#i’m gonna need five business days off to process this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 7 months ago

Text

Growing Pains

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Notes: I’m gonna cry they don’t need to be THIS ATTRACTIVE, also boy did I NOT edit this 🥹🥹🥹 what a lovely lil request from my bestie who you know in this moment I’m realizing I don’t remember how to spell your user I’m sorry I love you 🤣🤣🤣 okay I checked it’s @chihard20

The day started out normal, waking up snuggled in Eddie’s arms as he nuzzled your neck. He was always affectionate in the mornings, too sleepy to really want anything but you.

“Mornin’ Gorgeous” He mumbles into your neck, his hands trailing down your sides until they reach your hips. His fingers splay out over your plush body as he guides you on top of him. You giggle into him, rolling your eyes as you sit up. He likes when your hair is all messy like that after waking up

“Good morning baby” You grin, your hands sliding over his torso before planting them firmly on his chest. He grins wickedly at the way your back arches, blushing a little in the process as you start to roll your hips in slow circles. He smirks, sliding his hands back up your sides and squeezing lightly

“Ow!” You flinch away from his touch, and he stops immediately, sitting up

“Y/N? Hey… what’s wrong?” He feels your sides again, this time a little slower and you wince when his hands flow over a certain spot. He lifts your shirt and looks, there’s a bruise there, and it’s hot to the touch.

“What the hell is this??” He asks, his voice dripping with worry. He pushes your hair gently out of your face and you lean into his touch

“Okay wait wait don’t worry, Buck and I were working out yesterday and he got me in the side. It was a total accident I forgot about it”

He rolls his eyes, pulling you in carefully to kiss you “Remind me to kick his ass when I see him” you giggle and kiss him back, your lips moving slowly against his

“Will do”

Eddie painstakingly tells you he doesn’t want to have sex, and you’re snickering through it the entire time he’s trying to reassure you. It’s not that he doesn’t want it, he just doesn’t want to hurt you or anything. You begrudgingly accept his reasoning and get out of bed.

He takes his time in a very…very cold shower, cursing Buck with every pass of the loofah on his skin and you take that time to get washed up. You stare in the mirror, you look a little pale… a little tired. Huh maybe you just didn’t get enough sleep? Eddie was… enthusiastic last night to say the least. You just decide to shrug it off and finish getting ready for work.

After a busy breakfast and goodbye kisses to Chris, you’re both out the door, Buck is actually on time for once and you climb into the jeep.

“Thanks a lot cock block” Eddie mumbles as soon as his seatbelt is on and you snort loudly, holding your side lightly

“Don’t make me laugh! It hurts!”

“What do you mean cock block. I specifically did not call you this morning because I know y’all get it on every five seconds!!”

“You hurt her side! I couldn’t…. You know when she’s hurting like that. What kind of a man would I be!” Eddie frowns at him, crossing his arms over his chest

Buck looks at you in the rear view mirror “Damn, I didn’t think I hit you that hard Y/N, I’m really sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, the pain is starting to flare up a little more so you adjust your seatbelt to not be over it.

“Hey it’s okay! It truly was an accident Buck, don’t worry about Mr. Horndog he’ll get over it”

You and Buck spend the rest of the ride teasing Eddie and laughing at him and he threatens to break up with the both of you. He slouches down in his chair, his arms crossed and pouting like a little kid. It’s impossible for you and Buck to not laugh at him.

It isn’t until a couple hours into your shift you start sweating. It’s not unbearably hot like it could be in L.A so maybe it’s just a you problem. You sit in the break area with a fan in front of you, your head laying on the cool table, you don’t realize your eyes were closed until someone’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles to rise you.

“Hey Y/N, Cap wants you to…” Chim looks at you, you look worse than you feel which is pretty hard to achieve right now.

“Eddie?? Hey Eddie come up here, quick!!” Chim calls over the railing before coming back to stand by you. He gets down on one knee, pushing your sweaty hair off your forehead

“Hey… hey kiddo what’s going on?” He asks you softly and you look at him, your eyes a little hazy.

“Chim?” You say softly, you move your head slowly to the sound of Eddie’s footsteps as he jogs over

“Baby?? Y/N what’s going on” He repeats the question and you look at him with those same hazy eyes. He looks worried sick. You can see the panic behind the mask. You try to push yourself up slowly, but curl back up in a ball, crying out in pain and holding your sides

Chimney gets up from the floor, running to the railing “Call an ambulance!! Hen we need you, bring your med pack”

Buck holds back Eddie, standing in front of him as you’re laid out on the floor. Hen needs room to assess you and Eddie can barely give it to her

“Hey, she’s gonna be fine, it’s gonna be okay” Buck says softly, holding his arms, he’s just as nervous. His hands are shaking and Eddie looks at him, taking a deep breath and nodding. He pushes Buck to the side but puts his arm around him too. He knows how much Buck loves you and he knows Buck is probably freaking out thinking he caused this.

“It looks like appendicitis” Hen says, looking up at the boys.

“Oh thank god. I thought I killed her. I can’t go to jail! I’m too pretty for jail!”

You wheeze with laughter but stiffen and hold your side again, Eddie whacks Buck’s torso

“Don’t make her laugh!”

The ambulance comes in record time and you’re loaded into it. Eddie gets in back, holding your hand tightly and kisses your knuckles softly. The team promises they’ll come to the hospital after their shift and Buck swears he’ll take care of Chris.

The ride there is a bit slower, and Eddie looks like he’s going to have an anxiety attack

“I’m stable. Stop worrying” your words are short puffs of air and Eddie lays his forehead on your arm

“God you scared me… you are scaring me” He whispers to you, can’t this thing go any faster?

“This happens to a hundred million billion people Eddie” your voice is soft “I’m gonna be okay”

“I’m not dating a hundred million billion people, I’m dating you. I’m loving you.”

Your heart flutters when he says that, you sniffle a little and he wipes away your tears.

“I love you too” you whisper back, closing your eyes slowly to rest

“…I love you guys too” Adam the paramedic wipes away a fake tear and you snicker, wincing and groaning in pain but it’s just too stupid not to laugh

“Don’t make her laugh!!!”

Buck is in the waiting room when Eddie is told he has to be there. His head snaps up and he gets up from his chair, Eddie hugs him tightly, patting him on the back

“What are you doing here?? I thought you were gonna watch Chris?”

“Isabel dropped by, and forced me out of the house” he chuckles, pulling away from Eddie.

“Said you shouldn’t be alone…Chris begged me to give this to Y/N, how could I refuse that face?”

Eddie sits in a chair and Buck plops down next to him, he passes him a piece of construction paper, Chris made a get well card, it’s got a picture of the two of them on the front cover. Eddie holds it, looking through it. God he couldn’t lose you, he should have been more serious about it earlier, maybe if he’d just asked a few more questions-

The card is snatched from his hands and he snaps out of it, Buck shakes it out. Eddie hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“There was nothing you could have done in the time you were with her to figure out it was appendicitis” He says firmly, giving Eddie no room to even fight it.

The wait isn’t long, two hours or so but it feels like so much longer to Eddie. He paces back and forth for a bit, before Buck gets up and trades places with him

“I’ll take a turn” he jokes a little and Eddie smiles sadly at him. Just glad he’s not alone anymore. He watches Buck pace slowly, breathing in time with his steps. He’s slouched in the chair, his arms crossed. He’d been in the same position this morning for more fun reasons and he wishes he could just go back to that.

“Mr. Diaz?” A doctor in scrubs comes out, taking off his bandanna. He sighs but smiles wearily at him. Eddie jumps out of his chair

“Is she okay? Please tell me she’s alive”

His voice cracks at the end of the sentence and Buck walks over, putting his arm around Eddie’s shoulders

“I’m Doctor Pascal. Of course she’s alive Mr. Diaz. She’s perfectly fine” He puts his hand on his arm and reassures him, a look of worry on his face

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking him over. Eddie is a wreck if he’s being honest. He nods fast, wiping the tears from his face

“I’m okay I’m fine. Can I see her? Can we see her?? Please”

Doctor Pascal gives Eddie another once over before nodding

“Yeah, yeah you can see her. But we only allow immediate family back there… so?” He looks at Buck kindly

“Oh I’m her boyfriend, he’s her husband”

Buck says it so calmly and smoothly, like he’s absolutely rehearsed this moment and was so ready for it

“Oh uh” Doctor Pascal just shrugs his shoulders “Follow me gentlemen”

Buck gives Eddie his biggest, shiniest smile and for the first time all afternoon Eddie laughs.

As soon as they all get to the room Buck is at your side, dramatically pushing Eddie out of the way, it makes you giggle and he cups your face in his hands, peppering little kisses all over

“Hi baby” he coos softly “It’s daddy Buck”

You snort and push his chest away, Eddie stands very still at the end of your bed, you look over to him, reaching your hand out weakly. You’re seeing two of him from the killer pain meds they gave you… but that just means you can see two equally as panicked faces

“I’m alive, Edmundo. I’m here” you say steadily and Buck kind of tugs him around the bed, joining your hands.

He finally snaps out of it, kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed with you. Dr. Pascal’s head snaps up from the computer

“Mr. Diaz wait you-“

Buck runs to the other side of the bed and helps you move over some, enough for Eddie to fit next to you. You wrap your arms around him so tightly, squeezing him as close as you can. You can feel tears falling onto your chest as you stroke his back, shushing him softly. He clings to you like his life depends on it and you understand that it probably does in this moment

“Just. Be careful with her okay?” Dr. Pascal scolds Eddie, who just nods slowly and gives him a thumbs up. The doctor leaves the room and you continue to stroke back, your hand trails up his neck and you start to play with his hair

“Daddy Buck?” You ask him, and you feel Eddie snicker into your neck

“I told Dr. Pascal I was your boyfriend and he was your husband

“You’ve been waiting to do that for so long how did it feel”

“Pretty triumphant not gonna lie”

You turn back to Eddie now, he finally pulls his face from your neck

“Hi”

He kisses you softly, it takes a second for your fuzzy brain before your lips respond to his, he slips off your heart monitor and holds it out to Buck who rolls his eyes and puts it on his own finger.

Eddie’s hand moves slowly over your body just feeling you. His hand settles on your chest right over your heartbeat and you smile softly, pulling away and taking his hand, kissing his palm

“Are you okay now?” You ask quietly and he sighs, nodding slowly

“I’m so glad you’re okay… I haven’t been that scared in a long time.”

“I know baby…but I’m okay now alright? I just have to heal”

“And I promise I’ll wait on you hand and foot. You won’t have to lift a finger” he kisses your forehead

“Hey! I’ll even stay over and watch Chris so you can take care of her” Buck offers, as he messes around on the computer

Eddie swats him away from the computer and you giggle

“Thanks Buck” He says sarcastically, but he means it, honestly.

“Hey it’s the least I can do for my partners!”

“Oh my god we’re not actually-“

Buck slaps his hand over Eddie’s mouth

“Do you want them to find out and kick me out?!”

#words by rhys #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #evan buckley #9 1 1 #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 x reader #causally writes this as if I don’t have an entire series going on #*hyena laughing*

630 notes · View notes

kinardsevan · 1 month ago

Text

tidbit tuesday

my beloved @perfectlysunny02 tagged me this week, and I know, ITS AMAZING, but I'm actually getting writing done this week (we won't discuss the painting that isn't getting done b/c the prof sucks). Anyhoo, this is tentatively titled there's no life after you.

“Firefighter down about thirty feet on the cliffside,” Hen finally says. Her voice is so calm, that it’s almost eerie. Tommy would worry, but he knows that Evan was supposed to be paired up with her, so he’s likely just busy caring for one of the kids. “Unresponsive. Can’t reach him.” He forces himself to take a breath and remind himself that whichever his friends has fallen, they’re going to be okay. They can get Eddie or Howie up off the cliff with minimal trouble, and they’ll get them to the hospital. Everything will be fine, they just need to do one step at a time. “So medivac,” Lucy responds back. She glances at the various controls on the helicopter dash and then down at her watch before looking over at Tommy briefly. “We’re about twelve minutes out from a hospital in any direction.” She pauses for a moment, turning in her seat once again. “Firefighter Wilson, can you tell if there’s blood loss?” “Affirmative on blood loss,” she replies. “He’s going to need a full workup inside the chopper.” That statement causes a pang in Tommy’s chest, but he reminds himself that they’re more than capable of getting this all done properly and safely. His friends will be fine. “About five minutes out,” he calls out over the line. “Try to make it three,” Hen replies. The line goes quiet again, and for the next two minutes, Tommy tries to make good on her request, getting closer to the mountain. As they get nearer, he’s better able to make out where the vehicles are parked, lights still flashing on the engines as they start to descend in height. And then, a line clicks over, like someone pressing on their radio without intending to. “Can’t see much, but it’s not looking good.” Eddie’s voice carries over the line. Tommy gulps, realizing it must be Howie that’s injured. He can only imagine now Evan is taking it, let alone how they’re going to break the news to Maddie. Still, he tries to remain focused on the task at hand, lowering them closer to the cliffside. They’re closing in enough now that he can make out a body and the darkened area where blood is pooling as he forces himself to inhale and exhale deep breaths. “Think we can land,” Lucy asks, looking in his direction. Tommy’s brow pinches as he continues to get them lower. “It’s gonna be tight, but I see a spot.” He clicks over on his radio. “Captain Wilson are you available? I’m a man down; left Rodriguez at First Presbyterian with our last transport.” “I’m on my way down,” she replies, and there’s a shakiness to her tone. It’s a process, getting them down safely. He has to put them down roughly a quarter mile up from where Howie is at so they can land safely, and as he does, Lucy is already jumping out of the back of the chopper. “Three minutes,” she tells him, like the unit of time is suddenly a mantra for them. “Think you can get set up by then?” Tommy glances around the back of the chopper and nods. He really hasn’t done anything medic-related since his army days, but he knows enough about the setup of their medivac chopper to know where to find supplies. “Go,” he yells at her over the whirring of the blades. “Hurry!” She’s gone before the word is halfway out of his mouth, and then he’s shuffling around in the back of the cabin, pulling supplies as quickly as he can. As he works, Lucy starts calling out over the radio information for the hospital. Her voice is tight, and something about it makes Tommy’s breathing grow shallow, even if he’s not entirely processing her words. “Thirty-three year old male took a thirty foot fall. Looking at multiple internal injuries, compound fracture to the left femur and ankle, attempting to stabilize. Helmet appears to have taken impact, so not sure of cranial effects yet, if any. Deep cut to the right tricep, and what looks like an open fracture to the pelvis. Sixty seconds out from the chopper, at least thirteen from UCLA.”

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #fanfic #my fic #teaser tuesday #tidbit tuesday #mel's musings #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #firepilot #firebeast #bucktommy fanfic

114 notes · View notes

moralesmilesanhour · 1 year ago

Text

mad props! 03

summary: you're now officially part of the theater club's latest production! just one small problem... wc: 1282 a/n: Can't believe I was able to type this out within the same week. But I diiiid! The songs being performed are: 'Popular' - Wicked 'Ohmigod You guys' - Legally Blonde: The Musical (Original Cast Recording) | Have fun reading ! Feel free to tell me what you thought in the comments <3 (only warning is that the process of putting a theatre production together is probably not super realistic here lmao) 02 03 04

“One five, four five, three five, two five, one five, four five, three-two-one,”

You clutched the white binder containing your sheet music to your chest as you went through every vocal exercise from middle school that you could remember.

From the diaphragm, you reminded yourself, taking another deep breath.

“One five,

Four five,

Three five,

Two five,

One five,

Four five,

Three-two-one–”

“Y/N L/N?” the casting director’s voice called out to you.

Your stomach lurched as you rose from your seat and approached the stage. You handed the sheet music over to the pianist. The blinding stage lights made you sweat beneath your uniform, but part of you was grateful that it hid the faces of your four-person audience.

The first chord was your cue.

“Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I…”

You sang the lines through your nose, making your delivery as cartoonish as possible. It even earned a few laughs from the dark void in front of you that bolstered your confidence.

Now, when playing a character such as Galinda, one may be tempted to keep the squeaky ‘princess voice’ the whole way through. But you knew better.

You added depth to your voice for some lines, maybe a growl here, a cry there; your performance needed to show that you could do more than just play the pretty soprano lead.

You belted the final note, arms spread wide as if you weren’t just about to vomit from nerves, and curtsied.

There was disembodied applause, and then: “Thank you, we’ll be sure to send out an email on Friday to let you know if you got the part.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled as you stepped down from the stage.

All that there was left to do was wait.

You were jumpy all Friday afternoon. Even Miles noticed your knee making your desks tremble with the way it bounced up and down in the middle of English class.

“Yo, you good?” he whispered.

You shot him a glare while tapping your pencil frantically. “None of your business.”

“It actually is my business,” he shot back, teeth clenched, “ ‘cuz you’re shaking the damn desk.”

“Is there a problem back there?” the English professor peered over his glasses at the two of you.

“Nope,” Miles sighed. “Not at all.”

Your leg stopped bouncing, and you rested your chin on top of folded hands.

“If you must know,” you muttered, “I had an audition the other day, and callbacks are supposed to be this evening.”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh…kay…?”

“What do you mean ‘okay’? I’m super nervous about it–”

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

Your eyes widened. Why were you telling him this?

“I…well, you’re sitting next to me, and you asked–”

“I didn’t ask for allat.”

You kissed your teeth, and went back to taking notes in silence.

“Oh, the principal’s gonna love that.”

Joshua Baptiste–current president of Visions’ art club–grinned as he watched Miles add his signature to the wide sheet of paper.

Miles replaced the cap on one of his paint markers with a click, assessing his work.

It was a poster for an upcoming pep rally, advertised in bold, sleek letters that curled in and around each other and ended in sharp arrows. Satisfied, he rose to his feet.

“You think?”

“Hell yeah. Better than anything I could’ve put together,” Joshua ran a hand through loose, sandy curls. “I’m more of a portraits kinda guy.”

The boy’s smile was contagious, showing off two rows of light blue braces. Miles remembered how he used to circle back around to his lunch table just to see them when he laughed with his friends, silver earrings tinkling as he threw his head back.

He’d done crazier things just to see a crush.

Miles returned the compliment, “Your paintings go crazy, though. You could get into art school if you put a portfolio together.”

Joshua shrugged. “Doubt my parents would ever let me go.”

The other hummed in agreement.

“Anywho, I came over here to ask you a favor. Theater club needs an extra pair of hands working on the set, and I already said one of our guys would help out. You in?”

Miles raised an eyebrow at the sudden new project being dumped on him, but he relented. Not like he had anything better to do today.

“Sure. Where to?”

Joshua’s face lit up, and he gestured for Miles to follow him.

“They’re down in the auditorium. You’re a life-saver, man.”

The auditorium was already bustling with students when the two boys entered. There was one group on the far right busy customizing piles of hot-pink costumes with bows and sequins. On the left side, a bunch of kids clutched wrinkled scripts in their hands, practicing until it was time to run through the first few songs. Miles looked up, and taking center stage was a group of no more than ten girls practicing what looked like stage choreography.

Regardless of what each group was working on, there was an urgency bordering on panic to their movements and voices. Miles thanked his past self for not signing up to be a part of it.

“Oh, thank god!”

A tall, stocky-looking girl wearing pink glasses scurried up to them, carrying a clipboard.

Joshua gestured towards Miles. “Here’s your guy! He’s got an eye for color, you’re in good hands.”

He gave a quick salute before turning to exit through the double doors.

The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah Park, junior, and student production manager for, uh, all of this!”

Miles accepted the handshake and nodded. “Cool. What’s your vision for the set?”

“Well, it’s…”

Before Sarah could finish, the lights dimmed, and a voice announced: “We’re gonna rehearse the opening, everyone in ‘Ohmigod You Guys’, please take your places!”

She grabbed Miles’ wrist and led him to a seat in the front row and whispered, “You should probably just see it.”

Suddenly, music boomed from the speakers as the stage lights illuminated the same girls from before, now all standing in a straight line across the stage with wide smiles.

They sang a number he didn’t recognize, but there was plenty of squealing as they passed down a blank sheet of paper as a prop. He deduced from the few lyrics he caught that they were playing sorority girls, but that was about it.

As the “Ohmigods” crescendoed, Miles noticed that there was someone entering from backstage that then stood behind the girls. He wondered what for, until the group parted and stepped to the side.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for who stood in the middle of the stage. In a blonde wig.

“It’s almost there, but…”

Miles’ jaw dropped as you recited your lines fully in-character.

It hadn’t occurred to him that you could smile without malice, but people were full of surprises: Here was the girl who rarely spoke more than a sentence in class until last week, belting her heart out while twirling across the stage. He would have pinned you as more of the debater type.

The song ended on one final “Oh my god!” in unison before the lights were turned back up.

“Great job, everyone, especially for a first run-through. Everybody take five!”

You sighed in relief, wiping away the sweat collecting around your hairline from being beneath a hot wig and an even hotter spotlight. Wig in hand, you carefully descended down the steps with the rest of the cast and made your way back to your seats.

Sarah brushed past you in between aisles, along with a familiar red hoodie.

You paused and spun around on your heel, confirming your fears.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales fic #moralesanhour

198 notes · View notes

99zurins · 2 years ago

Text

summary: wonwoo knows a lot, especially how your thoughts get into your head. when he knows you had a bad week, he wants to shower you with the gentle love you always give him when his thoughts get into his head.

note: god its been ages since i posted but alas!! this was a request for a friend of mine, and it helped me get out of my writing slump. enjoy <3

pair: f!reader x jeon wonwoo

tags: soft bf!wonwoo, SMUT (minors dni), communication during sex, kink exploration, spit, slight choking, dirty talk, slight degradation, multiple positions (sorta), safe sex, oral (both m. and f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), orgasm denial, edging, pet names (wonwoo calls reader baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess), soft dom!wonwoo, reader goes into subspace, wonwoo takes care of reader, reader works at a clinic

word count: 6.9k

[ wonu : babe

wonu: how are you feeling? ]

like shit, you want to text him. i’m not ok. so much, too much, is happening all at once your brain doesn’t know what to process first. it’s been like this from monday morning: you were short-staffed because three co-workers got sick, people kept complaining about the wait times, what could you do, you just work here. tuesday to thursday was absolute hell: how does someone mess up inventory TWICE? your co-worker doesn’t know shit. how did she get hired anyway! you don’t want to even think about friday’s disaster. you called in sick today, because fuck the clinic, and made sure you swapped your closing shift at the bookstore with someone else. your head is in chaos, all while managing a terrible migraine.

from the tylenol, the long naps, to the drops of essential oil on your pillow– none of it isn’t even helping.

you haven’t spoken to your boyfriend for a few days, there’s the i love yous, occasional memes or cat pics he sends, but it’s been quiet. he’s been busy too, he got hired by a better design company, meaning better schedules and much well-deserved salary, and has been finishing up his last few shifts on his secondary job at a milk tea shop. but since he’s one of the long time workers at the shop, he’s been busy training newbies to replace him, hence why he’s been awake earlier than you, and comes home so late. you know he’s home when he quietly slips into bed after a shower, snuggling you from behind, holding your small frame. but you miss the cuddles when you play games together, the shared silence with him, looking at dumb cat videos. everything about him, really, you miss. even though you live with him now.

[wonu: are you at your bookstore job tonight?]

you first tell a truth: you called in sick for both of your jobs. then, you lie, saying your friend-slash-coworker is coming over to talk about stuff.

[wonu: don’t lie to me

wonu: babe

wonu: i know you had a bad week]

it was just busy, you respond. you’re busy, baby. you’re probably tired too. we can talk about this later.

[wonu: i’m not ever tired when it comes to you

wonu: i’m gonna leave work right now

wonu: idc]

you feel tears well up. you not replying back is all he needs to know.

wonwoo shows up in twenty minutes, holding a bag of takeout, bubbletea, and a cute stuffed animal. you wondered how on earth did he get here so fast, considering it takes him about thirty-five minutes to get to back home, but you’re too tired to say anything. all he does is give you a hug, plant a soft kiss on your head, and you try really hard not to cry. he does the thing where he scratches softly under your chin, like how he usually would greet a cat, while your head leans into his chest.

“hi baby,” wonwoo finally speaks, giving you a soft smile. it fades when his cold fingertips linger around your cheekbones, and stops below your dark circles. “long week?”

“mm.” you try to pretend everything is okay. he knows you aren’t. he places more gentle kisses between your eyes and on the bridge of your nose.

“was hoping you would tell me, actually.” wonwoo quietly locks the front door, takes off his shoes, and you quickly scramble to find him some house sandals that would fit him. “baby, it’s okay, I don’t need slippers. none of them fit me, remember?”

wonwoo doesn’t wear the house slippers because the five house pairs are all yours. you insist on getting him a pair, he always refuses. you cough out a laugh, and you hear wonwoo giggle.

“right, i forgot, sorry,” you mumble. “what food did you get?”

“i got you your favourite,” pho from the restaurant where you had your first date with him in. it’s his favourite, too, “i got us a matcha cake slice and a strawberry one to share, too.” cakes from the cafe on the third date.

you nod quietly, and you watch him leave the takeout on the table. he pulls out a container (which is most likely the cakes), and grabs the two plastic forks.

“wonwoo, i’m not…” hungry, you trail off, you weren’t in the mood to eat, but wonwoo looks over at you, with such tenderness. his black turtleneck hugs his torso nicely, square glasses makes him look like a nerd, when did he get a haircut? and he looks over at you, attentive and with endearment. sometimes you wonder how you deserved him. “i’m…”

wonwoo finishes putting the takeout on the table, and approaches you with quiet steps. he cocks his head to the side, a motion to tell you come here, love, and you take a few steps closer, fiddling with the sleeves of the navy oversized sweatshirt (which belongs to wonwoo).

“how can i be here for you, baby?” he pulls you closer, rubbing small circles on your scalp with his thumb. you don’t really respond, but all you do is plant your face straight to his chest, wrapping your arms around his frame. you feel a low chuckle erupt from his chest. “baby, i’m not sure how my chest is… supportive enough.”

“well, they’re bigger than mine! it’s comfy!” you whine quietly, and wonwoo laughs at your answer. he embraces you, slightly moving side to side.

“i do want an answer, if you’re able to tell me.”

“um,” you hum, looking up to him, while he still scratches your head. “i kind of just want to cuddle… tell me about your new hires, or show me dumb videos of mingyu and seungkwan being stupid again, i really don’t wanna think about what this shitty week has done to me.”

“okay, we can do that.” he hums, and scoops you up, holding you like a sack of rice.

“why are you holding me like this.”

“i wanna open the door.”

“i…” you suddenly remember the bowl of pho sitting on the table. “wait, wonwoo, the pho–”

“we have a microwave.”

“i can walk to put it away first!”

“i wanna spoil you, princess. you deserve something good. no need to think about anything.”

you feel your brain go sideways.

“… okay.” you mumble, kissing the side of his head, ignoring the heat flushing in your cheeks, and the faded pink tint in wonwoo’s ears.

wonwoo puts you on the bed, and wraps you in a blanket burrito after a little cute protest and some kisses, telling you to wait while he quickly freshens up. you feel like you’re gonna fall off the bed, why did your boyfriend put you by the edge of the bed? idiot. after showering, he changes to a comfortable black muscle tee (gifted by soonyoung) and gray sweatpants. when he returns to the bedroom, he turns on the lampshade before shutting off the main light in the bedroom. he goes back by the bed, and unrolls you out from the blanket burrito, giggling as you find yourself rolling towards the middle of the bed.

“wonwoo, what the fuck,” you find it so silly, you’re trying to contain your laughter but it’s not working. you feel wonwoo climb up on the bed, and wonwoo seems like he’s having fun removing (more like unrolling) you out of the blanket. wonwoo starts pressing a few of your pressure points gently, making you giggle even more. “what are you, FUCK, that tickles, STOP THAT!”

“noooo,” wonwoo sounds like a child, and pushes off the final part of the blanket off your body. you’re laughing loudly on the bed, as wonwoo carefully pulls you up but you feel limp from laughing. he helps you sit up in front of him, and you think he’s finished with his confusing act, but he grabs the blanket, wraps you both in it, proceeds to embrace you close, and accidentally manhandles you, him hitting the bed while you’re on top of him. “oh, this wasn’t what i planned to do.”

“what?” you ask him. “manhandle me?”

“yeah, i got too excited, i’m sorry, baby.”

“well, if it makes you feel better,” you trace shapes on his cheekbones with your finger. “i liked it. had no thought in my head, just vibes.”

“mm,” wonwoo just hums, lightly patting your butt. a hand rests behind his own head, inadvertently flexing, and you mindlessly trace the healed floral ink that wraps around his bicep. “one of the new hires likes fruits basket, it reminded me of you.”

“WHAAAAAT?” you look at him with excitement gleaming in your eyes. you slap his chest lightly. “tell me more, tell me more!”

“well, she has a tattoo of kyo’s bracelet and named her pet hamster after yuki.” wonwoo says, playing with your hair. wonwoo started watching the series for you, although he hasn’t finished yet. “although she likes kuroo?”

“oh! kureno.”

“is he a bad person?” he likes to know what’s he in for at times, so some spoilers are okay.

“he falls in love with a minor.”

“oh.”

“yeah, it’s gross,” you sigh as you feel wonwoo massage your scalp. “oh that’s nice, by the way, did your manager allow you to take the cat apron?”

“i can’t. jihoon sucks.”

“boooo! he sucks.”

“my baby can always embroider me one, right?”

“i crochet, not embroider!”

“same idea!”

“no its not!” you pinch his nose. his nose scrunches up, and he tries to playfully bite your fingers. you pinch him even harder, and you giggle over his over exaggerated expression of pain. “i should really finish making that cat hat for you.”

“take your time, baby,” he kisses the tip of your fingers. “don’t stress on it. oh, speaking of which, jihoon sent me footage of seungkwan and mingyu tripping during close yesterday. i don’t know why you find it amusing to see them struggle.”

“because they’re so funny together,” you laugh, as wonwoo uses a free hand to grab his phone on the nightstand. he opens it and scrolls, looking for the video. you turn your head, listening to his steady heartbeat. the scent of his lavender bodywash is faint. it lingers. “besides, mingyu complains about his antics with seungkwan to me at the clinic sometimes.”

“ah, not surprised.”

wonwoo opens the video, and since it is security footage, it’s muted. the quality is grainy. it’s a bit blurry. as wonwoo lightly taps a tune on the small of your back, you watch with curious eyes. seungkwan is mopping, while mingyu is seen refilling the containers with straws and wooden utensils. it doesn’t look much, but you see seungkwan tell mingyu something, but his footing is awkward, causing him to slip on the wet floor. seungkwan doesn’t fall on the ground, and mingyu is laughing at him, throwing his head back in amusement. mingyu suddenly slips backwards, falling on his side, and a bunch of straws fall on the floor. seungkwan looks like he’s gonna cry so much from laughing too hard. someone else (it looks like vernon) appears from the corner and stares at mingyu, whose still on the floor. he leaves. you and wonwoo snort loudly, you shutting your eyes hard because it’s too funny. he locks his phone and puts it back on the nightstand, stroking your head while you continue to laugh.

“god, they’re so stupid,” you shake your head. “how does jihoon deal with them?”

“he tries not to.” wonwoo halfly jokes, scrunching up his nose. you snicker. “at least they get the job done, and jihoon will be less stressed.”

“hopefully the new hires don’t fuck up.”

“i made sure they won’t.” wonwoo says, looking at you with endearment. you can’t help but move up, and kiss him. he smiles into the kiss, even taking a hold of your face as you pepper him with soft kisses. “you’re being more adorable today.”

“well, i feel like i miss you a lot more lately,” you lightly push his glasses up. “even though i see you everyday, i don’t know, it’s different this time.”

“how so?”

you still don’t want to think about the disaster the week has been. but you want your heart to be open. steady.

“sometimes, i forget i’m not alone,” you tell him. his attentive gaze never leaves your face. “and that i don’t have to… i don’t have to burden everything all at once. and i’m sorry if i feel like i’m not relying on you.”

“baby,” wonwoo cups your face and squishes your cheeks. you inadvertently let out a laugh. “don’t be sorry. please don’t ever be.”

“i know, but i…”

“you’re very important to me.” he strokes your cheekbone. “i am always here. i’m sorry if i appeared… distant lately. you don’t deserve that.”

“it’s okay, woo. i’m just overthinking.”

“it’s not…” he whispers, face softening. “you had a bad week, and me being busy isn’t an excuse to make sure my baby is okay. like i said, you’re very important to me, and the love you give me makes me so happy. i love you so much.”

“i love you so much too, wonwoo… how did i deserve you?” you feel your heart swell, and the urge to cry comes. “sometimes i wonder about that.”

“you deserve everything. and i’ll make sure i can give everything to you.”

“then…” you trail off, going quiet for a moment. wonwoo watches you, and you raise yourself up, adjusting yourself to almost straddle his lap. “can you…”

“hm?”

“can you take care of me?” you whisper, tugging the hem of his shirt. you swallow the embarrassment down, reminding yourself that it’s okay. “please?”

it seems like a desperation from you, but wonwoo knows you best. you know that he’ll always and will take care of you with utmost tenderness and gentle love. but sometimes, just barely, or just too often, you question yourself how (and why) you deserve him. you already thought the shared kiss under the stars a few years ago was something he’d forget easily. but the nerd he is, he’ll plant constellations upon constellations of kisses across your body, (as if you’re the universe herself), and ask you to guess which constellation it is. on your anniversary, he’ll always kiss the libra constellation on you because that’s the one you both saw under that fated starry night. (although, he loves kissing the pisces constellation on your body. a lot).

wonwoo gazes upon you, eyes brimming with gentleness, and he carefully sits up, motioning you to move closer to him. his hands rest on your hips, his right thumb stroking your hip. your arms reach out to him, as they wrap slowly around his neck.

“how would like me to take care of you?” he whispers so low, leaning in close, his lips brushing against yours, his right hand going up to play with your sweatshirt, sending a chill down your spine.

“however you want.”

wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, holding the back of your neck, while his left hand slips under your shorts, lightly caressing the back of your thigh. his tongue teases the roof of your mouth, causing you to let out a small whine, as his left hand takes a hold of your ass, occasionally squishing it.

“do you want me to continue?” wonwoo breathlessly says in between wet kisses. while he fiddles with the hem of your sweatshirt, you nod in response. “words, baby.”

“yes, please.”

“what do you want?”

you and wonwoo are no stranger to sex, but compared to your friends, you and him are considerably on the more… calmer side of things. and thats okay, it’s normal! everyone is different. tonight, however, feels different. even with his constant reassurance, little kisses of i’m here for you, and delicate whispers, you want wonwoo to…

“if you could help me not overthink, that’ll be great,” you feel yourself flush red, looking down at the end of his shirt, fiddling with it. “if you, uh, know what i mean.”

“oh.” wonwoo sighs when your fingers slip under his shirt and ghost over his chest. he’s figured what you meant. “are you sure?”

“as long as you fuck me, make me feel good,” you mumble, feeling yourself grind against him, kissing him wetly. “i could care less how you do it.”

wonwoo hisses at the pressure, and stares at you, a glint of lust and admiration starting to shine through, all while playing with the band of your shorts. he brings up a hand near your face, and pulls you in for another kiss, tongue toying with yours, and when you whine, he sucks the tip of your tongue.

“remember our safe word, baby?”

“kohyangi,” you breathe out, thinking about the cute cat cafe you both went to last year, while wonwoo kisses red blooms on your neck.

“how far do you want me to…”

“how we usually are, but i wanna see you try,” you stop wonwoo from kissing your neck, and you bring him to your face, letting him kiss you more. “you can be a little rougher tonight.”

“fuck, you’re gonna be the end of me.” he gently flips you over, carefully laying you down on the bed, lips never leaving yours until he briefly parts to remove his glasses. putting them on the nightstand clumsily, he comes back for your lips, and you melt against him. through his relentless teasing and his tender touches against you make your head spin. he kisses a little harder, a little more desperate, hands starting to roam around your frame, arms caging you– an underlying message that he isn’t going anywhere, and that he belongs to you, you are his, and that you are deserving of everything. a curious hand slips under your shirt, feeling your bare chest. his other hand toys with the band of your shorts, mumbling if it’s okay to take them off, and he swiftly removes them when you give him a ‘yes’.

“oh, this is pretty,” wonwoo compliments your underwear. it’s a baby blue thong. he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. “they new?”

“um, uh, yes? they were on sale… good deal, too…” you suddenly feel yourself shrink, turning red. you stare at his toned muscles, and you see a satisfied smirk on wonwoo’s face, eyes turning lustful. he pushes the sweatshirt high enough for your chest to be exposed to the air, never breaking eye contact until he swoops down, and starts planting kisses, tongue teasing your nipple, and occasionally biting at some places. “i bought a bunch since… kinda wanted to try wearing these… for you.”

you see wonwoo’s ears turn pink, and feel yourself crawling into a hole.

“aw, cute, my princess wants to treat me.” your brain screams. wonwoo kisses over the healed ink near your hip.“they look great on you, makes your tattoo here even sexier.”

“are.. are you doing the andromeda constellation?” you breathe out, trying to divert his (horny) attention somewhere else. “or is it something else?”

“mmhmm, correct, that’s my good girl,” wonwoo teases and you feel yourself choke on your own spit. he starts toying with the band of your underwear, and bites a mark on the hip bone. you didn’t even realize he’s already settled in between your legs until you feel him breathe. he tongues over the bite mark, soothing it. damn, ain’t this one nice way to go out. “you’re learning so well.”

“shit,” you shyly say between your teeth.

“keep the sweatshirt on, i wanna fuck you in it.”

“good, that was the intention.” you try to counter wonwoo, and you feel yourself twitch when wonwoo presses his thumb over your clothed clit. “does it make you possessive?”

“baby, you have no idea.” he responds, hooking a finger in the band of your thong.“may i?”

you nod at him, and he slowly peels off your underwear. as you slightly raise your hips so he can easily pull them off, he’s awkward with it, making you remove it instead. wonwoo clicks his tongue in slight annoyance. all you do is just smile at him, slipping them off with ease. you sit up (just a bit) to toss them somewhere on the bed or floor, and you don’t realize wonwoo is incredibly close to your pussy until you adjust your positioning. your breath hitches when he breathes.

“hm?” he starts to tease, kissing around the area and the lower stomach, but doesn’t do anything. “you’re pretty down here.”

“babe, please,” you try to sound exasperated but he plants the softest kiss on your clit and you almost collapse your arms. “just nervous, that’s all, even though we’ve done this a lot…”

“it’s okay, baby, i don’t blame you, i get nervous too,”wonwoo murmurs, and he can’t help it but he finds himself licking his lips. “may i eat you out?”

“yes, please.”

he first lightly swipes his tongue from the entrance to the clit, and he does it again, and again, and again, as you let out a soft noise the more he does it. he kisses your clit, and licks it, tongue flicking it a few times, doing a circular motion, and you sigh out a moan, hand resting on the crown of his head. he briefly pauses to use his thumbs to spread you out a little more, and opens his mouth, letting drool drip down on your pussy, watching it drip down, and he goes back in with his tongue. he increases the pressure, and you whine, almost hitting your head against the headboard. he keeps up the pace, moaning against your folds whenever you do, tongue slipping inside you occasionally. he starts to get even more sloppy, messy– making wet noises the more he eats you out.

“my princess is being so so good, so wet,” he mumbles lowly against your folds, hearing how wet he made you, briefly pulling away to kiss your inner thighs. you whine how his finger is teasing your hole, and his lips come back to suck on your clit again. “so needy, all for me.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine breathlessly, feeling wonwoo’s hand grip your thigh a little harder. he looks up, eyes never breaking away from yours, while his tongue slowly licks up from the entrance to your clit. he closes his eyes, relishing in the taste of you. you are sure your thigh is going to bruise, but his head is in between your legs, so it’ll be worth the bruising. “wonwoo, fuck, oh my god,”

“mm, fuck, so sweet,” he mumbles against your pussy. a finger slips inside you, slowly moving back and forth. the bed slightly shakes, and you see that he’s lightly grinding against the sheets, in desperation for some relief. you sigh at the sight, trying to stifle a moan as he puts more pressure with his tongue. “baby, go ahead, be louder.”

“its, fuck, embarrassing! holy shit,” you respond back a little louder, body arching when wonwoo adds another finger and grazes that sweet spot inside. you feel wonwoo pin down your hips with his other hand. “so, fuck, so, so good.”

“good,” wonwoo coos. “how bad do you wanna come?”

“so bad, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” your brain feels dizzy. “please wonwoo, please.”

wonwoo hums, continuing to suck your clit with wet noises and fingering you good. you find yourself mumbling incoherent sentences, and you find yourself feeling a wave of relief and pleasure overtake your body, trying to breathe. you clench around his fingers, hearing wonwoo coax you through your orgasm, leaving little kisses on you of you’re doing so well for me, and my baby, baby, all mine.

“can i spit in your mouth?” wonwoo removes his mouth from you, but his fingers have slowed their movement.

“yes.” you whine at the brief loss.

“open up.” he demands softly, a wet thumb pressing against your bottom lip. you oblige, and he leans in, letting drool drip down from his mouth into yours, his fingers busy with your hole, and uses his tongue to push it in your mouth. you shut your eyes, moaning while wonwoo’s tongue meets with yours.“good girl. was that okay?”

“y-yes,” you say in between wet kisses. another finger slips inside you, making it three, while you both make out, tasting yourself against his tongue. “it was good.”

“do you want me to do it again tonight?” wonwoo slightly rolls on his side, all while fingering you and peppering your neck with more kisses.

“it was really hot but,” you moan, trying to reach the band of his sweatpants. you can see how hard he is, and how much relief he desperately needs. “i don’t know if i wanna do it again. not again tonight, if that’s okay.”

“it’s always okay, baby, thank you,” wonwoo smiles against your neck, and you really wonder how you feel horny and soft all at once. he feels your fingers tease the band of his sweatpants, almost tracing the dent against it.“oh, baby, no need to worry about me.”

“but i want to make you feel good, too,” you say softly, breaths staggering while he fingers you long and slow. “don’t want—fuck— to be the only one.”

“well,” wonwoo gazes at you, eyes half-lidded with a slight fucked out look on his face. “does my girl want to make me feel good? words, baby, i need to hear them.”

“i want to make you feel good, please.”

“how badly?”

“s-so bad,” you whine when wonwoo removes his fingers from you. rolling on top of him, you press your body against his, your fingers holding the band of his sweats. “i want to suck you off.”

“wanna show me how with my fingers?” he brings up his fingers covered in your wetness close to your lips. “how will my baby suck me off?”

“only if you let me jerk you off, too.”

“i’d love that, fuuck,” wonwoo groans when you pull down his sweats and your hand wraps over his hard dick. he’s so fucking hard. your thumb teases the tip, playing with the precum and letting your hand coat itself in it. wonwoo’s fingers slowly go in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around them. “baby, fuck, you’re such a slut.”

“y-you’re the bigger slut,” you shyly whisper against his fingers. you help wonwoo get out from his sweatpants, leaving him naked, and you start grinding your cunt against his bare thigh. he hisses, feeling how wet you are down there, and his free hand grabs a hold of your hip. “you made me like this.”

“you’re so wet, baby,” wonwoo sighs, pulling you in for a kiss, sighing when you jerk him off slowly. as you slightly pick up the pace, thumbing the slit, wonwoo’s hand reaches from behind to play with your hole. you quickly pull away to let a trail of spit go down his cock for some lubrication, and wonwoo throws his head back, groaning, when you jerk him off faster. “fuck, that’s my girl, go ahead, suck me off.”

“and you’re calling me the slut,” you mumble. you hear wonwoo laugh against your lips, until you feel his hand lightly slap your ass. you sigh at the pain, wonwoo rubbing the reddenning spot. “wow, kinky, are we?”

“you’re cute.”

“you like it.”

“you’re so– oh, fuck,” wonwoo feels his breathing stagger when you slide down, your tongue teasing the tip. you look up, trying hard to maintain eye contact, all while holding his thick cock with your hand (you forget how thick he is, you can barely wrap your hand around it completely) and giving it kittenish licks, before wrapping your lip around the tip. you make a few wet sucking noises, before spitting down on his cock for more lubrication. “fuck, baby, can you take all of me?”

“i haven’t even done anything yet,” you continue to trail your tongue along the veins and stroke him at the girth, and he moans— you feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting to hear more of it. “wanna tell me what should i do?”

“d-do as you please.” he groans out your name, cursing under his breath, and strokes your head as you continue to suck him off. not only does he love it when he ensures you’re vocal about what you want, he loves it when you ask him what he wants. being communicative is something he prioritizes so much (in general, obviously). and during times like these, communication is so so sexy.

you look at him, eyes signaling am i doing good for you?, and wonwoo bites his lip, enthralled by the sight. he really, really, can’t wait to ravish you.

“oh, holy fuck,” his thoughts get slightly interrupted when he feels his cock almost hit the back of your throat. feelings mixed with surprise and arousal that overwhelm him, he bites his lip to avoid a moan slipping out, wrapping his own hand around the base and presses it, edging himself. “oh, fuck, baby, you don’t have to take everything in.”

“b-but,” you remove your mouth from him, a slick pop sound coming out, as a trail of spit and come stick on your mouth. you still use your hands to jerk him off, looking at him with glossed eyes. “i wanna make you feel good.”

“you already are, baby,” wonwoo hitches his breath when you put your mouth back on his cock, a finger trailing your jaw. “but i’m the one who was suppose to fuck you til you can’t think, right? do you still want that, sweetheart?”

“uh-huh,” you mumble. “i-i do.”

“come here, then,” wonwoo encourages you to come up, licking your mouth. he runs a tongue on the roof of your mouth, as you moan while his hand plays with your hole again. “i taste good, don’t i?”

“mmhmm,” you reply against his lips, and wonwoo easily slips two fingers inside you again. he sucks on your bottom lip, fingering you faster, and you find yourself instinctively riding his fingers, moans getting more desperate as his other hand takes a hold of your hip and helps you ride his fingers. “fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m gonna cum again, oh my god, your fingers are so good, woo.”

“that’s it, baby,” wonwoo says, adding in a third finger. you feel his thumb press again your clit. “come for me again, sweetheart.”

you ride out your second orgasm of the night. although it’s not as intense as the first, it feels more of like a softer wave holding you close. wonwoo kisses your neck and collarbones, whispering you praises and love notes as he helps you finish.

“please fuck me already,” you whine into the kiss, and wonwoo starts playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. “wonwoo, please, i want you…”

“patience, baby,” wonwoo whisper in your ear, and you feel his hand go up and down your back. “i’ll take care of you as long as you like me to. can you go on your hands and knees for me, baby?”

“can we kiss first?”

“of course, baby.”

you’ll never get sick of kissing wonwoo, ever. you find how you melt into each other’s warmth, comfort, and love— and how he feels like home, the hugs on rainy days, the shared smiles— you adore how his kisses are reminders of i’m always here and love letters, how much he loves you- all of you—

wonwoo shifts when you move onto the position, him moving his hand down your back. he asks if its okay if he can lift up your hips a little higher, and says good girl when you follow his instruction.

“can i…?” wonwoo asks, raising your hips up, so your ass is sticking up in the air. “can i fuck you holding one of your arms behind your back?”

“holy fuck,” you whisper, looking at him, a part of your face squished by the pillow. you and wonwoo aren’t that experimental, but this… is something. “if that will help you fuck me so hard til i can’t think, then okay.”

wonwoo slows his movements, and stares at you.

oh.

oh, fuck, that’s hot.

“well, if you say so,” he leans over, tilts your head to give you a kiss, before opening the drawer to grab a condom. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“at least fuck me first.” you joke, and wonwoo chuckles at that, pushing up your sweatshirt to expose your back. he kisses down your spine, and you hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. wonwoo adjusts your body, and you almost feel like a cramp coming on, but it’s okay—

“ready, baby?” wonwoo asks lowly. you nod against the pillow. “words, sweetheart. may i have your hand?”

“mm, yeah, i’m ready, are you?” you put your hand around your back, and you feel wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“yeah, i’m putting it in,” wonwoo says, and you feel the tip prod against your entrance, and you bite back a moan before he slowly inserts himself in. you squeeze your eyes shut, gasping against the pillow, remembering to take deep breaths. you need a moment to adjust, but the stretch alone feels wonderful. “you okay?”

“y-yes,” you exhale. “fuck, i feel all of you, so, so much.”

“fuck, you’re so tight.” wonwoo groans, slowly bottoming out. “need a moment?”

“yeah.” you let yourself adjust to his cock, as wonwoo rubs your back (his way of helping you relax). a minute passes, and you start to feel good, inadvertently moving your hips back to his. wonwoo moans, and it encourages you to move faster against him. “f-fuck, oh my god, please fuck me, you’re so big—”

wonwoo finds himself moving his hips fast, a hand gripping your hip, the other pinning your wrist behind your back, as you gasp on how loud, wet, and hard he’s going. as hard and fast-paced his thrusts are, it remains concise and controlled. you hear him groan the more he thrusts into you, and you briefly look back at him, seeing him fling his head back in pleasure. god, it feels so good, the sounds of skin slapping grow louder, breathing out of sync, you feel so full, so fucking full, your head is starting to get dizzy—

your senses come back when wonwoo slows his pace, and you whine, tightening around him as a means to get him to move.

“nuh-uh, don’t come just yet,” wonwoo tuts, shallowly thrusting in you. “i’m not done with you.”

“w-what, fuck! oh my god, please go harder,” you tell him, feeling drool come out from your mouth, and wonwoo lets go of your hand, gently placing it above your head.

“so, so, impatient,” wonwoo slaps your ass, watching you fuck yourself on him. he continues to let you fuck yourself on him, his frame swooping down so he can whisper. “so needy for my cock, hm? didn’t know my baby is such a needy, little slut. look at you fucking yourself on me. i haven’t even fucked you stupid yet, and look at you being so needy for me. my baby is such a cute little whore.”

“wonwoo, please move,” you breathe, looking at him with glossy eyes. wonwoo continues to stare at you with lust and endearment, all while shallowly fucking into you. “i want you so much, ahhhh fuck, please, please.”

“hm? what was that?” wonwoo coos, and you whine even more. you feel like crying. wonwoo rubs his hands down your side. “oh, baby, it’s okay, i’ll give you want you want. wanna tell me what you want?”

“y-you, please.”

“just me?”

“want you to fuck me til i can’t think.”

“that’s it?”

“wanna be y-your cute little whore for you.”

and that’s all it takes for wonwoo to remove himself out from you. you wince at the loss of him, as you feel tears in your eyes, but he steadily grabs you, flipping you on your back. he pumps himself, spitting on his fingers and they go down to your pussy, playing with your clit with his thumb and wraps your legs around his waist.

“keep your legs wrapped for me, okay?” he says, using his long fingers to play with you. “can you do that for me?”

“yes,” you nod, and wonwoo peppers soft kisses around your neck and face. “wonwoo?”

“mm, baby?”

“can you spit in my mouth again?”

“oh, fuck, yes,” it catches wonwoo off guard and you find it cute how flustered he got. “i can, yeah.”

“good,” you nudge his back with your leg, telling him to start moving.

“ready?”

“mmhm- ah, fuck!” you nod, but wonwoo slips inside easily, holding onto your hips hard, fucking you at a hard, controlled pace. “oh my god, fuuuck, fuck!”

wonwoo smiles, watching your expressions change accordingly. he takes in all of your noises, expressions, all of you, how you ask to go faster, how you’re trying to fuck back too, how you’re willing to make it good for both of you. wonwoo takes a hold of your hand, putting it above your head. he gets caught off guard when you put your other hand up, and wraps his hand around your wrists, pinning them against the sheets.

“fuck, baby, you’re so tight, your pretty pussy loves taking me in, hm?” wonwoo whispers, and his free hand creeps up on your neck, but doesn’t add pressure on it. “open up.”

you oblige, and you feel him twitch. you tighten in instinct, as he lets spit drip down from his mouth to yours, and sticks his tongue in your mouth to push it in again. you moan at that, eyes going shut, all while wonwoo fucks harder and harder and harder. you feel nothing running in your brain, it feels numbing, feels exhilarating, you just feel yourself get lost into the pleasure and the praise wonwoo kisses on your skin. you numbingly hear him say words and words of i love you, can’t believe you are all mine, fuck you’re too good for me, come for me, your senses get blurred out, like your feeling everything all at once, and you don’t know when but you feel yourself unravel, coming undone as wonwoo finishes too, hips stuttering.

“baby…” wonwoo sighs against your lips, hands cautiously rubbing your sides, while putting his body weight against yours. “come back to me.”

“mmrgh?” you make a weird noise, feeling warm and a little light-headed. you hear wonwoo telling you to take deep breaths, and you use your hands to hold onto his shoulders. kisses and kisses and kisses of you did so well scatter across your skin like a cluster of stars, as wonwoo strokes your head with a comforting touch. “wonwoo?”

“m’ here baby, i’m right here,” he says, carefully slipping out from inside you after he softens. “i’m here, are you here?”

“yeah, sorry,” you finally collect yourself together, staring at the ceiling. wonwoo shifts on the bed, rolling over next to you to discard the condom, and plops next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist. you look over at him, lost in his bright eyes, and fucked out glow. “you did it.”

“wha?”

“you fucked me stupid, i don’t remember thinking at all.” you laugh. wonwoo’s face turns more pink, and he grumbles into your neck, kissing a spot or two.

“was that all okay?” he asks, stroking your head with one hand, playing with your hands with the other. “we did a little experimenting tonight.”

“it was good, yes, thank you,” you tell him, stroking his cheek fondly. “kinda wanna do more of it, you know.”

“oh.”

“oh my god, don’t act like a shy boy when you fucked me with your big dick.”

“i’m…” wonwoo get even more shy, and you laugh, kissing his nose and his cheeks. “just wasn’t expecting that, that’s all.”

“is it a lot for you?”

“no, i’m glad you trust me, and that i’m able to trust you.” wonwoo says, rubbing your stomach. “we should clean up.”

“eh, i kinda wanna lay here.” you say, sort of sprawling out on the bed. you stretch your arm a little weird so it ends up across wonwoo’s body. “too tired.”

“baby, you work in healthcare. didn’t they teach you to pee after sex?”

“i work in an eye clinic!”

“well yeah! same idea! it’s still healthcare! i’m getting you to clean up.” wonwoo says, slipping out of bed and grab his sweatpants. he slips it on, and goes over to your side, but you start rolling away, not wanting to get out of bed. “baby, don’t do that.”

“i want to cuddle first,” you say, not bothering to fight back when wonwoo grabs your body to carry you to the bathroom. “i feel like jelly.”

“good, that’s what i intended,” wonwoo kisses your face when you wrap your arms around his neck. “we can cuddle after. what do you want for breakfast?”

“eggs. toast, if we have bread. do we have bread?” wonwoo shrugs . “uh, coffee? oh! and maybe fried rice.”

“you work tomorrow?” he asks. you shake your head. “good, we’ll sleep in, eat breakfast, you wanna go play stardew valley together?”

you grin, giving him a kiss.

god, you love him so fucking much.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #seventeen smut #svthub #svt x reader #zu writes #svt #seventeen fic #GOD IM BACKSJDJDJ

651 notes · View notes

exorcqism · 11 months ago

Text

❛ INFINITY — 無限大

choso x f!reader ﾉ MDNI

𑂻𑂴 summary. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ you and choso go on a “date” and choso opens up about his family

𑂻𑂴 tags. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ choso (non-curse), mid 90s AU, nsfw, female anatomy, stoner!choso, mentions of going broke, possible sexual content, canon/modern lore mixes, etc.

𑂻𑂴 a/n. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ i almost forgot about this story BUT IM HERE. reblog to support meeee and enjoy :D (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part)

𑂻𑂴 misc. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ masterlist ,, AO3 — dark mode recommended. WC — 2.35K — part four

@sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3 @exinqiu

“you wanna…hang out? like, right now?” you heard choso say hesitantly over the phone. it was around ten at night and you weren’t busy. you didn’t have anything better to do. plus, you wanted to go out a bit more since you were a bit of a homebody.

“yeah, why not?” you beamed over the phone. “it’ll be fun and i don’t have nothing else to do. plus, we need to hang out more before it gets too cold…winter is around the corner.”

“oh..um, yeah sure. you’re right.” choso answered. though, he was in the clear for the evening since yuji would be spending the night with his friends for a sleepover, the male was still skeptical about somethings.

what if there’s an emergency? what if something happened to his little brother? anything could’ve happened while he was away, not supervising.

you grin excitedly, starting to list multiple places you could go. it took some quick process of elimination just to choose the park. it was simple and it seemed like choso really wanted to go for some reason, so you agreed.

once you got off the phone, you navigate to your messages app and send him a text, ‘oh i forgot to say that if you wanna bring food or something you can.’

now you had to play the waiting game. it was always you waiting longer than five minutes or less than a minute for choso to text back.

well this time you didn’t have to wait. your phone makes a sound shortly after you sent that message. you take a glance down to see that choso loved your message.

‘helping my brother pack. i might be a little late.’

you smiled at the text and urged him to take his time. you thought it was sweet how heavily choso cared for yuji. nothing never went unnoticed around him. he was like a big brother and a mother in one.

you began to put on your clothes and grab whatever you needed before you would finally leave out of the house and make your way towards the park.

the night sky was so clear and perfect. you could see all the stars just from where you were standing. that’s when you started to wonder if choso liked stargazing. how would he feel about that?

you were quickly reminded that choso may not have time for stuff like that since he seemed like a busy man. you could also tell he was the type that wasn’t very exposed to current day activities trending amongst other people.

it’s like he’s trapped in his own bubble.

“hold your hand out,” choso said before lifting yuji’s hand to clip his nails. “now, i’ll be going out somewhere tonight, so i won’t be at home while you’re with your friends…but if you need me, please call me, okay?”

“i know, big brother,” yuji smiled up at his elder brother. choso’s cheeks turned a rosy color before smiling back. “but where are you going? you never leave the house this late unless you picked up work.”

“you’re right but tonight is different…i’m gonna meet our brothers, spend some time outside the house…i shouldn’t be rotting in here all the time anyway.”

choso put the boy down once he finished clipping yuji’s nails and ruffled his hair. he would fold some clothes and place them down into the bag neatly.

“don’t let anybody touch your stuff and break it, okay? you’re allowed to share but make sure they’re being careful. you know money is hard around here and i can barely afford some of this stuff for you.” choso mumbled. his soft expression seemed to turn into a slight frown.

yuji nodded but he couldn’t help but notice his brother’s expression. “are you mad, big brother?”

the dark haired male blinked quickly and shook his head. “no, no. i’m not mad…life is just really hard and i need to probably find a second job.”

working as a bartender is okay for him, he didn’t mind it. but when it came to needing more money to upkeep the house and to satisfy both their wants and needs, he would need a second job.

“then we won’t be able to hang out together,” yuji frowned. it was already hard for choso to make time for his little brother but now it would be even harder.

“i know, itadori…i know. but i’ll make it up to you as best as i can. i promise i’ll never forget about it, okay?” choso held his pinky finger out to yuji. “you trust me?”

“i trust you,” yuji grinned.

“good.” choso smiled as he retracted his hand away from the boy. “now hurry and go grab your coat and your shoes. let’s go, we don’t wanna be late.”

yuji nodded and grabbed his coat from the closet by the front door and put on his favorite red boots before hurrying out of the door, waiting for choso to follow behind him.

after choso drove yuji to the other side of town, choso would make a stop at the corner store and bought another pack of cigarettes and some snacks that you both would like.

it took a little bit of time to make up his mind because he was a bit picky about what he ate but he’d eventually figure it out before heading to the park, finally meeting up with you.

“hey,” choso called her name breathlessly as he jogged over to the spot where you were sitting at. the park was empty, perfect for just the two of you to relax and talk and do whatever came to mind. “i’m so sorry i took so long. i drove thirty minutes from my place, to the other side of town for yuji then back, i’m sorry.”

you noticed his apologetic tone and you nod your head no, smiling at him. “don’t worry about it. like i told you, you didn’t have to rush to get here. i wasn’t going anywhere.”

the two of you finally get comfortable on the grass, eating the snacks you both brought and the drinks. choso noticed you opening a can of beer from the six pack brought with you. the male lifted an eyebrow.

“i thought you didn’t drink..” he said softly. you nod, taking a sip of your beer before sucking your teeth.

“i don’t but it’s nice for the occasion, you know?” you reach down and hand one to choso, offering it to him. the male was about to say no but he considered your next words.

“come on, just one can won’t hurt you. you gotta loosen up a little bit. you’re a busy guy that barely gives himself a break. tonight’s your night, cho.”

the male would light a cigarette and put it between his lips before humming. you were definitely right. choso never gave himself a break. he was always moving. hesitantly, he’d take the can from you and open it, listening to the sound as it hissed open.

you giggled when you saw choso’s face contort to an expression of disgust the second he took a sip of the beer.

“you like this?” he asked.

“i don’t like it either but after a while it’ll taste better.” you reassured. there’s a silence between the two of you as you both sat there, taking in your environment.

trees blowing gently in the quiet wind of the night. lampposts casting dim lights and weak shadows, and the occasional chirping of crickets hiding in the soil somewhere.

choso wasn’t a man of many words so the silence was tolerable but then a thought came to your head. while choso smoked his cigarette and you ate your snacks, you turned to him.

“why’d you wanna come to the park so bad?” you asked.

“it’s from a recurring dream i have. every time i have that dream, i see my brothers here. i just wanted to….i don’t even know. i just wanted to know that this place wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, i guess.”

“do you know what happens in the dream?”

“it all goes by so fast…it’s not that i don’t remember what happens, i just hate talking about it sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize,” you scooted a bit closer to him. “hey, let’s talk about something else. to lighten the mood, y’know?”

“oh..yeah, good idea.” choso nodded slowly, taking a drag from his cigarette. you had an idea already on what to talk about and you were obviously eager. anyone could just tell by the look on your face.

“have you ever stargazed before?” you began.

“uh…no. i mean- i look at stars but…i don’t do it like that. it’s- i don’t know.” he trails off, looking embarrassed and shy when he realized that he’s stumbled over his words a bunch.

“here, lay down.” you would lie down and choso just looked at you as if what you were doing was the oddest thing on earth. you waved your hand, gesturing him to do the same.

finally, choso would lay down, his eyes lighting up at the blanket of stars covering the sky. the stars were beautiful and bright that night. he could see some of them lining up, creating shapes—constellations.

“i love stars. they’re just so pretty.” you comment, “they look so close but they’re just so far…too bad some of them are dead.”

“these stars have been dead for a long time, they’re just now reflecting back to us.” choso chimed in lowly. you sighed.

“don’t you wish you could just be a star in the sky? not having to worry about anything or anyone in the universe, just yourself?”

“i’m not sure if i wanna turn into a star just yet,” choso said. “it sounds like death to me…but if i could run away and live somewhere secluded from society, i’d do it. me and yuji.”

“do you think anybody would miss you?” you frown a little, your expression a bit serious. choso shrugged.

“i have no friends...and if i did, they all died or they’re just people i don’t speak to anymore. i’m that lonely.” he sighed. “i don’t need other people anyway. it doesn’t bother me.”

choso looked at you and automatically felt embarrassed again. he ran his fingers through his medium length hair and shook his head.

“sorry. i overshare a lot.”

“you apologize a lot…it’s not really anything wrong with it, i just noticed that.” you say. “is that just…how you are? if you don’t mind me asking..”

“it’s just how i am, so—never mind. my dad was just so hard on me, i was always apologizing for something and he just kinda turned me into a sorry mess.”

the sudden mention of his father made him frown and he sighed. “i’m glad i don’t live with him…but i would probably stay there just for some money. he’s the typical salaryman with a son that’s broke…or at least, almost broke.”

“does the job you work at not pay enough?” you shifted your body so you were facing choso instead of the sky.

“it helps me get me and my brother some food that would last us a while and probably a shirt. not any of that luxury stuff. the only time i get that kind of stuff is when it’s given to me.”

“okay, that, i think is an exaggeration…every time i see you two, you’re dressed nicely and when we facetime, your house looks nice and clean,” you say. your hand slowly moved towards his but you hesitate to keep going.

“yeah, i guess it is. my job pays pretty well…i guess i’m just paranoid about it not being enough.” choso took a drag of his cigarette. when he felt your hand on his, he’d look down at it then back at you. instead of leaving your hand where it was, he’d take your hand into his.

the two of you were feeling a buzz from the beers you were drinking and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. choso saw the soft smile on your face as you looked into his soft, tired eyes. you saw how his dark hair covered a lot of his face as he laid on the ground beside you.

“you know, i think you’re a really nice guy,” you blurt out. you weren’t even aware of what you were saying yourself. “i really like you.”

“i….” choso’s breath hitched, “uh…i like you too. i’ve liked you for a long time—since we met.” the male could feel his ears getting hot and the tip of his nose was a pinkish color from the cold, mixed with his blushing.

there was a tingly feeling on his face as his cheeks began to warm with excitement and embarrassment. the cut underneath his bandage was starting to bleed again.

“take this off,” you whispered, slowly removing the bloody bandage, revealing the red cut across his nose that’s usually black. you would take a napkin from your bag and once again, clean the blood from his face.

choso was obviously embarrassed. this was the second time you saw his cut but he didn’t really like others seeing it. the male used his hoodie to cover his nose.

“uh…thank you..for uh—for cleaning it.” he mumbled. you smiled at him and pulled the collar of his hoodie down from over his face before kissing him. your lips locked with each others and you both seemed to be in a deep state of excitement and euphoria.

choso never kissed a girl before. he wasn’t sure what was happening or what he was supposed to do but he tried his best to follow your lead anyway.

when you pulled away, you could see the surprise on choso’s face. his face was flushed from being so inebriated just as you were.

you both fell silent. the only noise that existed was your own breathing and the nature around you. choso was sure he wouldn’t remember much of this tomorrow and neither would you…but deep down, he found it hard to believe.

lowkey this took so long to write,, i’m tired 😭 i’m glad you guys like this. i made something happen so…now its time to get ready to wrap it up. also sorry if there’s any mistakes lol

#𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𖦹゛#jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk x reader #jjk choso #choso x black!reader #choso x reader

131 notes · View notes

zaebeecee · 2 months ago

Text

Drowning in Stardust

🦌 RadioDustTober: Short Story Edition 🕷️

Day 04: Turn out the Light

Canon-compliant (new relationship)

CWs: Post-drinking illness, allusions to Angel’s work environment

Angel Dust had a bad day at work. Alastor isn’t much of a caretaker, but he remembers how his maman used to look after him.

Word count: 1525

•••

“…is he alright?”

“Bad day at the office, apparently.”

Husk didn’t look particularly perturbed by this, most of his attention on the list of bar supplies as he tallied up what they would be needing for the next order (because, for an empty hotel, they certainly did plow through alcohol like it was going out of style). Alastor looked from him to Angel Dust, who had his head down on the bar top, resting upon one set of folded arms. The other two arms hung limply at his sides, fingers barely maintaining their grip on a glass that looked like it must have contained no small amount of bourbon not five minutes before.

Alastor raised one eyebrow when the spider made no move to respond. “…is he conscious?” he asked, wondering if he should be checking for a pulse.

“No,” Angel mumbled so unintelligibly that it was hardly a word at all.

“I’m cutting him off,” Husk said. “If you’re here for him, then get him out of my face before he gets his second wind. I’m gonna hurt him if he dives for the gin again.”

Angel said something to that, but it was spoken directly into the furniture, so the words were far too muffled to determine what he was trying to communicate.

“Worry not, Husker, I shall take our intoxicated little arachnid off your incredibly busy hands.” Alastor leaned down and placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder, hesitating only briefly before making contact. “Do you want me to take you back to your room, sha?”

“No,” Angel groaned, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded into his arms.

Alastor tightened his grip on Angel’s shoulder just briefly, the shadows swelling beneath his feet before they swallowed both of them. When the darkness cleared, Alastor was immediately plagued with the sight of the pink and purple neon that Angel insisted on using to decorate his bedroom. He squinted against it, his ears flicking backwards, as he focused instead on helping Angel onto his bed. The moment he was sitting, Angel flopped over onto his side, releasing a long and miserable groan.

Immediately, Alastor thought he should leave. Angel seemed as though he felt perfectly wretched (which was his own damn fault, of course, though Alastor imagined he would be deeply tempted to get hammered far more often if he was forced to contend with the Vees on a regular basis), and Alastor had never thought his presence to be one that brought any level of comfort at the best of times. He was immediately distracted, however, by a soft snuffling noise beside Angel’s bed. Alastor turned to see Fat Nuggets on the floor beside his feet, the little hellpig practically hopping on his front legs as he half-circled Alastor.

The Radio Demon, feared among all who heard his name, chuckled softly and leaned down to pick Fat Nuggets up. The pig offered absolutely no resistance, wiggling with what he had learned was excitement as Alastor held him. “Your Daddy doesn’t feel well,” he informed the little round creature, who stared up at him with wide and loving eyes that appeared to process no words whatsoever.

“My baby…” Angel groaned, reaching one arm out towards Alastor and making a grabby hand. “Gimme.” Alastor acquiesced, and as Fat Nuggets crawled up to Angel’s chest, the spider wrapped two arms around him and gave him a gentle squeeze. “…thanks, Smiles.”

“Hm?” Alastor started a little. “For what?”

“Bringin’ me,” was all Angel appeared to have to say about that.

“…of course, sha. Do…” Alastor hesitated. This thing between them—a thing that neither of them had made any sort of move to define, and that Alastor couldn’t put words to if he tried—was still new enough that he wasn’t positive what the protocol was. Hell, he was still attempting to process the fact that Angel claimed to like him, let alone grapple with the idea that he actually wanted to spend time with Alastor. “…do you need anything?”

Angel opened one eye, peering up at Alastor through what seemed to be a thick gaze of drunkenness and a quickly growing headache. “…I dunno,” he finally said.

How intensely helpful, Alastor thought, but bit back the sarcasm. Caretaking had never exactly been his forte; he had always been far more likely to make other people require care than to be in any position to administer it himself. He did, however, remember how his maman used to care for him when he was a child. “Have you eaten?”

Angel hesitated for so long before answering that Alastor already knew it would be a no. “…yesterday…?”

The very thought made Alastor’s own stomach cramp from imagined hunger. “No wonder the alcohol is hitting you so strongly. I’ll be right back.”

“Alastor—” was all the Radio Demon heard as his shadows swallowed him and he stepped into the kitchen, glancing around and finding it completely unoccupied. He hardly had time to fully make something, but a quick look around the room yielded some leftover chicken and rice, some of the bread that remained from Vaggie’s recent and brief late-night baking obsession, and a jug of water. With a bowl of chicken and rice heated up and the bread warmed, Alastor took all of the items up with his shadow tentacles and returned to Angel’s room.

The first thing he heard—unsurprisingly—was Angel vomiting in his attached bathroom. Alastor set the food down and walked to the other side of the bedroom, where Fat Nuggets was worriedly pacing and the cracked door cast a sliver of light across the tile floor. Alastor knocked lightly on the door before entering (a courtesy he had never afforded anyone before and even now only gave to Angel), not waiting for an answer before he pushed his way in.

“Nooo,” Angel groaned weakly, slumped on the bathroom floor. “Go away, I’m gross.”

“You have tolerated far worse from me than I’m sure I will be from you,” Alastor said, helping Angel up slowly.

That elicited another groan, either from the words or the movement or both. “You are so stinky,” he complained without either heat or vitriol.

Alastor chuckled. “Come along, my dear, you will hate yourself and me if you pass out on this floor.”

He assisted Angel with rinsing out his mouth in the sink, then helped him back to his bedroom, sitting him up against his pillows and helping Fat Nuggets back onto the bed before he sat at Angel’s hip and summoned the food over with his shadows.

Angel sighed wearily, staring at the bowl dubiously. “…gonna throw up again,” he muttered, less an immediate warning and more a pessimistic prediction.

“You are not,” Alastor said. “You are going to eat, you are going to drink water, and you are going to sleep. If you don’t, you’ll be both incredibly ill and violently hung over in the morning.”

“Nnh.” Angel was clearly weighing his options here, but finally relented. “…okay.”

Alastor didn’t permit himself to reconsider, simply began feeding Angel without giving him the chance to protest or decline the assistance. Angel, in turn, was surprisingly agreeable, allowing Alastor to feed him spoonfuls of rice and shredded chicken in broth, bits of bread, and sips of water in turn. When it seemed Angel truly couldn’t eat any more, Alastor didn’t push, though he did foist a bit more water upon him before relenting.

“Is that any better?” Alastor asked, waving his hand and causing the dishes (save the water) to vanish into the aether.

Angel shrugged. “I dunno. …guess so.” He sighed, then opened his eyes to look at Alastor. “…you leavin’?”

It sounded the opposite of hopeful, enough that it gave Alastor pause. “…would you like me to stay?” Angel nodded, the movement slight but immediate. “Alright,” he said, his easy agreement surprising even himself somewhat.

Angel reached out to take Alastor’s sleeve, tugging on him. “C’mere.” Alastor hesitated, then moved to stretch out on the bed, Angel adjusting them until Alastor was the one propped up against the pillows and Angel was tucked against his side with his head on the overlord’s shoulder.

Alastor couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Is this actually comfortable for you, sha?”

“No,” Angel murmured, and Alastor was hardly surprised; he wasn’t exactly a presence that inspired comfort. Before he could attempt to remove himself, Angel continued, “Couldja turn out the light, Smiles?”

“…of course.” With a wave of his hand, a slim tendril of darkness stretched from the shadows on the opposite wall, winding up until they reached the light switch panel and flicking each one off until they were bathed in darkness.

Angel sighed, tucking himself more firmly against Alastor. “Mkay. Now I’m comfortable,” he murmured.

Alastor stared at the top of Angel’s head before he smiled, just a little, and carefully put his arm around the spider’s shoulders. He heard the other Sinner purr contentedly, and in minutes, he was out cold.

Alastor didn’t sleep much, always finding it to be an utter waste of his time, but in this case… he found he didn’t particularly mind a few hours of doing absolutely nothing.

•••

#my writing #drowning in stardust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #radiodust #hazbin radiodust #writing challenge #writing prompt

25 notes · View notes

fruitless-vain · 1 year ago

Text

A good day for Yo, a bad day for the public lmao

Our goal today was isolating why she was struggling with ignoring people in michaels and then introducing the food court if she was up for it (above)

Sorted out that the people problem was exclusive to the speed we were going and how mentally taxing the activity was at the time of the person approaching. If we’re doing something that doesn’t take a lot of her brain power (casually walking slowly) it’s easier for her to get distracted than if she’s actively tasking, retrieving or walking quickly which requires more focus from her so there’s less free brain space available for people. She’s not necessarily losing focus per say but rather she’s like “I can do this in my sleep I’m gonna fidget while we do this to keep my brain busy and when I’m needed I’ll stop fidgeting” which really funny to me. So we worked on gradually slowing my walking speed and being stationary while passing people and ended with her totally back to 100% ignoring folks.

For the food court we stood outside of it for a while, we got there right at opening so every single shop was just prepping their first dishes and cooking absolutely everything which meant the smells were high as was clattering and banging. She didn’t show any interest in the smells, we walked from the opposite side of the mall to get there so she gradually had the smells enter the air as we got closer and as a result she was fully prepared to ignore food smells when we got there. Her biggest struggle was the banging, she was fine with it at every varying distance but once we actually get in the loop and the sounds are all around her it became a bit stressful for her- ended up finding the sounds were quiet in the very centre of the court so we were able to adjust to the surround sound banging at a lower volume. We just did two laps around with a break in between to keep it light and easy not building up stress and tried to sit right on that edge of absolutely minor stress that she’s capable of processing and overcoming. She had no hesitancy to enter the space and managed the stress really well, just popping the ears back and watching to process what was going on. I didn’t reinforce much in here because Yoshi tends to hyper-fixate if you reinforce during a stressful time, thinking and focusing exclusively on the scary thing instead of taking the treat and moving on so instead we used movement as the reward here to keep the mentality light and put less focus on the banging. Her second lap was much less stressy than the first so we definitely are headed in the right direction there- we’ll try to set up a drill at home to work more on that discomfort so that stress doesn’t have to be occurring while in gear. Super happy with how she did in here, not bothered by the food smells, no issues with the crowds, only a low level of stress despite just how loud and continuous the environment was, managed her stress well and still maintained excellent leash skills as well as focus throughout. She also had people trying to chat to her through this area which were of 0 concern to her.

As for the public side of things here we had

Just about every member of the janitorial crew trying to talk to her, not just “aren’t you cute!” Which doesn’t really bother me but full out “hey puppy!!!!!” “Look here puppy!!!” “Kissy sounds” Yoshi ignored them all pretty easily with the exception of one who she stopped to look back at, I paused with her and she quickly resumed focus and carried on this was like five separate occasions

Found a pen on the floor so I had her retrieve it for practice and a literal hoard of like five people gathered around her like a circus act with one guy looming over my side and over her, didn’t stop her from retrieving, the guy then tried to pet her head when she had her paws up handing me the pen, she ignored him returned to heel after giving me the pen and we weaved through them very smoothly while I told him off

Another worker ask her name then got offended when I said “we don’t give out that information, it’s very distracting for the dog if someone is randomly saying their name while they need to work!”

We passed a person with a white cane and their partner and the partner decided to try to call to yo and get her attention- idk I feel like you should definitely know better- the person with the white cane ended up telling them off like “they’re clearly working!”

Yo really shines when people try their hardest to make her skip a beat, it’s like a personal challenge to her “oh you think you can distract me? Kissy sounds? Really? You’re gonna have to try harder than that!”

We were out for about 1h 20m with a couple 5-10 minute breaks in there trying to help her out with all the chaos. She was definitely tired at the end but still very much focused and capable which is a nice place to end off. Finished at the exit just standing there waiting to work more on settling as well as make walking towards an exit not always mean I’m gonna leave immediately to help with that forwards drift I’ve been getting at exits, she ended up exiting perfectly after that and we did a long sniffy lap around the outside by her choice.

Got a lot of things done today, worked on a lot, super productive, and conquered a bunch of challenging things! It was far from perfect but it was exactly where she should be right now, she did great

Also I low key get kinda bothered by the surprised “your dog is so well trained!” Comments on one hand it feels good that people think that because imposter syndrome and I see all her mistakes yknow, but on the other hand- of course she is? Like she kinda better be otherwise why the hell is she in a mall??? What kind of untrained dogs have you seen in here and should I be worried????

#Yoshi #working

8 notes · View notes

ppushable · 5 months ago

Text

of course we'll be okay

jean kirschtein x fem reader / longfic / chapter wc: 9.1k

4 - digging holes

masterlist

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“Hey.”

…

“Hey!”

My shoulder, there’s something on my shoulder; I squirm like a leech on salt. Sasha shrinks back, putting her hand down. “Woah! Wakey wakey.”

Wush, wush, goes the blood pumping hard in my ears. “Already?”

“Honey, it’s almost seven.”

I strain my eyes to get a good look at her without turning my head (that would take too much effort) — hair knotted and sticking up, sleep in the corner of one eye, all in the mushy and dim light of morning — and promptly curl back into my blanket.

“Hey!”

“Five, ten, minutes,” I mutter, not really aiming to be heard. And then the blanket is stripped from me, exposing my skin to the elements. “Ah!”

“Rule number one of zombie apocalypse,” rings Connie’s tease, holding my warm and precious sheet like a bullfighter. “Wake when woken.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

Connie and Sasha, apparently, were deemed my “guides”. So I’m stuck with these two for the whole day.

Can’t be that bad, right?

I’m trying not to mutter or let my eyes shut (really, I am) as we walk to god knows where alongside my handsy and bickering guides. Kitchens, they said earlier, but they might as well have been speaking in another language.

The food court is crawling, legs everywhere, walking or standing or folded under plastic-coated metal picnic tables with holes that toddlers and idiots love getting their fingers stuck in.

“Come on, Ossie, grab a plate. Here.” Someone shoves a clean plate into my hands; I take it dumbly and join the procession.

“Connie, I hate waiting in line. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

A few lagging yard lights are still on, their emissions now weak and outdone by the sun.

“Wake yourself up. It’s not my fault your hungry ass can’t handle a few minutes of waiting.”

“Unfair. Hey, Ossie.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you excited for today?”

“Mhmm.” I nod to really sink it in.

“Wanna know what we’re gonna do?”

Oh, please, Sasha, don’t spoil me so.

“Well, for one, no work!” She nails the statement in with a clap and turns to Connie. “Right?”

“Yep. Oh, yeah, by the way, I’m supposed to give this to you.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket and uncrumples it hastily in one hand before passing it to me.

Sorry I couldn’t see you today I got busy and work to do. I got some of your friends to help you for orientation ted today so everything will be fine! Just do what they tell you because they are very good scou people and they’re good at their jobs (this part is almost smudged out). They have full permission to teach you whatever you need to know, so listen to them! … Come see me later when I’m not so busy in my office. :D have fun Ossie!

“It’s from Hange, by the way,” Connie informs.

I iron out the paper out between my fingers, read through it again as Sasha and Connie inevitably start bickering again. They’re really just handing me over? To those two? Is that a good idea?

“Oh, so my sweater just magically appeared on your shelf, you didn’t recognize it, even though you totally did, and put it on anyways. I might not be on the Principal’s honour roll but I’m not that stupid.”

“Who said that sweater was yours?”

“Guys?”

They turn to me again. Connie sticks a thumb over his shoulder, squinting. “Can you believe her?”

“Do you need this back?”

He barely even scrapes a glance at the note before waving it away. “Keep it. I already know what to do.”

“Do I get to watch a video?” I joke, weakly.

“Nope. Hands-on experience only.”

I pocket the sheet. “And what counts as ‘hands-on experience?’”

He shrugs. “Whatever I want, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” His eyes narrow into little slits, daylight barely glinting off, as he grins.

“Well… what are we doing first?”

“Maybe a tour—”

Sasha’s hand grasps his throat, effectively rendering him speechless. “Shopping! Let’s go downstairs and get clothes!” Looking at me pointedly, she adds, “it’s legal.”

I shrug.

“Bleeeh,” Connie gags. “I—” he coughs— “am the orientation leader, so I decide what we do first.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m the only one with experience.”

“You helped out with Christa and Ymir one time. That doesn’t make you an expert.”

“Does so. Besides, it’s on the paper. Right, Ossie?”

Between the way he stares daggers at me and the strained upper-lip biting he can’t make his message any clearer. Another hard decision for Ossie.

“Yep,” I say weakly.

“And as leader,” Connie raises his voice, cutting off whatever Sasha was about to say, “I say we do an outside tour first.” He grins stupidly.

Sasha scoffs. “Nobody likes you.”

“Whatever.”

Someone clears their throat pointedly behind us and Sasha ushers me ahead. Seems we’re holding up the line.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

The person behind the Taco Bell counter is not, in fact, Mirabel, but what appears to be a washed-out husk of a man with wet eyes and a gape. He fills our plates in such a sombre, wordless manner that it spreads to Connie and Sasha as well. It’s temporary, though; by the time we get to our table, they’re back to normal.

“So, Ossie,” Sasha says around a mouthful of… oatmeal, it’s oatmeal. I give it a good prod — soft, but holds its shape for a few seconds — as she talks. “How was last night?”

“Oh yeah, Ossie’s first watch duty! Did Marco and Jean teach you anything?”

That night, I learned, if at all, why Jean is so terrible. “We talked.”

“About what?”

“Yeah, did they mention me?”

“Uh… Jean did mention you, Connie.” He presses me with an eyebrow raise, Rock style. “Something about gum getting stuck in his hair.”

Even before I finish my sentence the two explode, cranking each other up with their whoops and ridiculous faces. I smile.

“Oh my god, Ossie, you should’ve seen what Jean looked like before his haircut.” Breakfast momentarily forgotten, Connie sweeps his hands over his head in an exaggerated wave, startling a passerby.

“Jars and jars of hair gel. Every morning he’d wake up early just to—” Breakfast not forgotten, Sasha quickly scoops oatmeal into her mouth before whipping her hands to her bangs (spoon in teeth) to pull back the strands, imitating some grandiose comb-over. “H’looked like shum typa of ol’ time judge.”

Working through the beige, I nod along at their descriptions. Bad-boy haircut. Chick repellent. Giorno Giovanna. Peaked in high school. Discord mod.

“Let me tell you, he fussed over his hair more than anyone else.”

“And— ohhh, Sasha, remember that one time a bird shit on his head?”

Immediately the two burst into a gasping cackle once more, smacking each other to the point of mild concern. At this point some people are looking over. I try not to make eye contact.

“So— so this one time—” Connie tries. “We were— pff!”

Sasha shoves Connie and behind a spat rainbow of half-chewed oatmeal clumps I’m allowed a small glance between their bodies. Someone’s coming this way. But the view is gone as she clings onto his shoulders, hardly able to hold herself up. “His face! His face!” And resorts to banging the side of her fist against the table. “Oh, lordy!”

“And you know what, he had to— he—”

“What’s going on here?”

I know that voice. It seems they do, too, from the way they immediately shut up, detach, sit up straight and stare straight ahead as if nothing happened at all.

The janitor — Captain Levi — looms up between them, his aura surging through the little gap between their bodies like a lens flare. “Why do I still see your pathetic asses here?”

“We woke up late, sir!”

“That’s no excuse.”

Connie’s eyes meet mine. He looks terrified, a piddly, domestic pet compared to a product of wilderness. “We— today is oren-tation day! Sir!”

Levi makes a decidedly unimpressed sound in the back of his throat and makes a point to avoid looking at me entirely. “Eat quickly without causing distraction and get to work.”

“Yes sir!”

Both collapse into themselves when he seemingly disappears into the crowd.

“I can’t hear him when he sneaks up on us like that.” Sasha shudders as if touched by an insect.

“If you think that’s bad, imagine that happening when you’re taking a leak in the woods.”

“Rather not.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“You know, Ossie,” Sasha begins when our food is gone and we’re walking down the mall, her to one side, Connie on the other, on our way to our next big adventure, “telling stories is fun and all, but I wish you were there to actually see them happen.”

Recovering from a yawn, Connie adds, “yeah.”

“It’s alright,” I say. What am I supposed to say?

“You know, we’re gonna keep doing bullshit. That’s our job. But this time, you’ll be there with us to see it all happen. Kapooche?” Connie grins, indicating a fist bump.

I look past his outstretched hand and into his face. He’s being genuine, Ossie, he’s not saying it to be nice. “Kapooche.” I smile and bump. That would be nice, right?

“Me too! Me too!” Sasha says, smashing her fists against mine. “Good! Good. Now you’re inducted.”

I raise an eyebrow, jokingly. “Should I be concerned?”

“Yeah.” She wedges her way between us, wraps her arms around our shoulders. “Because you’re stuck with us forever.”

“Haha! Forever, baby!” Connie hollers, his voice carrying as it bounces off of the spotless walls.

“Is that you, Springer?” A ghostly, almost angelic voice comes at us from all directions.

“Shadis,” Sasha hisses as Connie says something similar at the same time, and we speed up, somehow scaling the narrow nonfunctional escalator without breaking formation and barreling down the halls of the second floor. Already I’m getting winded, super-athletic me, with metal leaking into my mouth and a pair of sponges for lungs. Step, step, step, wheezing, in and out…

We explode into the dorm and this is where I stop, double over, catch what little breath I can. Connie and Sasha brush past, rustle around, and soon approach once more, bundled up. They look straight ahead and show no signs of stopping. I swallow and try some words.

“Can we—”

And then their arms hook into mine, lift me up, and I’m getting half-dragged backwards on the floor. They didn’t even say anything, like it’s all part of a plan.

“Wo— hey, let me go! Sasha! Connie!”

“Need to run, Ossie!”

The stairs. They’ll try dragging me down the stairs and I’ll die, nobody will hear my last words at the bottom as I try to speak through a broken neck, head twisted up at an unnatural angle, spitting blood. “Hey.” My slipper socks do little to halt or aid in this procession, sliding uselessly. “Just— let me do the stairs! Haha. Please. Sasha. Connie.”

Connie doesn’t stop as he looks down at me. “Sorry, Ossie.” He smiles. “But we kinda have to run. So just hang on and we’re all gonna be okay!”

I can’t see where we’re going, but when our feet fall hard and loud onto the metal area around the escalator, I know it’s coming.

“Oh shit!”

“Potty mouth!” Sasha sings, perhaps too loudly. “Looks like someone’s been spending too much time with Reiner!”

They start pounding down the stairs, every step jarring my bones and lurching my stomach until it feels like it’s going to fall out. The second floor shrinks further and further away. One slip, one misstep, one little mistake and I’ll fall and die, or worse, break a bone. My arms hurt from how hard I’m gripping these two when it’s over. One turn, another, the hallway sucking into itself as the world becomes a whirl of weird looks and trying not to lose my slipper socks.

One set of doors, another, and the air opens up.

“We’re here!” Sasha whoops as we skid across the dirt. They raise me up until I can stand on my own.

“Look familiar?”

“Uh, not really.” They look like a normal set of glass doors. One of them has a nasty crack, though.

A pair of hands land on my shoulder, turn me around.

“Oh.”

Ridged dirt dotted with green, haphazard pile of junk stretching past my peripheral, gardening equipment strewn here and there. Same scene as yesterday but the perspective is skewed; the scene spreads itself out violently before me unlike its placid, maplike temperament from the sky.

This is what the Garrison man saw.

This is the outside.

“Here, Ossie,” Sasha says, drifting Marco’s old coat across my shoulders. It’s not as cold as yesterday with the sun up and the wind down but still very necessary. I thank her and work on getting it on.

“You ready for the tour?” Connie asks, fisting his pockets. He wears a fur-lined bubble coat.

“Yeah!” Sasha cheers and tries to grab my hand, which is busy on the zipper. She gives up after a few tugs.

“Hmm.” Connie looks left, then right. “Let’s go to our lookout post first.”

He starts walking and Sasha catches up to him, leaving me trailing behind them like a sad snail slime. “If you look to your left—” he points— “you can see the walls. They work great. Most times Um…” he scratches his head, then points in the opposite direction. “To the right is the mall. And if you look closely, you can see Levi’s window.”

It’s somehow strange to imagine that he sleeps, let alone have a room. “What’s he like?” I ask. “I mean, from what I know, he seems really strict.”

“Hm! You’ve no idea.”

“He’s like an enigma,” Connie adds, lowering his voice. “So much terror in a little bundle. Like—” he gestures, flat-palmed, a measly height.

“Shut up, Connie, you’re barely taller than he is.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s only this tall.”

“He didn’t shrink.”

“Maybe, like…” he raises his hand. “This much.”

“No, more like…” recaching over, she lifts his hand up, up, “…that tall.”

“That’s over my head!”

“Then I guess you shrunk.” She turns to look at me. “Have you met him, Ossie?”

“Only briefly.”

“What was that like?”

The sickeningly fresh air blows in from somewhere and the goosebumps on my face spread to my back. The sky alternates between patches of striking blue and puffy grey; one cloud patch crawls in front of the sun, separating it from the mortals on which it shines. “Harrowing.”

“Huh?” they say in unison.

“Uh, like. Scary.”

“Ohhh.”

Sasha smacks my back — she loves doing that — with a fat grin. “Moving on!”

Her infectious attitude, I’m starting to catch it. My surroundings start looking real for the first time as I’m hit with another swell of cold air. When did walking get so hard? I can feel every curve and pebble of the ground beneath me and at times I almost lose my balance entirely. Shoes would be good. Connie sports the most horrific, creased and beat-up Jordans I’ve ever seen while Sasha has on some typical running shoes, both with a muddy rim at the bottom. They stop suddenly.

“Look. Isn’t that…”

Sasha’s pointing somewhere near the building where two people are talking. Arguing, more like; one stomps his feet.

“No, no, no!” I’m shocked at the strange voice, distorted by wind and distance, that carries over — is that a grown man, having a temper tantrum? “You can’t put in the seedlings until after the first frost! You hear? First frost!”

“Uh-oh, looks like Shadis is getting a talking-to by the gardener,” Connie explains with a whiff of snide. Who I assume to be Shadis — tall, dark, eagle-eyed, bald — stares statue-still as the other party runs his hands over his face. “That’s one brave bastard.”

“If any of us even thought of talking to him like that…” Sasha shudders. “You don’t wanna get in his way, Ossie.”

“Why is everyone so scary?” I hope they can sense the urgency pressed into my tone. “Can we get out of here?”

“Yeah. Just back away slowly…”

We backtrack until the corner of the building separates us. Connie crosses his arms. “Great, there goes my tour. Now what?”

“I dunno,” Sasha returns. “Guess we go inside.”

“Wait, so—” they turn to me as I speak— “Who exactly is Shadis? Some sort of coordinator?”

Grimacing, Sasha leans back against the wall, hands crossed behind her. “He’s our trainer.”

“Trainer?”

“Like, he trains us and teaches us and stuff. About the zombie apocalypse. Uh…” Connie starts listing off of his fingers. “Living in the woods, horseback riding, shooting, killing. But it’s mostly boring stuff.”

“In the woods? So you actually go out?”

Connie gives me a weird look. “What do you think we do here?”

I swallow. “I don’t know… Jean made it sound like you’re struggling just to get along.”

“Well,” Sasha snorts, “he’s not wrong. We don’t keep most of what we catch. But we can’t stay in the walls, because that defeats the point of the Survey Corps, and because we’d all starve to death.”

“We’ll only starve to death because of that stomach of yours.”

“How dare you, Connor Springer.”

“You are not allowed to use that name on me. Wench.”

Simultaneously they raise their fists. Coincidentally, this is the moment Shadis decides to appear.

“Guys,” I hiss, but it’s too late. His shadow falls upon us.

“Braus!” His voice is deep and steady and bone-rattling and loud, practically lunging at us from where he stands. “Springer!”

In a flash they turn into little toy soldiers, fists now pounding their chest in a strange salute. “Sir!”

Sasha gives me one of those pointed looks. Shit. How does it go? One hand twisted over my chest — no the other way — and that’s where I stop because someone’s warm breath turns a few hairs on the top of my head.

I was so much happier the last time I stared at the dirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing waltzing around? Do you think this is some sort of game?”

The yelling is also another indicator of his presence. I don’t just hear it; the absolute sound waves pierce my form and go through me, sending my heart on fluttering tangents. He’s the best yeller, no doubt. And he’s right behind me, and he’s going to chew me up, and I’m pinned.

“No, sir! This is not a game!”

“Answer my question!”

“We were just— just—” Connie’s wild gaze is fixed at some point above my head.

“We’re doing orientation, sir!” Sasha butts in, damn well saving his life. “For Ossie, sir!”

He doesn’t even spare her a passing glance. “Orientation,” he muses. “You!”

I shrink. Does he mean me? I look to my comrades and they offer grim affirmation. “Yes sir.” Weak!

“‘Yes sir?’ Did nobody tell you to look at your superiors when they talk to you?”

“Yessir. No, sir.” Still, I don’t turn, because seeing him there in the flesh, his bulging eyes and breath and the way his chest contracts with every phrase would make him real.

“Turn around, maggot! The two of you are dismissed.”

Now Connie and Sasha give me the bug eyes so I spin on my heel without another thought and stare at the sparse hairs between his eyebrows.

“Tuh,” he grunts. “You’re the amnesiac girl.”

He means that in a good way, right?

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“Ouh… Ostrich, sir.” I spit the words out like sand.

“Ostrich.” Emphasising the first syllable. He leans back, tasting the word a few times in his wrinkled mouth. “And why are you here, Ostrich?”

“Um. I.” Soft fabric of Jean’s sweater highlighted by the infinite starry sky. What did I say to him back then? Shit. “Can’t leave, sir.”

“What? Speak up!”

I swallow between words for the hundredth time. “I want to be here, sir!”

The two marbles stuck into his head threaten to roll out. “Want to be here,” he repeats, incredulous. “You want to be here? That has got to be,” he says with intensifying volume, “the absolute worst excuse I’ve ever heard for leeching around! Do you think living is free around here?” Sounds that somehow escape me don’t sate him. “Answer me, maggot!”

If there is a god, he must detest me. “Sir!”

“Fix your stance, leech! Back straight, feet forward! Look up, for Christ’s sake! Forget your lefts and rights, leech?”

My nails attack my palms, I stare vehemently into one of his forehead wrinkles, feet freezing cold with heels clicking together. “Sir!”

“You’re useless!”

“I’m useless!”

“Selfish!”

“I am selfish!”

“You are a leech, cadet!”

“I am a leech, sir!”

He gives me a final once-over. “Go join your friends.”

I gasp a breath I didn’t know I was holding and turn tail. Where? Away.

“Ossie. Ossie!” A hand juts out from behind a corner and reels me in and I smack into a jacket-covered body. Connie comes around to stand in front of me with Sasha. “You good, or what?”

I rake a glassy gaze over the two of them. “You waited for me?”

“I wouldn’t leave ya to Shadis.” Sasha rapidly shakes her head. “Never in a million years.”

“God, I’m sorry that happened to you.” Connie clicks his tongue. “He does that to everyone, cooks them on the spot. If you ask me, old man needs to bone.”

I take a deep breath, a little shaky, find my balance on ice-cold heels. All good. “Yeah, sign me up.”

They giggle and it pulls me back to life. “Now what?”

“We—”

“Shopping!” Sasha announces, awaiting Connie’s protest with a hard stare. He shrugs. “Sounds good, I guess.”

So we start back inside, through the cracked doors and across the main lobby. The floor feels spongy so I look down at my slipper socks that are brown.

They’re supposed to be pink.

At once the sensations plague me from all directions: dirt under my toenails, the squishiness, a faint sense of damp amongst the shroud of cold. Water welling up with every shift of balance. “Oh my god—”

“No more steps!” Connie exclaims, having noticed. “Just… don’t move…”

“No!” Sasha snatches my arm. “I’ll carry you! By the time Levi gets here we’ll be gone.”

“Wait, let me take them off.”

“Do it fast!”

I quiver onto one foot and start peeling off one shoe, heel first. Sasha supports me by the shoulder and I shoot her a quick smile. One, then two are off, and I’m standing barefoot on the muddy tile.

“Now what?” Connie groans. “Ohh, my jacket…” He shrugs it off and drops it on top of a footprint, ready to wipe.

“Wait, Connie!” He looks up, pained. “Isn’t there a mop or something you could use instead?”

“Where?”

I turn to Sasha. “Uhh… kitchens?”

He snaps and points before darting away.

“Connie, you little— ugh!” Sasha exclaims. “What’d we do?”

“We should wait for him. Oh.” Carefully stepping onto a brown patch — it’s gritty and disgusting — I snatch Connie’s jacket. “I’m gonna wipe my feet off on those door mats.”

Sasha keeps pace beside me. “It’s my fault. I shoulda gotten some shoes for you.”

I should have noticed it the moment I stepped outside, but I didn’t.” I smile. “It’s my fault.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, what’s wrong with you.”

The mat I’m halfheartedly kicking is rough.

“No, this is good,” Sasha says. “When we go down to the warehouse, we’ll get new things for you. Including shoes.”

Connie is heard before he is seen, teetering over with a heavy bucket in one hand and gray mop in the other. He finally drops the bucket, almost curling it on its castors, scrubbing furiously. “Gone, gone, gone…”

“Thanks for coming back for us, Connie.”

He affords a small glance up. “Oh, anytime!” Then he double takes. “Can't say the same for Sash, though.”

“Fuck off, goblin.”

“Gobblin deez nuts?”

“Ossie, let me kick his head.” Sasha says not-so-quietly as Connie wheezes into his bucket. “Just give the word.”

“Then who will clean the floor?”

She shakes her head. “Connie, we’re gonna go now.”

“Eh?” He dunks the mop into equally murky bucket water. “And if Levi comes?”

“Be manly and take the blame for it.”

“Hell no!” His voice cracks. “Stay here, I’m almost done.”

“Me and Ossie are leaving you.”

“What, to go clothes shopping?” he scoffs, scrubbing the floor in a figure-8 motion. Sasha doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either, and this spurs him to look up. “Eh?”

“Just catch up with us, okay?” Sasha’s already walking away with a vice grip on my elbow. “Ossie needs shoes.”

“Oh— hold on,” I say, laying Connie’s coat on the mat. What do I do with these muddy slippers?

“No! Sash, I’m sorry! Ossie! Stop her!”

She shakes her head again. The best I can do is give him a little grimace of apology over my shoulder before Sasha shuts a door, separating us.

“Watch ya step!” Sasha sings as I nearly kill myself falling over a stone ledge. More specifically, a set of concrete stairs ending in a deep and pipelined pit. A faint trill paired with the smell of old, wet wood drifts through the thickly painted walls like an ill-fated vapour.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Connie?” Leaving him by himself in the lobby, just waiting to be chewed out, leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So does the mould.

“He’ll be fine.”

If you say so. She leads the way and I follow blindly, every unseen step a little thrill for my system, until I walk into her.

“Shh! Quiet time now.”

“Where are you?”

“Shh!”

Oh, god, Sasha, don’t leave me here. The darkness simmers and clogs, congealing into a primal, glaring beast, pupils beady and bulging and as numerous as there are stars in the sky. It brushes my arm.

“Ah—”

“Whoops!” Sasha! “Hold on a minute.”

Squeak and hiss. A faltering match flame becomes the sole interest of my imagination before it’s wedged into some glass and metal contraption, catching the wick, and flaring its brilliant light onto the focussed face of Sasha. She looks really proud of herself. “First try.”

“Is that a lantern?” I’m fixated by the little fire in its globular glass prison. “Where did you get something like that?”

“Oh, you find little things here and there.”

“From…?” I’m not sure how to continue.

“People’s houses. You ready?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Lantern swinging, she nods and starts down a narrow channel between a concrete wall and some enormous, Home Depot-esque shelves.

People’s houses? She’s going into people’s houses? Where are the people that are supposed to be in them?

“…dead, or zombified.”

And you know what happens to zombies.

“Hey, Sasha.”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever…” ‘Killed’ is a strong word and one she might fancy to use on me if I'm not careful. “Fought zombies?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Her pitch echoes back at us after enough delay to tell me that this place is huge. “I think right now Mikasa has the highest kill count, or Armin, if you count that trap of his. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re givin’ me that fishy look again, Ossie.”

Tracing some thickly-printed letters on a nondescript box, I smile a smile. “Sorry.” Puma, it reads.

“Mmm,” she goes slowly, as if working through a thought. “Are you afraid?”

Puma. “What do you mean?”

The light flickers out for a moment. “I don’t know. You just seem like it.”

“Oh.” Afraid is a big word. So is the thought of zombie apocalypse. The elimination of mankind, leaving behind nothing but desolation and material memories. The undead and injured that cry out for you from the throes of no return, flesh mangled past that of the deepest medical atrocities. Walking corpses. Dead that should be dead. Knowing you might be next. Stuff of movies. Ridiculous, really. As long as I refuse to believe it, nothing bad will happen. “You’re probably right.”

Sasha stops, smiles, and tucks some hair behind her ear. “Would be weird if you weren’t.”

She leaves me standing there for a moment. Right. Of course anyone would be afraid. Of course they’re scared, Ossie. No matter how arrogant or self-assured they might seem, they’re humans too. Hell, they’re just kids.

“Almost there,” Sasha says. “Try to be quiet till we get there? We shouldn’t be seen here.”

“Did you say this is perfectly legal?”

“Shh…” She holds the lantern in the direction of our destination: between the shelves. “The shoe place. We’re here.” I can hear Sasha’s grin as she passes me the light. “Pick and choose.”

“Choose,” I repeat as the full sight beholds me. Rows upon columns of shoeboxes in fresh, gleaming cardboard. “Oh my god.” A quick glance at Sasha — she’s still smiling — and I lopsidedly pick one out, set it on the ground, and flip the lid. “It’s shoes.”

“Shoes, right?”

“Shoes,” I echo like a warbled reflection on a spoon. “I just… pick and choose?”

“Mhm!”

“Wow… thanks, Sasha.”

She sweeps her arm at the shelves. “Go! Oh, put your old ones down there."

So I do as she says and take a few steps down the aisle, grab a box, slide it out of place, pop the lid. Hiking shoes.

“Those’re cool, you like them? Let’s get them!”

“I don’t think those will fit.”

“Well, let’s try!”

“Sash—”

She fishes out a shoe, realising it’s about double my size. “Never mind. Ooh!” Shutting and shoving away the box in my hand, she pulls out another. “How about flip-flops? My grandma used to call them thongs. You know, I saw Erwin wearing a pair once.”

I look at Sasha as she hands me the box. He was wearing the shoes, right? Inside rests a pair of plasticky-skinned shoes. “Maybe something more practical?”

“Right, right. They’re ugly anyway.” She scans the shelves by running her fingers across the boxes, humming, then suddenly dives in with both hands to snap one up. “Thi—” A rattle, then half of the shelf explodes and and landslides to the ground with Sasha at its epicentre.

“Sasha!”

She looks straight down at the boxes disembowelled at her feet — she must have taken a box from the bottom. “Are you okay?”

“We’d better clean up before someone catches us.”

“What?”

“I’m joking.” She grins. “There’s nobody here.”

I sigh and look around. “Okay, let’s clean this up.” Once I pick out a pair we can get out of here.

“Ooo!” Sasha drops what she has and plucks a pair of shoes by the laces. “These ones look nice!”

“Yeah. Do you see what box they belong to?”

She scowls, drops them, and takes another pair, tissue paper drifting off with a strange sort of grace. “Maybe some slip-ons. Or loafers!”

I close a shoebox over her hands, taking the shoes with them. “Loafers?”

Shrugging, she takes her hands out. “Levi likes them.”

Do I look like Levi? “Good to know.” I put the box next to the others.

“Ohh, you’d look great in these.” Dangling from her fingers this time is a gaudy pair of strappy stilettos in pink, red, or some strange shade of purple. “Marco would really like ‘em, eh?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Ignoring — trying to ignore whatever implications lie beneath her stupid expression, I shoot back, “I’m not sure they’d fit him.”

She scowls and now it’s my turn to smirk a little. “Pass them?”

“Come on,” she drones, abiding. “You are getting shoes, right? I didn’t take you down here for nothing. Don’t expect anyone else to do it for you cuz Shadis doesn’t even care! He only cares about coffee and being single.”

I stop at this. “What?”

She nods earnestly. “He never had a wife or anything so he’s always grumpy.”

“Huh.” Honestly, it’s too ridiculous to be false.

“I think he had the hots for Eren’s mom.”

My eyebrows shoot up on their own. “Okay, no.”

“It’s true!”

A laugh fizzles out of me. “No— no way.” Her expression makes me laugh harder than I like to.

“Go ask Eren! Serious! He has the pictures!”

“Of his mom? And— and Shadis?”

Tendons knot the back of Sasha’s hands as she wrings them. “E-yes!” she cries.

“Pfff!” Shadis, thirsting over a woman? Eren’s mom, of all people?

“You gotta believe me, Aw-sie!” Amid her distress, an accent breaks through, a little twist of her words.

“Okay, I— I believe you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“Whatever.”

Again, I smile a little, realising I’ve been wrapping and unwrapping some laces around my fingers. I flick its metal aglets against the lantern glass, expecting a nice sound and receiving one against the now-noticeable drum of background noise.

“Those ones look nice, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” I say. They are nice. I like their style and practicality and any pretty person would look really good in them.

“Try them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t—”

Sasha sighs. “Ossie.”

So I put them on.

Shuffling over, she looks straight down at them. “What do you think?”

“They fit nice,” I say to the top of her head. But my feet are still dirty.

“They look good on you.” An obligatory statement.

“Thanks, Sasha.”

“Much better than what you had before.”

“Okay.”

“So you’re keeping them.”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know you like them. You know you like them.”

I swallow a “but” statement and watch like a humiliated child as Sasha puts away the last of the shoes and gets up. “See, that was fun!” Shadows shift and lengthen as she picks up the lantern, giving the sense that everything is falling away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where even are we?”

“Basement.” She beckons as she exits. “Where we store stuff.”

I can’t imagine carrying all these things down the stairs and through this narrow corridor. Actually, it shouldn’t be possible at all. “The way we went down, that’s not the main entrance, is it?”

The lantern sways again. “Nah. It’s a secret, so you’d better not tell anyone about it.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“How nice of you to join me,” Connie says when we find him leaning against a yellow and black-striped bannister flanking a huge warehouse door. He stresses his words in just the right way. “Thought you got lost.”

“Nope.”

He stands straight. “Hey, nice shoes.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as Sasha suddenly rubs her fist against my scalp. “Ah.”

“You do realize.” Connie stands up and walks closer. “We have to go back down to get more stuff.”

“Lead the way,” Sasha says as if that’s the most obvious thing ever, letting me go like a fish.

Connie frowns and goes to open a smaller door beside the big one. Behind it are a set of stairs, wider, illuminated by a string of sparsely-placed lights, and beside the stairs is a huge ramp that leads to the garage door. “Did Sasha take you down her secret path?”

“Yeah,” I say, drowned out by Sasha’s sudden groan.

“Hey.” Stopping, Connie points at her, making her stop in her tracks. “You know better than that.”

“Relax, Cons.” She pushes away his finger with both hands. “I was quiet. Right, Ossie?”

“I forgot.”

“No you didn’t!” Sasha protests, cut off as Connie clicks his tongue and brings his finger back out, wagging it.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sasha. Don’t bring Ossie into your schemes.”

We start moving again and Sasha huffs. “What are you, my dad?”

“Ugh, I wish,” Connie moans, running a hand over his face. “Oh my god.”

What?? I curveball a pleading glance at Sasha who only rolls her eyes so hard I’m sure they hurt. “Shut up, Springer.”

“Hey, when’s your dad coming around again?”

“Stop it!”

He turns to me. “Hey Ossie, you haven’t seen Sasha’s dad yet, right?”

“Don’t you even,” she growls.

“Oh, I will even. Ossie, make sure you don’t follow Sasha down her secret path anymore, she uses that to steal.”

“Really?” I say.

“Steal,” Sasha scoffs. “So what?”

“Don’t make Ossie your accomplice.”

“I’m not a bozo.”

Connie puts out his hands and runs them around a large, invisible cylinder. “This one time she stole a smoked ham. An entire fucking ham. We would’ve been so mad if it wasn’t so tasty.”

“And you know what? Nothing bad came out of it, so—”

“Yeah, except your farts.”

“Shut up, Connie. Every time you open your mouth a moth flies by and dies.”

“Every time you open your mouth, people starve.”

“You— you’re ugly!”

“Weak.”

They stop for a moment, letting that familiar dull hum take the dialogue. Connie is really pretty, too. I don’t think a lot of people can pull of the short hair but he was made for it.

“Well.” He bumps my shoulder with his fist, spreading into a wicked grin. “You ready for a real shopping spree?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

I kick my feet under the table, sticking the fingers of one hand in the holes of the bench I sit on and clearing out a can of mixed beans and tuna with the other.

“No, Connie, I’ve been in that room at night, and it’s really warm in there.”

“And I’m telling you, there’s no way! All the heated rooms are around the boiling area.”

“It is around the boiling area. Just on the other side.”

“Oh.”

It’s noontime and we’re having lunch. The cafeteria is a lot more crowded now — people stream in, clump around the kitchen window where a new person is handing out food, and stream out or find a spot at one of the tables. Some lean against the large support pillars. All clutter the air with their chatter, pieces of conversation cutting in and out from different mouths all around me. A beam of sunlight cracks through a stained glass porch light, splitting into hundreds of fractals.

I’m almost done with my food but Connie and Sasha are more interested in conversation. That’s okay. I bring a plastic cup of water to my lips and tilt it down my throat, careful not to spill any on my new clothes. I’m having enough fun basking in this chaos.

For the hundredth time in the last two minutes I scour the crowd. That guy looks familiar. Wait.

Marco.

He’s walking beside Ymir, who walks beside Christa. Every once in a while he leans forward to make eye contact with the small girl as they speak, and it might be my imagination, but Ymir always speeds up a little when he does. They must have just gotten their food.

It’s the latter who notices me first. She raises an eyebrow and nudges her companion who lights up and points, saying something, bringing over Marco’s attention. He smiles and waves, I wave back and move a little closer to Connie to anticipate them.

Sasha snaps her head up a moment before Connie calls for them. “Ay, Marco! And Ymir and Christa.”

“How’s it going?” Marco greets, sitting beside Sasha on the other side of the table. Christa takes her seat beside me with Ymir between them, making the bench shift a little under the added weight.

“Banging,” Connie responds, taking a huge scoop of can slop.

Christa brushes an invisible crumb off of her shirt. “I like your sweater, Ossie! Did you get it downstairs?”

“Yeah, I did,” I smile. I don’t know, it’s just nice that she noticed. Really nice.

“You know,” she lowers her voice but not enough to invoke secrecy, “Ymir and I were the last ones to arrive before you. It gets better, really.” She pauses. “Especially if you have someone to help you.”

“Marc, do you know about the other warm room?” Connie asks across the table as I say, “Thanks, Christa.”

“There’s another one?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

With some prodding from Marco, we ate swiftly. I force this dry throat to swallow in anticipation of seeing Shadis again, this time in his true element: the training area. Did my legs always feel this weak?

Sasha looks at me and grins for the nth time since we started walking toward the large, open space outside on the complete opposite side of the building from the garden. “Are you ready?”

“Would it change anything to say no?”

I’m greeted by a chorus of “no’s,” a “nope,” and a “not really.”

“But,” Marco puts his big, warm hand on the flat bone part of my shoulder, “you’ll be fine. Shadis takes a little warming up to, is all.”

Connie and Ymir’s little chortles don’t reassure me in the slightest; honestly, not even Marco does.

Sighing, Christa says, “Just make sure to do everything he tells you and never, ever talk back. It’s easy!”

“Okay… anything else?”

Ymir finally speaks. “Don’t trip.”

With a few reassuring pats, we separate into a rehearsed line and stand facing the trash wall. The sound of birds pollute the mildly sweet air as they call to each other in coos, short trills, and repeated chortles, blissfully oblivious of whatever’s going on down here.

I manage to count to 45.

“Cadets!” Shadis booms. Oh, Jesus, it’s begun. This is ridiculous. What am I doing here. “About face!” We turn in sync, just like we practiced, and I stare holes into the back of some guy in front of me. I didn’t even hear the entire row of people in front of us enter. There’s silence, and I almost start counting again when he suddenly blares, “You know your places!”

“Sir!” Like ants, everyone scatters.

Everyone except me.

Shadis keeps yelling, listing off some random names and tasks that exit my mind the minute I hear them like a lamprey up a vacuum hose. Where are you going? I stand, dumb and frozen and stupid as usual, and I can just feel Shadis staring me down with those horrifying, watery eyes. “Leech!”

I almost yell out but he keeps yelling from the noise bag he calls his stomach. “Join Bodt!”

Bodt? Bodt?! Who the hell is that? Is it that guy who keeps staring at me? Or that guy with a greasy hat? Or that lady with the enormous—

“I’m Bodt,” Marco calls, waving, and he’s gotta be joking, but no, he keeps waving me over, so I walk, head down, stiff-kneed, I brush right past the wrinkled terror. “You’re with me, Ossie,” he says, a little quieter.

If there is a god, he must really like me.

“I’m surprised,” he says as if nothing is off at all. “He usually chews the newbies out. But he left you alone. You know what that means?”

I stare and he stares back. “What… does it mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Anyways, Shadis assigned you to me, which means I’m your orienta…tor now. Not dumb and dumber over there.” He juts a thumb at said persons who are stabbing at each other with rubber knives with a grin. “You ready to start?”

“Start what?”

“My favourite.” With that, he leans down, picks up a rifle, and scoops it into my arms.

“Wait, this?”

“Yup. It’s easy once you get a hang of it.” Now he has one of his own. “Lucky for you, I’m the best marksman in the group.” He grins harder, it’s almost maniacal. A man in his element.

Wait, this? I blink, and as if finally waking up, I realize I hold a death weapon in my arms. One wrong move, it’d be so easy to maim. “Wait— hold on! Marco?”

“Yeah?”

How is he so… unconcerned? “Rake— take this off! I’m gonna kill someone!”

“Huh? You mean the safety?” He leans over me to check something. “It’s already off. Aren’t you eager?” He giggles in that special way that he does. “Just don’t kill anyone, okay?”

“Marco!”

“Whaat?” He eyes me up and down. “Ohh. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“You think so? Because—”

“I know so. Now c’mere.”

People around me are too absorbed in whatever they’re doing to notice. At least they won’t see it coming, they won’t see when I trip just like Ymir told me not to and pull the trigger with my brand new shoelace somehow and shoot through their head by accident because the safety is off. They’d take my shoes away and banish me or keep me in a cage in Shadis’ room so he can yell at me whenever he wants to. God. Damn.

Somewhere close to Sasha and Connie’s area are Christa and Ymir. They’re going at each other with knives, too. Christa takes on a defensive stance, Ymir’s casual, and the former charges with a wide upward swing and it’s obvious what’s going to happen. It’s almost too graceful, the way the taller girl evades her attack, hardly displacing earth, and reaches behind her to prevent her from falling, which she does. Graceful and romantic, the way she cranes her neck to peer down at the blonde, noses nearly touching. Oh. I didn’t think friends did that. Must be another amnesia thing. Christa blushes — I can see it from here — and they detach.

Oh.

“Ossie!” Marco tilts his head so I come over to where he’s standing without moving my arms at all. “First things first. Show me how you hold the gun.” His sleeves are bunched up at his elbows, exposing thick forearms that point somewhere into the forest.

“What if I kill someone?”

“Just don’t pull the trigger.” He flaps a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, I’m here.”

So you can just stop bullets with your mind? My teeth click together as hard as they can as I align the mouth of the barrel to the forest without much thought. His hand covers his little laugh a second too late. “Okay, so, a few improvements. Pfft.” My frown depends. “Don’t look at me like that. Okay, here, let me show you.”

He takes up his own weapon and holds his body in a proper gunman’s pose, feet apart, forward leaning, cheek against the wide base part. “It’s easy!” he exclaims, doing little to defuse my annoyance. “It just takes practice. Try again.”

So I perform my best rendition of his stance which is again met by a grin that’s a little too wide. “Better,” he says. “You’re right handed, right?” I nod. “You have your legs apart far enough — think shoulder width. But put your right foot back a little…” Putting his rifle aside with a quiet click, he goes behind me and I feel something — his foot — prod the inside of my shoe. I step back, otherwise staying statue-still. “Good. Now—” he comes up to my right, just close enough for goosebumps to rise on that side of my neck— “I always like to make sure that I’m touching the gun in four places. First, your left hand should be wrapped firmly around the forestock.” And without warning his warm palm encloses mine, slides it up the smooth barrel a bit. “Right there. A little tighter.”

Like my life depends on it.

“Okay, good. You want a lot of strength here so it won’t move so much when you shoot.” He wiggles it a bit before letting go. “Next is your dominant hand, yeah, right there, you wanna make sure you can reach all the switches. Good! Look at you!”

“Look at me,” I rasp.

“You wanna lean a bit more into it. Push your elbows in, there you go. Doesn’t it feel better?”

“I think?”

“Next points of contact are the butt which goes against your shoulder and the stock which goes against your cheek. You want to make sure that you can see through the eyepiece without moving your head too much.”

Eyepiece, eyepiece. I try looking through, but the angle’s all wrong.

“Hey, keep your head still, okay? It all depends on the positioning of your gun. Like this.” He steps back and in a fluid, practiced motion, raises the firearm so its scope aligns with his eye. Every piece of it fits onto his body like a glove. I’m jealous. What? “See?”

“Okay.” Sure, I can do that, I’ve been doing this stuff since I was born. Lower the heavy thing, raise. It’s still off angle. How could you mess up such an easy thing?

“Try a couple more times, it’s pretty tricky. But once you get the hang of it…” Marco walks forward, breathes, and three pops rip through the air like ripples on water. The recoil hardly seems to affect him at all.

He turns back like a little girl with the gun pointed to earth. “See? One day you can be as good as me!” The same look he had on that night on the balcony is back again, that pride. “But not for a while, eh?” Giggle.

Somewhere beyond the walls, a faraway target whose distance Marco could probably calculate with a passing glance rattles against the tree it’s pinned against. Three holes.

Holy shit. Only a beast can do something like that. Marco… terrifying.

When I turn to him, that little smirk is already plastered there, waiting, expecting, knowing. He might not show it as much, but he’s good, damn good, and he sure as hell knows it.

“Try it.”

A wave of thrill rushes through me. “Are you sure?”

“Well…” His hand travels from his hip to his back pocket and pulls out a few golden bullets. “You’ll need these first.”

“Wh— so it was empty the entire time?”

“’Scuse me.” With a glint in his eye he pulls back some sort of lever, depositing the ammunition.

That cheeky bastard. He shoves the lever, open palmed, back into its original position and shoots me a close-ranged smile of diablerie. I didn’t budge from the movement. “Good form,” he says, patting the barrel before stepping back. “Can you see through the scope all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Make sure to pull the trigger all the way back. Like, sweep it. It’s not a button.”

“Okay.” I’m doing this?

“Good form?”

“Yeah.”

“Aim.”

I guess I’m doing this. I centre the target on the scope.

“You can do this, Ossie.” He steps in behind me. “Fir—!”

Sweep the trigger, explosion, grey sky. I’m off my feet and then I’m on them again.

“Woah! You okay?”

“I did it,” I breathe like I didn’t just get hit by a truck in the shoulder, looking up at Marco’s face framed by the clouds. “I did, right? Did I do it?”

“Mm, see for yourself. Can you stand?”

“Oh.” Oh! I find my feet and Marco’s arms lift away from me. He’d caught me when I tumbled back from the recoil like a total idiot and the realization rolls across my skin like a flaming cactus. “I’m really sorry.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He shrugs. “Your first shot. How do you feel?”

“Uh…” I sneak a glance at the target. Three holes. Ah. There’s disappointment, but what else could I expect? “Am I supposed to feel something?”

He tilts his head. “Proud. You’re a little marksman now.”

“Little marksman…”

“Doesn't matter if you don’t hit the target the first time. Nobody does. That’s why we practice.” He taps my shoulder. “No turning back, eh?”

“What about the bullets?”

“We got a million of them.” He steps back. “Try again.”

It takes two tries to get the gun into the right position. Form, aim…

Bang. I’m pushed back a stumble and a half, but I don’t fall.

“Huh! Not bad!”

“Didn’t fall this time,” I smile. But then I see the fourth hole.

It’s almost off the edge of the target, but it’s there. My hole.

My hole!

“Either you’re a real natural or I’m a hell of a teacher.” He’s brimming with excitement. “That’s amazing, Ossie!”

“I— wow.” I wipe some invisible drool off the corner of my mouth to cover my enormous and stupid grin. “I wouldn’t— it’s definitely because of you, Marco.”

“Well, we can’t say for sure just yet, can we?” He raises his eyebrows.

I lower my hand. “Okay, Marco.” I can do it again, right? Form, aim—

“Bam.”

Shit! The trigger yanks and the bullet never meets the painted wood, soaring high up into the trees. Shit, what was that? My heart pounds as I clutch the weapon to my chest and nearly trip back a step to see the source of that humid whisper against my ear.

Jean.

He stands as nonchalant as ever, scratching the side of his nose with his pinky. “Hey, you missed it.”

“Jean!” Marco says, harshly, stepping in front of me to confront him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His little finger turns to point at Marco. “Helping you.”

“I— how is that helping?”

Jean’s pupils flit to me under squinted eyes. “Anyone holding a rifle shouldn’t be so sensitive to outside noises.”

Under his withering expression and my withering self-confidence I try to say something when Marco gapes. “Are you serious?”

Jean seems to be taken by surprise by Marco’s unusual outburst, but he’s in no position to back down; it only spurs him further after a moment of stunned silence. “Of course I’m being serious! The whole world’s not gonna shut up just so she can take a shot.”

Bracing myself, I try again. “Je—”

“Jean, she’s holding a gun. She’s training.” His statement ends with a short laugh. “So—”

“So? You don’t want her to be prepared?”

The two of them loom tall, trapping me in my own valley where the things I want to say echo off the steep stone walls, coming out distorted and janky, if at all. What would a normal person do in this situation?

“Well, yes, but—”

“What I don’t get, Marco, is why you’re babying her so much! Why’re you taking her under your wing like that, when nobody did that shit for us?”

They can’t hear me at all.

“Well, for exactly that reason. Because nobody did it for us, so—”

“That’s just gonna get her killed. Do you know why we’re still alive? Because we learned the hard way. We toughened up! You really don’t expect to be there playing superman every time there’s trouble, is there?”

“Of course not, but the point is—”

Form. How’s my form?

“The point is, you’re too much of a ‘nice guy’—” air quotes and all— “which puts you, and everyone else, at—”

One swift movement, just like Marco did. The two of them shut and back up as the barrel swings up between them. Splitting the ravine. My gaze skims the eyepiece perfectly on the first try, and the pieces of the weapon fit the curves of my body perfectly.

“Hey, watch where you point that thing!”

Aim.

“Are you serious—”

Bam.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

editing this chapter made me realize how much i use the word 'squirm'

i think its cool that this story is just for us, me and you.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 3 - a dark stain on the carpet 5 - invert umbrella

#ofcwbo #pushable #jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein x reader #aot fanfiction #zombie au #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction

2 notes · View notes