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unconventional-lawnchair · 2 months ago

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Good boy, Pads

Poly!Marauders x Reader {Mostly Padfoot x Reader}

Summary: Walking home alone is always scary. Not so bad with an attack dog.

WC: ~2.2k

CW: Being followed, Walking home alone, panic, reader is almost attacked

Part two {Masterlist}

“Goodnight, all!" You called over your shoulder, pushing through the heavy diner door and stepping into the crisp London night. The warm light from inside spilled onto the sidewalk for just a moment before the door swung shut, leaving you in the soft glow of streetlamps and the quiet hum of a city winding down.

Bundled up against the sharp autumn chill, you tugged your scarf higher over your nose, the wool muffling your breath as you glanced both ways down the street. The pavement glistened faintly from an earlier rain, and leaves skittered across the ground, carried by a gentle breeze. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the solitude of the evening and the faint scent of damp earth and fading smoke in the air.

The city felt quieter tonight, slower. A rare calm that let you notice the little things: the way your boots tapped against the pavement, the golden glow of light spilling from a pub window, the soft rustle of branches as the breeze carried more leaves to the ground. You couldn’t help but savor the peacefulness, the way the streets felt like they belonged only to you.

Turning onto a quieter side street, you pulled your coat tighter around you and let out a content sigh. The distant hum of a car engine and the occasional clink of bottles from an alley gave the city its usual heartbeat, steady and familiar. But as you passed under a flickering streetlight, the warmth in your chest faltered.

A flicker of something- movement- caught the corner of your eye. You stopped for a moment, glancing behind you. The street was empty, save for the faint shimmer of rain on the asphalt. You let out a quiet laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you started walking again. "You're imagining things," you muttered, the words misting into the cold air.

But as you rounded another corner, the feeling crept back. A weight you couldn’t explain settled between your shoulder blades, pressing until you glanced back again. This time, the street didn’t feel so empty.

A figure stood at the edge of the light, a shadow against the dim glow of a streetlamp. Hood pulled low, shoulders hunched. You couldn’t see his face, but the sight was enough to quicken your pulse.

You turned back quickly, trying to shake off the growing unease. It’s nothing. Just someone walking home, like you. Still, your steps grew faster, the sound of your boots sharper now as they echoed down the street.

The figure’s pace quickened too.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your breath puffing in the cold as you resisted the urge to turn around again. Don’t look back. Just keep walking. But the sound of his footsteps- deliberate, steady, too close- sent panic thrumming through you.

You turned sharply onto another street, one that was darker and quieter, hoping to lose him in the maze of side roads. But the sound of his steps followed, unyielding.

The knot in your stomach tightened as you risked a glance over your shoulder. The figure was closer now, his face still obscured, his movements calm and measured, as though he knew there was no need to rush.

You kept promising yourself it was all in your head. Every rationalization you’d ever heard about nights like this ran through your mind. He’s just trying to get home. You’re overthinking it. You’re being dramatic. The words looped, each one louder than the growing knot of fear in your chest.

In some lapse of judgment- or sheer stubbornness- you forced yourself to slow down, determined to prove your paranoia wrong. Your footsteps softened, your breath puffing out in measured exhales. See? Nothing’s wrong.

But the figure didn’t slow. His pace stayed steady, deliberate, and for a heartbeat, your stomach clenched.

Then, he walked right past you.

Your breath left you in a rush, relief crashing through you as you watched him slip into an alley just a few yards ahead, his dark silhouette disappearing into the shadows.

You’re so bloody dramatic, You scolded yourself, shaking your head as you tried to laugh off the tension still clinging to your spine.

Your legs felt heavy as you started walking again, still shaking off the tension that clung to you like the autumn chill. The sound of your boots echoed faintly against the damp pavement, the streetlights casting long shadows that seemed to stretch further with each step.

You’re fine. You’re fine. The mantra pulsed in your head, soothing your nerves just enough to keep moving forward.

But as you passed the mouth of the alley, a sharp sound- the scrape of a boot against concrete- made your heart stutter.

Before you could fully process it, the figure stepped out of the alley, sharp and purposeful. He moved with a predator’s focus, his hood still pulled low, but his intent painfully clear as he strode toward you.

Your body froze, fear locking every muscle in place as your breath hitched painfully in your throat. Your mind screamed at you to move, to run, to do anything- but before you could even find your voice-

A deep, guttural snarl tore through the night behind you, vibrating through the air like a clap of thunder.

You stumbled backward, your knees nearly buckling as something massive pressed between them with startling force. Looking down, your breath caught again.

A black dog- no, something far larger than any dog you’d ever seen- stood between your legs, its massive head low and its body tense, muscles rippling under its sleek fur. Its glowing eyes locked on the man in front of you, and its lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. The beast exuded menace, an attack dog waiting for the signal to strike.

You didn’t dare move. The sheer size of it, the raw power in its stance, and the intensity of its focus made you feel as though the tiniest twitch would snap the tension in the air.

The black dog let out another terrifying snarl, its teeth snapping together with a ferocity that echoed in the quiet street. The man in front of you stumbled back a step, his hands flying up defensively as if the gesture could ward off the beast.

The force of the dog's lunge had nearly sent you sprawling, but you instinctively clung to its thick black collar, fingers curling around the studded leather as if it were a lifeline. Its massive frame remained steady beneath you, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but stable.

“Easy, easy,” You whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to calm your racing heart. It was ridiculous, you realized, trying to reason with a creature that clearly wasn’t just an ordinary dog.

The dog didn’t flinch at your voice, its glowing eyes locked on the man with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Slowly, the man began to retreat, his movements jerky and hesitant as he kept his gaze darting between you and the snarling beast.

“I- I wasn’t doing anything!” He stammered, his voice shaking as he took another step back.

The dog lunged again, snapping its jaws just short of the man’s retreating figure. The motion was controlled, calculated- a warning that left no room for doubt about what would happen if he didn’t leave.

The man’s nerve broke. With a muttered curse, he turned and bolted down the street, his footsteps echoing in the stillness until they faded completely.

The dog didn’t move for a long moment, its body still taut, ears pinned back as it watched the man disappear into the night. Only when it was satisfied he wasn’t returning did it finally relax, its snarling lips settling back over sharp teeth.

The air around you hung heavy with tension, your trembling fingers still clinging to the black dog’s studded collar. Its massive form didn’t waver, muscles coiled tight as its glowing eyes remained fixed on the direction the man had fled. You could feel the sheer power radiating off of it, its focus terrifying, its snarling lips now pressed firmly together.

Just as you began to catch your breath, a calm voice- low, steady, unfamiliar- broke through the night.

“Padfoot, heel.”

Your head snapped toward the sound, and from the shadows stepped a tall man, his figure shrouded in the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. He moved with quiet confidence, his amber eyes soft yet sharp as they flicked from the dog to you. His presence was both reassuring and unnerving, as though he had always been there, watching from the edges.

The dog didn’t immediately obey, its ears twitching at the command but its gaze still locked down the street. A moment of silence stretched between the man, the beast, and you.

Then, another voice rang out, softer, almost playful. “You did good, mate. It’s okay now- she’s safe.”

The second figure emerged from the opposite side of the street, his dark hair catching the faint light that his glasses reflected- as he strolled closer with a casual ease. His hazel eyes glinted with sympathy, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he approached.

“Padfoot,” The second man coaxed, his tone softer now, almost affectionate. “Come on, you’ve scared him off. Time to let the lady breathe, yeah?”

The black dog- Padfoot?- finally relaxed, its tension melting away as it let out a low huff, almost as if in reluctant agreement. With one last glance down the empty street, it turned toward you, pressing its massive head against your thigh in an almost protective gesture.

The motion nearly knocked you off balance again, but you steadied yourself, your fingers still curled around the thick collar. You glanced between the two men, your mind racing to make sense of what was happening.

“What- what is this? Who are you?” You asked, your voice unsteady but edging toward firm. Still trying to calm down from the earlier events.

The first man, the one with warm amber eyes, stepped closer, his gaze flickering briefly to the dog before settling on you. “We’re just here to make sure you got home safely,” He said gently, his tone soothing.

“This… thing?” You asked, nodding toward the dog, though you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of its collar.

“Not a thing,” The second man interjected, his grin widening as he crouched next to the dog, running a hand through its fur. “This is Padfoot. And he did bloody brilliant, if I do say so myself.”

As if understanding the compliment, the dog let out a soft woof, its tail giving a single thump against the pavement.

The man looked up at you, his hazel eyes twinkling. “And I’m James, by the way. This,” He gestured to the amber-eyed man, “is Remus. We didn't mean to scare you, but thought a bit too quickly.”

The boys seemed to sense your lingering unease, their expressions softening as they exchanged a glance. Remus stepped forward slightly, his calm demeanor grounding the strange tension still hanging in the air.

“We’ll let you head home now,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing. “But if it makes you feel safer, Padfoot can walk with you. He’ll stay by your side until you’re safely inside.”

You glanced down at the massive black dog, still pressed protectively against your leg. His glowing eyes had softened, but the quiet strength in his stance told you he wasn’t going anywhere until you were safe. “He’ll… come back to you?” you asked hesitantly, your voice quiet.

James stepped closer, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “Always,” he said. “Just tell him to go, and he’ll know where to find us. He’s got a knack for it.”

You bit your lip, torn between wanting to dismiss their offer and the lingering unease that crept up your spine. The thought of walking home alone again made your stomach twist, and the steady presence of the dog at your side was a strange but undeniable comfort.

Remus’s amber eyes met yours, steady and kind. “You’re safe with him,” he murmured. “Padfoot won’t let anything happen to you.”

The dog huffed softly, as if to emphasize the point, and you felt a small, tentative smile tug at your lips despite the lingering fear. Slowly, you nodded. “Alright. I’ll take him. Just… until I’m home.”

James’s grin widened, a glint of relief in his hazel eyes. “Smart choice,” he said lightly, his tone warm but not overbearing.

Remus nodded, taking a step back toward the shadows. “Just keep him close. And when you’re inside, tell him to go. He’ll find us.”

Your gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment before you glanced down at the dog again. “Padfoot,” you murmured softly, testing the name. His ears perked up at the sound, his massive body shifting slightly closer to you as if ready to move.

James gave a small wave as he began to follow Remus into the shadows. “Take care, love. You’re in good hands- well, paws.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening slightly as you turned to continue your walk. The dog- Padfoot- stayed close to your side, his presence a silent but steady comfort. Each step felt lighter, the earlier fear ebbing away with every reassuring glance at the hulking figure beside you.

The streets still held their eerie quiet, but you didn’t feel so alone anymore. London was still beautiful.

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put-me-through-the-wall · 4 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 Down the Rabbit Hole 𝜗𝜚

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━��

Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Work Count: 4.9k (I don't know what happened...)

Summary: Reader wanders a little too far off the path. Good thing such a nice older man came to help.

A/N: It's halloween y'all!! I freaking love halloween and all things spooky and scary. So I thought maybe I should write something really scary to fit the occasion. Okay so technically yesterday was halloween but better late than never. Let me know what you guys think. I don't think I have any smut out yet?? So please let me know any feedback or thoughts you have. I love you all so much!! 𝜗𝜚

Warnings: This story contain dark themes. Not to spoil but this one does contain DUBCON/NONCON elements, intoxicated reader, drugging, light bondage, kidnapping, forced impregnation. If you are not in the headspace the read this please scroll on. I will write some nicer things in the future.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

With a sigh you pull out your phone, the blue light illuminating your face in the dark night. Just to find you have no cell signal this far out, of course. You try calling a few people but not a single call would go through. A simple dial tone rang out much to your dismay. Leaning back against the bumper of your car, you can feel the heat radiating off your exposed engine. You look towards the propped open hood of your tired vehicle.

The hissing machinery creates a pillar of steam when mixing with the chilled October air. Your leg bounces nervously while your eyes scan the surrounding forest. There are no street lights, no houses, not even the sound of cars whizzing by on a nearby roadway. Just dark woods and the crickets chirping. You mentally curse yourself and your friends for convincing you to drive so far out on your own.

You spend a long twenty minutes going back and forth between trying to find service along the road way and seeking warmth in the shelter of your car. Your costume doesn't provide much cover against the autumn cold. Clad only in a restricting corset top, tiny ruffled shorts, fishnet stocking, and shiny white heels. Topped off with a pair of fuzzy bunny ears fixed to a headband and a little white tail attached right above your butt. It looked better in your mirror at home when you were imagining sitting in a hot crowded house party surrounded by familiar faces.

Your focus breaks from the car's owner manual when you hear a distant rumbling. You hop out of the driver's side seat and look to see a blinding set of headlights coming your way. As the lights come closer at a rapid speed you wave and step closer to the asphalt to catch the driver's attention.

Thankfully it begins to slow and rumbles to a stop a few feet short of your car. The driver kills the engine along with the annoyingly bright LEDs. Thet turn their hazard lights on, bathing the area in a blinking orange glow. You are stunned for a moment while your sight adjusts back to the dim night. You make out the shape of a large pickup truck through spotted vision. Its boxy silhouette shows a vehicle past its prime and out of style. You take that as a good sign thinking the owner must know something about taking care of cars.

The driver's side door creaks open and out comes a pair of boots dropping onto the roadside. When they slam the door you see a large shadow saunter towards you. Heavy steps crunch on the earth below.

"Thanks for stopping" You cross your exposed arms over your chest hoping they don't see the way you're shaking. You pretend like this isn't a total horror movie scene right now. Telling yourself the shivers are from the frigid air, not fear.

"You alright?" A thickly accented english voice asks. The figure finally reaches you. You have to crane your neck up to look him in the face, his broadness could swallow your quivering frame.

"Yeah, I'm fine. My car not so much" you gesture back to the front of your lifeless automobile. He looks over you and hums in understanding.

"I can take a look for you," He steps past and takes in the sight under your hood. “What happened?” He takes a moment to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt and scrunch up the sleeves.

“I don't know. I was just driving and then I heard some weird sounds then it started driving funny.” you attempt to explain.

“What kind of sounds?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Like a rattling, a pop, what?”

“If I am being completely honest I had the radio up kinda loud so I can’t really remember. I just know I heard something then it started to shake and slow down.”

You watch as he leans forward, large hands braced against the low bumper. "Do you have a flashlight?" his tone is flat, is he mad at you?

"Yeah," you pull your phone and click on the flashlight. You stand on the side of the car and try to hold it steady with both of your shaking hands.

"You can come a little closer," he looks up and smiles. "I don't bite"

You give a nervous chuckle and step around to the front of the car. Still careful to keep a good amount of distance from the stranger.

"Can you- here let me just," his large hand wraps around your wrist and gently draws your hand further out until you're almost bent over reaching across the space. "That's better."

He checks different areas, twisting and tapping on a few parts. Checking the levels of the various fluids. Occasionally repositioning the angle of your flashlight with a firm yet polite adjustment of your arm.

"Have you called anyone yet?" His gentle eyes look up from underneath his thick brow.

You hesitate for a moment considering the implication of your answer. He holds your stare as you try not to appear nervous. "Yes, I called roadside assistance but they won't be here for a while. They know I'm here though." You rush out a lie.

"Hm, yeah we're pretty out" he looks back at the machinery. He stands up straight, brushes his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. "Looks like you're not going anywhere."

Your stomach tightens and you pull back your flashlight leaving you both in the darkness.

"I can fix it but I'm going to need to go back to my place and grab some tools" He pulls the hood of your car down and slams it shut. "Or you can wait for the guy to get here. You'll be waiting for a while though"

You hold your phone tight in your palm feeling torn between trusting this stranger or going back to being stranded. "Um," it's hard to think with the constant waves of shivers going through you.

"Or you can stay here in the middle of the woods by yourself. Up to you," He pulls his keys from his pocket with a jingle and walks around you, back in the direction of his truck.

You look between your own car, the dark tree line, and the tall man getting further away.

"Okay!" You call to him. He turns and watches as you reach into your open car door to grab your purse and keys. You lock the door behind you and walk towards him.

You hear his door squeak open then his truck rev to life you. You quicken your pace to reach the passenger side, not wanting to be left alone here for another second. Before you can grab the handle he is reached over the long bench seat pushing to open from the inside.

"Glad you could make it," his cheeky smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners.

"Better than getting mauled by a bear" You haul yourself up and into the seat. The interior is still warm which allows you to relax a bit while your shiver subside. You take in the roomy cab of his truck. Nice leather seat, very clean, smells good. Surely he is just a kind older man wanting ti help out a stranded, clueless woman.

"You'd be alright. Bears normally hunt in the mornings. Bobcats on the other hand, that's what you've got to watch out for." He places his hand on the gear shifter, "Seatbelt," and nods down towards the unclipped buckle.

"Okay but first, can you promise you're not going to kidnap or kill me?" You stare him down as he holds a faint smile.

"I'm not going to kill you," he chuckles

"You see, that's exactly what a murderer would say," you are only half joking with that statement but buckle yourself in anyways.

"I guess you're going to have to trust me then" He focuses his eyes forward and pulls onto the road.

"I don't even know your name."

"I don't know yours either" he counters

"Fair enough," you consider it for a moment before telling him your name, and he tells you his.

"I don’t mean to be rude but, what's with the outfit?" he glanced your way for a moment. You don't miss the way his eyes trace down your figure.

"I'm a bunny, duh." You point to the fluffy ears fixed to your headband. His brows remains drawn in confusion. "It's halloween," you continue stating the obvious.

"Is it?" he finally puts it together. "My work has been hectic. It's easy to lose track of time. Heading to a party, then?" he asks.

"Was. I think I took a wrong turn a few miles back but I lost my cell signal so, I couldn’t get the map to load. Then my car died."

"That's some bad luck. Maybe you should look into getting a lucky rabbit's foot." He raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

"Ha ha," you respond humorlessly. "Look, the costume would've been a lot better with my friend. She's supposed to be a magician. Y'know like a magician pulls the white rabbit out of the hat."

"Right," he nods.

"Yeah, but it looks like I won't be making it tonight. I'm not too upset though. I'm not much of a party person."

"No?"

"No way, I'm a homebody. I hardly ever leave my house if I'm being honest. I work from home too so that keeps me pretty busy. Wow, sorry I didn’t mean to tell you my whole life story," you chuckle nervously.

"’S alright, I don’t mind. Your boyfriend doesn't take you out?" he asks.

"Boyfriend? No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Sorry, I just assumed. I mean, you're a pretty girl. Hard to believe you don't have someone to look after you."

"Oh, thanks" a bashful blush rises up your cheeks. "Like I said, I don't get out much. Not many opportunities to meet people. Which is part of the reason my friend gets so mad at me. I've canceled on her the past three times she has asked me to hang out. She had to beg me to come tonight. I kind of feel bad though. She's probably going to think I bailed again."

"When we get back to my place you can use my phone to give her a call if you'd like," he offered.

"Yeah, I probably should."

Looking out the windshield you can make out speckles of light ahead, breaking up the dense forest. John makes a final turn and you find yourself pulling up to a very nice cabin. Wood paneling lined the exterior framing several expansive windows which emit a warm yellow light behind the closed curtains. The glass panels stretch high to the sloped asymmetrical ceiling. The architecture looks straight out of the seventies.

"Wow, this is your place?" you ask in amazement. "What do you do for work?"

"I work for the government," he states simply before turning off the truck and exiting. He walks around to your side and opens your door. He offers his hand to you which you shyly take as you hop down from the elevated cab. "Your hands are cold," he gives your hand a small squeeze fully enveloping it in his palm. "Let's get you warmed up inside."

He ushers you up the driveway, his hand now transitioned to your lower back. You can't deny the way his touch makes your stomach flip. He opens the door and you step into the cozy home.

You are greeted by a vast living room. A long espresso colored leather sofa sits among matching chairs all facing towards a large stone fireplace. The space is washed in varying shades of warm browns and oranges. A beautiful thick rug lays across the glossy hardwood.

"Sit, let me get you a drink. Would you like some tea, coffee, a beer?"

"I'll have a coffee," with your confirmation he stepped through the living room to the connecting kitchen. Your eyes follow him as he disappears through the doorway. "Government job, huh? You must be very important." You step to one of the bookshelves that sit on either side of the fireplace. Scanning the many titles there.

"I guess you could say that." He laughs. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please." Your finger grazes the spines of the books. Many biographies and historical nonfiction among his collection sprinkled in with survival guides and warfare tactics.

"How about some Bailey's?"

"Sure,” you shrug. Maybe a little spiked coffee and make you relax a little.

He reappears with two steaming mugs in each hand. He offers one to you which you happily accept. Wrapping both hands around the cup, allowing the hot drink to unfreeze your fingers. He holds his gaze while he takes a sip and then releases a gravelly groan in satisfaction. You follow suit taking a sip, feeling the warmth descend in your throat and radiate in your chest.

"Not bad?"

"No, not at all, thank you,” you smile sweetly.

"How about a fire? Get you warmed up and then I'll go grab those tools, ay?" He doesn't allow you to answer before he sets his mug on the coffee table and kneels in front of the fireplace.

You sit on the couch and watch while he makes quick work of getting the fire started. It's not long until he nurses the little flame into a roaring fire. He grabs a few fresh logs to throw on top before getting up and taking a seat next to you.

"Feeling better?" He asks as grabs his drink once more and settles into the cushions, arm slung across the back of the couch behind you.

"Much" With your cup now half empty you begin to feel the alcohol go straight to your head. You aren't surprised though. You haven't eaten all day in order to fit into this strangling outfit.

"I like your costume, by the way. I don't think I said that earlier. Not sure if I would've stopped if you didn't look so cute" His hand reaches from behind you and flicks your artificial ears.

"Hey" You adjust the head piece back in place. "This was a lot of work to put together, I'll have you know." You attempt to convey your seriousness but can't help the giggle that escapes.

"Oh, I can tell." His hand slips down from the back cushion to brush across your bare shoulder. The light touch makes your skin erupt in a flurry of goosebumps. "You're still pretty cold, bunny. Let me get you something warmer to put on."

"I'm okay, really. I'll warm up." You take another long sip on your hot beverage. "I feel fine."

"I insist" He rises from the couch and politely holds a hand out for you.

You are hesitant for a moment but seeing the persistence settled on his face you accept. "Alright," you relent.

He leads you down a dim corridor to the last room on the right. He pushes open the cracked door to reveal his neat bedroom. Very much resembling the rest of the house. A giant perfectly made bed sits in the center of the clean area. Makes sense considering the large man that sleeps in it. A lone lamp illuminates the room giving it a hazy appearance. Or maybe that's just your clouded mind.

He steps past you towards his dresser and pulls open one of the drawers. He pulls out a large shirt then a pair of pajama pants and hands them to you. "Not sure how well these will fit but it'll be more comfortable, I'm sure"

"Too bad" You look down at the folded clothes in your hand. "Feels like a total waste of a costume."

His eyes scan down your body once more. "I don't think so" He walks past you towards the door. "I sure got a kick out of it" He smiles and turns to close the door on his way out.

"John," you rush out before he goes.

"Hm?"

"Can you, um-" You look over your shoulder at him. Still facing away from him. "Can you untie me?" gesturing to the lace up back to your corset.

"Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat. “I can do that" he takes measured steps towards you. As though a hunter may quietly stalk up to its prey.

You look forward again and stand up a little straighter when his warm hands rest on your shoulders. They slowly slide down your back and onto the dense fabric. Fingers trailing over the layer of ribbon and boning. Finally he reaches the large bow at the base of your back. You feel the ribbon unwind to hang limply. Edges skimming the back of your thighs.

His strong fingers wedge themselves in the gaps between the laces. Tugging each intersection with meticulous movements so as not to throw you off balance. Your hands rush to press the front of your corset to your chest when you feel it begin to slip. At last you can take a full breath.

Feeling his touch retreat after finishing the task you turn back towards him. Neck craning up to meet his eyes. The height difference was much more apparent from this close proximity.

"Thank you,” your voice coming out just over a whisper.

"It's no trouble" He matches your hushed tone.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. Maybe it was the drink, or the fact that you were touch starved, perhaps even the fact that it was halloween but you felt bold. Bold enough to release your hands and allow the undone corset to fall to the ground below.

Without a moment's hesitation John harshly grabs the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours as if thats the sign he’s been waiting for. Lips collide in a hot rush. His stong arms pull you flush against his broad frame. Deep groans rumble from his chest.

Your sluggish movements make you struggle to keep up with his hectic pace. Your hands sliding up his neck to tug at his cropped hair. One particular harsh tug draws a growl from him.

He walks you backwards across the room until the back of your tight clad legs meet the soft comforter. He releases his hold and you fall backwards onto the mattress.

He towers over you. His chest heaves with each breath as he stares you down. Your stomach flutters, unsure if it is due to excitement or fear. You begin scoot backwards up the bed but as you make your way towards the pillows his hand encircles one of your ankles.

"Not so fast little, bunny," he tugs your leg harshly and pulls you back towards him. He doesn't waste time as he dips his fingers into your tiny ruffled shorts yanking them down in one swift motion.

He climbs over you, wedging his thigh between your legs. His hand maneuvers around your lower back and behind your neck. He pulls you back into a heated kiss.

You feel the pressure from his muscular thigh press against you. You unconsciously grind your hips into his leg while he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. He assists in your movements as he grips your hips, rocking you back and forth.

"That's it, pretty," he leans down to mumble in your ear. "I can feel you soaking through those little panties," then giving your earlobe a nip.

Moans slip from you with each movement. Rutting pathetically, unable to stop yourself as you near closer to your edge. He dips down to your neck expertly finding your sensitive points. Biting your pulse then soothing it with his tongue. The friction from his jeans rubs against your little cotton underwear and fishnets.

"John, please," you whine, unsure of what you're asking.

"Go ahead sweet girl, cum for me." His powerful grip digging into your waist.

With his words of approval paired with his hot mouth moving along your throat, you begin to unwind. Tipping over the edge, your legs tightening around his own. The knot in your stomach finally snaps. Back arching into him and loud moans pouring from you. A rush of heat fills you and until you finally slump back into the bedding.

John loosened his hold around you. A hand coming up to move hair away from your face. "You're a dirty little girl, aren't you? Humping my leg to get off. Nasty thing, you are."

A blush of embarrassment rising across your already flushed face. The shame morphs back into lust as you feel a tightness reform in your stomach.

John sits back on his knees and begins to unbutton his shirt. Your eyes can't help but to land on the massive bulge formed in his pants. A thick outline straining against the restricting denim. He finishes stripping off his shirt revealing his burly chest. You sit up to run your hands down his bare skin. Leaving kisses along the line of hair leading from his chest into his happy trail.

Your hands skim lower to find the buckle of his belt. You make quick work unbuckling and unfastening of his jeans. Hurriedly yanking down the offending material just enough to give way to his tight boxers. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his hard cock straining through the thin material.

Before you can rip away the final layer he grabs your wrists. “Not so fast,” he chuckled. Gathering both your wrist into one of his hands easily he uses the other to swiftly pull his belt from it loops. He takes the belt and wraps it around your wrists, securing them tightly together.

“Needy girl,” he mumbles. His rough palms traced down your arms then along your waist. “Taking whatever you want,” his fingers skim along the pattern of your fishnets. “It’s my turn now, bunny,” once he reaches your still clothed center. Finger grip the threads of your tights and rip them open. Completely tearing the flimsy strands to fully expose your panties.

He slides his fingers across your sensitive clothed cunt making your hips thrust into him. “Oh, bunny. You’re soaked,” his eyes flick back up to meet yours. The black of his pupil now blown out almost completely consuming the previously blue iris.

He takes your bound wrists and pulls them over his head. Your arms now wrapped around his neck, your bare chest flush against his. He pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips. Not bothered enough to fully undress he jerks down the waistband of his boxers. Allowing his thick cock to spring out. Fingers frantically pulling aside the drenched material of your panties, exposing your throbbing heat.

He grinds his hips up to meet yours. Sliding his cock easily through your wet folds.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as his head rubs against your sensitive clit. “Please, fuck me”

Needing no more prompting he pulls your hips back and lines himself up with your needy hole but not yet entering. “You want this?” He dips just the tip of his head in, teasing your dripping entrance.

“Yes, please,” you beg, looking at him through your lashes. You desperately try to grind your hips down but he holds you in place.

“What good manners you have,” he continues to tease and thrusts the tiniest movements, never fully entering.

“John, I can’t wait anymore, please, just- please. I need it. I-” Your string of pitiful begging is interrupted when he finally yanks your hips down. His length fills you completely in one smooth thrust. Your eyes roll back at the sensation as he fills you to the hilt.

He lets out a guttural moan once he is fully inside of you. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans. His head dropped in the crook of your neck, biting the soft skin there. Mustache and stubble scratching along your collarbone. You yelp at the pain of his bite but he doesn't relent. Your pussy tightens around him as his teeth sink into the tender flesh.

His arms move from their grip on your hips and fully wrap around your back. He begins to thrust up into you. Not easing into the movement as he immediately drives his hips up at a brutal pace. As if he were unable to wait another second.

Unable to grip into anything with your bound hands, you find purchase digging your nails into the leather of the belt. Your head tipping back limply as you can only take his cruel ministrations.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grits out through his teeth, each word punctuated by his hips driving up into you. His cock pounds into your cervix making a flurry or stars burst behind your eyelids at every hit. “Is this what you’ve been needing? A good fucking?”

You mumble out a pathetic, “Mhm,” unable to fully process his words. His fingers dig into your shoulder and back. You are fully engulfed by this giant brute of a man.

“I know you do. I knew from the moment I saw you. Looking so sweet on the side of the road.” He chuckles darkly. Continuing to hold you tight against him he leans forward until your back hits the comforter. Your legs lock around his back while he holds your hips in place. The new angle has him pounding into your sweet spot over and over. The friction of his hair rubbing onto your clit creates the building of renewed heat in your stomach.

“You gonna cum again, pretty? Let me see you do it,” his thrusts slow from the frantic pace to a slower harder stroke. His arms lay on either side of your head while he studies your features. Hard length easing out of you slow enough for you to feel each ridge and vein. Then jerking his hip harshly back in.

Your head was feeling fuzzy. A drop of salvia trailed out of your lips and down your cheek. Your high was getting closer with each thrust. Eyelids fluttering shut as you feel the knot tighten in your stomach. So close to release. Your walls contract around him causing your legs to tighten, toes curling.

“Hey,” John snaps harshly. When he receives no response he gives you a light smack on the cheek. Hard enough to make your eyes pop open in shock. “Look at me, pretty girl. I need to see those eyes,” his words sound warm but he grips your jaw in place with a stern hold.

Your eyes flutter while you struggle to keep them focused on him. Coming closer to the edge. “Come on, you can do it. Don’t make you give you another smack. I don’t want to hit you, pretty girl. Don’t make me” his tone dripping in condensation. “That’s it, give it to me. I wanna see you come undone, bunny.”

Then you snap. A series of shockwaves ravages your tired body. Shooting sparks of electricity race through your limbs. Your unfocused eyes stayed fixed on him throughout your climax. Your back arches high into his chest. Fingers ball up tight, desperate for something to grip. Your mouth drop open agape in a silent cry. Tear form in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill from the over stimulation. His harsh movements not granting you mercy in your fraile state.

“God, I can feel you squeezing me. Oh, pretty girl, I'm gonna fill your sweet cunt,” he moans. Hips increase in pace as your tense muscle loosen in exhaustion.

“Wait-” You murmur, hardly able to get your words out. Only a string of incoherent mumblings follow. Your brain is completely clouded. You know you can’t let him finish inside. “Please, no,” you whimper. “Can’t”

“It’s gonna be okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fill you up and maybe I’ll get you pregnant.” He says with a wicked smile. “You want to be my little house bunny? Fuck you until you get big and round. Walk around pregnant barefoot,”

Alarm bells ring in your ears but you aren’t able to fight against his strong hold. Your limbs remain weak. Useless to pull away from his embrace “Please” you whine, “I can’t”

“You can, bunny.” His thrusts grow erratic, losing their rhythm. “Gonna be such a pretty mommy,” His hand slipped underneath your head allowing thick fingers to tangle into your hair. His hands closing into a fist giving the strands a sharp tug. The other hand wanders down to your hips. Holding you firmly in place with a bruising grip.

With one final thrust he releases a loud, guttural groan. Teeth bared in exertion as he reaches his own climax. Cock pulsing inside of you, draining his seed into your weeping womb. All you can do is tighten your jaw as you attempt to push, kick, scream, anything but you just lie there. The faintest gasp leaves you when you feel his warm load pool inside of you.

“You made it so easy for me,” he laughs. “You just got in my truck. Walked into my house. Silly girl, you don’t even know me. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk to strangers.”

He gives a few more gentle pumps before pulling out completely. Leaving your aching cunt feeling empty. He leans back and stares down, watching him cum drip out of your still quivering cunt.

“You know, I put something in your drink. Took a little while to take, though. Got to you just in time I think. I was going to wait but you wanted it, didn’t you? I like seeing that dumb look in your eyes.” He grabs your jaw and moves your head back and forth while you stare blankly back at him.

“Couldn’t let a little bunny like you get away, could I?

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

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dksfml · 14 days ago

Text

Love 119 [Part Four]

The Prequel

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part one][part two][part three]

pairing: jungwon x reader summary: the story of how you and jungwon met and fell in love at the most unexpected time and place. genre: countryside romance, strangers to lovers, slight angst, teasing, banter, and fluff (for the earlier parts: enemies at work, lovers at home. workplace romance, secret dating, suggestive, submissive jungwon) word count: 4.6k author's note: prequel to the paramedic jungwon series, but can be read first. shoutout to @tinycatharsis who gave me the idea to make a backstory for this series. i absolutely love writing this part, and all of it just makes sense. enjoy <3 playlist: pink skies - lany, every summertime - niki, orange flower - enhypen, mean it - lauv & lany.

The city had never felt like home.

It was where you spent years chasing deadlines, drowning in textbooks, and memorizing medical terms until they became second nature. It was where you learned to function on caffeine and minimal sleep, where your days blurred into a never-ending cycle of lectures, internships, and hospital rotations. It was where you succeeded but never truly lived.

So when graduation finally arrived, when you were handed that hard-earned diploma with your name written in elegant calligraphy, your first instinct wasn’t to celebrate. It was to escape.

You needed a pause before the next battle. The board exams loomed ahead, but for the first time in years, you had the freedom to breathe. And there was only one place that made sense—home.

Not the sleek apartment in the city. Not the sterile walls of a hospital. But the countryside, where your childhood memories lived.

Where the air smelled of fresh earth instead of smoke and gasoline. Where the horizon stretched endlessly, painted in hues of green and gold. Where the nights weren’t filled with sirens and car horns, but with the steady hum of crickets and the occasional bark of a distant dog.

It had been years since you’d last visited. Your relatives still lived there, cousins who once ran through the fields barefoot, now grown. You imagined their wide-eyed curiosity when they saw you again, the pride in their voices when they introduced you as the family’s doctor-to-be.

And so, with a suitcase packed and a heart yearning for something familiar, you left behind the city’s cold embrace and stepped onto a bus heading toward the place where it all began.

At that moment, you had no idea that this trip would change everything. That buried in the stillness of the countryside, amidst the swaying rice fields and the warmth of home, was a story waiting to unfold.

A story that began with a single glance across a field.

And a boy named Jungwon.

The bus ride stretched long and languid, the road unraveling before you in a winding path of asphalt and dust. The further you traveled, the more the city’s towering buildings shrank into the distance, replaced by rolling hills, scattered nipa huts, and endless fields bathed in the golden afternoon sun.

You leaned against the window, watching as the scenery shifted, the hum of the bus blending with the distant sounds of cicadas. There was something deeply nostalgic about it, how the trees bent with the wind, how farmers worked in synchronized rhythm, their straw hats bobbing as they harvested the rice that swayed like an ocean of gold.

It was a world untouched by the frantic pace of city life. Here, time stretched rather than sprinted, and people moved with purpose but without urgency.

It felt foreign now, yet painfully familiar.

As the bus pulled into the town’s small terminal, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with the scent of freshly harvested crops, warm earth, and a hint of smoke from a nearby food stall grilling skewers of meat. A few vendors called out to passing travelers, selling rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves, baskets of ripe mangoes, and homemade treats that reminded you of childhood afternoons spent sneaking bites before dinner.

Your cousin was already waiting for you.

“Y/N!” she called, waving excitedly from where she stood near a parked tricycle. Her face had changed over the years, the round cheeks of childhood now sharper, more mature. But her smile was the same. Bright, welcoming, and filled with the warmth of home.

You barely had time to react before she threw her arms around you, squeezing tight.

“It’s been so long! You look so—” She stepped back, giving you a once-over, eyes sparkling with mischief. “—so much like a city girl.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smirked. “You’re gonna hate the heat. And the bugs.”

You already knew she was right. But you weren’t here for comfort. You were here to escape.

The ride back to your family’s house was bumpy, the dirt road uneven beneath the tricycle’s wheels. But the sight of home, your grandmother’s old wooden house, the wide fields stretching into the horizon, the laughter of children playing barefoot in the grass, was enough to make your chest tighten with something indescribable.

You had spent your entire life chasing after something bigger. A career, success, a future that was meant to shine. But sitting there, feeling the wind whip through your hair as the tricycle sped past familiar places, you realized that maybe the small things had always been the most precious.

The first few days passed in a blur of warm reunions and endless storytelling. Your little cousins clung to you, peppering you with questions about the city. They asked if the buildings really touched the sky, if the cars never stopped moving, if it was true that the air smelled different.

You answered them with a smile, but deep down, you envied their simple wonder.

One afternoon, your uncle invited you to the fields. “Just to see,” he said, but the knowing glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

That’s how you found yourself knee-deep in the rice paddies, the sun beating down mercilessly, sweat trickling down your spine as you attempted—poorly—to mimic the careful, practiced movements of the farmers. The mud squelched beneath your feet, and every time an insect buzzed past, you flinched. Your cousins laughed at your misery, their own hands swift and efficient as they gathered the stalks.

And then, you slipped.

It was embarrassing, really. One moment, you were standing, trying your best to pretend you belonged there, and the next, you were on the ground, hands sinking into the thick mud.

Laughter erupted around you, loud and unfiltered. You groaned, about to push yourself up when a shadow fell over you.

A hand appeared in your line of vision, fingers calloused, palm open.

“Need some help, city girl?”

You looked up, squinting against the sunlight.

That was the first time you saw him.

Jungwon.

His dark hair was slightly damp from sweat, his skin slightly tanned from days under the sun. There was an ease in the way he stood, as if he had done this his whole life, and maybe he had. His white shirt was loose, the sleeves rolled up, revealing toned arms that spoke of quiet strength. But what struck you most wasn’t his appearance.

It was the way he looked at you.

Amused. Curious. And just a little bit smug.

You frowned, ignoring his hand as you pushed yourself up, only to stumble again. This time, his hands caught you before you could fall, steadying you with surprising gentleness.

“Careful,” he said, voice tinged with laughter. “This isn’t the city. No smooth pavements here.”

You scowled. “I noticed.”

His lips quirked upward, eyes filled with something unreadable. “Yeah,” he mused. “I bet you did.”

And just like that, the first spark was lit.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You were still trying to shake off the mud from your hands when Jungwon chuckled.

“You sure you don’t need help?” he teased, crossing his arms.

You shot him a glare, brushing your palms against your pants in frustration. “I’m fine.”

Jungwon’s lips twitched as if suppressing a laugh. “Right. Totally looks like it.”

Your cousins were still snickering in the background, whispering to each other like schoolchildren watching a drama unfold. You sent them a warning glance, but that only made them giggle harder.

“Are you always this clumsy, or is it just the countryside that makes you weak?” Jungwon continued, his tone light but undeniably amused.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t usually walk around in knee-deep mud, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Figured as much.” His gaze flickered to your clothes—your crisp white shirt now smeared with dirt, your once-pristine sneakers barely visible under the layers of mud. His smirk deepened. “You don’t exactly blend in here, city girl.”

You bristled at the nickname. “I have a name, you know.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

You hesitated for a split second. You weren’t sure why, but a part of you didn’t want to tell him, not yet. So instead, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

Jungwon let out a short laugh, tilting his head. “Fair enough.” He extended his hand, though with all the mud, neither of you seemed eager to actually shake hands. “Jungwon.”

You nodded, pretending not to be impressed by his confidence. “I’ve seen you around.”

“Same,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “Hard not to notice when someone reacts to every little bug like they’re facing death itself.”

You gasped. “I do not!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Tell that to the grasshopper that made you shriek earlier.”

Your cousins burst into laughter again, and you groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation. “Unbelievable.”

Jungwon only grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, scary insects.”

You rolled your eyes. “How noble of you.”

“I try.”

There was something infuriatingly charming about the way he spoke, his confidence laced with playfulness. You weren’t used to people talking to you like this, teasing, and completely unafraid to push your buttons. In the city, most people were either too polite or too intimidated by your background. But Jungwon? He wasn’t impressed.

And for some reason, that annoyed you.

“You work here?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“For now,” he replied, kicking some loose dirt with the toe of his boot. “Helping out my family for the summer.”

You frowned. “You don’t usually live here?”

“Nope.” His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his tone. “I don’t stay in one place for long.”

That caught your attention. You studied him for a moment, trying to figure him out. He didn’t seem like someone who belonged in a quiet town like this. His sharp features, his composed demeanor there was a certain confidence about him, as if he had seen more of the world than this countryside could offer. He moved with an ease that felt practiced, as if he had long learned how to adapt to different places.

And yet, here he was.

“Don’t overthink it, city girl,” Jungwon said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You’ll hurt your head.”

You scoffed. “What makes you think I’m overthinking?”

He simply shrugged, his eyes glinting. “Call it intuition.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, your uncle’s voice rang through the fields.

“Y/N! You done embarrassing yourself, or are you staying in the mud all day?”

Jungwon let out a low chuckle, and you sighed dramatically. “Great. My whole family’s against me now.”

Jungwon gave you one last teasing glance before turning to walk away. “Welcome to the countryside.”

As he disappeared into the fields, you couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer than necessary. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

And somehow, you had the strange feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he got on your nerves.

The following days followed a steady rhythm. Mornings were filled with the sounds of roosters crowing and the chatter of your relatives preparing for the day. Afternoons were slower, drenched in the golden warmth of the sun, where people found shade under the trees or cooled off with sweet, icy drinks. Evenings were lively, dinners filled with laughter, children running around barefoot, and the sky bursting with stars so bright they almost didn’t seem real.

And somewhere in between all that, is Jungwon.

You saw him more often than you expected.

At first, it was just in passing. Him walking by your cousin’s house to borrow tools, him unloading sacks of rice from a truck, him helping the elders repair fences or lifting baskets filled with freshly harvested crops. You told yourself it was just coincidence, but deep down, you were starting to notice him a little too much.

And unfortunately, he seemed to notice you too.

“You look miserable.”

You turned from where you were standing near the edge of the rice fields, arms crossed as you watched your cousins work. Jungwon stood beside you, hands in his pockets, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I’m not miserable,” you huffed. “I’m observing.”

“Observing what?”

You hesitated. “Just… how they work.”

Jungwon smirked. “You’re waiting for another chance to embarrass yourself, aren’t you?”

You scowled. “That was one time.”

“And yet, unforgettable.”

You sighed dramatically. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Only when it’s fun.”

You shot him a glare, but he only grinned. There was something frustrating about how effortlessly he could get under your skin. He was never cruel, never outright mocking. But he had a way of teasing you that made you feel like you were constantly playing a game you didn’t realize you signed up for.

Still, you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“So, what do you do?” you asked, tilting your head. “Besides making my life difficult.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You mean here?”

“I mean in general.”

He hummed, as if considering whether or not he wanted to answer. “A little bit of everything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s vague.”

“Maybe I like being vague.”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair. You ask me all these questions about my life, but you barely give me anything about yours.”

Jungwon shrugged, his lips curling up in amusement. “Maybe I just enjoy hearing you talk.”

That caught you off guard. For a split second, your brain short-circuited, unsure of whether he was messing with you or if there was something else hidden in his words. You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, he reached out and flicked a strand of your hair.

“You’ve got straw in your hair,” he said, smirking as he walked away. “City girl.”

You stood there, watching his retreating figure, heart pounding in a way you weren’t sure you liked.

Despite your best efforts, your interactions with Jungwon only increased.

He seemed to have a knack for appearing wherever you were. If you helped prepare meals in the kitchen, he’d conveniently show up to grab a drink. If you sat outside with your cousins, he’d stroll past, making some comment that sparked a new round of teasing from your family. If you took a walk through the fields in the late afternoon, he’d somehow always be nearby, throwing a casual, “Getting used to the bugs yet?” your way.

And then, there were the quieter moments.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on the wooden steps of your cousin’s house, sipping on a cup of cold coconut juice. The air was cooler now, the scent of the day’s labor fading into the crispness of the night.

Jungwon sat down beside you without a word, stretching his legs out in front of him. He rolled the drink in his hands before taking a slow sip. For once, he wasn’t teasing you.

“You like it here?” he asked after a while, his voice quieter than usual.

You glanced at him. “Yeah. It’s peaceful.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head up to the night sky. “Too peaceful.”

You frowned. “Too peaceful?”

Jungwon tapped his fingers against the side of his cup. “I don’t know. I guess I like a little… action.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What, you want car chases and explosions in the middle of the rice fields?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. Just… something unpredictable. Something fast. Something that makes your heart race.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him. He didn’t seem like someone who belonged in a place like this, but this was the first time he actually admitted it.

“You get bored here, don’t you?” you asked, watching for his reaction.

Jungwon leaned back on his elbows, gaze fixed on the sky. “Let’s just say… I’m not used to staying still.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. You wanted to ask more, why he was here in the first place, what kind of life he usually lived, but you hesitated.

Instead, you swirled your drink in your hands. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I prefer the quiet.”

Jungwon smirked, turning to you. “Yeah, I can tell. You like your little slow mornings, your countryside sunsets, your cozy little routines.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that a bad thing?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just… different.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, not exactly awkward, but filled with something unspoken.

Then, Jungwon nudged your knee with his. “But I bet even you wouldn’t mind a little excitement sometimes.”

You scoffed. “Excitement like what?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Something thrilling. Like running through the rain, chasing something you’re not supposed to have, breaking a rule or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds illegal.”

Jungwon grinned. “Depends.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re something else, Jungwon.”

“I try.”

And for the first time, sitting there under the starry sky, you started to wonder what exactly it was he was running toward, or running from.

The night stretched on in silence, but your mind was restless. Jungwon’s words lingered in the air, as if they held more weight than he let on.

You glanced at him, his face partially illuminated by the glow of the lantern hanging near the doorway. He was staring straight ahead, the usual playfulness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something quieter.

“You know,” you started, swirling the last bits of your drink, “you never really talk about yourself.”

Jungwon smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “I thought you liked mysteries.”

You huffed. “I like solving them.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Figures.”

A breeze rolled through, rustling the banana leaves nearby. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to piece him together. He wasn’t from here, that much was obvious. He wasn’t like your cousins, who had spent their entire lives in the countryside. He moved differently, spoke differently, carried himself like he had seen things, lived through things that didn’t belong in a place like this.

And yet, here he was.

“Are you running from something?” you asked, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Jungwon finally looked at you, his gaze unreadable. For a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer.

Then, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I wouldn’t say running.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

He exhaled, watching the lantern light flicker. “Looking.”

“For what?”

Jungwon tapped his fingers against his knee, as if debating how much to say. Then, with a slight shrug, he murmured, “Something worth staying for.”

Something about the way he said it made your breath hitch.

You didn’t know why, but your heart beat a little faster at those words.

“You make it sound like nothing has ever been worth staying for,” you said quietly.

Jungwon didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his arms before giving you a small, lopsided grin, like he was trying to shake off whatever weight had settled on his shoulders.

“I guess I just haven’t found it yet,” he said.

You swallowed. There was something bittersweet about his tone. You wanted to press further, to ask what places he’d been, what he had seen, what had made him so restless. But something told you he wouldn’t answer, not tonight.

So instead, you forced a smirk and nudged his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that, wanderer.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Wanderer, huh?”

“You don’t stay in one place, you’re constantly looking for something… the name fits.”

He tilted his head, considering. “I guess that makes you the opposite, then.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Jungwon turned to you, the lantern’s warm glow reflecting in his dark eyes. “You want roots. Stability. A quiet life. You’re the kind of person who dreams of staying.”

You parted your lips, surprised at how easily he read you.

“…Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”

Jungwon hummed, a knowing look in his eyes. “Guess that means we’re different, huh?”

You stared at him, your fingers tightening around your cup.

Different.

So why did it feel like, despite that difference, you were being pulled toward him anyway?

The stars twinkled above you, oblivious to the growing tension between the two of you. Somewhere in the distance, cicadas hummed, filling the silence.

You looked away first. “Yeah. We are.”

But for some reason, it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

The days blurred into each other, and before you knew it, your one-month stay was nearing its end.

You tried not to dwell on it too much. You busied yourself with your little cousins, indulging them with stories of the city and answering their endless questions. You helped out in the house, assisted in small village errands, and even tried your best to get used to working in the fields, though that part was still a disaster.

And then there was Jungwon.

Somehow, without meaning to, he had become a part of your everyday life. He was there in the mornings, showing up at your cousin’s house to borrow something, throwing a teasing remark your way. He was there in the afternoons, passing by while you played with the kids, making fun of your storytelling skills. And he was there in the evenings, sitting on the wooden steps with you, sharing drinks and small conversations under the stars.

But as the days passed, you couldn’t ignore the shift in the air. The teasing never stopped, but there were moments now—small, fleeting ones, where the playfulness softened, replaced by something else.

Like when he lingered just a little longer when handing you something.

Like when his gaze held yours for a second too long before he looked away.

Like when he stopped teasing you and instead just… listened.

It terrified you.

Because you knew this wouldn’t last.

One evening, as the sky burned with the last light of the sunset, you found yourself walking along the edge of the rice fields. The golden stalks swayed gently, whispering secrets to the wind. Jungwon was walking beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual easygoing expression in place.

“You’re quiet today,” he remarked.

You kicked at a stray pebble on the dirt path. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitated. “Leaving.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he kept his gaze forward, his lips pressing into a firm line for a brief second before his usual smirk appeared.

“So, city life finally calling you back?” he said, his tone light, but there was something beneath it you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded. “I have to take my board exam. Then start working.”

“Right.”

Silence stretched between you, only broken by the distant croaking of frogs and the rustling of the fields.

You glanced at him. “You’re not saying anything annoying. That’s suspicious.”

Jungwon let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “What, you want me to tease you about leaving?”

You sighed. “No. I don’t know.”

A pause. Then, he tilted his head toward you. “Are you excited?”

You blinked at him. “About?”

“Going back. Getting away from this place.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Were you?

You had been, at the start. The first week here had been difficult, adjusting to the slower pace, dealing with the mud, getting teased for your city-girl habits. You missed the convenience of the city, the efficiency, the movement. But now…

You weren’t sure anymore.

“I should be,” you admitted. “I mean, this isn’t my life.”

Jungwon hummed. “Yeah.”

That was all he said. Yeah.

And for some reason, it made your chest tighten.

You frowned, suddenly frustrated. “You’re acting weird.”

Jungwon quirked a brow. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

You huffed. “That’s exactly something a weird person would say.”

Jungwon grinned, nudging your arm. “Fine. What do you want me to say? That I’ll miss you?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’m the highlight of your summer.”

“Right, how could I forget?” he teased.

But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Neither of you said it, but you both felt it.

This would end soon.

And neither of you knew what to do about it.

Your departure was only days away, and yet, the one thing you hadn’t expected happened.

Jungwon disappeared.

Jungwon was gone.

One day, he was there, teasing you, lingering in doorways, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. And then suddenly, he wasn’t.

You didn’t notice it at first. You had been too preoccupied, too caught up in the last few days of your stay, making sure you spent enough time with your cousins before leaving. But then a whole day passed without seeing him. Then another. And another.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was busy. Maybe his family needed him for something.

But then you asked.

And the answer sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.

“He left,” one of your cousins told you, chewing absently on a piece of sugarcane. “Said he had something urgent to take care of.”

You stared at them, the words sinking in like stones in water. “Left? Where?”

They shrugged. “Dunno. Just packed up and went.”

Just like that. No warning. No explanation. No goodbye.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Figures.”

But it wasn’t funny. Not even a little.

You had spent the last month getting used to him—his teasing, his stupid smirks, the way he made you feel like he saw through you even when you didn’t want him to. You had spent weeks trying to figure him out, to understand the way he spoke in half-truths, always dodging real answers with a joke or a smirk.

And now, when you were finally starting to understand him, when you were finally starting to accept that maybe, just maybe, he had become a part of this place for you., he was gone.

Without a word.

You hated him for it.

It burned, hot and unforgiving in your chest.

Because you had told him. You had told him you were leaving soon, given him time to prepare, time to say something, anything.

But instead, he left first.

Coward.

You had never expected anything from Jungwon. At least, that’s what you told yourself. He had been nothing but a fleeting presence in your life, a summer memory that was never meant to last.

So why did it feel like a betrayal?

The worst part was, no one else seemed to care. Life in the countryside moved on, unaffected by his absence. Your cousins still played in the fields, your relatives still sat around after meals gossiping about the neighbors, the sun still rose and set like it always did.

But for you, something had shifted.

You left two days later, not bothering to ask about him again.

If Jungwon didn’t care enough to say goodbye, then neither did you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the bitterness sat in your chest long after you boarded the bus back to the city.

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stolen something from you when he left, something you hadn’t even realized you were willing to give.

Months passed, but the feeling lingered—quiet, persistent, unshaken.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he didn’t matter.

But then, on your first day at work, stepping into the emergency department, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air, you looked up…

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Standing just a few feet away, sleeves rolled up, paramedic radio clipped to his belt, laughing at something a nurse said.

Your breath caught.

Of all the places in the world…

[part one][part two][part three]

taglist: @1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol @yjwonsgf @lvvstruck @leah-rose03 @kanonjji @kyunlov @somuchdard @seongiewon @theothernads @luumiinaa @enhaverse713586 @lynanist @moriwori @han-to-my-minho @hhyvsstuff @gardenwons @frankenstein852 @firstclassjaylee @lamin143 @serenadehera @elove2047 @cookiesha11 @enhamysunshines @tkooooop @lizdevorak @hoshilysm @meggxsxs @deluluscenarios @babyboomysweetie @tinycatharsis @leesolbeesol

tell me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist! thanks<33

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joelsrose · 4 months ago

Text

Valentine’s Day

fluff!!

i think i might make a little mini-series of cute fluff one shots of reader travelling w/ Joel - same vibe as polaroids

The road stretched endlessly ahead, an unbroken ribbon of cracked asphalt and brittle grass edging the silence between you and Joel. Time had lost its edges, slipping by in indistinguishable layers—sunrise and sunset melting into a quiet, unending rhythm. You both found small ways to measure the days, counting by the frost thickening in the mornings or the way your breath lingered longer in the air.

He’d been quiet that morning, gaze fixed on the horizon, shoulders curled inward in a way you’d come to recognize—a silent signal of his retreat into himself. Only when he finally spoke, his voice roughened by the cold, did you catch a faint trace of what lay beneath.

“Mid-February,” he muttered, the words barely a whisper, his eyes distant, unfocused, as though he were seeing beyond the leafless trees and frost-bitten fields, someplace far beyond reach.

The realization settled quietly within you, a subtle truth he likely hadn’t even noticed you told yourself—that today wasn’t just any other day.

Valentine's Day.

Just another day, you told yourself. And yet, as you looked over at Joel, his face softened by the pale winter light, the weight of what once was—of love, of yearning, of lives that once had space for days like this—felt as tangible as the frost clinging to the earth.

Days like this should have been trivial, stripped of meaning in the world you were barely holding onto now. And yet, as the realization settled—Valentine’s Day, here, with Joel—an ember of something unspoken flickered in the thick silence between you.

It was ridiculous, pointless even, to care about a day that belonged to a life long gone. But somehow, it mattered.

Joel hadn’t missed the thought either—not that he’d ever let on. But something shifted, a fleeting spark in his gaze, a quick, sidelong glance that brushed over you before he retreated behind the rough, impenetrable armor he wore so well. You hadn’t known him in those days, back when he was a different man, softer around the edges, before the world had carved out the unyielding hardness he carried now.

Once, he’d been the type for quiet gestures, his version of romance wrapped in a humble simplicity—a bouquet picked up on the way home from work, a meal at a place that felt like a splurge, maybe even a soft tune played on his guitar, chords strummed slow and low, just for someone he loved.

That version of Joel was a memory now, a part of him buried under years of survival. But here, in that brief, unguarded look, you glimpsed a shadow of who he’d once been, a reminder of the life he’d lost but hadn’t entirely forgotten.

But that part of him was buried now, hidden beneath layers of loss in a world that left no room for tenderness.

Still, in the quiet moments between you, there was a glimmer—a barely-there echo of the man he might have been, of a Valentine’s Day he hadn’t entirely let go. It was a trace, a faint whisper of something unforgotten, lingering in the way his gaze softened just a fraction when it met yours, a warmth hidden in the spaces where words failed.

In those rare silences, you felt it—a fragile remnant of a man who, once upon a time, might have known how to love gently.

~~~

You were passing through another nameless place, its ghostly streets and faded signs blending into the countless towns you’d left behind. The road stretched ahead, winding into the dense sprawl of forest, the trees casting shadows that grew longer as the sun dipped low on the horizon.

You walked a few paces ahead of Joel, each step sending a dull ache through your feet, the exhaustion settling into your bones as the sky blazed in hues of deep orange and soft pink—a sunset bleeding into dusk. The silence between you was familiar now, a quiet rhythm you’d both learned to live in, broken only by the steady crunch of your boots on loose gravel and the faint, reassuring echo of Joel’s footsteps behind you.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” he murmured, his voice low, carrying a quiet certainty as he surveyed the encroaching darkness and the shadows stretching long beneath the trees. There was a practiced ease in the way he assessed the fading light, an instinct honed by years on the road, as if he could read the landscape’s secrets in a single glance.

“Okay,” you replied, nodding without hesitation. You trusted Joel’s instincts implicitly, each decision sharpened by years of survival and weighed with a quiet precision. There was a steady comfort in following his lead, in the silent assurance that, whatever lay ahead, he would be the one standing between you and the darkness.

It was more than trust—it was a fragile kind of faith, the certainty that he’d weather the night so you didn’t have to face it alone.

You’d set up camp, sinking down against a rough, weathered log, the bark pressing into your back as you released a tired sigh. Joel muttered something about gathering firewood, his voice a low murmur that blended with the evening quiet as he scanned the tree line.

You watched him disappear into the dimming light, his silhouette broad and unyielding against the last slivers of sunset. It was a rhythm you’d come to rely on—his quiet, unwavering sense of duty, always ensuring you had warmth and protection.

Joel wandered, his steps slower than usual, his thoughts snagging on the way your eyes had brightened when he’d offhandedly mentioned the date. He hadn’t intended for it to mean anything—just a passing remark—but there was something about the look you’d given him, unexpected and strangely soft, that lingered.

It unsettled him—a quiet reminder of feelings he’d thought long buried. And yet, here they were, surfacing more persistently since he’d met you, weaving through his thoughts like a memory he couldn’t quite shake.

He’d been gathering firewood, but his attention drifted, his gaze settling on a small patch of wildflowers nestled in the underbrush. Soft purple petals, delicate against the rugged landscape, caught his eye. Before he even realized what he was doing, he reached down, fingers brushing the blooms as he plucked a few. His hands moved on instinct, guided by something quiet and unguarded, a small gesture he hadn’t intended yet couldn’t resist.

With the flowers clutched in his hand, he froze.

What the hell was he doing?

Joel stood there, caught in the deepening shadows, his grip tightening around the fragile stems as he began to pace, second-guessing himself in a way that felt almost absurd. He wasn’t the kind of man who picked flowers—not anymore, not for a long time.

But somehow, being around you had pulled him into unfamiliar territory, unearthing pieces of himself he’d long thought buried. You brought out a quiet tenderness in him, nudging him toward gestures that went beyond mere survival—small acts he tried to brush off as routine but that hinted at a fondness he fought to suppress.

After absentmindedly picking flowers for you, it became glaringly obvious to Joel that he cared for you—deeper than an acquaintance, a friend, or even a fellow traveler on this harsh road. It showed in the way he’d insist on carrying your pack, ignoring the twinge in his back with a muttered, “Not a big deal,” brushing off your concern like it was nothing. He’d save you half of whatever he was eating, passing it over with a quiet, “Thought you’d want some.” He’d keep an extra eye out for little things he knew you’d like—an old book salvaged from a wrecked house, or a stray packet of coffee he’d hand you with a gruff, “Found it along the way.” And on those rare, bone-tired nights by the fire, he’d sit just a bit closer than he had to, his shoulder brushing yours, grounding you both in a warmth neither of you dared to name. All small gestures he hadn’t made for anyone in years.

~~~

Back at camp, a quiet worry began to take hold as your gaze lingered on the darkening treeline. He’d been gone longer than usual, and with each passing moment, the shadows grew, stretching across the ground as the forest settled into an uneasy silence, the last traces of daylight fading away. It was in moments like these that the weight of how much you relied on him settled over you—how your survival had come to depend on his presence, his strength. You tried not to let those thoughts creep in, but sometimes, they slipped past your defenses: how would you survive without Joel?

Just as you were on the verge of getting up to search for him, he appeared from the shadows, his figure solidifying against the dim glow of twilight. His gaze held a quiet intensity, a flicker of something unspoken as he drew closer, and you felt the tension in your chest unravel, replaced by a warmth you couldn’t quite name. A breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding slipped out as you rose to meet him, a silent relief settling over you at the simple fact of his return.

“Where were you?” you asked, the worry threading through your voice despite your attempt to keep it steady. That soft edge, the unmistakable concern in your tone, stirred something deep within him—something he had realized was still there, something that felt both foreign and achingly familiar, tugging at a part of himself he thought had long since withered away.

"Just… looking for firewood," he muttered, his gaze dropping to the rough bundle in his arms as he scratched the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. You nodded, though a faint trace of doubt lingered; something told you he hadn’t just been out collecting wood. But it didn’t matter now—he was here, and the sharp edge of your worry softened, melting into a quiet reassurance only his presence could bring. The weight that had settled in your chest eased, leaving you with a sense of calm that had become rare in times like these.

You stepped closer, reaching out to take some of the firewood from his arms, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment. “Next time, don’t take so long,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity. “You scared me.”

He mumbled, “’M sorry,” his gaze flickering away, yet you caught a hint of something deeper in his expression—a question he wouldn’t voice, a wondering if this—whatever it was between you—meant as much to you as it was beginning to mean to him.

Unbeknownst to you, he’d slipped the flowers deep into his pocket, his fingers brushing over the delicate petals every so often, as though they were something precious and fragile he wasn’t quite ready to let go of. He kept them hidden, a quiet secret pressed against his palm, a small piece of softness he wasn’t yet ready to share.

~~~

Later, as you lay wrapped in your sleeping bag, the world around you wrapped in darkness and silence, you turned toward Joel. He lay on his back, eyes fixed on the night sky, his familiar steady presence somehow softened, quieter. There was something different about him tonight, a quietness that felt deeper, as if he were lost in thoughts he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—share.

“You okay?” you murmured, your voice barely breaking the stillness around you. He turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours in the dim light, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softened. There was a warmth there, something almost vulnerable flickering in his eyes, before he gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, though his voice wavered, something unreadable passing over his face. “It’s February… mid-February,” he added, as if stating a simple fact, his gaze distant.

You nodded, watching him carefully. “You mentioned that this morning,” you said, curiosity tugging at your tone as you tried to read his expression, wondering where he was going with this.

“I, uh… I found somethin you might like’.” His hand shifted, reaching into his pocket, and he pulled out a small, crumpled handful of purple wildflowers. They were a little wilted, their petals slightly crushed from being tucked away, but there was a tender, almost shy quality to the gesture that caught your breath. The sight of those fragile blooms, offered with a rough gentleness, made your heart stumble.

“Joel… what’s all this?” you murmured, sitting up onto your elbows, your eyes wide with surprise and a warmth you didn’t dare put a name to.

He looked away, a faint flush creeping onto his face as he mumbled, “Figured, since it’s around Valentine’s Day and all… I know it ain’t much. Couldn’t exactly get you fancy chocolates or flowers from a stord.” His voice softened, almost unsure, as he extended the fragile blooms toward you. “Sorry you gotta spend the day with me… not sure if you were ever into all this stuff,” he added, his gaze lingering on the ground, as if afraid to meet your eyes.

A quiet warmth bloomed in your chest as you looked down at the flowers resting in his calloused hand. In this harsh, broken world, they were the most beautiful thing you’d seen—not for what they were, but for everything they meant. It almost hurt to hear Joel think you’d rather be with someone else, as if he couldn’t see how much his presence alone meant to you.

He’d thought of you, gone out of his way to bring a touch of softness into a life that seldom allowed for it. “This is perfect.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment before adding, “There’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.” Your words were quiet, but the smile that softened your features spoke volumes as you accepted the flowers from his hands. “Thank you, Joel.”

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you leaned over and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek. It was a simple gesture, tender and brief, but it left him stunned, his breath catching. The cover of night shielded the warmth rising to his face, but in the quiet that followed, he found himself grateful for the darkness—grateful, too, for you.

He cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “It’s, uh… it’s nothin’,” he mumbled, voice rougher than usual, though it couldn’t quite mask the tremor underneath. “Just… don’t go gettin’ used to this kinda thing, alright?”

But despite the gruffness in his tone, his gaze softened as he looked at you, a warmth there that he couldn’t quite hide. You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you snuggled back into your sleeping bag. “Alright, grumpy pants,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Good night.”

He huffed, a sound of faint indignation, though you didn’t miss the flicker of a smirk just before he turned away, muttering, “Yeah, yeah. G’night.”

As you drifted off, the faint scent of wildflowers lingered in the cool night air, wrapping around you both in a gentle reminder of the moment you’d just shared. Neither of you spoke, but in that quiet exchange, something settled—a fragile, unspoken connection that made the night feel a little softer, a little less lonely.

It was a small thing, delicate and unassuming, but it was there, woven into the silence.

Maybe later, you’d press those wildflowers between the pages of one of the books Joel had scavenged for you, preserving them as a quiet promise that would last long after the petals had faded.

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spinningwebsandtales · 10 months ago

Text

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

#Soshiro Hoshina X Reader #Soshiro Hoshina / Reader #Soshiro Hoshina #Kaiju No. 8 #Kaiju No 8 #Soshiro Hoshina Imagine #Kaiju No. 8 Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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wolvietxt · 3 months ago

Text

ᰔ on daryl’s bike !

the hum of the engine beneath you was steady, a low vibration that buzzed up through your legs and into your chest as daryl guided the bike along the empty road. the sun was just starting to set, casting long shadows over the asphalt and painting the sky in soft streaks of orange and pink.

your arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his back, the fabric of his vest rough against your skin. it wasn’t often you got moments like this - quiet, without walkers or other people or the constant pressure to keep moving.

he smelled like leather and earth, and there was something so comforting about it that you found yourself grinning, a kind of giddy warmth bubbling up in your chest.

without really thinking, you tilted your head and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his neck.

his shoulders stiffened immediately. “what’re ya doin’?”

you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “what does it look like?”

he muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch, his voice gruff and low.

but you weren’t about to let it go. emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in again, brushing your lips against the spot where his neck met his shoulder, softer this time.

his hand on the handlebar twitched, and the bike wobbled slightly. “dammit, woman - cut it out.”

“you’re no fun,” you teased, though you didn’t stop, your lips trailing along the edge of his collar.

he growled under his breath, a sound somewhere between frustration and something else entirely. and then, without warning, he veered the bike to the side of the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as he brought it to a sharp stop.

“hey, daryl! what are you - ”

you didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence.

before you could even process what was happening, he twisted around in the seat, one hand reaching up to cup the back of your head as his lips crashed into yours.

the kiss was rough, unpracticed, but there was something desperate about it, something that made your breath catch. he pulled you closer, his other hand gripping your hip as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

you grinned, your hands still clutching at the front of his vest. “worth it, though, right?”

his lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smirk. “damn right.”

before you could respond, he kissed you again, slower this time, his thumb brushing against the side of your jaw. the world around you faded - the fading sun, the chirping crickets, the distant rustle of leaves - and all that mattered was him.

when he finally pulled away, his gaze softened, the usual guardedness giving way to something warmer.

“c’mon,” he said, his voice quieter now. “we gotta get back ‘fore they start wonderin’.”

you nodded, though you couldn’t help but steal one last kiss before he turned back around.

as the bike roared to life again and you wrapped your arms around him, your lips brushed against his ear.

“you’re really bad at pretending you don’t like it,” you teased.

his laugh was gruff, but genuine. “shut up.”

you smiled against his back, content to let the ride stretch out just a little longer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you never wanted to let go.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi, @omen-keke, @hhiggs, @iheartpeterparker3000

@withasideofmeg, @bbittenapples

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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noira-l · 3 months ago

Text

𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Beneath the rain’s steady rhythm, you cross paths with a stranger, sharing an umbrella on a quiet, forested road. What begins as a fleeting act of kindness unfolds into an unexpected connection, leaving questions and longing lingering like the rain-soaked air. Will you meet again?

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teacher!geto suguru x afab reader

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — fluff, teacher au, polite and gentle Geto, shy reader, adorable reassuring dynamic, losts of blushing from reader, walking hand-in-hand, Suguru is a true gentleman, Satoru makes an brief appearance at the end.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 5,9 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — One of my favourite texts, I see the potential to write a part two, let me know what you think and if you like it c:

𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 — september - sparky deatcap

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The rain had been falling in torrents since late afternoon, a warm deluge that soaked the earth and wrapped the air in the scent of wet leaves and damp soil. It was almost the end of summer, that fleeting stretch of warmth before the world cooled and grew crisp. You held onto the net of small purchases, pressing them close to your side.

Your sandals squelched against the wet asphalt, water seeping through with each step, though you hardly minded anymore. It was too late to avoid the inevitable, and there was a sort of childish thrill in the way the rain drenched you, despite the protection of your transparent umbrella.

The umbrella itself was a delicate thing, clear plastic that mirrored the drops of rain as they slid down its surface, catching the muted gray light of the cloudy sky. You tilted it slightly to better see the road ahead.

Around you, the world was hushed, softened by the rain. The desolate fields you had passed earlier were now behind you, the tall grass bending under the weight of the downpour. The trees of the forest loomed up ahead, dark and dense, the kind of green that seemed almost black when wet. Their leaves glittered with moisture, heavy with rain that dripped in a rhythmic patter to the forest floor.

Your village was still far off, a small cluster of houses tucked away from the busier parts of the world. It always felt like another century back there, with its narrow lanes and low stone walls.

Your friend had been kind enough to drop you off to work in the morning, but their day had gone another way, leaving you to make the journey home on foot. You didn’t mind too much; there was something oddly peaceful about being alone with the rain, even if your calves would ache by the time you made it back.

The forest stretched on, its canopy forming a natural tunnel that swallowed the sound of your footsteps. The air was warm, almost muggy, but the rain kept it fresh, a relief against your skin. You could hear the distant gurgle of a stream somewhere, the kind of noise that made you want to linger, to breathe it all in. But your arms were growing tired from carrying your bag of purchases, and you quickened your pace slightly, already looking forward to dry socks and tea.

Just ahead, a bus stop stood at the side of the road. It was a modest thing, little more than a metal frame with a roof and a bench, its glass walls speckled with droplets that caught the light like tiny jewels. You recognized it immediately as one of the few stops along your route, though the buses never came often enough to rely on them.

From a distance, the figure standing under the shelter’s roof was striking - a tall man with long, raven-black hair, though one strand of hair spilled to the side, framing his face. He wore dark clothes that resembled some sort of uniform, their edges dampened by the rain, though he seemed largely unbothered by it, his sharp eyes focused on the phone he held in one hand.

The glow of the screen cast a faint light on his face, accentuating his features. He didn’t look up as you drew closer, too absorbed in whatever he was reading or typing.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell him.

It felt like an awkward thing to point out - that the nearest bus wouldn’t arrive for another two hours. You knew this, of course; you’d lived here all your life, and the unreliable bus schedule was just part of the routine. But there was something about him, this stranger standing so composed in the rain, that made you reluctant to correct him. You didn’t want to come off as rude or condescending, even though he looked far too poised to be ruffled by something so trivial.

With slow, deliberate steps, you moved closer, finally able to get a proper look at the stranger’s face. And then you stopped, caught entirely off guard.

He was beautiful - stunning, even.

His features were sharp but balanced, his skin pale against the wet strands of dark hair framing his face. There was an elegance about him, the kind you’d only ever read about in books, a kind of beauty that seemed out of place in a bus stop on a rainy day in the middle of nowhere.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze, suddenly unsure of yourself. It wasn’t just admiration that stopped you - it was the feeling that he might notice. And he did. The stranger raised his gaze, meeting yours with piercing eyes that made your stomach flip.

You felt as though you’d been caught in the act of something, though you couldn’t quite say what.

"Excuse me…" you began, your voice unsteady, the words slipping out before you could overthink them "From this stop, the next bus will only leave in two hours."

You saw his expression change, his face hardening for just a moment before he glanced at his phone. A flicker of realization crossed his features, followed by the subtle tightening of his jaw. Two hours. You watched him absorb the information, weighing it in the way one might consider an unexpected puzzle piece.

"Which destination are you trying to go to, sir?" you asked tentatively, hoping to soften the atmosphere.

The stranger shifted slightly, his posture still composed, his voice was calm, almost melodic when he replied.

"I was supposed to have transport arranged..." he said, his tone polite and precise "...but it didn’t show up. I’ve been walking this way for a while, trying to get to the nearest railway station." he glanced out at the rain, a resigned smile touching his lips "For now, I’ll just wait until the rain lets up."

Okey, so no formalities.

You bit the inside of your cheek, a twinge of pity blooming in your chest. Maybe it was the tiredness in his eyes, or maybe it was the strange comfort his voice seemed to offer, but something about him made you want to help. You felt yourself faltering, unsure if it was compassion or simply the pull of his presence that made you act.

Taking a small step forward, you hesitated again before speaking.

"I-I would give you my umbrella if I could.." you said shyly, stumbling over the words "but…I could share it with you instead, i-if you’d like. I’m walking that way, anyway." your voice was barely above the rain’s patter, and you glanced up at him nervously, your heart pounding as you waited for his response.

The stranger raised an eyebrow in surprise, his sharp features softening as a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t just any smile - it was warm, affectionate, the kind that could melt away the weight of the rain.

"That’s very kind of you." he said gently, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude "But are you sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

You nodded quickly, almost stumbling over your own reply "It’s not a problem at all." you said, your cheeks heating despite the cool rain.

He stepped closer then, the movement calm and deliberate.

"May I hold the umbrella?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with the kind of humor that made you feel at ease.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his earnestness. Then, in a burst of nervous laughter, you blurted out "This isn’t some elaborate plan to steal it, is it?"

He chuckled in response, the sound rich and unhurried, with a warmth that made your heart skip "I promise you, I’m not that desperate. Though I must admit, it’s quite a fine umbrella."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a little more freely this time "All right." you said, handing it over "No running off with it, right?"

His smile widened, and he inclined his head in mock solemnity "You have my word."

As he took the umbrella from you, he glanced at the bag in your hand "That looks heavy." he said, his tone still gentle "May I carry it for you? It’s the least I can do."

You blinked, surprised by his offer "Y-you don’t have to." you said quickly, though the weight of the bag was starting to bite into your shoulder.

"I’d like to." he replied softly, his voice full of tact and patience. He met your gaze with an earnestness that left you speechless for a moment "Let me repay your kindness in some way."

Before you could overthink it, you handed him the bag, watching as he slung it over his shoulder with ease. He took the umbrella from your hand as well, holding it high enough to shield you both.

"Thank you." you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush again.

He smiled down at you, his presence at once intimidating and comforting "It’s the least I can do."

You fell into step beside him, careful to keep your hands close to your chest to avoid brushing against him by accident. The umbrella bobbed slightly as you walked, its surface dappled with countless raindrops that caught the dim light filtering through the trees.

His shoulder brushed yours occasionally, and each time, you felt a jolt of awareness that made you press your hands tighter together.

The rain continued its steady symphony, the forest growing deeper and darker around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic tap of rain against the umbrella. Yet, despite the silence, the atmosphere felt warm, a shared sense of understanding hanging in the air.

The proximity of this stranger, his presence just inches from you, made your skin prickle. Your attempt to edge further away left your shoulder and arm exposed to the rain’s relentless assault, cold water trailing down your skin. You shivered involuntarily.

He noticed immediately. Without a word, he adjusted his stance, stepping slightly out from under the umbrella’s reach, allowing more rain to fall on himself. Then, with an effortless, almost graceful motion, he raised his elbow, lifting the umbrella higher in a silent gesture of encouragement. The movement was subtle but clear, his expression calm, his eyes soft as they flickered to you.

"Please, come closer." he said gently, his voice steady but filled with warmth "You’re getting soaked. That’s not good."

The simple suggestion caught you off guard. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of embarrassment and warmth. You felt your cheeks begin to burn, a blush rising that had nothing to do with the summer rain.

"I-I’m fine!" you stammered, the words tumbling out unconvincingly "I don’t want to invade your personal space."

He tilted his head slightly, his long raven-black hair shifting with the movement. A polite smile curved his lips, one that carried both reassurance and a trace of quiet amusement.

"I wouldn’t ask if I minded." he said, his voice as soothing as the patter of rain around you "But I won’t push." slowly, he lowered his hand, letting the umbrella dip back to its previous position.

You hesitated, a tangle of emotions swirling inside you. Embarrassment, nervousness, and something softer - an inexplicable pull that made it hard to look away from him. His behavior was so composed, so gentlemanly. The way he moved, every gesture precise yet natural, left an impression. His politeness was disarming, his patience soothing, and yet his presence was almost overwhelming.

Your gaze flicked over him again, taking in the details you’d been too shy to linger on before.

His profile was sharp, his jawline defined, the curve of his lips soft and poised in a way that seemed almost practiced. His eyes, when they turned to glance at the rain-soaked path ahead, were striking - a light amber that seemed to hold a quiet intensity, like they noticed more than they let on. The line of his nose was elegant, his skin smooth and pale, save for the faint shadows under his eyes that hinted at sleepless nights.

He radiated a quiet confidence, the kind that didn’t demand attention but drew it effortlessly nonetheless. But also some kind of laziness, like some kind of easiness, that was calming and reassuring. His voice, when he spoke, was enveloping, each word seeming to hang in the air just a second longer than necessary. It was a voice you could listen to for hours, soothing yet alluring in a way that made your heart quicken.

You wondered if you should get closer. Your shoulder was getting more and more wet, which was an added encouragement to get closer to this absolutely handsome man.

It's just sharing one umbrella.

Finally, you exhaled softly, giving in to the pull you couldn’t quite resist.

With slow, uncertain steps, you moved closer, slipping your hand between his arm and his side. The warmth of his body was immediate, a stark contrast to the cool dampness of the rain. You felt the firm strength of his forearm beneath your fingers, the contours of muscle that you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t ignore.

Your fingers pressed lightly against his arm, and you bit your lip, heat spreading through your cheeks even more. It was impossible not to notice how solid he felt, how steady. You dared a glance up at him, hoping for some sort of reassurance, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was focused ahead, his expression calm and unreadable, though there was a faint curve to his lips, almost as if he were holding back a smile.

The moment felt absurdly intimate, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. The way he held the umbrella so steadily, the ease with which he carried your bag, the slight tilt of his head as he kept an eye on the path ahead - it all made you hyperaware of the closeness between you.

For a brief moment, you wondered if anyone passing by would mistake you for a couple. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat to your face.

Are you not dreaming too much?

His voice broke the silence after a moment, soft and steady "Comfortable?" he asked, glancing down at you briefly.

The question sent your heart racing again, though there was nothing teasing in his tone - just genuine care "Y-yeah." you managed, though your voice wavered slightly.

His eyes softened, and the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips "Good." he said simply, his gaze returning to the path.

Walking like this, hand in hand with this beautiful stranger, felt surreal. You tried to focus on the rain, the trees, anything other than the growing warmth in your chest. But it was impossible not to notice every detail - the curve of his lips when he smiled, the faint sparkle of raindrops caught in his dark hair, the steadiness of his voice whenever he spoke. It all left you feeling utterly unmoored, caught in a moment that was both ordinary and extraordinary, with no idea where it might lead.

The rain continued to fall in soft, persistent waves, the sound of it soothing as it mingled with the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps on the wet gravel path.

"Are you coming back from work?" he asked, the words floating gently between you.

Your thoughts snagged on the word, circling back to the weight of your day. The rain, the walk, the shopping - it had been such a long day that the details of work already felt distant, blurred by the rhythm of the journey home.

Noticing your brief silence, the stranger glanced at you, his expression open and polite "Ah - was that too personal?" he asked, his tone softening with genuine consideration "I didn’t mean to pry."

You shook your head quickly, flustered by his tactfulness "No, not at all." you reassured him, your voice a little breathy as you hurried to fill the space "I was just…thinking. Yes, I’m coming back from work."

He nodded slightly, a faint, encouraging smile tugging at his lips. Something about his attentiveness made it easy to keep talking, so you did.

"I work at the local library." you said, your voice growing steadier as the words tumbled out "I run classes with the kids from the nearby school sometimes. You know, little activities - arts and crafts, storytelling, that sort of thing." you smiled faintly at the thought, picturing the chaos of sticky fingers and mismatched crayons that usually accompanied your sessions "I also run an art club there, and…sometimes I help a friend in his flower shop. It’s not really a job, just something I do to help out."

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes watching you with quiet curiosity as you spoke. When you finished, he nodded again, as if considering your words carefully before speaking.

"That sounds fulfilling." he said finally, his voice carrying a note of admiration "You must be good with children."

You laughed softly "H-hah.. Well.. They can be a handful, but…yes, I like it. It’s nice to see their creativity come alive. I guess you get used to the chaos after a while."

His smile deepened slightly, and you caught the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes "I can imagine." he said.

Wanting to turn the attention away from yourself, you hesitated for only a moment before asking "What about you? Where do you work?"

He smiled again, this time with a touch more ease "I’m a teacher!" he said simply "I work with teenagers in high school. My friend and I - someone I’ve known since my school years - we both teach there."

The way he said it, with just the faintest trace of fondness, made you smile too. There was something reassuring about the way he spoke of his friend, a subtle warmth that hinted at years of trust and shared experiences. It made him seem…steadfast.

You glanced up at him shyly "Do you like it? Teaching, I mean."

His answer came without hesitation, his voice soft yet certain "It’s difficult." he admitted, a thoughtful look crossing his face "Teenagers require a lot of attention, and…a lot of patience." he glanced at you briefly, the faintest curve of his lips returning "You probably know what I mean. You work with children too."

You nodded, returning his smile "I do, but…I think teenagers would be a whole different challenge."

"They are." he said with a light chuckle, his deep voice carrying the faintest note of weariness. Then, as if to counter it, he added "But I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It’s not always easy, but…it feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be."

His words struck you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something deeply genuine about the way he spoke, an unshakable confidence in his choice of work. It made you pause, your gaze lingering on him as your thoughts wandered.

You studied him quietly for a moment, considering his features again with fresh perspective. His composure, the way he carried himself, the gentle tact in his words - it all seemed to fit perfectly with the image of a teacher. You could picture him in a classroom, standing before rows of students, his sharp eyes softening as he patiently explained something. His presence, so calm yet commanding, seemed tailor-made for guiding others.

You realized you were staring and quickly looked away "You seem…well, like you’re made for it." you said quietly, hoping the compliment didn’t sound too forward.

He glanced at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before his smile softened.

"That’s kind of you to say." he murmured, his voice as warm and steady as ever.

But... there was curiosity in your head.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, in a small town that offers little except rural peace and quiet. You didn't know what he could even do here. However, you didn't want to be nosy, so you sidestepped the question, leaving silence.

Perhaps he was visiting someone or had an errand to run here?

The dark embrace of the forest began to loosen its grip as you emerged into a wide clearing, where the rain seemed to soften just a little. The shift was almost imperceptible at first, but with each step, the oppressive weight of the dense trees gave way to the open expanse ahead.

Fields stretched out on either side of the path, their crops swaying slightly in the breeze. Droplets bounced off the umbrella with a little more delicacy.

The silence between you and the stranger was not awkward but companionable, like the quiet that comes with a shared understanding. The air felt fresh, cleansed by the rain, carrying with it the faint earthy scent of wet soil and the sweetness of grass. You let your gaze wander over the scenery, taking in the rolling hills in the distance, dotted with clusters of trees and lined with distant hedges. The outline of your small town was barely visible ahead, its railway station like a speck on the horizon, still far off but reassuring in its presence.

The stranger’s voice broke the silence, low and calm "It’s beautiful here." he said, his tone soft, almost contemplative "Fields like this, the hills… It’s peaceful."

You turned your head slightly, catching the way his eyes lingered on the landscape, his expression relaxed but thoughtful. There was something about the way he spoke - simple, understated - that made you feel the weight of his words. His appreciation for the scene seemed genuine, unhurried, and you found yourself smiling without thinking.

"It is." you agreed quietly, glancing out at the fields "You don’t really notice it sometimes, not when you see it every day." he hummed softly in response, a thoughtful sound that didn’t demand more words.

Without realizing when or how, you found yourself speaking again, your voice spilling into the stillness as easily as water flowing over stones. You talked about your friend from the flower shop, recounting little quirks and habits that made you laugh. You shared snippets of life in your small town, anecdotes about the library and the children who always managed to surprise you with their boundless creativity.

He listened attentively, nodding occasionally, his faint smile encouraging you to continue. At one point, you glanced up at him and noticed the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes softened as he listened, as though he was genuinely invested in every word you said. The realization made you feel oddly self-assured, your initial shyness melting away as the conversation grew.

Eventually, you turned the question back to him, asking about his life, curious about what kind of life this composed, enigmatic stranger led.

"I teach in Tokyo." he said, his voice carrying a faint note of wistfulness "It’s…different. Busier, louder. There’s always something happening, but it’s not without its charm."

You say that most of your friends moved to the city after graduation.

So he went on to talk about his friend, the one he had mentioned earlier.

"He’s…energetic." he said with a small chuckle "And very teasing. Honestly, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, but don’t tell him I said that - he’d never let me live it down."

You laughed at that, charmed by the small glimpse of his life.

He shared a few anecdotes about their time teaching together, little moments of chaos or hilarity that had unfolded in the classroom. The way he spoke about his students and his work confirmed what you had already suspected - he was dedicated, thoughtful, and quietly passionate about what he did.

In return, you found yourself sharing even more stories from your own life. You recounted small, funny moments - like the time you had accidentally herded a neighbor's chickens into your yard, thinking they were lost, only to have the neighbor laugh and tease you for trying to "adopt" them. Or the summer afternoon when you and a group of friends decided to build a raft out of old planks and rope to sail across the pond, only to have it sink halfway through, leaving everyone soaked and laughing.

You both laughed easily, the sound mingling with the rain as it continued to fall lightly around you. The conversation flowed effortlessly, like a stream winding its way through familiar terrain. His presence, which had initially been a little intimidating, now felt warm and grounding, like a steady current guiding you forward.

At one point, you ventured to ask if he had a family, expecting perhaps a brief mention of siblings or a spouse. Instead, what he shared left you momentarily speechless.

"I have two daughters" he said suddenly, his voice soft and contemplative.

You blinked, caught off guard "You…you have kids?" the surprise evident in your voice. He looks quite young.

He nodded, glancing at you briefly before his gaze returned to the path ahead "They’re both in their teens now. I adopted them when I was just a little older than they are now - barely finished with school myself. They didn’t have anyone else... and I couldn’t imagine leaving them to fend for themselves."

The revelation left you momentarily speechless. You turned to look at him, truly look at him, as if the weight of what he’d just said needed a second to settle.

"That’s…incredible." you finally managed, your voice quieter than before, in awe "I can’t even imagine taking on that kind of responsibility at such a young age. You must have sacrificed so much."

He offered you a faint smile, one tinged with a mixture of humility and pride "It wasn’t easy." he admitted "But they’re everything to me. They’ve shaped my life in ways I can’t even begin to explain."

You couldn’t help but picture it - this tall, composed man stepping into a role that most would shy away from, shaping not just his own future but that of two young lives. It was admirable, truly.

"What are they like?"

He smiled again, this time with a warmth that softened his sharp features "Oh, they’re full of life, though very different from each other. One’s quieter, more reflective - she is very fond of plushies and all similar crafts using yarn. The other is…well, let’s just say she keeps me on my toes. She’s fearless in a way I never was. She loves photography and good food."

You simply nodded.

"I think they would enjoy your art classes. The way you talk about it makes me want to visit it myself." he added after a moment.

"You think so?" you asked with shiny eyes.

He nodded with a tender smile "Absolutely. They love anything that lets them express themselves. Art, storytelling… They’re always asking questions, wanting to understand more about the world. I think they’d have enjoyed listening to you. You have that…spark."

The compliment made your cheeks warm, and you quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the sights around you.

The conversation shifted naturally to other topics. You spoke about the world, exchanging thoughts about the small joys and challenges of everyday life. You found yourself opening up more, sharing little pieces of your own mind and heart.

As the rain finally stopped, he closed the umbrella with a soft click, holding it casually at his side. You expected him to move away then, to reclaim the space between you, but instead, he stayed close. His hand remained loosely linked with yours, his warmth still a steady presence beside you.

The world around you seemed to exhale, the fields and trees glistening with a fresh sheen as the last droplets clung to leaves and blades of grass. The sky above remained a soft, pale gray, the kind of color that hinted at the sun’s return but didn’t quite promise it yet.

With each step, the railway station came closer into view, its outline growing sharper against the backdrop of the hills. But the approaching destination only made you more aware of the fleetingness of the moment. You felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name, a mix of gratitude and reluctance, as though part of you wanted to stay in this quiet, rain-kissed world just a little longer.

The train station finally came into view, small and modest, with its quaint stop marked by a weathered sign bearing the name of the town.

Just beyond, on one of the intersecting streets, you noticed a sleek black car with tinted windows. It stood out starkly against the quaint, rural charm of the area.

Leaning casually against the side of the car was a tall man - even taller than the stranger next to you, but dressed in a similar uniform. What immediately drew your attention, however, was his unmistakable shock white hair and a black blindfold wrapped around his eyes. His presence was striking, almost aloof, despite the relaxed posture and the wide grin that spread across his face.

"Yo, Suguru!" the white-haired man called out, his voice carrying easily over the distance. His grin widened, impossibly cheeky, as though he found the entire situation endlessly amusing.

Suguru.

So this stranger’s name was Suguru. You repeated it silently to yourself, letting the name settle in your mind. It suited him somehow, elegant and distinct, much like the man himself.

You hadn’t asked, too shy to break the natural flow of conversation earlier, the name rolled around in your mind, attaching itself to the face you had grown so familiar with over the past hour.

As you neared, you hesitated slightly, loosening your hand from his and stepping away to give him space. Suguru’s warmth lingered for a moment before the cool air slipped between you, a quiet reminder that your paths were about to diverge. He stepped forward to meet the white-haired man, who straightened from his casual lean, revealing that he was indeed taller than Suguru by a noticeable margin.

The two men greeted each other with an ease that spoke of years of familiarity. The white-haired man’s smile remained fixed as he raised a brow.

"What took you so long?” he teased, his tone light but carrying an edge of mischief.

Suguru’s expression remained calm, though you caught the faintest flicker of irritation in his eyes "You left me." he said simply, his voice steady but firm "You were supposed to wait."

The white-haired man shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unbothered "I figured you could handle it." he said, waving a hand dismissively "In the meantime I bought some souvenirs!"

Then his grin returned, sharp and teasing "Besides, looks like you found yourself a companion."

At that, Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, and for a moment, his amber eyes softened. He stepped back toward you, handing over your shopping bag and umbrella with both hands, his movements deliberate and courteous.

"Thank you." he said, his voice kind and sincere, with just a hint of warmth. He bowed slightly, a gesture that felt both formal and personal "For your time, your help, and your kindness."

You felt a flicker of embarrassment under his gaze but managed a small smile in return "I’m glad I could help." you said honestly "And…that you found your transport."

Suguru reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small card, holding it out to you. You accepted it hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. Glancing down, you read the text printed neatly on the card.

Geto Suguru Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School (There was a phone number printed underneath.)

"If you’d like to talk..." Suguru said softly, his tone measured but kind "...or if you see something…unusual, don’t hesitate to call."

Your heart fluttered slightly. His words lingered in the air, their meaning layered with a subtle weight that you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded slowly, your thumb brushing over the edge of the card "Thank you." you said, your voice a little quieter now, tinged with a shy kind of gratitude.

The white-haired man let out an exaggerated grunt from behind Suguru, clearly impatient "Alright, alright, we’re on a schedule here, Suguru! Let’s go!" his voice was teasing, but there was an underlying firmness that suggested he meant it.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder at him, then back at you "Goodbye." he said, bowing slightly once more.

You returned the gesture, bowing politely before straightening up and giving him a small wave "Goodbye." you said softly.

As you turned away, your steps taking you toward the village path, the rain-soaked world around you seemed to glow. The thick gray clouds began to part, their edges gilded by the first rays of sunlight breaking through. The golden light spilled across the fields, painting the wet grass and the distant rooftops with a soft shimmer. You adjusted your shopping bag and umbrella, your figure gradually retreating into the peaceful scenery.

You felt happy and excited to have another conversation with him someday.

Behind you, Suguru watched silently. His soft eyes lingered on your silhouette, his expression unreadable but calm, as if committing the sight to memory. The way you walked - unhurried but purposeful, your damp hair catching the faint glimmer of sunlight - held his attention in a way he didn’t fully understand. There was something quietly remarkable about the moment, about you, and for a fleeting second, he almost considered calling out to you again.

Almost.

From beside him, Satoru nudged him playfully in the ribs, his usual grin tugging at his lips "You’re staring~" he teased, his tone both amused and pointed "Should I be worried? Or are you just enjoying the view?"

Suguru didn’t glance away immediately, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you take another step into the sunlit clearing.

"Just appreciating kindness." he replied, his voice calm but tinged with something softer, almost thoughtful. Then, with a flicker of amusement in his own tone, he added "And a view like that deserves a moment, doesn’t it?"

Satoru let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold "You’re such a romantic, Suguru. Just don’t go writing poetry about this later, alright?"

Suguru chuckled lightly, finally turning toward the car "Not everything needs words, Satoru." he said, his tone warm with a trace of amusement "Some things just stay with you."

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening as he opened the car door "Alright, philosopher. Let’s go before I turn into a sap too."

Suguru gave one last glance in your direction, his gaze lingering for a second longer than he intended, before stepping into the car.

As the car rolled away, Suguru found his gaze lingering on the path where you had disappeared, his thoughts quiet but persistent. He wondered, just briefly, what might have happened if he’d stayed a little longer - if there’d been more time to talk, to walk beside you under the clearing sky.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, as he told himself, almost absently, that this wasn’t the last time he’d see you.

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 14 days ago

Note

hii if u write angst could u do a metallica one of whatever member u want where they cheat on u and just lots of angst im in the mood for heart ache

A/n: Hope this is angsty enough for you

This was based off of the song 'Blood and Tears' by Danzig, I listened to it on loop while writing this, I NEED THIS SONG INJECTED INTO MY VEINS SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

Warnigns: Angst, mentions of alcoholism, cheating (James on reader), slight gore (reader hits their head on the road), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 2

You've lived with James for two years now, having been dating for almost five years. It was late, nearing midnight. The rain was coming down hard and soaking into your clothes as you lay in the middle of the road.

It was really just your driveway, the highway split off and led straight to your house, but you never counted it as your driveway because it was so long and winding. It was one of the aspect of the house you never appreciated much, but James was usually the one driving while you slept in the passenger seat beside him.

Although, his late night drives stopped. For you, anyway. He always asked you to come with him, begging you to knowing he'd be carrying you in afterwards since you'd always fall asleep.

He barely looked at you past 9:00 pm. You made dinner while he watched sports or played guitar in another room. He used to watch you cook, he'd never been a chef himself by any means, but he enjoyed just watching you. You ate in silence now, if you did speak he'd give short and quick answers, doing his best to keep you quiet.

He never turned down sex but you felt disgusting around him and rarely asked. He stopped buying you flowers, which was a weekly occurrence. He never complimented you, instead he made backhanded comments on your outfits and body, offering to take you to the gym.

They engraved themselves in your mind, all his terrible words. "That shirt doesn't fit you stomach anymore." "Were your legs always like that?" Or he'd just stare at you and sigh.

You knew something had been wrong, you came to the conclusion that he'd been seeing someone. After speaking with Kirk, Lars and Rob they did some digging and found out pretty quickly that there was another woman. Tensions rose in the band which made James irritable.

Of course it came out towards you, yelling that you just sat back and accepted after a while.

But he never hit you, so you never said anything. He never hit you, it wasn't that bad.

You'd been sitting in his study, a room filled with band memorabilia that he'd always show off, walking around the room with you and explaining each item. He got mad when you even knocked on the door now, but he got mad when you didn't as well and that was worse.

You sat at the windowsill, watching the rain come down. James loved when it rained, he said it reminded him that Cliff was still with him. He was out with his mistress, Friday night. Date night.

It looked so peaceful out. Thunder boomed, lightning struck the earth far in the distance, but right in front of you it was peaceful. The rain came down hard in big droplets.

You held your hand to the window, wanting to run out there and dance. James wasn't home, no one was home, no one was around at all. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You took your chance, not wasting a second to run out into the rain.

The sky was dark and you watched the stars dance from miles and miles away, head resting on the asphalt. Crickets chirped in the background, frogs croaked, the distant sound of coyotes rang out and you waited as they neared.

They'd always come into your front yard and you'd watch them with James as they yipped and played, nipping at each others ankles. If you had leftovers you'd leave them out for them, they weren't causing any harm and you weren't going to eat them. They were sweet little raggedy things, the coyotes, but they shredded their food.

In a pack they could tear you to shreds just the same, still you didn't shiver or shake, you didn't glance around to make sure you were safe. You laid there, silent tears mixing with the rain spattering your face, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Finally you heard a car getting closer, you didn't have to look to see it was James, you just waited. The lights shown over you and the car stopped only a few feet away.

The door opened and you listened for James's voice. "What the fuck are you doing?" He called, more annoyed than anything. When you didn't move he stepped out of the car and called out your name in a harsh tone. "I thought you were fucking roadkill, I was gonna drive over you." He waited a moment before calling out your name again, this time finally sounding worried.

He rushed over to you, looking over you for any signs of harm. He calmed down when he didn't see any blood, but your clothes were soaked and you were going to get sick. He was tired and didn't want to be dealing with this, but he didn't like the look in your eyes.

Apathy wasn't the right word. There was an emptiness to them, he couldn't remember the last time he saw you smile, or saw a shine in your eyes. He couldn't remember your laugh. A fog swirled in your eyes now and you didn't look right at him, but past him to the night sky.

"What happened?" He asked, brushing the strands that clung to your forehead away.

"She did." You said simply. "You don't have to love me, James." You looked to his eyes, brows furrowed and full of shock, surprise? He didn't know you knew but there was nothing to say anymore. "You know that, don't you?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "I do... I do love you, I promise-" you scoffed, cutting him off and looking back to the sky. "I love you. Don't you ever say I don't." He said sternly.

There was nothing to say, so you said nothing.

He followed your gaze up to the sky. "It's raining." He said. "We should go inside." He looked back to you, your body looking lifeless. "Get up." He was getting impatient. "Hate me if you want, but get up and get inside, I'll run you a bath." He got up, knees cracking as he did.

He waited a moment before repeating himself. He waited another minute before demanding it again.

You didn't move, liking your place you found on the earth, animals all around, man made gravel beneath you. You'd made this grave for yourself. This was your spot now, you belong here. That house was nothing but the shell of what was supposed to be.

"Get up." He repeated through gritted teeth, nudging you with his boot. Not a little sign that you even knew he was there. "God damn it, get up, get up!" He finally yelled, pulling his leg back. He made the move to kick you but stopped just short of your ribs.

His expression fell and he stared down at you, the realization falling on him that he was about to kick you. All those nights he'd stayed up, holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear and making you feel safe and protected. Gone. Useless. Less than a thing of the past.

He slowly knelt back down, lifting you up slightly so your upper body was laying over his lap. He kept an arm around you while holding your face in his other hand. "Sweetheart..." He muttered, brows knit together in shame, lips pulled into a pout. "I'm so sorry..."

You couldn't stop a small smile from finding its way to your face. "You're sorry?" He knew it wasn't enough but he hoped it meant something, he knew it meant nothing. "Is she pretty?"

James stared at you blankly for a moment. "You don't want to be asking questions, sweetheart, they'll just make you feel worse."

"Is that something nice you're doing for me?" He didn't respond, he wrecked this with his own selfishness. There was no fixing it, therapy wouldn't help, no ring could save this.

A warm droplet landed on your cheek and you saw it was from James. He did love you, just not nearly enough, nothing he could provide would amount to what you deserved, and he knew that from the start but he tried. Then he lost hope, and ruined you.

He could've ended things right, let you leave and move on from him, but he had to break you, he had to make you hate yourself as much as he hated himself.

"The skies prettier at night." You said, catching him off guard but you spoke again before he could say anything. "You believe in heaven, don't you?" He gave a small nod, opening his mouth to say something but nothing came out. "I think it's pretty."

He held you in his lap, it felt like he was watching the life slip away from you. You knew more than him, you knew it was already all gone. He had stripped you of everything, the rain hitting your face was the only solace, the only thing keeping you breathing.

You sat up, adjusting yourself so you were sitting on your knees with your hands in your lap. "Did drinking help?" You asked, glancing back at him over your wet shoulder.

James hesitated, unsure of where this was going. "Drinking doesn't fix things."

"That's not what I asked."

He stared at you before giving a small nod. "It numbs the pain, makes it easier to push things aside. It keeps you moving." He explained, voice soft and a little shaky.

You nodded in understanding, staring down into the darkness of the woods across the road. "I don't need booze to numb anything." You stated. Everything about this was confusing to James, the way you spoke, how you were acting.

It all became so, so terribly obvious when you moved your hands in front of you, planting them firmly on the asphalt and bashed your forehead into it, your world going black with James screaming in the background.

#james hetfield angst #metallica angst #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica rp #metallica fanfiction #metallica #metallica x reader #80s metal #metal #heavy metal #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield #james hetfield x you

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silhouetteofacedar · 2 months ago

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Halves

One of many little moments on a long journey.

AO3

The views along Washington State’s Cascade Loop are breathtaking, according to the brochures from the stand in the lobby of their motel in Chelan. Just past the pseudo-Bavarian enclave that is Leavenworth, Highway 2 hugs the curves of the Wenatchee River through Tumwater Canyon. The scenic byway is tucked between the churning waters and dramatic, towering crags of quartz crested with pines. It’s early spring, and the mountains slowly shake off their winter coats to reveal fresh leaves on the aspens and the first blooms of trillium creeping along the ground.

Dana Scully sees none of this.

It’s an unfortunate aspect of their work as federal agents; thousands of miles traversed across the continental United States, untold hours spent in anonymous rental vehicles with mysterious odors and pilling upholstery. She knew when she joined the Bureau three years ago that the travel involved would be less than glamorous, but there’s something particularly demoralizing about viewing America the Beautiful solely through a windshield splattered with insect carcasses.

Scully always falls asleep on long car rides; lulled into slumber by the hum of the engine, the murmur of tires on asphalt, the fact that Mulder sometimes stops talking long enough for her to drop off. She wonders if it’s because his jaw gets tired; in the relatively short time they’ve worked together she’s never known him to run out of things to say.

Her sleep thins on the edges as Mulder wakes her with a soft brush of his knuckle on the tip of her nose. She hears him say they’re still a few hours away from the Seattle field office, but he’s hungry and his long grasshopper legs need a stretch.

Scully hums in assent, eyelids still heavy as she rearranges herself into a more upright position in the passenger seat. They’ve arrived at one of those proverbial wide spots in the road that bears a “Welcome To” sign, as though that gives it a sense of place when it boasts little more than a gas pump and a convenience store.

Apparently, this place is called Cole’s Corner, and a hand-painted banner next to a particularly stubborn melting snow berm says there are world-famous milkshakes up ahead.

Mulder pulls into the gravel parking lot outside what looks like a small house with pink and teal trim. A neon sign advertising banana pancakes hangs in the window.

Scully is hungry and groggy from her nap in the car, her hips and legs stiff from sitting too long.

She gathers her coat around her and slips out of the sedan, the scent of wet pine and moss filling her nose. Droplets of mist bead the shoulders of her coat, clinging to the wool. She can feel her hair creeping into fuzzy curls at the nape of her neck, coaxed into a frizz by the damp Pacific Northwest air. It’s been about a year since they were first in this part of the country together, tearing through waist-high ferns in the dark cedar groves of Bellefleur, hands outstretched. That first case together felt like a rebirth, wherein she shed her old self like her red bathrobe in candlelight in front of her strange new partner. The rich scent of damp earth and rotting logs filled her lungs as she was baptized by the cold Oregon rain, forever changed.

Heavy droplets begin to fall, and she pulls her collar tighter as they ascend the steps to the diner’s front door.

The restaurant is small but warm, every inch of the walls covered in 1950s pop culture memorabilia. A jukebox plays Buddy Holly in the corner; an Elvis-shaped clock swings its pendulum legs in time. Something greasy and heavenly is sizzling in the kitchen, the aroma pulling her in. Scully smiles softly; leave it to Mulder to stumble upon the kitschiest restaurant in the entire state of Washington.

They settle into a small corner booth with sticky grey vinyl seats. They create an odd picture at the table in the midst of hikers in denim and windbreakers; two figures of dramatically different heights draped in layers of dark fabric, heads inclined towards each other with an intimacy that can’t be easily explained. They’ve composed this images together countless times in greasy spoons across the country, travel-weary and disoriented by differing time zones. Sometimes they talk; occasionally they argue. Often they get mistaken for a couple, which irks Scully primarily because she mistakes them for one too. It’s unconscious; Mulder’s warm, firm hand on the small of her back sends messages to her weary brain that her body frequently assigns to the Boyfriend category.

Mulder has that effect on her often. He bursts through barriers, occupying space that had previously only been inhabited by intimate partners. He crams himself into her psyche, poking through neatly filed expectations and burrowing into her soul, creating his own uniquely shaped spot in her being.

She tries not to think about it; tries not to notice his full lower lip, the charming mole on his right cheek, the way he leans in too close when he talks to her. How he curves over her, his warm voice in her ear. At the office, she feels alert and well-armed against her physical reactions, can easily take her thoughts captive before they get away from her. But when she’s drowsy, far from home, hungry, those base feelings rise faster than she can tamp them back down. He makes her feel small in the best ways and she’s in danger of losing herself in the cover of his wingspan.

She needs caffeine.

All the waitresses at this establishment have the same name tag; hot pink with the name “Flo” etched into the plastic. A cheery, bespectacled young Flo with blond braids takes their orders, pours cups of too-strong coffee. Scully chooses a BLT, light on the mayo. Mulder orders a grilled cheese sandwich with ham and tomatoes and a cup of chicken and rice soup.

Scully gazes out the fogging window, slowly warming and wakening in the cozy bustle of the diner. Johnny Cash sings of a ring of fire. Plates clatter in the kitchen, a spoon clinks in a chipped coffee mug. Raindrops fall.

Silence feels more friendly these days, a comfortable pause filling what little space remains between her and Mulder. Words have become only one of the many ways in which they communicate. Their hands carry on their own conversation as the waitress brings their plates; understanding and collaboration in the simple passing of a napkin or nudging the salt across the table.

Mulder picks up a half of his sandwich, toasted a golden brown and cut neatly at a diagonal. “You want a bite?” he asks, holding it out across the speckled formica tabletop, and Scully realizes that it’s the first thing he’s said aloud directly to her since they got out of the car. She hesitates, then leans forward and takes a small, crisp bite out of the corner. Their knees brush momentarily, and she sits back in the booth and considers the flavors of butter and melted cheddar on her tongue.

“Good, huh?” Mulder asks, taking a bite himself. “My dad made them this way, but not on a griddle. Open-faced in the broiler so the tomatoes could get browned.”

Scully nods, stirring her coffee and blowing on it gently. “I haven’t had a grilled cheese in years,” she muses. “It’s the perfect rainy day food.”

“We can trade halves, if you want,” he suggests.

A small smile creeps across Scully’s mouth. Her Mulder has a delightful boyish streak that she pretends not to find appealing. “Race you to the playground afterward?” she jokes. Regardless, she picks up a half of her BLT and places it on his plate, taking the remaining half of his grilled cheese.

He flashes her a brief, dazzling smile before taking another bite of his sandwich. Scully feels her cheeks warming slightly and turns her attention to her lunch. A full Mulder smile, with bright eyes and teeth, is almost too much for her to bear. A dart of sunlight spearing through a sky blanketed with soft gray clouds.

Maybe someday she’ll tell him how he makes her feel, how sometimes her heart tumbles in her chest at the sight of him. How his most annoying moments are simultaneously the most endearing, how she’s beginning to love him just a little in spite of herself.

Maybe he already knows.

But for now they’ll just trade portions of their lunches, pass the ketchup, pool the crumpled bills in their wallets when the check comes. Travel in silence as they drive over Steven’s Pass, the view ahead blotted by low-hanging clouds.

#not me rising from my grave after three years with no preamble #molzfic #xfiles #txf fic #msr

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earthroadasphalt · 4 days ago

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sterifels-blog · 1 month ago

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keegan p russ x reader

The first time Keegan darkened the door of your flower shop, it had been an accident. A gruff man dressed in heavy leather, his broad shoulders beaded with raindrops, boots tracked with road grit. He had looked so entirely out of place in your sunlit haven.

You were surrounded by cascades of daisies and lilies, roses blushing in tight little bundles, and bursts of carnations peeking from glass jars along the countertops. Everything smelled alive, fresh, verdant—a quiet rebellion against the steel and asphalt world just beyond your frosted windowpanes.

He hadn’t meant to stay longer than necessary. He came for a bouquet, small and simple, to bring to the grave of an old friend—a ritual made heavier by the weight of memory on his back.

But then, he saw you.

You stood behind the counter, delicate as the peonies at your elbows, your hands brushing pollen dust from your apron. A stray curl framed your face, the warmth of your smile so unguarded, so incandescent, it knocked the breath from his chest. For a moment, he didn’t hear the rain anymore. Didn’t feel the wet chill soaking into his collar. It was just you, tilting your head at him with that sweet, quizzical look, like you couldn’t quite believe this storm-weathered man was there at all.

“Hi there! What can I help you with?” you’d asked, voice like sunlight filtering through trees, and he’d been lost. Truly, hopelessly, lost.

Keegan kept telling himself it was coincidence the second time. And the third. And the fifth. But the truth was, every time he passed through town, every time the engine of his motorcycle growled to life, your flower shop was an inevitable destination. He never admitted it aloud—not even to himself—but he craved the sanctuary of your little haven, a bright corner of the world where nothing smelled like oil and gunpowder, where life bloomed in a thousand colors instead of bleeding out in shades of grey.

The shop was small, unassuming. A little bell jingled overhead whenever he pushed open the glass door. Inside, the air was always warm, humming with the gentle hum of a fan in the corner, the faint rustle of leaves brushing against one another. There was a permanent smell of damp earth and petals—heady, sweet, and grounding. Tiny pots of violets lined the windowsills. Shelves stacked with watering cans, shears, and delicate floral books stood along the walls. It was quiet but not silent; there was always soft music playing in the background, something light and romantic, the sort of thing that felt like it belonged in a movie.

And there you were. Always. Behind the counter or kneeling on the floor, tending to some new arrangement. You wore mismatched earrings some days and bright scarves others, your hair pinned back or loose in soft waves. You moved like the petals around you: with purpose, with grace. Sometimes you hummed to yourself, completely unaware of how it made Keegan freeze, just for a moment, to watch you.

The dichotomy was laughable. Him, all scarred knuckles and broad scowls, smelling faintly of the road and whatever diner he’d last stopped at. You, all softness and quiet energy, a whirlwind of color and fragrance in this little shop that couldn’t have been more out of his world.

“Back again?” you teased one afternoon, the dimple in your cheek betraying how much you enjoyed the sight of him stomping the mud from his boots at the door.

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his pulse picked up just from you looking at him. “Yeah. Thought I’d grab something for… my mom.” The lie was flimsy, but you didn’t question it. Didn’t need to. Instead, you led him to the bouquets you’d just finished arranging, explaining in that soft, sing-song tone what each flower meant.

The irony wasn’t lost on him—that he kept coming back, kept buying flowers that would inevitably wilt and die. But it wasn’t about the flowers. It was about you. The way your fingers brushed his palm when you handed him the change. The way your smile lingered in his head long after he left. The way you’d once slipped a sprig of lavender into his jacket pocket without saying a word, and he found it hours later, pressed between his fingers like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Now, it was a habit. An addiction, almost. He didn’t know if you noticed how often he came—how his visits stretched longer with every trip. But he noticed. He noticed how the rough edges of his life felt just a little softer after walking out of your shop, a paper-wrapped bundle of flowers balanced carefully in his hand.

“Next time, you could stay for tea,” you’d suggested one day, half-joking, but not entirely. Keegan’s chest tightened, a strange warmth spreading behind his ribs. He didn’t know if he deserved tea with someone like you, in a place like this. But maybe— just maybe, he’d try.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was this: that little flower shop, with its mismatched pots and cheerful music and the person standing at its heart, was the brightest place he’d ever known.

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gingeralecranberry · 4 months ago

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PROLOGUE

𝟐-𝟎 ; 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 " 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 "

AND I’VE DONE IT ALL AGAIN

☺︎ cw:

mentions of death, snakes, mentions of snakes, yaga 🙂‍↕️

Masamichi Yaga. Grade 1 sorcerer, fledgling teacher.

He hadn't been on a mission in a long time, too busy settling into his new job. Of course, he should've been grateful his superiors gave him a grace period at all. The shortage of sorcerers didn't affect the demand for their services. Whether he was in front of a chalkboard or a horrifying amalgam of nightmares, humans would feel their negative emotions. Those emotions would fester. Curses would keep being born and the godforsaken cycle would go on. He knew he'd be returning to the frontlines sooner rather than later.

Still, reclining against the beige leather seats of the Black Sedan, his mind kept recounting the details of the assignment like a mantra. Reports suggested the presence of a grade 1 curse, large, menacing, but most importantly, dangerous.

They'd only really caught a glimpse of the slippery beast from afar. Estimated to be approximately 30 feet in length and an ugly brown, it resembled a three-headed cobra with cracked, spotty scales and slimy skin. Worse yet, the underside of the cobra's hood was dotted with all-consuming, beady, black eyes that looked like mini blackholes boring through cursed flesh. The entity had been reported and registered a few days prior. At the time, there weren't any qualified sorcerers available to exorcize it.

At least, there hadn't been until now.

Brushing his thumb curiously across the unkempty stubble on his chin, he watched the scenery of Okinawa roll past the window. Unfurling like a pop-up storybook, the rural countryside this close to the shore was gorgeous. Clear, sun-bleached skies sparsely brushed with the dreamiest clouds. Greenery lay tranquil across the soil like a warm blanket, occasionally swaying in the wing. Solemnly, he noted even the happiest places on earth weren't completely free from curses.

"Yaga? Are you listening?"

"Sorry."

With his thoughts interrupted, he turned his attention back to the car he was in. It was extremely clean, polished leather gleaming and the freshly vacuumed floors soft underneath the sole of his shoe. Still, it reminded him too much of a showroom; empty, only temporarily idyllic.

The supervisor, a young brunette with sunburnt skin and a decently stocky build, only shrugged at him in response. "Eh, I get it. I'm used to sorcerers ignoring me most of the time anyways."

Yage shook his head, recollecting his focus on the back of the driver's leather jacket. "No, I'm sure it was important. I'm listening now."

Manato Inoue, his supervisor, seemed to brighten up, "Just some basic mission details, you didn't miss much." His left-hand haphazardly slapped his turn signal, "The curse was actually born a few miles away from where it is right now. Weird right?" The older man in the car grunted in response. "Well, even weirder, when it managed to get out into a more populated area, it didn't attack anyone. Eventually, after a day or so of observation, it became a low priority case."

"..."

Unbothered by his passenger's silence, he continued, "Then, out of the blue, it just kinda... I don't know, snapped?"

"...snapped?"

"Yeah, it's a tragedy really, from what I heard, the running theory is that the curse has some kind of trigger," once again the quiet 'click!' of the turn signal locking back into place toyed with the silence in the air. "It struck in a residential area, small family lived there. It's confirmed the father is dead, he was found on the front lawn and his wife was a few feet away on the porch. The youngest is presumed dead, too. So far, we only have hope for the oldest son."

Yaga nodded thoughtfully, "He was at school, right?"

Inoue hummed, eyes trained on the path in front of him. The asphalt road was starting to thin, smooth material replaced with the rough grain of gravel on his wheels. The further they drove, the narrower the path became. "He hasn't been seen at home today, we're hoping he went to a friend's house to study or something."

"Poor kid, Okinawa schools were going to close for summer soon."

"Correct," the car jumped as one of the front wheels rolled over a particularly large bump, "That's why we're hoping he left to study, he's probably got a lot of tests lined up and ready."

"Thank you, Inoue," Yaga mumbled, "The heads-up is much appreciated."

The older man caught a glimpse of the driver's cheeky grin and lax disposition in the rearview mirror, "Hey, don't thank me, you're the one that's about to risk your life."

"Still," Yaga insisted, "I'll be a lot more prepared this way. You could be saving my neck."

"Hey now," the supervisor countered, "don't get sentimental on me!" His lips parted to reveal a much more flustered smile. He cleared his throat, "The house is just around the corner, it's about time you put your game face on, get in the zone or what have you. If you die, I won't have anyone to talk to anymore."

The car turned off the gravel path, worn dirt tracks the only sign anybody had gone the same way beforehand. The men were faced with a seemingly endless menagerie of flora, thick and woven together like a barrier.

"That's... weird. I don't remember any details like that from the report."

Still, realizing the car had little to no chance of threading the needle and making it through the shrubbery, Inoue slowed to a stop a few meters away from the web of plants.

Upon closer inspection, the twist and tangle of the branches was anything but natural. They molded into one another, fusing trees and continuing to grow into one giant misshapen lump. The leaves didn't add much to the barricade, maybe decoration. Largely, the construct consisted of uncanny angles and ugly interlocking.

Already, Yaga could feel something bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. Something was horribly wrong.

Inoue, on the other hand, exited the car without hesitation, heading for the trunk of his trusty Sedan.

With a healthy dose of trepidation, Yaga began to follow suit. Prying himself from the comfort and safety of the vehicle, it felt like he'd gotten a brick thrown straight at his sternum. Almost immediately, he could feel his lungs squeeze, shriveling up as he struggled to intake air. His heart jumped into his throat, bobbing up and down his neck. The air was musky, ripe with cursed energy. Despite his own rather large reserves of cursed energy, the sheer density of the concentration sent his thoughts spiraling away with the abysmal fog.

"-aga, Yaga!"

He jumped, finally coming around after his supervisor's large, calloused hand landed squarely on his shoulder.

"Geez, you're really out of it today," Elbowing him in the side, Manato tacked on a sarcastic remark to try and lighten the mood, "You need to get out of your office more, you look like you're losing it."

With the muck clouding his senses beginning to retreat to the edges of his vision, he assessed the situation at hand. Quickly, he noted the horde of cursed corpses bundled up in his chauffer's arms. His eyes landed on one in particular. Cathy, a round mint green stuffed animal. The top of her head was peculiarly bald, framed with a blue fuzz. Yaga flicked his fingers, watching as his creations began to stir.

Inoue hummed, letting the various strange looking dolls crawl out of his arms, "Well, are you ready?"

Yaga glanced back at the opening, hoping to snatch a glance at the house hidden within. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Like a switch had flipped, the other man wiped the carefree smile off his face and retired his normally laidback attitude. Closing his eyes, two fingers raised adjacent to his heart, he began to lower the veil.

"Emerge from darkness blacker still, purify that which is impure."

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten

masterlist ☓

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scripturesofateenagegirl · 1 year ago

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Dead Bunny

short poem i wrote about a dead bunny i saw

There's a dead bunny on the side of the road

Lying on its side; not resting

Left hind bone bloody and exposed

Crimson trail leading to the body

Crossing the border of asphalt and earth

Maybe death feels better when it feels like home

im very new to writing so criticism and tips are greatly appreciated ^_^

#poetry #poem #writing #art #original poem #beginner writer #poems and poetry #animal poetry #doing my best

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ryuzakemo128 · 1 month ago

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Ghoap x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is Italian and speaks Italian. Swearing. Cursing. Insults thrown around. Reader talks about their wealthy family ties. Philosophy talk about death and what it means to accept death. Car accident in somewhat graphic detail I guess?

Note: If you want more of this type of thing, let me know, and I'll whip up a part two in a heart beat.

Note 2: Camion is Italian for 'truck'. At least, I think it is. But please correct me if that is incorrect.

You were still unconscious from the car accident, you weren’t the one who caused this forsaken mess, and yet you were the one who suffered the consequences of somebody else’s actions. Doctors said you suffered greatly, but then again anyone who was railed by a camion would have.

The term ‘suffered greatly’ is absolutely vague and at this point? It felt almost deliberate. Who knew when you would wake up? Let alone wake up at all? The nerves bundled up inside the both of them. Unsure why they had insisted it was safe enough for you to go there alone.

As the rain hammered down upon the asphalt road. As the camion came beside you inside the car that was small enough to be crumpled with too much ease. You didn’t see it coming. Not that you would have now, would you? It wasn’t like you could predict the future and considering the past is set in stone. It wouldn’t do any good trying to change what already happened.

“I will not be subjected to your lack of taste. Nor do I expect you suffer from my own tastes.” You told them months ago about Italian opera and how much you enjoyed it. “Either way. What you need. You shall have. No strings attached and no favours required.”

You are far too ‘selfless’ sometimes. According to them. But you loved them for what they did for themselves rather than what they did for you. What good is assistance if they can’t hope to help themselves.

“Hey, I will not have you speak negatively about yourself or wishing death upon yourself either. Neither helps you and nor will it help you heal either. Just because can doesn’t always mean that you should. You told me that once and I think it should be said to you too.” You gently scolded them once.

You showed them your AGM-1 carbine, your Italian Bullpup Carbine, once, “Its nice. I quite like it.” You said to Ghost one afternoon. “Its one my favourites. Along with the Barrett M8A1 I use.”

Soap hasn’t stopped pacing around the hospital waiting room. He was sure you would be dead before the two of them got to start dating you. Couldn’t have that now can they? But much like life itself.

Moments like these aren’t fair. Ever. You told them life shouldn’t be taken for granted. Cherish the time you have now and mourn the people you eventually leave behind. You knew this more than most people. You studied it in subjects like Forensics Anthropology, Forensics Pathology, Thantology, and Archaeology.

“Death cannot be cheated, nor can it hope to be delayed. To think you can do just that is beyond naïve. Hopefully idealistic in the act of thinking humans could ever dream of immortality.” You told them once.

“Unless you are like my lineage, I doubt your family is going to have their own homegrown cemetery attached to their own churchyard. ‘Can’t have the ‘common folk’ get anywhere near our dead or something like that.” You added in.

When you do wake because death had decided it wasn’t quite your time to leave the earth just yet. Denying you passage to death’s cold embrace. How long would it take for you to get used to your new arm you wonder.

Ghost still remembers hearing about your favourite flower being ‘Lilly of the Valley’. Shocking him because they were light coloured flowers and the total opposite of your aesthetic. You said it was because of the fact life gave them such light colours to such delicate things. It was your mother's favourite for a while, along with flowers like sweet pea.

You didn’t like them until she passed, and thereafter? Loved them completely. Roses were fine. You weren’t going to turn away from them completely. But the sentimental value from the light pink lilies were far more than any dark red roses could offer. It was like comparing a sunrise to a sunset. Both were beautiful, one had a taint of sadness captured in it that you found absolutely charming.

“I find them prettier than I did when I was younger. Perhaps it was because my mother valued them so much? I can only guess that was the reason I took a liking to them.” You told him looking back at him from looking out the window. The rain hadn’t stopped pouring down from the look of things.

You continued speaking after a brief pause, “Though I do remember bringing her red and white snapdragons on Mother’s Day one year. I didn’t think it would affect her so much, until she said she had chosen them for her wedding bouquet. Her mother-in-law hated it, said it clashed with the ‘atmosphere’ and yet she decided to go with it.”

“You should have seen her, inside of white, she wore a midnight blue with silver embroidered stars along the fringes of the veil and the dress’s long train. Like she was walking straight from the depths of the sky. I said it was like the moon was loaning her its stars in the attempt to woo her into staying with him instead. In her refusal he gifted them in remembrance.”

You didn’t speak about your family’s ludicrously magnanimous volume of worldly goods, nor did you want to. Why would you?

How do you put in plain words to someone that it was reaped by taking care of the dead? You know you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed of. But in what way does someone go about telling loved ones their family’s legacy lies inside the act taking caring of the dead or the ones about to die?

Even though it was your mother’s side who dabbled in such things and not your father’s. Your father’s side were the more pompous kind of rich, lavish, extravagant and excessive with their wealth. It was your mother’s side that was more grounded, more in touch with reality. Creating the overture combination of a rich girl with the heart of someone who knew of suffering.

Though parts of your furniture does seem odd. Like the Marc Held for Prisunic Moulded Fiberglass Bed, c. 1966. You had decided to place a waterbed mattress to it, just because you wanted to make it feel older.

The black silk sheets and crimson silk pillowcases were the things inside your bedroom. These things? They made it feel more 70's. You liked that era, you also loved the 60's and 80's. Which despite the gothic shades, tones and colours. It was like you were trying to hold onto a piece of your mother.

They didn't know how to cope when they first heard you were in a car collision with a camion, you weren't going too fast. You weren't intoxicated. You weren't high. You were just driving back home after a rough case, and fate decided it was time to throw you curveball. A fucking curveball no one saw coming.

Soap slept in your bed that night, inhaling your scent from the silk sheets and clutching your whale shark plush. The heavy blanket draped over him. The fur blanket made from real deer fur. You told him it was made from the first deer you hunted with your grandfather months before he passed.

You had killed it yourself. You remarked it was your grandfather’s way of making sure you respected the animal you slaughtered. Use every part otherwise its murder and not hunting. A beautiful blanket which has lasted longer than most things you bought. In colour it’s a deep, rich brown, almost auburn in the right lighting. Soft to the touch. Eerie to think it once was a creature roaming the forests freely.

When you woke and Ghost had been in the chair beside you the whole time? “What……what time is it?” you asked like you had rolled out of bed.

“Two in the morning. You’ve been asleep for seven days and eight nights.” Ghost answered calmly. Knowing the doctor told him to keep the excitement to a minimum.

“I don’t know why, but I jumped, panicked a little, thinking I had to wake up for work.” You mumbled, you are still completely out of it from the amount of morphine inside you.

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