

"Mmn--! I..." Her head was spinning with need, but she took a breath and finally got it out. "I...want to do that again. With you."

His hands toying with her paused. His eyes were equally lustful and serious. "Is that what you really want?"

Nomi nodded, "Yes, I really want to do it," she placed a hand over his, "I want you to know that I'm all yours."

He couldn't help but smile at her sentiment. "You're so cute, you don't even know," he said, getting up off of her and sitting upright on the stairs with his legs spread. "Come here."

On clumsy legs, Nomi got up, not even adjusting her top as she positioned herself on her knees on a lower step. She was a little unsure of what exactly he wanted her to do, so she sat awkwardly, waiting for further instruction.

Hideyoshi took her scrunchie off of her wrist so he could carefully tie her hair back out of her face. The way he lovingly combed through her hair -though it was still damp from earlier- eased her anxious excitement and only made her want it more. He took her hands and slid them up his thighs until they reached the waistband of his pants. "Do you want to do it?

Nomi nodded. She appreciated him asking her. They had done this a few times before but she always felt clueless when it came to starting anything. The fact that she even initiated this, in public or not, must have been baffling to both of them.

She hooked her fingers beneath his shorts and the two of them cooperated to shimmy them down just enough to release himself. He was already half hard, she felt like a novice for not having noticed any earlier. Encouraged by his gentle hand in her hair, she started giving him little licks along the shaft until she finally got the gumption to put him in her mouth. Very carefully, she wrapped her lips around the tip, gently sucking and lapping at it with her tongue until she heard him sigh.

After releasing him from her mouth with a wet smacking sound, she started to work her tongue along the sides of his shaft, getting it wet as her mouth continued to water. His hands were back to pushing her hair behind her back, keeping her long ponytail from tumbling down over her shoulders so he had a perfect view of her. She realized her hands were tightly grasping his shorts when he took one of them and placed it around the base.

"Keep going," his voice was low and heady, just quiet enough so she could hear him while the waves crashing in the background protected them from any potential listeners.

Nomi was more than eager to do so. She took him into her mouth again, this time, relaxing her tongue and bobbing her head back and forth on him until she could fit most of him in her mouth. It was exhilarating feeling him get harder and harder with each stroke of her tongue. She was salivating more than she would have liked to admit, so she pulled back and sneakily leaned to the side of his knee to let the excess pour out. She wouldn't have felt good ruining his shorts like this.

"Haha...you're so cute, Nomi," he was laughing, but his voice was so breathy it made her ache. "You don't have to do that."

Nomi glanced up, then hid her face in her palm. "Ah, I'm sorry!" she said meekly, "I'm so bad at this..."

"Oh no, you're doing great," Hideyoshi assured her. "Here," he lowered his shorts so they were at his ankles, "so you don't have to worry about that."

"Alright then...here I go..." she wanted to kick herself for that last part. To avoid any further embarrassment, she licked a bold stripe up the top of his shaft before sucking it back into her mouth and keeping her jaw loose.

"Mmm...Nomi," he groaned under his breath as she worked. He moved her hand to cup his balls so he could hold himself in her mouth. She let out a cute little moan, similar to the one she made when she was enjoying her popsicle, once she finally got him all the way to the back of her throat. She kept him there for as long as she could until she pulled back to take a breath. He held her head at the back so she wouldn't pull too far away and as a result, her excess drool slipped out over his head, making him even slicker.

He was now fully erect in her mouth. She could taste his precum against her tongue, which made her sigh around him. As she was getting more and more into it, she found herself hooking her finger in flyaway hair that kept getting in her mouth. "I've got you," Hideyoshi whispered, pushing her hair back yet again. This time, his hands stayed at the back of her head underneath her ponytail. "Is it alright if I start moving?"

"Ah-huh," was all she could say with his dick in her mouth, but it was all the confirmation he needed. He started to gently thrust himself in and out, revelling in the feeling of her warm, wet tongue on him. She looked up at him and he thought that sight might have stopped his heart. She accepted him so openly, yet there was a certain innocence to the look in her eyes. If she felt this good now, he could only imagine the hell she could raise once she got more experience.

He kept moving until her eyebrows pinched together and she sputtered and around him. He let go of her head and pulled himself from her, stroking at the base. "Sorry, was that too much?"

Nomi wiped her wet chin with the back of her hand as she shook her head. "No, I'm okay."

He swept his fingers underneath her chin, "Then is it alright if I touch you too?"

Nomi smiled provocatively, "I would love that, please do." When she went back down on him, she felt the solid warmth of his torso on the back of her head. She undid the button of her shorts so he could slide inside her bikini bottoms from the back. His skillful digits made quick work of her. She was already so turned on, that he had her thighs shaking as he fucked her with two fingers. She moaned and moaned around him, to the point where she forgot she was supposed to be pleasing him.

"Actually, can you stop? It's too distracting!" she giggled when she came up for air. By then, she was fully stroking him with her hand, getting the full range of motion out of her wrist.

"Ah...of course," he sounded positively wrecked then, but he did as asked. But before Nomi could get fully into it, she was being pulled into a wet, fierce kiss.

"Hideyoshi?!" she asked, her voice throaty and shocked.

"How about we finish this in the car, yeah?" he whispered. He had his normal flirty smile on, but he looked positively wrecked. "I'd prefer there to be no sand where I lie you on your back."

She must have looked the same, though, "That would be perfect."

And so, they haphazardly made themselves decent so they could run back to their car. After they finished fucking, they went back to the same popsicle stand for seconds, as there were other flavors Nomi wished to try. They sat in the same spot, got turned on by the memory of what happened earlier, and went back to their car for another round. They continued this loop until they were the only two people on the beach and he really did have her all himself.

#slbp fanfic #summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #slbp hideyoshi #my writing #my art #MC: Nomi

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