#so I need to try and fall asleep and speed run getting as much sleep and energy as I can save for my hectic weekend slash working retail the | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

y2ashlee · 7 months ago

Text

Leona Kingscholar x Female! Reader SMUT

WARNINGS: Sex, bad writing, of character Leona but what fan written Leona isn’t.

Inspiration:

That weird hormone perfume I saw advertised on TikTok.

Author notes:

As we know from the manga, Leona sleeps without a shirt on.

Are they dating? Yes. Is this the couples first time having sex with each other. Also yes.

I looked up mating rituals of lions so that was interesting. Like I knew the female lion was the boss in that case but it’s still pretty interesting. Anyway male lions with stroke or lick the female on their necks, shoulders or backs to initiate the males also bite the female to basically remain in control and it helps with ovulation apparently which sounds bullshit but I guess it works?. Anyway I’ll probs look up stuff for the other non human members of the cast. Though with the fae ones I’ll probably only use part of the animal that they’re associated with since dragons aren’t real and pretty sure Azul’s dick isn’t removable nor is it one of his tentacles.

Anyway also use protection.

~~~

The Prefect of ramshackle dorm had recently gotten herself a bottle of perfume from the school store that smelt lovely, and was on sale. But what she didn’t know was that it was enchanted to make whomever harvest strong romantic feelings towards the Wearer to act upon those feelings in someway Handholding, kisses, hugs etc whenever they smelled it. And unfortunately for a certain lion beast man, these feelings were tripled as his sense of smell was so much better than any humans. She had been wearing the perfume for about a month, still unknowing about the enchantment, but every time the two would cross paths he would get a huge whiff of her intoxicating scent, and when she was in the same room as him for a long period of time, or standing close to him, every time, it got stronger, this particular time she was taking a joint class with his class and surprisingly he showed up to class, but as soon as the bell rang, he quickly got up to leave to get away from her scent. He was stopped by deuce as he wanted to ask him something and she was standing next to him he sighed. “..what..” he said, gritting his teeth. “Sorry I just wanted to ask-..” Deuce said. “Ask, Ruggie.” Is all he said before moving past them to leave. “Are you alright? You look flushed and you’re sweating.” The Prefect asked reaching towards him pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “My god. You feel hot!” She said surprised. “Do you need to go to the nu-“ He ducked away from her hand a sneer on his face. “I’m fine.” He said turning and walking out of the classroom. “A-alright then..” she said watching him walk away. He practically speed walked to the bathroom walking over to the sink and turning the water on splashing water on his face to calm himself as he let out a loud exaggerated sigh.

Leona retreating or running away continued for the next few days as the Prefect would try to talk to him and ask to hang out with him and whatnot yet he’d avoid any form of physical contact even after she had stopped wearing the perfume. But it was too late the enchantment was already in effect. While she was contemplating and over thinking that he didn’t want to be with her anymore he was trying to overcome all the sexual thoughts and not wanting to hurt her in his aroused and angered state. The smallest whiff of her scent put him in a foul mood because he couldn’t be near her until the enchantment wore off as he didn’t trust himself. But as he watched her from afar all those days he could see how much him avoiding her physically was weighing on her. He let out a yawn as he laid in bed staring at the ceiling trying to sleep fall asleep but finding it hard to do so he sighed grabbed his phone from the desk next to his bed and quickly send her a message.

Leona: Hey, Sorry I’ve been avoiding you.

He sent the first message unsure what to write next. He sighed a growl flowing from his lips as he rolled over onto his side burying his face into his pillow before feeling his phone vibrate before it rang. He looked at the screen seeing that it was her who was calling. He took a deep breath before answering. “..yeah.” He said already filled with guilt. “So, why have you been avoiding me?” She asked her voice soft and low like she was about to cry. He gulped before replying. “You know that perfume you’ve been wearing?” He stated. “Oh, was it too overpowering?” She asked. “Not exactly, it was enchanted..” Is all he said unsure how to phrase what he needed to say. “Basically, it makes me want to…” his voice drifted off. Thoughts of her roaming his mind. “…do stuff….to you..” he said softly his tail swishing slightly. His face flushed. “O-oh, OH!” She said her face also flushing. “Do you not want to do stuff with me..” she said biting her lip. He let out a groan like sigh. “Of course I do, I just-ugggh, I don’t wanna..hurt you..” he said biting his lip burying his face in his pillow once more. “..ok I see..” she said her face more flushed then before. “..are you in your room right now..” she asked. “Yeah..” he replied. “Stay where you are.” She said hanging up and putting her phone in her pocket. His eyes widened realising what she was intending to do. He sighed and put his phone on the desk before pulling the blankets over his head hiding from the cool moonlit night breeze.

The door opened with a small thud. “Sorry.” She winched at the sound before shutting the door slowly. She took a deep breath trying to compose herself before walking over to the bed. “Are you gonna hide from me now.” She said to the lump under the blanket. His tail flicked and swayed as it was free from the blanket which told her that he was happy she was there or annoyed she was unsure. She sighed and sat down on the bed. “It’s okay if you want to do stuff with me especially that kind of stuff but..at least tell me and..let me set the pace..” she said her face flushed as one hand gripped the blanket the other covering her mouth her eyes downcast as she bit her lip. He rolled over and sat up the blanket falling from his face showing his flushed face. “..are you sure?..” his voice low as his piercing green eyes stared at her. Her scent filling his nostrils engulfing him. “Y-yes.” She said removing her hand from her mouth and turning to look up at him with a nod. His eyes widened slightly his thoughts shattering as he lent forward his lips crashing against hers in a sloppy but passionate kiss his tongue pressing into her mouth roaming around like it hasn’t been there in years. He wrapped his arm around her gently pushing her to the bed his other hand caressing her head. He pulls away from her pressing his forehead to her’s as they both pant for breath he sighs breathing in her scent. “Sorry..” he mumbled in his gruff voice as he rubbed his cheek against hers before leaning down and rubbing his head against her neck and collarbone trying to get his scent on her and hers on him. His teeth grazed against her neck before licking it gently.

She let out a gasp at the roughness of his tongue on her neck. He sighed sniffing her once more. “Leona?” She said softly. His eyes widened his face flushing once more in embarrassment as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “You smell good..” he said trying to shove his embarrassment away. “Is this a beastman thing? To sniff, lick and rub against each other?” She asked. “We also bite.” He said his mood turning sour his teeth grazing her collarbone as his piercing gaze stared at her neck. She smiled softly a small chuckle leaving her throat before she placed her hands on his head her thumbs gently rubbing his ears while her fingers massaged his head. He closed his eyes loving the feeling of her touch he’ll never admit it though. “So what kind of things did you think about doing.” She asked continuing her movements. “As long as I’m comfortable doing it then it’s ok.” She said. He stared at her for a moment before exhaling and sitting up pulling away from her. He stared down at her hands rested on her chest as she looked up at him her face flushed. His thoughts were scattered as he looked down at her pinned beneath him.

She placed her hands on he’s cheeks. “Leona?” She said softly. He blinked slowly bringing his face down to her neck giving it a long lick before biting down on it. Not hard enough to break skin but still leaving a mark. She let out a moan like gasp. “Ah! Leona, that hurt!!” She said pushing him away quickly before covering the bite mark with her hand. He scoffed with a chuckle as he rubbed the mark with his thumb. “..I wanted to pin you down mark you as mine and fill you with me..” he said his voice low as his hands gripped the bed beneath them. “O-oh my…” she said her face so flushed that it reached her ears as she covered her face with her hands taking a few deep breaths before replying. “T-then fill me with you. J-just slowly please.” She said her gaze meeting his as she placed her hands on his cheeks. He smirked before leaning down and capturing her lips once more biting her lip before slipping his tongue in his hands moving to her hips lifting her shirt his ruff palms moving against her skin as they traveled upward his thumbs slipping under her bra before pushing it up before cupping her breasts his thumbs flicking her nipples slightly earning a muffled gasp from her as she pulls away from him as they both breathe heavily. “Leona..” she says softly kicking off her shoes before pulling him into an embrace her arms wrapping around him as she kissed him. He smirked against her lips and pulled away from her as he slides his hands down to her leggings slipping them off along with her underwear. She presses her thighs together feeling the coolness of the night hit her exposed parts. He kneels on the floor and parts her legs kissing her thighs gently his canines grazing her skin slightly until he reached her slit leaving a long slow lick up to her exposed bud. She gasped and sat up at the unexpected feeling. All he did was smirk and pushed her down bring her exposed slit closer and licking it once more his fingers gently rubbing her opening before prodding it his finger sliding inside while his tongue licks her exposed bud. She quivers slightly squeezing her thighs together as they rest against his head. He continues to lick while he caresses her insides his motions becoming fast. She covered her mouth with a hand letting out a moan. He pulled away with a smirk as he slid in another finger thrusting them faster as he kissed her thigh before leaving another bite. His tongue licking it as she let out a moan her walls clenching around his fingers. He pulls out his fingers purposely dragging his fingers slowly as he wipes them on his pants before putting her thighs down on the bed. She

With her breathing slightly ragged she watches as he moves away from her and leaning over the bed and rummaged through one of the draws before coming back to her and leaning down and whispering in her ear. “Roll over.” He said in a gruff voice just above a whisper before he kissed her once more. She blinked a few times before nodding and rolling over onto her stomach moving so she was on her knees. Let leant down and spoke softly into her ear. “This is your last chance to back out.” He said a hand resting on her hip. She looked back at him with a soft smile. “Just…be gentle..” she says softly her hands gripping the bed covers. He lets out a scoff as he pulls back ripping a condom packet with his teeth mumbling a reply. “I’ll try.” He said letting out a groan as slid the cool condom over his length shuddering slightly at the feeling. He let out a shakily breath as he pressed his length against her wet outer walls. She looked away from him as she felt his tip prod her entrance obviously a lot more girth then his to fingers. He slid inside her wet walls letting out a grunt at the feeling of her heat around him. She bit her lip her walls clenching around him as she let out a sound she was unsure she could make. He grunted as he started to move keeping his pace slow his hands resting on her hips. She gripped the covers more every time he moved letting out soft almost unheard sounds. His ears twitched at those soft sounds as he continued his movements his tail swishing slightly as he leant over her his chest pressed against her back his thrusts speeding up as he wrapped his arms around her one hand groping one of her breasts the other caressing her stomach. She lets out a louder moan his ears twitching at her muffled moans as she hides her face in the bed covers her eyes clenching shut. He scoffs once more as he rubs his cheek against her head and leaving a lick on her neck before biting it once more. Her back arched as she let out a strangled sound before burying her face in the covers again. His thrusts only became more aggressive after that. Her walls clenching around his as he hit all different parts of her insides. His teeth stayed against her skin as his hips slapped into hers his movements rough as his breathing was rugged. She let out a loud low muffled moan her walls clenching around him as she shivered hitting her climax her eyes watering at the feeling of him inside of her. He continued his thrusts his movements staggering slightly as he shuddered as muffled growl like moan reverberating against her skin as he came. His movements stopped as leant against her his body weight enveloping her slightly his ragged breathing against her neck his teeth still pressed into her skin his length still inside of her warm wet walls his tail flicking.

“L-Leona?” She asked trying to turn to look at him the best she could but she could only see his hair. His piercing green gaze unmoving as he stared at nothing in particular. She reached up to try to shake his shoulder but all she could reach was his ear as her fingertips brushing against. “Leona!” She said slightly louder once more trying to get his attention. His eyes shifted around before he realised what he was doing and pulled away from her his eyes landing on the bite mark noticing that it wasn’t bleeding. He gave it a lick before pulling away removing himself from her completely. “Sorry.” He said in his gruff voice as he fixed himself discarding the used condom in the bin. “Get up.” He said she nodded and slowly got up staggering slightly. He pulled her to him before pulling the bed covers down and helping her into the bed before following her pulling them over the two of them. He lets out a huff and wrapped his arms around her and sniffing her content that she smells like him. He relaxes before falling asleep. She sighs but cuddles up next to him knowing that there’s not way she would be able to leave.

~~~

Jesus Christ what the hell did I just write… anyway hope you enjoyed this garbage and requests are always open. Next up is Ruggie hopefully it won’t take me as long to write it but who knows.

#twisted wonderland mc #twistedwonderland #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland leona #twst #twst leona #twst mc #twistedwonderlandxfemalereader #twistedwonderlandxreader #twistedwonderlandxreader smut #smut #twst x reader #twst leona x reader

192 notes · View notes

thatblvckboyy · 7 months ago

Note

I desperately NEED Keeho just fucking the shit out of me cuz he's stressed from tour. Like he has me sobbing and begging from overstimulation but its no use. He wont let up.

Wrong move

Keeho x male reader

It's a bit long but enjoy pookie

In the hotel room,keeho turned and tossed in bed relentlessly as he tried falling asleep,“Fuck,”he murmured as he grabbed his phone and pulled up lewd videos you and him fucking which he secretly recorded without your knowledge.With his hand in his pajama pants,keeho stroked himself as he watched the video . . . but it wasn’t enough —

he needed more.His hand still in his pants he called you and waited until you answered the phone.“Babe,” he mumbled as he placed the phone on speaker and sighed.“I can’t sleep. I miss you so fucking much,”he sighed as he rolled onto the other side of the bed.

You only left yesterday... Keeho!?"

laughs softly as I try to calm down "I know, babe but you know I get really horny,"runs my fingers through my hair, feeling restless,

"Then jerk it off" you slur out without even thinking about what you said

"I tried but didn't really help much"

"Keeho its just 2 weeks you won't die, now please it's 2 am and I wanna go back to sleep" with that you hang up the call and slam the phone on the night stand

"Did he really just.....?" Keeho says to himself with a hint of irritation in his tone

"god I'm gonna fuck that bitch when I get home"keeho says himself while he accepts the outcome as he struggles to sleep, his mind racing with all the dirty things his gonna to you.

Two weeks successfully passed and keeho was on his way home, you were at home just doing the chores, you even forgot keeho was coming home today.

You were in the kitchen doing the dishes when he came in he left his suitcase in the living room and he swiftly grabs you dragging you making your hands slipping on the dishes as you try to regain your balance,your eyes widening in surprise as keeho suddenly tackle you dragging you the bedroom and locking the door.

"Now let's see how tough you are" and with that he rips your pants with his arms exposing your ass.Your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement."keeho please calm down..." You stutter out as keeho grabs the vibrator "between you and me baby boy we both know you love it this.....way maybe a bit to much" He says his tone dripping with malice as he gets the vibrator ready and he stares at you, named and vulnerable

"Now come on bend over..... ," he said as hovered on top of you watching bend over"good boy "he said as he introduced the vibrator on your hole gently rubbing it against your hole before pushing it in your ass

You gasp, your busy trembling and tensing as the vibrator sends a joke of pleasure and pain through you. "Ahh......oh....pleaaase,"you moan in pain and pleasure as keeho sits on the chair next to the bed unzipping his pants, unbuttonts his shirt and taking off his boxers and starts jerking off while watching you squirm and writhe as the vibrator pushes inside you the sensations intensifying with each second "ohh fuuuuck yeah" you heard keeho groans as he jerked off while watching you

Here are your moans

Keeho then suddenly increased the speed of the vibrator making you squeal "what do we say baby boy" he taunts as he strokes his dick getting closer to climaxing "i-..... I-m sorry d-daddy"

You manage to stutter out, with each moment you feel your body being torn apart limb from limb,but you had no option but to just lay there a moaning mess and take it cause if he fucked you himself, god knows what could have happened to your poor legs

"Ahhhh, fuuuckk yes, god y-esssss"keeho groans as he finally cums all over himself feeling spent, he decides to turn off the vibrator and get it out of your ass

"Now come here..... Babe" he said as he layed down on the bed paying the space next to him, you seems nervous a birthday but finally decide and go lay next to him on his chest "now you know next time I'm on tour you shouldn't act so bratty and tough ok" he says as he strokes your head, his sadistic dark demeanour now go on as if it was nothing

"Now come on go to sleep" he said as you slowly driffted off to sleep your body still twitching a bit from earlier and keeho starts drifting off too... Before he could even sleep he heard you sleep talking "no pleaaase keeho" thats what you said, "ssh it's okay...with that you both fell asleep

#p1harmony #yoon keeho #keeho x reader #male reader #p1h keeho #kpop smut #male idol #kpop idol #kpop imagines

136 notes · View notes

dreamingofaizawa · 2 months ago

Text

Coffee and Stitches - Part Two

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: None just an insane amount of fluff

Word Count: 8.4k

Author's Note: PART TWO LETS GO

Enjoy~

You’ve fallen into a nice rhythm with him. Working your shifts, handing Shouta a new sample or two, experimenting with more drinks. He does end up taking you up on your offer to sleep upstairs, and he brings his sleeping bag along with an overnight bag and spare clothing for himself. It’s only a few nights, and he makes sure to always clean up after himself and always makes some kind of meal for you afterward as some kind of payback. He’s sweet, and kind, and he may be blunt most of the time but he’s fun to be around. More than a few times you’d caught him stifling a laugh at some of the dumb jokes you’d make, and you’d call him out on it just to make him admit you’re funny. He’s helped you brainstorm a few of the things you’d need to change around the cafe for winter time, and you’ve spent a whole lot of time together after his patrols just sitting at a table and talking about nothing over whatever warm drink tickles your fancy as the weather gets colder.

You learn alot about him, his favorite things to eat and drink, his favorite things to do in his free time of which he has very little. He likes cats, but doesn’t have the time to take care of one like they should be cared for, nor the time for any pet really. You learn he developed his very own fighting style with that scarf of his and it took him six years to fully master it, the calluses and scars on his hands are a testament to that fact. He doesn’t drive anywhere, doesn’t usually need to when he can swing around and run across rooftops most of the time, but he does have a license to drive as well as an old car he rarely uses but manages to maintain well enough. You also learn he’s a ruthless but also merciful teacher. He’ll ‘flunk’ any of the students that can’t meet the standards for his course, but re-enroll them in a different course so they still have the opportunities that come with attending UA. He’s kind in that way, where he’ll witness a student’s limits and shift the course of their schooling to reflect their strengths and weaknesses. There are so many layers to this man that you’d never known, but the more you talk the more you want to uncover.

It was nice, the push and pull of your nightly interactions. Even on your off days you’d make sure to be down in the cafe, just to greet him as usual and meet him after a patrol for a cozy conversation. More often than not, he’s leaving as the sun rises, and the morning shift is getting used to having him around as a regular. You’ve grown a lot closer to him, and it warms you much like a drink when you think about the man. Today as you fall asleep, your mind drifts back to the hero. You’ve got it bad, huh? You’ve got to keep this thing in check.

The low buzz of your phone is what wakes you up. Only half-awake, you probe around beneath your pillow and locate the damned thing, answering it without reading the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The deep, tired, monotone voice on the other end jolts you wide awake. It’s Shouta.

“No! No, it’s fine, hi!” You sit up in bed, slinging your feet over the side to get your brain working at full speed.

“Hi.” It takes a moment for it to click in your brain that he sounds amused. You try not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Hi. Um, what’s up? You calling for any specific reason?” A hum sounds on the other side, and a small ruckus is unfolding in the background.

“Yes, actually. You’re off tonight, correct?” Well, today is…Friday? Which means you’re going to be off tonight and Monday night. Another overnight worker would be covering for you those days, since they have another job this is their secondary income so it works out for the both of you.

“Yup, I’m off tonight and Monday night, why?” You can hear some more commotion, maybe two other voices? It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re saying. He clears his throat.

“Actually I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place tonight for dinner.” Tonight? For dinner? What in the world brought this on? And what could you say but yes?

“Oh, sure! What time should I be there?”

“How does 7 o’clock sound?” That’s in…4 hours?

“That sounds nice. I’ll see you then?” Whatever was happening in the background had calmed down, silence filling the line as you wait for a response.

“Seven it is then. I’ll text you the address. See you later.” He ends the call there, and your heart begins to race in your chest. Did this qualify as a date? You weren’t prepared for this. The first thing you do is text Rika, the only three words that would get her attention.

Date tonight. Help.

You hadn’t realized she worked today, and that her shift ended about three minutes ago, so when your door burst open and Rika shouted as she ran down the hall you were startled to say the least. Finally reaching your room, she runs over and grabs your shoulders, shaking you just a little too hard.

“Tell me it’s a date with Eraser.” All you can do is nod. She nearly shrieks.

“Okay, okay, we need to get you dolled up. I’m thinking a bodycon dress, sensible stilettos, bold but cute makeup. Hair! What are we going to do for your hair?” You grab her shoulders this time effectively shutting her up.

“Rika, it’s only a small dinner at his place. We aren’t going out anywhere. He’s making dinner.” You can almost see the gears turning in her head, the outfit ideas flying around in her brain.

“Bet. Sit still, I’ve got this.” You do just that, letting her raid your closet and throw a few combinations in specific piles on the bed. All of them are a good balance between casual meeting and dinner date. The last thing you want to do is make it seem like you want this to be a real date, because if this is meant to be some kind of ‘thank you’ dinner it would be embarrassing to look like you expected something romantically involved. She’s still buzzing around, digging through the little makeup you’ve got and putting together something sensible. You catch the lacy pair of underwear and matching bra she tosses at you with a frown.

“What the hell are these for?”

“Duh, for when he’s undressing you! You can’t go in without a matching set.”

“Oh shut the fuck up! This may not even be a romantic date! And even then this would be the first and we definitely won’t be getting anywhere near that stage yet!” You grab a normal pair of underwear and hop in the shower, using the new citrus scented body scrub you’d gotten not too long ago. It would pair well with the raspberry lotion you’ve got, and that scent combo would be subtle enough to not overpower whatever meal he had planned. When you’re out Rika has an outfit laid out for you, and you must say she’s nailed your style perfectly. The layers are perfect for the cooler weather, and the jacket can come off once you’re inside.

“Now, makeup. Sit.” You’re planted in your desk chair while she fiddles around. Mascara, very subtle eyeliner, a hint of blush and sparkly clear lip gloss. She touches up your brows lightly and once she’s done she sweeps your hair into a casual updo, all the while you apply the lotion to your body. When you’re all done and dressed, it’s 6pm. According to the gps, it should only take fifteen minutes to get to his apartment complex by car. You’ve got 45 minutes to kill, and you figured you’d stop by the liquor store and pick up a bottle of champagne. Rika agrees.

“Come on, we’ll take my car.” You eye her suspiciously.

“Your car? Are you going to take me to his apartment?”

“Well duh, I’m not gonna let you drive! You’re not planning on staying over, so you should be out of there by what, ten? I can pick you up, easy peasy.” Somehow, you feel like this could be a setup, but you don’t voice that opinion.

“Fine, I guess you can help pick the champagne.” With that you head out. The store has a much larger variety of champagne than you’d anticipated, but between the two of you the choice was narrowed to a white champagne that should pair with pretty much anything. By the time you actually get to the complex, you’re fifteen minutes early, and you text Shouta that you’d arrived. He sends you the floor number and the apartment number, and Rika sends you off with a ‘good luck!’. Shouta buzzes you in at the door, and once you’re inside you take in the decor. It’s higher end than you’re used to, but you supposed that’s the kind of thing a hero’s salary can get. Then again, it’s definitely not the fanciest in the world, so Shouta choosing to live here makes sense. He didn’t really strike you as the luxurious type anyways. The carpet in the lobby is kept insanely clean for how dark it is, the navy blue still very bright instead of dull and gray like one would expect. There’s a reception desk where you fill out your name and the room number you’re visiting, and the woman points you in the direction of the elevators with a smile.

The elevators are all chrome, the ceiling a smooth mirror that you gaze at your reflection in. You haven’t looked or felt this pretty in a while, you’d never really had a reason to get dressed up at all. The button for his floor is pressed, and the soft ding notifies you of your arrival. It’s easy to find his apartment, the rooms numbered clearly and boldly on plaques outside the doors. When you arrive, you knock, and wait patiently. The door opens and you’re met with the wonderful aroma of Italian food. Tomato sauce, cheese, oregano and all kinds of spices. Shouta stands before you in a black button-down and comfortable slacks, thank heavens you aren’t overdressed, his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows and the top few buttons of that shirt are left undone. His hair is brushed back into a low ponytail, the scruff that’s normally on his face has been cleaned up. Not clean shaven, but neat. It looks good.

When you’re done looking him over, you look up into his eyes only to see as he gives you a once-over. His eyes almost burn a path down your body, and when he finally meets your gaze he blinks and smiles sheepishly.

“Hi. Sorry, come in. I’m just finishing up. I hope you like chicken parmesan.” You giggle, stepping past him and placing your shoes on the mat beside the door.

“Hi yourself. Thank you for having me, I do like a good chicken parm.” The door is shut and you hand him the bottle you’d brought with you.

“I didn’t know what you were making, so I went with a mild option.” He takes it and sets it on the counter, and once you’ve taken your jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, he holds a hand out for you to take. It’s easy to place your hand in his, easier still to let him lead you around the corner away from the kitchen into a small dining room. The lights are dimmed just a little, a small round dining table with forks and spoons set for two, spaces left for plates to go.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you earlier.” Heat rises to your face, the compliment making you fluster. He pulls out your chair and pushes it in as you sit, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you, Shouta. You look good too. I like what you did with your stubble. It’s nice.” You could have sworn his own cheeks warmed just a little.

“Thanks. It was a friend’s idea.” You beam at him and his honesty.

“Well your friend has good taste.” He smiles back, then disappears into the kitchen. He called you beautiful! If Rika were here she’d be screaming right about now, you’re sure. The aromas from the kitchen are wafting through the air, your stomach gurgling just the smallest bit. You hadn’t eaten yet, considering you’d woken up and immediately started getting ready. So you were ready to eat, especially something that smelled so good. Shouta called out that he was coming around the corner with something hot, so you remained where you were and allowed him to set two small bowls of what looked like some kind of soup on the table, then disappear again and come back with two plates of the chicken parm. Once again he goes and returns with two glasses of champagne and two glasses of water. He takes his seat across from you, then clears his throat.

“So, this is no five-course meal, but I like to think my cooking is good enough for a date. So, french onion soup and chicken parmesan. I’ve also got some tossed salad if you’d prefer, but I didn’t know for sure.” A large grin spreads across your face, he’s just so cute and sweet.

“It’s wonderful, Shouta. Thank you. I’m excited to try it all, it smells amazing.” His own smile matches yours, and you dig into your soup. It really does smell good, and after cooling the spoon you can’t help but hum at the flavors. It’s perfectly seasoned, not overly salty, and the onions are caramelized perfectly.

“Shouta, this is amazing. My god, how long did this all take you?” He swallows down his own spoonful before answering.

“I started the tomato sauce and soup broth just before I called you. In hindsight, I probably should have waited until you’d actually said yes to the date before starting the cooking.” In all of that, the one thing your brain stays hooked on is the date part.

“So, this is a date then?” When your eyes meet his, he seems cautious.

“I’d very much like for it to be, if you’re alright with that.” You beam at him.

“I’d love that, Shouta.” Relief floods his features, and he takes the time to savor another bite of his soup. You do the same.

“I’m glad. As much as I enjoy our late night talks in your cafe, I’ve been meaning to spend time with you outside of work. In a more personal setting.”

“I can only imagine, with what little free time you do have, that it can’t have been easy to find a time for this. Weekdays surely wouldn’t have worked.” He nods.

“I got lucky today. School let out early for both students and teachers, so I was able to get everything set up and prepare a meal like this.” It is a wonderful meal. He’s quite the home chef, though you’re not all that surprised after he’d made you so many meals at your place on a whim. The conversation is light and ventures around to all kinds of things. Your soup is finished off and the chicken parm is just as delicious, the sauce deep and savory with just a hint of sweet. You both sip at the champagne, but the water is the first to go. You ask him more about his life outside of work, what kind of things he’d like to do if he had the time, what kinds of places he’d like to visit given the chance. He’d love to see Greece, and the mountains of Machu Picchu. You’re surprised to find you both share an interest in ancient civilizations. You love the architecture and art, and he loves learning the bits of culture we can pick out from the ruins. The conversation continues long after your meals have finished, the both of you deep diving into the ancient civilizations you’d been obsessed with. You make sure to help him clean up the kitchen, not taking no for an answer, and you talk through the cleanup about random things.

It’s domestic, and sweet, and makes your chest bloom with warmth.

“Thank you for coming. I had a lot of fun tonight.” You grin up at him from where you stand near the door, your shoes not yet on your feet. Somewhere in your mind you want to delay having to leave, even just a little bit.

“I had fun too, thank you for inviting me. I hope maybe we can do something like this again?” His smile is infectious.

“Absolutely.” Your phone buzzes then, Rika texting you to say she’s waiting out front. Which means, unfortunately, it’s time to go. As much as you really don’t want to leave, you turn to Shouta.

“Well my ride’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“You can count on it.” It takes you just a moment for you to work up the courage to do what your mind is begging you to do, turning back to him after getting your shoes on. You motion for him to lean in close, and when he does you place your hand on his jaw and leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Your blood is pounding in your ears as you do it, the adrenaline making your heart race uncontrollably. He’s stunlocked, blinking down at you as you stare back up at him. You don’t know what you’re expecting, hell you aren’t expecting anything at all really, ready to turn and leave with a grin plastered on your face for the rest of the night. You’re surprised when his hand comes up to cup your cheek and he leaves an equally gentle kiss on your temple. It makes your face warm even further, the heat crawling up from your chest as you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“Good night.” He’s grinning while he says it, opening the door for you to step through.

“Good night.” You grin right back, and once the door closes you’re practically skipping all the way down the hall to the elevator. This is going to make your entire week, you’re sure. This was one of the best nights you’ve had in a long time. You leap into Rika’s car, and she can just tell from the look on your face that you’ve had a very good night.

“So it was a real date then?” You nod, not quite ready to speak. If you tried you might just talk until you turn blue, forgetting to breathe altogether in your splurge of words. She laughs, beginning the drive back to the cafe. You can’t seem to stop smiling, and Rika definitely doesn’t let you get away with it.

“Must have been a wonderful date to make you this smiley. What happened?” You shake your head, not wanting to distract her while driving.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the cafe. You have some time to spare right?”

“For you, always. Especially when your love life is involved. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone, let alone gone on any kind of date.” You roll your eyes, but she’s right. It’s been a very long time since you’d been romantically involved with anybody. Your life as of late has been consumed with the cafe, between opening a few years ago and scheduling and finances and insurance…It’s been a lot. You just haven’t had the time for romance, not that you ever cared all that much to put yourself out there. You can’t count the number of times Rika has begged you to make a profile on a dating app. Every time you’d refuse.

“Good. I’ll gush about it all once we’re inside.” The look she shoots you is pure surprise.

“Gush? Oh I’m sleeping over tonight.” Your grin only widens. It isn’t long before you’re parking and you almost sprint up to the apartment. It’s much easier to strip out of your outfit than it was to get into it, and the both of you get comfortable on the futon couch with a mountain of pillows, and she immediately drills you for the details. What he cooked, what he wore, what he said and what you talked about. After all her questions were out, all that was left for you to gush and gush about were all the little things that made you giggle and smile and the things that made you swoon. Like the way he kept his sleeves rolled up to expose his arms, the way his dress shirt and slacks fit his body so well, the way he’d swept his hair back. You detail almost every moment, all the things you’d talked about over dinner and then some.

“Rika, when I tell you this man is going to be the death of me.” She squeals, rolling over so she’s on her back.

“I’m so happy for you girl omg.” You grab her arm, not forgetting the one detail that is sure to have her screaming.

“I haven’t even told you the best part.” Her gasp is loud, and she rolls back over to face you, her eyes boring into your own. She’s intent on hearing this.

“I kissed him on the cheek before I left-” She squeaks, but you shoot her a look to wait for the rest, “and he looked shocked at first but then he kissed me back.” Unable to contain it any longer, she plants her face in a pillow and squeals, her feet kicking the bed behind her. The memory makes you giddy, and you hold your pillow close to your chest.

“I know. I mean, it was just on the forehead but the way he held my face. I swear I had little hearts in my eyes. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was in a sappy romance movie.” You talk until you pass out, the both of you so tired after hours of talking about the date. It’s almost noon when you wake up, Rika snoring beside you. She probably didn't have a shift today, so your late night date talk wouldn’t pose a problem to her sleep. Already wide awake, you busy yourself with little chores around the house. Tidying up the bathroom, maintaining the kitchen, sweeping the corners of the house where dust tends to collect. Nothing too huge, your weekly deep cleaning comes every Monday since you’re off. Rika wakes up then, diving through your fridge for anything decent to munch on. She groans when she doesn’t find anything she wants.

“You know the cafe is just a staircase away, right?” In her tired morning haze, she’d forgotten she gets free food in the cafe. She disappears down the stairs and you finish up whatever you were doing. Coffee wouldn’t hurt, you’ve been feeling like having something with white chocolate in it. The door opens and shuts, and you call out from where you’re buried in the closet to return your cleaning supplies to their proper homes.

“So what did you get?” The closet door closes easily, and you dust off your clothes as you hear the answer.

“Mac and cheese, I think.” That wasn’t Rika’s voice. You whirl, meeting Shouta face to face as he stands mere feet from you.

“Shouta! Hi!” His smirk is sly and teasing, and you can’t help the way you bite your bottom lip to hide your bright grin.

“Hi. You forgot this last night.” He holds up your jacket in his hand, and you take it graciously.

“Oh my gosh I didn’t even realize. Thank you for bringing it, but you were coming in tonight weren’t you?” He nods.

“So why not just bring it to me then? I’d have been down there.” The faintest tint of pink appears on his cheeks, and he can’t look you in the eyes.

“It’s kind of a selfish reason. If I’m being honest here I just wanted to see you again.” You do grin then, not bothering to hide it anymore. He’s just too cute. In the silence you can’t help but giggle at the bashful expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up.” You go to hang your coat up in your room, still giggling out of joy.

“I’m sorry, I’m just very happy at the moment. A handsome pro-hero I’d just gone on an amazing date with not even 12 hours prior is now in my apartment, admitting that he’d gone out of his way just to see me. I could pinch myself.” With him still in the hallway you can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“Handsome?” At the shock in his voice you whip around, stomping out to the hall, and you’re sure you’re looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“Uh, yeah. You may not be the most popular pro out there, and a plethora of girls swoon over that oversized red chicken, but there are so many women and men that find you hot.” He hums, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and the tiniest bit of pink crawls up his neck onto his face.

“I figured someone was bound to, being a pro means putting yourself out into the public eye.” You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, and one of those people is me. Like I said, you’re hot.” His other hand comes up to cover his face entirely. You’re sure he’s beet red under there and your grin is mischievous, the opportunity you’ve just been handed is irresistible.

“Are you…flustered, Eraserhead?” He peeks from between his fingers, a small ‘no’ muffled behind his palm. Obviously, you don’t buy it, so you push more buttons. Tilting your head sweetly, clasping your hands behind your back, swaying your hips just that tiny bit as you step into his space.

“You are. A pro hero like you, flustered by something as simple as a woman calling you hot?” You lean way up into his face, which is still covered by a hand. His eyes widen just a fraction, and he barely leans away from you. Still you push, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re just too cute.” Suddenly his demeanor changes, the hand on his face dropping to rest on your hand, still on his chest. The other comes to land on the small of your back, trapping your other hand beneath it, and he tugs you close to lean over you. The change is so sudden you can’t help but arch the tiniest bit away from his face, which is mere inches from your own. Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding in your chest at the dynamic switch. Now you’re the one flustered. He’s just so handsome and he’s right there, and you’re stuck in his hold. His eyes bore into your own, piercing and heavy and dark.

“You’ve got to be careful which games you play. You’ll get yourself in trouble.” The heat in your face feels like an inferno, your chest heaving as tension settles in the air between you. His hands are hot where they rest on your own, the skin contact and close proximity sends a tremor into your fingertips. You’re nervous. You’re anxious. You want to kiss him so bad.

“Shaking? Already?” He leans closer, your noses nearly touching and you swallow to help alleviate the dryness in your throat.

“I haven’t even done anything yet…”

“Okay, I definitely should have given you guys more time alone.” Shouta’s hands are off you in an instant, the both of you putting as much space between you in the confines of the hallway. Rika’s settling onto the couch holding a bowl of something hot, steam rising off the surface, and the grin on her face looks like the cat that got the cream. Her bowl is placed on the coffee table, and she faces you once again.

“However, after seeing what I’d just seen, I’m glad I interrupted when I did. You kids need to learn to keep it in your pants when there are guests around.” Shouta coughs at that comment with a mumbled apology. You only roll your eyes. The both of you walk toward the door, and you’re ready to see him off when he stops and turns to you.

“Actually, I’d also come for another reason.” He drops his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxing.

“In a couple weeks it’s going to be cold enough for the ice rink down the street to open up. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for some ice skating?” This time your grin is wide, joy leaking into your face.

“I’d love to, Shouta. Friday again?” He nods.

“Friday evening, in two weeks. 5 pm.”

“I’ll be there.” The corners of his mouth tug out just a little, a smile pulling at his cheeks. He seems pleased.

“Good. It’s a date.” A date. A second date, with Shouta Aizawa. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to jump up and throw your arms around him. What in the world has this man done to you? He’s gone much faster than you’d like, disappearing down the stairs, and the instant the door is shut Rika’s comments begin.

“So how close were you to seeing him naked?”

“Rika!” She throws her hands in the air.

“What?! It’s a valid question!”

“No, it isn’t. Now eat before your food gets cold.” Her eyes roll, but she drops the subject. The next two weeks are spent as usual, plus the added anticipation of your upcoming date. Every time Shouta walks in the door you’re beaming, and you’ve noticed that slowly his smiles have become more frequent, however small they may be. You dare to think it’s because he gets to see you. You’ve already got your outfit planned out, a good mix between warmth and fall protection, and cute enough for a date. It gets much colder in the span of two weeks, snow beginning to fall regularly. Shouta’s hero getup didn’t seem to change all that much with the weather, but when you asked him about it he’d explained it’s almost an identical suit, just more insulated and a tad thicker and heavier. That made sense, he wouldn’t want to compromise the suit’s capabilities, but he’s also probably not very cold while sprinting across rooftops anyways. Now, as you wait ever so patiently for Shouta to walk in on Thursday night, your nerves are buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. You get to go on another date with this man that sends butterflies through your entire body. Mentally you kick yourself, being so giddy over a man so quickly has never ended well.

“You’re distracted tonight.” His voice makes you jump, the erasure hero standing directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. Huh. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, yeah I guess I am. Sorry, I’m just excited for tomorrow.” His small smile makes heat burst in your chest. You’ll never get sick of that, even if it isn’t a full smile.

“Me too. I get to spend more time with a pretty lady.” That makes you grin way too hard, and you reflexively look down to hide that fact. The way he makes you so bashful is baffling, he’s somehow turned you into a lovesick school girl staring at her crush for the first time.

“What, you get to call me hot and I can’t call you pretty?” A giggle bubbles up in your throat at the indignation in his tone and you gaze back up at him.

“I never said that. I like when you tell me I’m pretty.” His expression can only be described as smug.

“Then I guess I should say it more often.” Leaning over the counter, you let your elbows hold your weight and prop your chin in one hand.

“Not too often. You’ll give me a big head.” He reaches toward you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you blush but you don’t move away from his hand, even as his hand finds its way to cup your cheek.

“I don’t think so. I know how to appreciate beauty without spoiling her rotten.” You have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep the beaming grin from splitting across your face, but there isn’t much you can do about the flare of heat that washes over your entire body. His words are sending so many happy emotions flooding through your brain. Far too quickly for your liking, he pulls away completely, turning and walking to the door.

“I’ll be back after my patrol.” He calls over his shoulder. You don’t try to respond, he’s already out the door and swinging onto a rooftop as a light snow comes down. Now, with the space to breathe, you allow yourself to quietly celebrate the last few minutes. Nerves buzzing, cheeks hurting, face warm and all you can do is wrap your arms tight around yourself in a tight hug to keep from screaming out loud. The cafe remains empty for the most part until Shouta returns, albeit a little later than usual, and you greet him with a grin and a wave.

“So how’d it go?” His shoulders roll in a lazy shrug.

“Nothing crazy. I’m guessing it wasn’t much different here.” You nod.

“Yup. But it’s alright, I had something to look forward to.” One dark eyebrow lifts, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” You sigh, put on a dreamy smile, gaze up toward the ceiling as if there were a cloud playing your thoughts like a movie floating there.

“Just this handsome pro-hero. He’s a regular, always comes in before and after his patrols. I can’t lie, I always look forward to seeing him, you know?” He nods, playing along.

“I do know. I’ve got a cute cafe owner I like visiting all the time. On my really dead patrol nights I bide my time waiting to go back and see her.” There’s no point trying to hide your beaming smile, not when his matches. A laugh is shared between you, the cafe feeling just that little bit cozier in the cold weather. You stare at each other for a long while, the silence of the cafe stretching between you. His hair is damp from the snowflakes that had melted when he walked in, his cheeks not as red as they were in the cold air outside. You take in his face, the sharp angles of his stubbled jaw, his piercing eyes and the designer bags beneath them, his lips that you’d love to be kissing right about now. He really is such a handsome man. A handsome, tired man.

“Do you need to sleep here tonight? You came back late.” His hum is low and smooth, vibrating through your chest.

“I guess I did. Got held up with a punk at the end of my patrol route. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Go on up. You should still have spare clothes up there.” He nods, then heads up the staircase. He knows the drill, if he needs a shower he’ll take a quick one before settling into the futon for a much needed nap. You really don’t know how he does it, living off naps and very little full rest. It’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion half the time. The rest of your shift is dead, and when the three covering the morning come in you let them take over. It’s easy to stay quiet as you make your way up the stairs, living here for a few years means you’d already memorized everything that makes noise. Shouta’s passed out, wrapped up in his sleeping bag. He didn’t even pull the couch into a bed, just hopped into his yellow cocoon and knocked out. You have to fight the urge to stuff a small pillow beneath his head and cover him with a blanket. He’ll have set an alarm for himself, so you disappear into the bathroom for a nice hot shower before settling into bed. You’re asleep the moment your head hits your pillow. Shouta is gone when you wake up, but that’s to be expected. He didn’t make anything this time, but that’s never been expected if you’re being honest. Rika texts you, saying she’d be up in a couple hours after her shift finishes, and you get busy with a light lunch for the both of you. When she bursts through the door the first thing she asks is if you’re ready for tonight.

“Yeah I am. I’ve been excited and waiting for this date ever since he’d asked.” Her shit-eating grin is not lost on you.

“I bet. What do you think he’d do if I locked you out of your apartment?” You stab your chopsticks at her face, shooting her a look that could kill.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole. The last thing I want to do is inconvenience him with a surprise sleepover he wasn’t prepared for.” If her smile before was mischievous, this one was downright evil.

“I don’t think he'll be inconvenienced by that, considering you almost got dicked down in the hallway two weeks ago.” Your jaw drops, a loud gasp leaving your mouth. The flames that creep onto your face is a mix between embarrassment and annoyance, and she’s laughing at you.

“Shut the fuck up about that already! You haven’t stopped talking about that for two whole weeks.” She’s clutching her stomach, doubled over the counter, cackling hysterically. It takes about two full minutes for her to calm down and wipe the tears from her eyes. What kind of best friend is she anyways?

“Yeah and I won’t stop talking about it until you actually get laid. You’re too pent up, gotta let loose, especially when you’re so against one night stands and hookups.”

“And rightfully so. Strangers are dangerous, especially when quirks are involved. Nuh uh, I’m not taking that kind of a chance.” She sighs, dramatically, and her shoulders sag then shrug.

“Yeah I know. You’re the only reason I’ve actually given those up, your paranoia is rubbing off on me.” Good. She needed to be more careful, one of her hookups a year back was making you nervous with how often he’d turn up looking for her. You still don’t know how he found where she worked. She’s blocked him and made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with him, and he’s been out of sight, out of mind ever since. And since that incident she’s done exactly what you have, sworn off hookups and one night stands.

“Anyway, wanna see my outfit?” You spend the next twenty minutes getting dressed and having a mini fashion show with your skating outfit. Rika’s as supportive as ever, hyping you up and making inappropriately suggestive comments to make you laugh. Once you’re completely ready you take off, deciding it’d be nice to just walk to the rink since it’s only a few blocks down. A text is sent to Shouta alerting him that you’d arrived, but you soon see that you didn’t need to send it at all since he’s waiting for you at the entrance. He’s on his phone, leaning against a wall, and you assume he gets the text because his head shoots up and his eyes dart around until they land on you. You wave when he spots you, he waves back, and you get a good look at him as you approach. He’s got thick dark jeans on, snow boots that are probably waterproof, and a deep maroon puffer jacket over what looks like a thick turtleneck. There’s a fluffy gray scarf around his neck, matching gloves on his hands, and his hair is loose over his shoulders. He looks warm.

“Hi.” You smile at his simple greeting.

“Hi yourself. You look cozy.” He hums, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It’s cold.” You almost laugh at him. Almost. He can see you stifling your giggle and drags a gloved hand down his face.

“Yeah yeah I know. Come on, we gotta go get our skates.” It only takes you a moment, and you decide to grab his hand as you walk through the open gates. If he’s surprised by the action he doesn’t show it, his grip tightening around yours as you grab your respective sizes from the clerk at the counter. Your bag is deposited in a locker, and you’re on a bench pulling the skates on your feet. He’s done lacing his own long before you are.

“Do you need any help?” Yeah, you might.

“Honestly I haven’t gone ice skating since I was a kid.” He hums, then tugs one of your legs over his lap to lace up the skates.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” It takes a couple do-overs, but once you’ve got both laced up comfortably you’re wobbling toward the gate on the rink. You’re nervous, it’s been many years since you’d done this and muscle memory isn’t going to be enough to keep you upright on the ice.

“We can stay on the wall if you’d like.” You nod, a shaky ‘okay’ leaving your mouth. He steps on the ice first, easily transitioning. He must have done this often to be so smooth on the ice, but also he’s a pro hero. You have a much harder time getting into the rink, one hand gripping the wall and the other squeezing Shouta’s hand for dear life.

“You’re alright. Try not to be so stiff, keep your knees bent. There you go.” It’s definitely not easy, but it’s fun. Shouta gives you little tips, and whether you take them or not he encourages you to keep moving. It gets marginally easier to move comfortably across the slick ice, your legs beginning to actually move the way you want them to. And now more comfortable on the ice, you allow yourself to bask in Shouta’s presence. He’s so strong where he holds you upright, but oh so gentle when he pulls you along with him. His smile is lazy and sweet, and you can’t help the way your cheeks start to hurt with how much you’ve been smiling yourself. For a moment you have to wonder what kind of saint you’d been in your past life to deserve such a kind man to want to date you. Even if this doesn’t end in a full relationship, and even if you end up falling apart completely, you can live happily knowing that at least for right now, you’re happy with someone like him to share moments like these.

The sun sets while you’re focused on your feet, the dark bringing cold with it. Even though you feel like you’ve been running for an hour you’re freezing before long, and Shouta’s not far behind you. It’s easier getting off the ice than it was getting on, and your aching feet are relieved when the skates are yanked off and your comfortable shoes are back on. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you’re already starting to feel the ache in your thighs and core.

“Are you hungry?” You nod, take his hand when he stands and offers it to you. He makes it easy to fall into step beside him, talking about nothing and everything as you make your way down the street. There’s a food truck you hadn’t spotted before that sells heaping bowls of ramen, and you find a popup table to get comfortable at as you dig into your steaming bowls. It’s a perfect little meal, filling your bellies and warming you from the inside out.

“Thank you for tonight, Shouta.” He tilts his head, setting his chopsticks in the empty ramen bowl.

“So you had fun?” Your nod is quick and strong, a smirk growing on your face.

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” He matches your little smirk.

“That’s a pretty cheesy thing for you to say.” You shrug.

“Cheesy, but true. I really do enjoy all the time I get with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes before your patrol.”

“Well it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.” For a minute you both sit there, smiling at each other like lovesick idiots. Shouta decides to break the little streak by taking your trash and disposing of it, then offering you a hand which you easily take. You take off back toward the rink, and Shouta offers to take you home since he’d driven there. Being as physically tired as you are, you accept. His car is exactly as he’d described, an older model, but he’s kept it well. It’s clean inside, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror that smells of linen and clean laundry. It’s a short drive, less than five minutes, and he insists on walking you to your door.

“So I guess this is good night?” You hate that tonight has to end. You want to stay in his orbit forever, want to stare into his eyes until you drown in them. He hums, reaching to grab your hands from where he stands one step below you. Heat flares over your skin when he brings your hands to his mouth and presses sweet kisses to your knuckles.

“I’m sure I could find a way to stay a little longer. I don’t have a patrol tonight, so I’ve got nowhere better to be.” It’s all too easy to lean in close, close enough that you can lie your forehead on his and breathe in each other’s air.

“Shouta?” His eyes meet yours.

“Yes?” You bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders, toying with the scarf that sits on his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Being so direct isn’t really your style, but you can’t take it anymore. A deep breath makes his chest heave, and his laugh is short and relieved.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” That’s all you need to hear, really, and your lips are on his. Hungry, insistent, you kiss him until you can’t breathe and then keep kissing him some more. He’s no different, large strong hands wrapping around your waist to keep you from separating. Your hands grip his scarf like a vice, using the material to tug him somehow closer. Your body temperature skyrockets, heat blooming through your limbs as your heart pounds heavy in your chest, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the heat when you’re finally kissing Shouta. This is heaven on earth. If you could, you’d kiss him forever. The moment doesn’t last long enough for you, but you both need to breathe, so you’re left holding each other and basking in the afterglow of your first real kiss. He’s the first to break the silence.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You laugh at him then, at how close you were to saying something almost identical.

“Yeah? How long of a while, if I may ask?”

“It’s a little embarrassing, but that first night I’d fallen asleep in the beanbag downstairs. I don’t know why but when you woke me up I got the sudden urge to kiss you. The rest is history.” Another laugh escapes you.

“I was going to say something about not knowing me very well, but that would make me a hypocrite.” His head tilts, a smirk pulling his mouth.

“And why is that?” Your face heats up, and you can’t look him in the eyes.

“That same night I got some very domestic thoughts of you sleeping in my bed.” His smile is bright and sweet, and he buries his head in your neck much like a cat would. You won’t say that out loud, though. Having to pull away from him annoys you, having to separate at a time like this is incredibly inconvenient, but you’ve got to unlock your door to invite him in. Though, you do keep one hand clasped firmly in his. It's a flurry of clothing as you strip down to your thinnest layers, the heat in the apartment making all your snow gear unbearably hot, and once again you’re inconvenienced by the fact that you want to get comfortable in some pajamas before dragging him to cuddle on the couch. He still had a pair of sweats he kept here so he’d changed as well.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” He hums into your hair, holding you tight to his chest where you lay atop him.

“So this is one of your domestic thoughts?” You can only nod into his chest. You don’t think he’d appreciate knowing there were a few very brief not-so-domestic thoughts. For now, you’re going to keep those to yourself.

“Shouta? Can I be honest with you?” One of his hands scratch up and down your clothed back as he hums and waits.

“It feels like I’ve known you for years. We’ve been talking almost every day for just over a month but it feels like it’s been longer.”

“I know what you mean. Though the first night I’d come here was probably about five months ago, so we have technically known each other for nearly half a year.” The memory makes you smile. He’d been injured, sure, but it was your first interaction. Things tend to look better in hindsight.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Silence falls then, and you press your ear to his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. It’s solid, and strong, and his fingers on your back are lulling you to sleep. You can’t open your eyes for long, and what you do see is blurred by exhaustion. As much as you want to fight it just to stay awake with Shouta for a little longer, you can’t, and you slip right into a wonderful dream your brain can’t be bothered to remember.

#shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shota #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader

46 notes · View notes

visceravalentines · 8 months ago

Text

folger's, eat your heart out

oh my god this got away from me so bad it's wanted in twelve states. but it's done (is anything ever done) and i'm.......i'm quite happy with it. i really hope you like it.

4.3k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. character study, lots of introspection. implied sexual content, nothing too explicit. so much kissing. hand job. light s/m. night terrors and vague mention of canon-typical trauma. mostly soft, so soft. benson is so in love and doesn't know it yet <3

read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

It’s a Tuesday. Benson knows this because his eyes snap open automatically at five in the morning even though he hasn’t set an alarm in weeks. He opens on Tuesdays, been on that schedule for so long he doesn’t even need the alarm anymore anyways.

Well, he used to open on Tuesdays.

He wakes up slow. Gets a savage satisfaction out of being somewhere unfamiliar, revels in it. With bleary eyes he traces the outline of the water damage on the ceiling and it’s different than the one back home. Room smells different too, stale sweat and dust and complimentary green tea bar soap. The mattress is too fucking soft, folds around him like dough. His spine is electric with pain.

Fuck, he’s getting old. Twenty-nine going on fifty.

He drags a hand over his face and wishes he could fall back asleep. Not going to happen. Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab.

Or he used to, anyway.

He can’t feel his left arm. He pushes his chin into his throat at an odd angle to look down at Randy, still asleep, curled up on Benson’s chest like a sandy-colored cat. His hands are tucked together, long, knobby fingers folded over each other, resting in the center of Benson’s ribs. The sun takes each strand of his hair and wraps it in gold, even his eyelashes, laying long and pretty on his cheeks.

Fuck Folger’s. Nothing comes close to this.

It’s surreal, still. Being here, being anywhere, together. Like, together. Unbelievable the way he fits so neatly under Benson’s arm. He rests his lips against the crown of Randy’s head. He does it because he wants to, because he can. He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen. Fucking perfect, he’s perfect.

He's peaceful now, which is saying something. Randy’s a terrible sleeper. Sharing a bed with him is punishing. He thrashes in his sleep, digs elbows into Benson’s ribs and jolts him awake in a panic ready to fight, and then Benson has to stare into the abyss and count to a thousand before he can calm the fuck down and drift off again.

He never talks about his nightmares. Benson knows he has them, but he knows better than to ask about shit like that. On occasion he’ll wake up to Randy tugging on his arm, pulling it around him like a security blanket. He doesn’t mind that in the least, rolls over half asleep and wraps himself around Randy’s sweat-soaked body. He pins his arms to his sides for both their sakes, buries his face against the back of his neck, and that’s that. Problem solved.

Benson, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead–save for the nights he wakes up screaming and doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Doesn't even know he's awake until he sees Randy’s face floating above him in the dark, wide-eyed like some twig-limbed owl. Until he feels his hands on his face, wiping salt from his cheeks.

Shit sucks, because then he has to turn all the lights on and pace the room, chewing on a cigarette and cracking his neck ‘til it's sore, trying to walk it off. Randy sits on the bed hugging his knees to his chest and watches him like a hawk. But he doesn't speak, doesn't try to push it, waits patiently until Benson crawls back into bed and lets him decide where he wants to be.

He can't stand to be touched during and after those episodes, always hated when his ma would try to smother him when he was still young enough to smother, but funny enough, Randy’s okay. Doesn't seem to count. Maybe it's because he lets him set the pace and doesn't get his feelings hurt when Benson curls up on the edge of the mattress with pillows stacked between them. Either way, most times Benson falls back asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Randy's neck and those skinny arms slung around his shoulders. And the light on.

The night terrors aren’t new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this bad. It’s like they’ve worked their way to the surface of his brain. Like a splinter finding its way out of the skin. He doesn’t like Randy seeing him that way, but he can’t really help it. He used to sleep on his stomach with his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t wake Ma and have to deal with her on top of everything else, but he had so many nightmares about suffocating he can't do it anymore.

But Randy never lets Benson apologize in the morning, insists he doesn't mind being woken up. He's told him that again and again, so often that Benson’s starting to believe him. They’re both fucked in the head just enough that it makes it okay. No hard feelings.

Last night was quiet for both of them, for once. Benson wishes he was still asleep to take advantage of it, but this is nice too. He can feel Randy’s breath on his collarbone and it’s driving him crazy, a little bit. He’s not used to nice things. He’s always scared he’s gonna fuck them up somehow. Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard.

He’s learning how to be gentle. He’s trying, like, really trying. Randy doesn’t make it easy, that’s for damn sure. The way he whimpers when Benson’s hands are on him isn’t fucking fair. The way he bares his throat and gasps and begs. And then he shows Benson the marks afterwards like he’s proud of them, like Benson wasn’t there when he got them.

“You did a number on me,” he said last night with this sheepish grin, almost giddy, leaning over the sink to look at himself in the mirror. Prodding at the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickies on his neck. Never mind all the shit he couldn’t see from that angle, but Benson saw it. The shape of his body all over Randy’s in bruises.

Made him feel kinda good and kinda bad, sort of guilty, but then Randy looked over at him with those eyes, hair all mussed, bottom lip cherry red and swollen, and said with unmistakable adoration, “You’re an animal, Bence.”

Un-fucking-fair.

But he’s trying, he is. Trying to ease up on the reins. Trying to be soft, because Randy needs soft no matter what he asks Benson for in the dark. He can’t fuck this up. Can’t fuck him up; at least, not any more than he already has. On the list of things he’s ever wanted to fuck up in the world, Randy is at the bottom.

And it’s good too, the lovey-dovey bullshit. It’s good. It’s great. The way Randy falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the movie, any movie, no matter how good it is or how loud it’s turned up or how much Benson promised him he was gonna like it. The way he bumps his knuckles against Benson’s when they’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just because. Just to touch him. He’ll catch him smiling at him for no reason, all the time, just glance over and there he is looking like they’re on their way to Disney World. No one's ever smiled at him like that. He’s not even doing anything to earn it, he’s just living his fucking life. The fact of his existence is apparently an ongoing novelty to Randy.

Crazy fucking kid.

Benson feels like he’s body-swapped with someone on better terms with luck and the skin doesn’t fit quite right but fuck, he’s figuring out how to make it work. He doesn’t get handed things like this. Good things with no strings attached. He’s always kind of on edge, always waiting for someone to break down the door and haul him away. For someone to pause the laugh track and punch through the set. For Randy to suffer a moment of clarity and tell him to go fuck himself.

He’s never had this kind of good, never expected it. Never really thought he deserved it. And Randy sure doesn't deserve this kind of bizarre sideways bullshit that makes up the best that Benson can offer. He deserves better from him. From everyone. From life. Benson keeps trying to tell him that.

Too bad he can't quite convince him. Too bad Benson’s selfish and couldn't let go of him if he tried. Wouldn't even try. Wouldn't turn out well.

He runs his thumb across the angle of Randy's cheekbone, feather-light. He wants to let him sleep and he wants him to wake up and he doesn’t know which he wants more. He draws lines across his cheek, from the corner of his mouth, along the edge of his jaw, carefully, carefully, so gentle his hand shakes. He’s probably never been hit in the face. Probably never had a black eye, broken nose. Shy, scared, beautiful thing.

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it. He always falls back on it, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind or wrap it up so tight it can’t get out. He fails again and again. But it doesn’t scare Randy anymore. In fact, it’s like Randy gives it justification. Permission. Validates it. Like maybe it’s hung around this whole time just so Benson could learn how to use it, for his sake. To protect him. At least until he figures out how to protect himself.

And Randy’s learning, he is. Stands up taller, takes up space. Orders his own food at restaurants. But Benson kind of likes playing guard dog. Likes being needed in that way, and others. Likes being needed by Randy in particular.

Benson’s already killed for him, so it’s like he’s always trying to find a way to top that. That should be hard, right, but Randy makes it easy. Gets excited over nothing, little shit like finding both their names on some dumb souvenir keychains. Or when he brings him a bag of plain fucking potato chips, his favorite. Or when Benson covers his eyes before the money shot in some gore flick because he’s a pussy and also it dredges up some shit for him that neither of them wants to think about. The way he lights up about that stuff, stupid little stuff, makes Benson feel worthwhile in a way he can’t describe.

For all he goes on about helping Randy become the best version of himself, the version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is, sometimes Benson gets the feeling like maybe, Randy’s the one making him better. Not changing him, not really, just…making him kind of okay. Making it all kind of okay. There are so many things Benson’s taken for granted, never thought twice about. About himself, about his life, about where both of those things would end up and how they’d get there. Randy makes him reconsider. Makes it worth reconsidering.

It feels wrong to stop him. Might as well let him try. What’s it gonna hurt?

Sometimes he wants to laugh in disbelief at it all. Who the fuck is he these days? Going soft right and left and glad for it. He feels like he’s on another planet. Hundreds of miles from home, no phone, no way back. Shooting towards the sun with everything he needs inside his shitty little rocket ship of a car.

Randy’s a spaceman for sure, no question. Ever since they turned west and hit the desert, he hangs out the window when they drive at night through all that nothing, head craned back to look at the sky.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Benson asked him the first time, when he rolled down the window and started climbing out like a fucking lunatic.

“Looking at the stars,” Randy said. “There’s so many, Benson…you should look.”

“No thanks, I'm driving.”

“I mean…you could stop first.”

“I’ve seen stars, Randy.”

Randy was halfway out the window so his reply was almost lost to the wind. “Not like this.”

Benson reached over and grabbed him by the pocket of his jeans. “If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.”

He let Benson pull him back inside then, and stared right at him in this new way of his. This new, brave Randy who had finally shaken some of that paralyzing fear of confrontation and figured out how to be direct. “No you wouldn’t.”

Benson had looked at him for as long as he could without drifting into the other lane, and then looked at him a little bit longer and had to course correct. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

He’s right. He wouldn’t.

Benson lets the memory slide away and finds Randy gazing up at him here and now, eyes crusted with sleep. He feels a twinge in his chest like a guitar string being plucked. The whole room is golden now.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, and even he can hear the velvet in his voice. Feels self-conscious about it for a second until he gets distracted by Randy wrinkling his nose to stave off a yawn.

“Morning,” he murmurs, peels his cheek off Benson's chest and leaves a pink circle behind that matches the one on his face. He rubs at his eyes and gives him that dumb Disney World smile. “Sleep well?”

“Slept great.” Benson swipes away a stray eye booger from the inside corner of Randy’s left eye. “Nice to have one single solitary night where I don't have to fight you to the death.”

Randy bites the inside of his cheek, looks bashful. Benson fucking loves it. “Well, I mean…you wore me out pretty good last night.”

Benson smirks, takes hold of the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him back into his shoulder. “Yeah I did. I oughta do that more often.”

Randy worms his arm beneath the covers and around Benson’s waist and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies. He runs his fingers through Randy’s hair. It's getting fucking long, almost falls past his ears. He keeps asking him to cut it and Benson keeps refusing. It's got this little flip at the ends that he thinks is cute. He bets it’ll grow out into gorgeous fucking waves when it hits his shoulders.

He takes a fistful and squeezes, does that a couple times before he tugs his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. Randy’s eyelids slide half-closed and his lips part on reflex.

“What you wanna do today?” Benson murmurs. He can feel Randy’s breath on his chin, licks his lips.

“...just this,” Randy says, almost a whisper.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not bored of this?”

“No.”

Benson almost smiles. “Me neither.”

He pushes Randy's head back down into the curve of his neck, rides the swell of satisfaction he gets from his frustrated groan. “Don’t worry, babe, we got all day. How about you, how’d you sleep?”

“Good.” His thumb moves back and forth along Benson’s hip and it’s electric, feels like he’s got lightning bolts shooting around under his skin, makes his muscles twitch. He’s still not used to that. Gentle shit like that. “Had a dream about you.”

“No shit?” He’s not sure anyone’s ever dreamt about him before. He’s kinda flattered. “Was it hot?”

Randy snorts. “No, it wasn’t…like that. We, uh…we were at the beach.”

Benson screws up his eyebrows, looks down at Randy. He can’t see his face from this angle. “The beach?”

“Yeah. We were just, like…there. Just messing around. I mean, there were other people there, but they didn’t…matter.”

Benson doesn’t know what to make of this. “Huh. That’s it? Just…beach day?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, until the end. A shark showed up and you…punched it so hard that it died.”

Benson does a genuine double-take. “I punched a shark. And it died?”

Now Randy twists, looks up at him, smiling. “Yeah. It was awesome.”

It sounds kind of awesome. Benson pokes him in the ribs. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“I’m just telling you what happened!”

“Look, Randy, I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve seen Jaws about one thousand times and I know for a fact a shark would swallow my ass whole. And it would eat you and not even know that it happened. I’m not saying I’m scared, I’m just saying, don’t count on me to save you from a fucking sea monster.”

Randy doesn’t laugh and Benson looks at him and he’s making that face, that little frown and the line on his forehead that means that Benson just said something puzzling. Here we go. He tenses up without meaning to, braces for it. Grits his teeth, pops his knuckles.

“You’ve…really never been to the beach?”

Fuck, he hates this feeling. Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important. He knows his upbringing wasn’t shit compared to Randy’s, compared to most kids’. He just wishes he could grow out of giving a shit about it.

So he gets defensive. He always gets defensive. “No, I’ve never been to the fucking beach. What’s so super-duper special about a bunch of sand? And water that’s mostly fish piss?”

Randy props himself up on his elbow, leans lightly on Benson’s chest, completely unfazed by his attitude. “Well…let’s go. You can decide for yourself.”

“To the beach?” Benson says incredulously. “Randy, we’re in fucking New Mexico.”

“Not–not today.” Randy waves his hand dismissively. “We can leave tomorrow. Make a beeline for California.”

And that’s that. The magical realism of the newly reformed Randy Fucking Bradley. No pity. No shame. Just the simplest solution in the whole damn universe.

“California.” Benson pictures the Beach Boys and hippies on rollerskates, rolls his eyes. “Sounds dreamy.”

“It’ll be worth it, Benson, I promise.” Randy looks at him with those puppy-dog eyes, chews his lip, slides his arm around Benson’s waist. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, the little shit; he’s too smart for his own good. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave as soon as we get there. I just…I think you would like it.” He leans a little heavier against Benson’s ribs, nudges his foot with his toes. “Please?”

Benson huffs. He’s not a fucking pushover, swear to God he’s not, but it’s like he can’t help but fold these days. He’s gonna spoil the guy rotten if he’s not careful. He has to at least pretend to put up a fight, just to say he tried. “What if I say no?”

His brow furrows. The puppy-dog eyes flick down to his mouth and back. “Well...maybe I could convince you.”

One of Benson’s eyebrows pops up. He likes the sound of that. “I’m listening.”

Randy sits up unsteadily on the marshmallow mattress and straddles Benson’s hips, tucking his hands beneath the pillow on either side of his head. Benson looks up at him, the angles of his face kissed by the sun, and feels a pleasant sort of ache in his chest. It's almost the same feeling as when he finally gave in and pulled over and let Randy sit on the hood, leaned back next to him and looked up at the stars and felt big and small at the same time.

“It’s amazing, Bence…you can't even imagine.” His thighs press against Benson's waist, wrists press against his shoulders.

“Yeah?” Benson licks his lips. His eyes can’t move fast enough, trying to take in every piece of his face, of his body, his name written all over all of it in red and purple. “Tell me about it.”

Randy's hair is hanging over his face like a messy kind of halo. He peers through it with this earnest intensity, this lion cub ferocity that might be the hottest thing Benson's ever seen. He shifts his weight to one hand and strokes the sensitive spot behind Benson’s ear with his thumb, sends chills spidering across his skin.

“The smell of the water and–and the sound. You never forget it. And it makes you feel…it’s massive. It’s amazing.”

“You know what else is massive?”

Randy stifles a chuckle, looks away, color rising in his cheeks. Benson grins. “Listen to me, Benson.”

“I'm listening!”

“It makes you feel…it makes you feel small, I guess. But not in a bad way. We could just walk around or maybe…swim a little bit?”

Benson pictures Randy with wet hair, dark and wavy, water rolling down his neck. Salt water, salty skin. “Could be nice.”

“We can do whatever you want.” He curls his toes against Benson’s thighs. “We could get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

The image of melted sticky sugar dripping over Randy’s hand, down his arm, hits Benson like a truck. Knocks the wind right out of him. He thinks about licking it off, watching him suck it off his own fingers. He wraps his hands behind Randy's knees and grips harder than he means to.

“That sounds, uh…that sounds good. I’m into that,” Benson says and he sounds like a moron in his own ears but it makes Randy smile so it's fine. He can feel the blood rushing away from his brain as fast as it can and he’s about ready to give in and end the discussion. Move on to other things.

Randy gets that earnest, uncertain look in his eyes all the sudden and touches Benson's face, brushes his thumb across the lines at the corner of his eyes in this foreign kind of way that Benson’s brain registers passively as tenderness, and all the sudden he can't breathe right. His throat’s fucked up like he’s getting sick. He swallows hard.

“I want to–I want to kiss you in the ocean,” Randy says quietly. “I think…I'd really like that.”

So now this is the only thing Benson cares about. His number-one goal. A shining and glorious reason to be alive. He’s going to kiss Randy in the ocean if it’s the last thing he fucking does.

“How about you kiss me right here, huh?” He cups the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him in, hard, yanks him really, because he can’t fucking help it. Because he wants him right now, right fucking now.

Randy resists, just a little, on reflex, and then gets overeager and his lips crash into Benson’s, but that’s okay. Randy kisses like he’s starved for it, always, no matter how long they’ve been at it. Even now, first thing in the fucking morning, he opens his mouth expectantly and moans when Benson slips his tongue past his teeth, one hand twisting the sheets, the other gripping his shoulder. He’s greedy, wants more, always more, is done depriving himself after fourteen years of solitude.

They’re a perfect match because Benson wants to give it to him. Anything he wants, everything, always, no matter where they are or how much skin is showing. He wants to share his space, his spit, his air, his anger, every inch of the car, every inch of the sky. All the bad nights. All the good ones, too. All the golden mornings that come after.

Benson laps at Randy’s bottom lip, catches it in his teeth and pulls. He digs his fingers into the half-healed shadow of his own hand on Randy’s waist from all the times before, opens his mouth to catch the gasp that wrenches free from his chest and swallows it whole.

“Benson,” Randy says, breathes his name like an exclamation of wonder. He presses the length of his body against Benson’s, weaves his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and squeezes tight. He moves his hips in short, subconscious little thrusts, makes a desperate, hungry noise in the back of his throat. Benson can feel him hard against his stomach and fuck, he better pop a handful of painkillers for his back because they’re not leaving this shitty bed anytime soon.

Randy leans to the side so there’s a little breathing room between them. He runs his hand over Benson's chest, down his stomach, wraps his fingers around his dick and the sound Benson makes is strangled, animal.

“We can go, right?” Randy says. He strokes him like he can barely contain himself. “We can leave tomorrow?”

Benson arches his aching spine against the bullshit fucking mattress, digs his nails into Randy's back, feels lucky. Feels like a spaceman.

“Fuck yes. Fuck–yes–you got it, baby.”

Randy lights up and it's like staring into the sun. Transcendent. Fucking beautiful.

He twists out of Benson's grasp and ducks beneath the sheets and Benson can't fucking stand it. Can’t believe it’s real. He feels weightless, so light he just might end up way out there with all the stars. Nothing comes close to this, never has, never will. It’s not fair. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But no one ever said life was fair, now, did they? Sooner or later the odds had to end up in your favor.

He closes his eyes and grips the sheets and lets it be, lets it all be for once. Because for once, it's good. He's good. He's great. And they’re leaving tomorrow. For California.

Sounds dreamy.

tagging a couple friends who have gassed me up and been so patient sdlkfjlsk i just adore you guys <3

@crumb @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @cherubgore

#the passenger #the passenger 2023 #the passenger fanfiction #the passenger 2023 fanfiction #stockroom syndrome #randy x benson #ranson

82 notes · View notes

allthingswhumpyandangsty · 9 months ago

Note

Whumpee who was punished quite brutally for making ‘too much noise’ including coughing or sneezing or involuntarily whining/moaning in pain while sick. The punishment being ten times worse if they woke Whumper up in the middle of the night with the noise. Now, years after getting away from Whumper, being happy and (mostly) healed with Caretaker in a cozy little cabin in the woods somewhere up North, Whumpee gets sick. Like, really sick. They don’t know what prompted it, all they know is they can’t stop making noise while Caretaker (who has absolutely zero clue that Whumpee has any kind of trauma) sleeping soundly besides them. Whumpee, drenched in sweat and shivering from a fever while pressing their hands over their mouth in hopes of covering the coughs/other sounds, starts freaking out about potentially waking Caretaker up. They know, of course, that they’re safe with Caretaker, but a traitorous part of their brain pipes up “Stop making noise. Stop. Stop now before they wake up because if they do you’re gonna pay for it”.

Except they can’t stop. They can’t.

So, Whumpee crawls out of bed miserably on wobbly legs, trying to make the least amount of noise humanly possible. While making their way to the door, they spend an extra couple of seconds looking at Caretaker to make sure that their chest is rising up and down evenly in steady breaths, that they’re still very much asleep, and that they’re not faking it.

Why would they fake it? You’re being ridiculous.

Whumper had faked it before.

Caretaker is not Whumper. Caretaker is not Whumper. Caretaker is not—

Whumpee looks away quickly, shaking hands reaching for the door and opening it silently like a teenager sneaking out for the first time. Their speed when walking out of the room is truly concerning, and once out they head straight towards the back door. Going to the bathroom might not be enough to hide their sounds, no, they need to be outside.

Once outside, they’re struck by freezing cold. All they have on their back is their thin sleep shirt that’s wet because of sweat, and the fact that they have a fever is making it so much worse. They can see their uneven breaths leaving their mouth, and their coughs won’t stop—neither will their nose running. They’re shaking like a leaf, out on the wooden patio, looking into the cold dark woods. This will pass, they tell themselves, it will be morning and Caretaker will already be awake and it will be safe for me to make noise inside.

Meanwhile, Caretaker stirs awake and finds Whumpee missing. They groggily get up, adjusting their eyes to the dark, and check the bathroom. No Whumpee. They check the kitchen. No Whumpee. They check the living room, growing increasingly more concerned because where are they??? No Whumpee.

Finally, seeing the huddled up trembling figure of Whumpee outside, they run towards the glass door and slide it open in a hurry. They have endless questions. Why is Whumpee outside in this weather in nothing but their pyjamas? Why is Whumpee shaking and crying and looking like death itself? Why did Whumpee not wake them up?

“Whumpee?” They call out, and Whumpee’s eyes fly open at the sound of their name, growing wide and fearful. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Caretaker wasn’t supposed to wake up. “Whumpee, Jesus fucking—what are you doing?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Whumpee shivers, stumbling to get up from their position on the ground they were too weak to stand anymore. Silent snowflakes keep falling behind them, as they slam an open palm on the glass door right next to them, trying to gain balance.

Caretaker, worried that Whumpee’s gonna fall, immediately extends an arm to steady them, help them stand straight. And they are shocked to see Whumpee flinch away from their hand.

They pull their arm back instantly, confusion and worry painting their face. Why’s Whumpee acting like this? Why are they out here, why are they so sickly looking, why are they flinching?

“Whumpee,” they speak slowly, as if standing before a timid animal. “Darling, what—?”

“I’m sorry, please, I swear I tried—I tried to b-be quiet, I swear. Please. Please—I-I don’t—”

“What are you talking about?” Caretaker interrupts worriedly. “Whumpee—what? What do you mean? Why are you out here? You’re gonna get hypothermia, just come insid—”

“N-No, please—” Whumpee shakes their head, squeezing their eyes shut. They didn’t mean to make noise. They truly didn’t. “I won’t—I won’t d-do it again—I-I—”

“Whumpee, you’re freezing!”

Whumper is yelling. Whumper is angry, and god fucking damn it it’s your fault, you woke them up.

Whumper is angry. Angry angry angry. Run away. Run, hide.

“W-Whumper, please, I’m s-so sorry—I won’t d—I-I can’t—”

“Who the hell is Whumper? Whumpee—what—just get inside! You’re hurt! Why are you acting like this!” Caretaker cries desperately, not understanding at all why this is happening.

Get inside.

Get inside. That’s an order. Whumper gave you an order and you’ll make it worse if you ignore their orders.

Terrified of what they believe is awaiting them, Whumpee rushes to get inside. They’re too weak, from the sickness or fear they don’t know, but their knees betray them. They collapse, right in Whumper’s Caretaker’s arms, and they’re barely caught.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker stumbles backwards slightly, hoping they won’t fall and injure Whumpee even more. Holding them up, Caretaker can feel the heat radiating off their body. A fever—of course they have a fever, God, why was Whumpee out here? “Jesus, love, you’re burning up.”

It takes a while — and quite bit of struggle — to get Whumpee inside. But once safe and warm and properly medicated, they seem to snap out of whatever delusion reality was clouding them.

It’s only then that Caretaker gently asks with a soft voice, “Who’s Whumper, darling?”

And Whumpee breaks down, spilling all their trauma, not seeing the way Caretaker’s eyes widen more with every word, not hearing the way Caretaker’s breath hitches with every sentence.

When the morning comes and Whumpee is all curled up in bed under blankets (without a fever, thank you very much), Caretaker makes a call to one of their friends.

“Yeah, I need you to find Whumper. Find the fucker, and give me their exact location. No, I don’t care how long that’s gonna take! I need to have a little chat with them.”

Oh, did I mention that Caretaker who’s the sweetest kindest purest person, can turn into a raging psychopath who will stop at nothing to absolutely obliterate the people who’ve hurt their loved ones? Yeah :) <33

oh my???? 😭🥹😭🥹 I know a ship that would fit this. the whump, the angst, the realization and the feels. very delicious.

131 notes · View notes

livi-in-digital-circus · 5 months ago

Text

“Their Deepest Desire” || a short Bunnydoll story

I'm a big fan of Miraculous Ladybug and somewhere in the middle of the night I got this idea based on the season 5 episode "Jubilation", so I thought why not write something like that with Bunnydoll? You can consider this an exclusive story for tumblr people 😎

“Alright, my superstars! I hope you are ready for what is coming today!” Caine exclaimed, scanning each circus member with his big heterochromatic eyes. The previous adventure had taken longer than expected, causing the characters to fall asleep late and wake up not too many hours later.

Pomni thought sleep deprivation lethargy was non-existent in the Digital Circus, but here she was, trying to stay on her wobbly legs and keep her eyes open. Though her comedy mask was already broken, Gangle smiled and giggled uncontrollably from lack of sleep. Kinger seemed to be sleepwalking, occasionally bumping into walls and props. Zooble, on the other hand, decided not to give a damn about the day’s adventure and fell asleep standing up.

The ringmaster paid no attention to their current state, instead focusing on something else. He quietly counted everyone present in the main area and quickly noticed that someone was missing. Caine looked around to see if he wasn’t going blind from all the flashing lights and bright colors, but after a while, he could finally confirm his observation.

“It seems we encountered a problem at the very beginning of our adventure!”

“Don’t worry, boss! I’ll find them and suck their souls out!” Bubble was prepared to do so, but Caine popped him as soon as Jax and Ragatha arrived, the tension between them clashing with the friendly and colorful image of The Amazing Digital Circus.

Unlike the rest of the cast, the rabbit and the rag doll seemed much more lively, Jax walking casually with a grin plastered on his face and Ragatha yelling about something no one could understand. Their argument continued even after they were standing next to the others, and showed no signs of ending any time soon.

“I wouldn’t be yelling at you right now if I hadn’t caught you in my room in the middle of the night, tucking disgusting centipedes in my hair!”

“I just wanted to help them get their midnight snack.” Jax bared his yellow teeth and wrapped a strand of Ragatha’s hair around his finger.

“For the last time, MY HAIR IS NOT LICO-”

Before Ragatha could finish her sentence, Caine teleported right between them, not wanting their bickering to waste the precious time that was allocated for the adventure.

“Excuse me, but I do not recall you two being an old married couple. However, we can give you a speed-run wedding if you’d like!" The ringmaster was about to snap his fingers, but the rag doll shook her head and protested immediately.

“There is no need to! I am truly sorry for being late.”

Jax, on the other hand, was not. He was looking forward to an occasion when he would finally have the chance to mess with Ragatha for an entire day instead of going on some crappy adventure that didn’t involve even a tiny bit of violence and blood.

But would he really spend that much time making his Dollface’s life miserable? Probably not. For weeks, Jax had been bottling up his newfound feelings for her until he couldn’t handle them anymore. They were slowly opening his eyes, showing the poor rabbit boy the true beauty within Ragatha’s smile and personality. And though he showed no signs of it, she was on his mind all the time.

So he was on Ragatha’s. She felt like the protagonist of a typical love story who, as the plot progresses, falls for the bad boy who probably broke her heart once or even twice. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she found herself admiring his attractiveness and blushing whenever he caught her in the act. What was she even thinking?

Still, they argued a lot. There was no way any of them would show any kind of affection for each other, no matter how strong their feelings became. Not to mention how the others would react if they started to notice and suspect something, especially Caine, who actually wasn’t completely against having romantic feelings for someone or the idea of dating itself, but he mentioned once that such a thing could change the dynamic of the group drastically and he didn’t recommend it.

“Let’s not waste any more time, then! A very special adventure awaits you!” With that, Caine snapped his fingers, and a set of what looked like photo booths appeared in front of them. “These are brand new machines that will reveal to you your deepest desires! The ones you didn’t even know existed! Not the obvious ones like finding an exit, for example.”

“Aren’t these just photo booths?” Pomni asked, slowly dozing off, but her head still managed to register what Caine had just said.

“DEEPEST DESIRES REVEAL MACHINES!” The ringmaster shouted in Pomni’s face, and one by one he threw everyone into the ‘booths’.

Ragatha groaned as her back hit the wall of the booth. She was used to being thrown around like a literal rag doll from time to time, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt anymore. She tried to sit up, but that was when she realized that something heavy was on top of her.

Or rather someone.

She thought everyone would be able to see their deepest desires individually. But the number of booths did not match the number of circus members. There was one too few. And that’s why Caine either decided to throw both Ragatha and Jax into the same one, or he actually planned it beforehand.

Jax got up, not even bothering to ask Ragatha if she needed any help standing up. He had to keep his cool, even if no one was watching. He sat on a bench, hands behind his head, waiting for something to appear on the screen that would take a picture.

Meanwhile, Ragatha sighed and slowly moved to the spot right next to Jax, adjusting the bow in her hair a bit. At first, there was complete silence between them as they waited. Yet the screen remained black.

“Oh, come on, do something, you useless device.” Jax complained, clearly not pleased with what Caine had prepared for the day and what he called an ‘adventure’.

“You know you have to press the button to turn it on?” Ragatha asked, a soft laugh escaping her mouth as she observed the rabbit's frustration at such a silly thing.

Jax blinked a few times, realizing that the rag doll was right and noticing that there was indeed a button right under the screen. He tried to play it cool, muttering ‘Of course I know’, while feeling embarrassed and wanting to slap himself in the face for acting like an idiot in front of Ragatha. And he would never want her to see him as an idiot.

Finally, he pressed the button and a pink, bright light spread through the room. Jax and Ragatha quickly covered their eyes, surprised by its intensity. When it faded, they found themselves staring at the image of the main area in the circus. Ragatha felt like she was still sitting in the booth while Jax couldn’t move an inch. What was going on?

Then they noticed that everyone, including themselves, was sitting at the table as usual at their feasts. However, something was different. Jax wasn’t seated between Pomni and Zooble as always, but he had two similar boys next to him. They had bunny ears like Jax, but they looked more plushy and their skin color was blue.

“Slow down, kiddos. Nobody’s gonna steal your food, you know?” Jax rolled his eyes, a smile forming on his face. The boys lifted their heads, their mushy cheeks covered in jam.

“Let them eat, Jax. I bet you were a glutton yourself when you were a kiddo.” Zooble commented as they watched the bunnies eat their tasty breakfast. Pomni, who was sitting next to one of them, giggled and handed him a tissue.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Ragatha sat and instead of enjoying her own food, she concentrated on feeding a little girl in a high chair. Kinger cooed to her from time to time as she played with what looked like a rubbery centipede.

“Good morning, my superstars! I hope you’re eating well and gaining strength for today’s adventure!” Caine appeared out of nowhere and flew up to the boys who were devouring their pancakes. “Don't think your godfather Caine forgot about my adorable rag bunnies! This adventure is one hundred percent safe for the two of you, and even for your little sister!”

The ringmaster moved over to the girl Ragatha was feeding and pinched her cheek, causing her to let out a cute giggle and raise her little hands in his direction. She also had bunny ears, confirming Caine’s words about her being the boys’ sister.

Jax and Ragatha were still glued to the bench in the booth. The rabbit looked confused, wondering what was going on and who these kids were. He glanced at the rag doll sitting next to him, her face turning bright red as she connected the dots. Her lips were trembling, she wanted to say something but couldn't get a word out. Meanwhile, Jax still had no idea why Ragatha was blushing so much.

When everyone had finished their breakfast, Ragatha picked the girl up from the high chair and headed to the bedroom area.

“Come on, Ellie. Mommy has to get you dressed for adventure.” She kissed the baby’s forehead, and the other Ragatha, watching the whole scene, made a series of unclear noises.

Then the two boys ran up to their mother and sister, demanding attention as well. Last but not least, Jax joined the four of them.

“Alright, little guys. You two go to your room and get ready. You don’t want to be late and make Uncle Caine angry, do you?”

Owyn and Ethan, whose names had been mentioned somewhere at breakfast, nodded their heads and began racing to their room. When they were out of sight, Jax took the opportunity to wrap his hands around Ragatha’s waist.

“How is my beautiful wife doing today? I hope Ellie isn’t too fussy.” Saying that, Jax tickled Ellie’s nose, making her wriggle and happily call him ‘Dada’.

“I am good and so is our little rag bunny. She’s so excited for the adventure.”

“I see. But to be honest, I would like it better if we were just alone, without kids or anyone who would want to interrupt our moment of privacy.”

The moment he kissed Ragatha gently on the lips, the other Jax finally realized what this all meant and why the rag doll was blushing. The booth they were in was meant to show their deepest desires. And apparently, theirs was to have a family together one day.

After a while, the pink light shone again and they found themselves back in the booth, with Caine waiting for them outside.

Ragatha was burning up, her mind replaying every single detail of what she had seen. She didn’t have the courage to look at Jax even a little bit. The said rabbit also felt a little warm in his face, trying to get rid of the image of him and Ragatha being a happy couple with kids.

“So, you want a gun or something?” Jax asked casually, ready to get up and have a ‘nice’ conversation with Caine.

“Better get two, just in case.”

“I SAID NO VIOLENCE IN MY DIGITAL CIRCUS”

Thanks for reading!

(we finally have something else than angst lol)

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #jax #ragatha #bunnydoll #jax x ragatha #fanfiction #oneshot

34 notes · View notes

lucajayms · 2 months ago

Text

fuckin' liar vol 4

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

masterlist

warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles, descriptive overdose

I sit on the edge of my bed, my hands trembling as I prepare the heroin. My dealer said this batch was stronger, something with a bite to it, a real warning. But I don’t care. I’m tired, and it’s the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. I want an escape—a clean, blissful oblivion. Something that’ll drown everything out. Just for a little while.

My phone’s somewhere on the floor, nearly dead. I don’t even know where it is exactly, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve shut everyone out. They don’t get it; maybe they never did. I don’t know who I am anymore, much less how to explain this mess to someone else.

I press the needle into my arm and release. Warmth spreads quickly, faster than usual. It’s heavier, intense. My heart picks up speed, and the room starts spinning around me. My vision’s blurring at the edges, like someone’s dragging a soft cloth over the world. I lean back, but I’m sinking instead. My body feels too heavy to move.

My breathing slows, and I feel myself slipping in and out, like I’m caught in some current pulling me down. This was supposed to feel peaceful. I thought it’d be like falling asleep. But there’s this strange pressure, this dull roar in the back of my mind whispering that this might be it. That maybe I’m not coming back this time.

The last thing I remember is trying to send the message 'I love you' to Helena.

And then it all goes black.

Gerard

I sit in Mikey's apartment, staring at my phone, my thumb hovering over the call button as her number sits already dialed. It’s been days, maybe longer, since we last spoke. I’ve tried calling. Texting. Hell, I’ve tried showing up, but every time, she pushes me further away. She’s made it pretty clear—she’s not interested in getting better. Not right now, anyway.

I keep telling myself I’ve accepted it. I’ve done everything I can, right? I can’t fix this for her. She’s got to want to fix it herself.

But tonight, something feels off. I can’t explain it, but it’s eating at me, gnawing away until I can barely sit still. It’s this sharp, gut-deep instinct that won’t let go. I try to ignore it, but it keeps tightening, clawing at my insides until I can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing my keys and heading out the door. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I know I need to check on her.

The drive to our apartment, our home, is brutal; every light, every stop sign, dragging out the distance. I can feel my heart pounding, my hands clenching the wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. I haven’t been to our place in weeks. Things between us… they got so bad. But tonight, I can’t stay away. Something’s pulling me there, this instinct that I know I’d regret ignoring.

When I reach the building, I don’t waste a second. I’m out of the car, practically running to the door. My fist pounds against the wood, the sound echoing in the hallway.

“(Y/N)!” I call out, but there’s no answer. I knock louder, my voice breaking through the quiet, calling her name again, but it’s just… silence. She’s not answering. Panic rises, cold and thick, in the back of my throat as I dig in my pocket for the keys. My hands are shaking as I fit it into the lock and push the door open.

It’s dark inside, the kind of heavy darkness that feels like something is wrong. I race down the hall to our room, hoping she's just sleeping. She had too much to drink, and she's just asleep. I take a shaky breath, stepping forward, my eyes adjusting enough to make out the shape of her on the bed. A sick feeling settles in my gut as I approach, my voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)?” I move closer, seeing her pale face, her lips covered in a greenish-foam. She’s completely still, the needle lying on the bed next to her, glinting under the faint streetlight streaming through her window.

“No, no, no,” I murmur, dropping to my knees beside her. My hands tremble as I reach for her shoulders, shaking her gently. “(Y/N), wake up. Come on, wake up!”

Nothing. Her skin feels too cold, her breathing barely there, shallow and uneven. The realization slams into me, leaving me gasping. I fumble for my phone, dialing 911, my voice coming out choked and panicked as I tell them everything.

“Please,” I beg the operator. “Please, just hurry.”

I hang up and turn back to her, pulling her head into my lap, cradling her like I can somehow keep her here, make her stay. “Come on, (Y/N). Please, wake up,” I whisper, my voice breaking as guilt slams into me. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve done something before this. I should’ve never let her get this far.

By the time the paramedics arrive, I’m completely falling apart, my hands still shaking as they pull her from my arms and lay her on the floor. I watch, numb, as they work over her, starting CPR. Every second stretches out, feels like it’s clawing at my heart, ripping it open as I watch her lying there, lifeless.

One of the paramedics finally looks up at me, a slight nod breaking through my haze.

“She’s stable for now, but we need to get her to the hospital,” he says, his tone calm but urgent.

I exhale, a shaky, broken breath, relief washing over me so intensely that I almost collapse. I watch them lift her onto the stretcher and carry her out, and all I can do is follow, my mind spinning, hands still trembling as I get into the ambulance next to her.

The ambulance feels like an icebox, and I can barely feel my hands, but it doesn’t matter. My focus is on her, lying there, her body barely moving as they work on her. My mind’s spinning so fast it hurts, flashes of her face, her laugh, her voice all crashing together with the reality of her lying in front of me, barely clinging to life. How the hell did it come to this?

She’s the one who saved me, damn it. She was the one who dragged me out of the pit, who kept pushing through my walls, tearing me out of the numbness and the chaos I’d wrapped around myself. When I was the one on every kind of substance I could get my hands on, she was there, refusing to give up. She got me to see past the haze, to want something better. I was the mess. I was the one with the self-destruct button, and she was the one who kept me from pressing it.

And now? Now she’s here, and I’m the one watching her slip away. All because of a fucking needle.

I want to scream, to punch something, but I can’t do anything. I’m paralyzed, held back by fear, by anger, by the crushing weight of what I didn’t see coming. I should’ve been here. I should’ve seen the signs, should’ve known she was falling apart the way I once did. The way I looked for every possible way to escape. It’s like a bad dream, except I know I’m wide awake, and I can’t stop the endless, torturous stream of thoughts eating away at me, filling me with this damn helplessness.

I feel sick, my chest tightening, watching her as they check her pulse, inject her with something else, call out numbers and stats like she’s just another patient they’re trying to keep alive. But she’s not just some patient. She’s everything. She’s the person who pulled me out of hell. And now I’m terrified she might never pull through this.

Hours pass in the waiting room, my eyes glued to the ground, my phone clutched so tightly I can feel it digging into my hand. I haven’t called anyone yet. How would I even explain this?

Finally, a doctor walks over, his face neutral as he tells me she’s going to be okay. “But she’s in a fragile state,” he adds, his voice low. “Physically and mentally. If she doesn’t get help… next time, she might not survive.”

I nod, my throat tight, his words sinking in like lead. This is it. The wake-up call she needs. If she doesn’t get help now, there won’t be another chance.

I stayed by her bedside, hours stretching into eternity. I didn’t care about the cameras outside, the news feeds that would twist this into some twisted, sensationalized story. I didn’t care about any of it. The only thing that mattered was her, lying there, and the faint, fragile hope that maybe this time, she’d find the strength to come back.

The paparazzi were circling before I even knew what was happening, vultures with cameras trained on every entrance and exit to the hospital. Someone must’ve recognized me in the waiting room, and the rumors spread like wildfire. By the time I’d pulled my head out of my hands, they’d already gathered outside, lenses flashing at every window, every doorway.

The TV caught my attention as I look up to see two different headlines.

“MCR Frontman Gerard Way: Girlfriend Hospitalized After Overdose!”

“Inside Gerard and (Y/N)’s Tragic Night in L.A.”

They didn’t know the half of it. Didn’t know what it was like to stand here, hours on end, with nothing but the sterile walls and the distant beeps from down the hall. They had no idea how close I came to losing her—how close she came to slipping away for good. And maybe I was to blame. Maybe I could have been there for her sooner, been more present, been less willing to believe her lies about “doing better.” But none of that mattered now.

The receptionist changed the channel for me, though the headlines still burned in my mind. The thoughts that had festered and grown with each excruciating second only seemed more real now.

The image of her lying on that bed, barely breathing, flashed in my mind again. It had felt like everything went in slow motion from the moment I found her—her skin cold, the needle lying beside her. She’d fought so hard to keep me away from this side of her life, but I should have known. I’d been there before myself; I knew the signs. I’d just been too willing to look the other way.

The voices in the waiting room faded in and out, a blur of people who had no idea what she was going through, what we’d both been through. I’d watched her fight for me when I’d hit my own rock bottom, watched her pull me back from the brink when no one else could. She had been my anchor when I was drowning in my own darkness. And now she was in there, fighting for her own life, and I couldn’t do a damn thing but wait.

I clenched my hands together, forcing myself to stay in this moment, to feel every single ounce of the guilt and fear pressing down on me. I wasn’t letting myself off the hook. I didn’t deserve to. This wasn’t just about her addiction, her demons. It was about me missing the signs, about not being there when she needed me most.

I caught sight of a nurse as she passed by, and I managed to catch her eye long enough to get an update. She told me (Y/N) was stable for now, that the worst had passed. That didn’t make the sight of her any easier to bear. The tubes, the monitors, the hollow stillness in her face—it all felt like a punch to the gut. She looked so fragile, so unlike the girl I knew, the one who never backed down, who wore her defiance like armor.

And that’s when it hit me. If she made it through this—and God, I wanted her to so badly—she’d have to fight harder than she ever had before. She’d have to choose to claw her way out of this, just like I did once. I could be here; I could offer her everything I had. But in the end, this was a war only she could wage.

The crowd outside pressed closer, their relentless presence scraping against the raw edges of my nerves. The waiting room was a blur, the hours blending into a single, agonizing moment. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was her, lying there, fighting her way back.

And I could only hope that this time, she’d want to come back—if not for me, then for herself.

(Y/N)

Fuck, what happened?

Pressure on my head, my hand, my body. The pink of my eyelids startles me as I struggle to get my eyes open. There's not enough strength I can muster up to move anything in my body. Not even my fucking vocal chords.

"Still nothing?" A voice rings from my right, and the pressure on my left hand seems to stir.

"Nothing," The voice to my left says. Wait, I know that voice. Is that Gerard? Why is he here?

"Well Mr. Way, if she doesn't wake up soon, we might have to make the decision to take her off the ventilator. "

Fuck no, I'm awake!

Gerard shift uncomfortably, probably not knowing what to say to that. I mean, shit, that's scary. I want to scream, to show them I’m right here, but my body won’t obey. Every inch of me feels like it’s submerged in thick, suffocating darkness, refusing to let me up for air. The soft hum of machines, the distant murmur of voices—everything feels like it’s just out of reach. But I can hear them. I can hear Gerard.

The warmth of his hand on mine grounds me, his fingers wrapped around mine with a grip that’s both desperate and gentle. God, he must be terrified. I’ve never heard him sound like this, so… hollow, so helpless. My chest feels tight, my heart pounding somewhere far beneath the haze. I want to open my eyes, to tell him I’m fine, that he doesn’t have to worry, but all I can manage is the faintest flicker of awareness.

The doctor’s voice echoes in my mind, each word cold and clinical. Take her off the ventilator. The thought jolts me, and I try again to fight against the weight pinning me down. But nothing. My fingers, my voice, my body—it’s all locked up, refusing to let me break through.

“Please, just… give her more time,” Gerard’s voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to speak too loudly, like the wrong word might tip the scales. “She’s strong. She’ll come back. I know she will.”

His words stir something deep inside me, a flicker of strength I thought had long burned out. He believes in me, even now. Even after everything, he’s still here, holding on. And if he can do that, then so can I. I’m not giving up. I can’t give up. Not like this.

The doctor murmurs something I can’t quite catch, and I can feel Gerard’s grip tighten on my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, steady, grounding. My mind claws at the surface, desperate to break free, to show him I’m still here. I focus on the warmth of his touch, on the pressure of his hand in mine, letting it anchor me in the chaos.

In my mind, I scream, I push, I fight with every ounce of strength I have left. And then… something shifts. The fog lifts just a little, just enough for a sliver of light to break through, and I feel the faintest flicker of movement in my fingers, a tiny twitch that feels monumental. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but I pray he notices.

For the first time, hope stirs in my chest. Maybe it’s enough. Maybe Gerard’s right. Maybe I can come back from this.

"Gee.." I manage, I finally manage to fucking speak and suddenly he jolts.

"Oh my god, (Y/N)?" He says, voice seeking refuge. Fuck, I still have no energy. I'm so fucking weak. I guess they put me on painkiller, because something wore off and suddenly there's stinging in my knee and inside of my arm.

"Fuck.." I manage to say again as I finally pry my eyelids open and get blinded by the LA sun. And there Gerard is, his hair is black again? And it's longer? Fuck, how long was I asleep?

He looks sunken, tired. His face is dry, his lips chapped. He's wearing a basic hoodie and jeans, and he's shaking. What did I do to him?

Tears well up in my eyes as my lip quivers. He squeezes my hand, pressing a kiss to the cold skin. "Gee..?" I whisper, my voice breaking as the tears fall. He shushes me, leaning forward to grab my face.

"I'm here, sugar. It's okay, I'm here," He soothingly coos. I don't deserve. Fuck, I don't deserve it.

Mustering strength, I shake my head. He looks confused as to why I'm shaking my head, like I didn't just put him through hell.

"I don't deserve it," I say silently as the tears flow freely.

Gerard’s brows furrow as he absorbs my words, confusion flickering across his face. “What are you talking about?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I can see the way he’s trying to hold it together, but the fear in his eyes tells me just how much I’ve scared him.

I wish I had the strength to scream at him, to tell him he shouldn’t be here, that he shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. I wish I could take it all back—the nights spent lost in a haze, the moments when I chose the needle over everything else. Over him. I’m not even sure I can muster the strength to look him in the eye, but I need him to understand.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he wipes away the tears streaming down my cheeks with his thumb. “You’re here now. You woke up. That’s what matters. We can figure this out together.”

“Together…” I whisper, the word feeling heavy on my tongue. It’s the one thing I’ve always wanted, but how can I ask him to shoulder my burden when it nearly crushed me? I squeeze his hand as best as I can, but my body feels like lead. The pain in my knee pulses with every heartbeat, a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.

Gerard’s eyes widen when I shake my head again, more vigorously this time. “No,” I manage, voice hoarse and weak, “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this to you.” My breath shudders, and a fresh wave of tears spills over, unbidden. “I can’t keep hurting you like this. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

“Stop it,” he says firmly, his grip on my hand tightening. “You’re not hurting me. You’re hurting yourself, and that’s what I want to fix. I just need you to let me help you.” The urgency in his voice is palpable, as if he fears that the moment he stops speaking, I might slip away again.

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of reality. I want to believe him, to believe that I can fight this and come back stronger, but the darkness that wrapped around me so easily feels just a breath away. I shudder at the memory of that night, the way the world faded out while I sought solace in a high that only brought destruction.

“Gee, I don’t know if I can…” The confession slips from my lips, the words tumbling out like stones weighing me down. “I don’t know if I can fight this. It’s too much. I was so fucking tired. I thought…” I choke on my words, feeling the shame rise in my throat.

“I thought I could escape it.” The admission feels like a knife to my gut. I can see the realization dawning on his face—the guilt, the sorrow—and it breaks me even further. “I thought maybe if I just… if I just took a little, it would help. But it didn’t. It never does.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice low and steady. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it. You’re stronger than this. You can fight back, and I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

But can I? The question echoes in my mind, threatening to drown me again. I glance at him, the sun streaming in behind him, illuminating the lines of worry etched into his features. He’s not just here for me; he’s fighting for us. And it breaks my heart to think I could lose him over my choices.

“Please, just give me a chance,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “Don’t give up on yourself, (Y/N). You’re worth so much more than this.”

I stare into his eyes, searching for the flicker of hope I desperately want to feel. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can find my way back. With a shuddering breath, I nod slightly, even though it feels like a monumental task.

“I don’t know if I can…” My voice falters, heavy with uncertainty as I search Gerard’s eyes for any sign of reassurance. The weight of my admission presses down on me, the enormity of what lies ahead making my heart race.

But Gerard leans in closer, his expression earnest and unwavering. “You’ve already started, (Y/N). Just waking up is a huge step. It means you’re still fighting.” His fingers brush my cheek gently, wiping away the remnants of tears, and his touch sends a spark of warmth through my cold skin.

“What if it’s not enough?” I whisper, fear gnawing at me. “What if I can’t do it?”

“You’re stronger than you think. You’ve fought so hard to come back already.” His voice is filled with a quiet strength that I desperately cling to, but the uncertainty still lingers in my gut.

“Gerard…” I hesitate, my throat tightening as I contemplate my next words. “How long have I been… out?”

He hesitates, his gaze flickering for just a moment, and that tiny pause sends dread spiraling through me. “Um, about a month,” he finally says, and the words hit me like a cold wave.

A month? Oh my God, he probably thought I was going to die. "I'm sorry.." I sob. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Gerard."

He stays silent. He doesn't want to forgive me, I know he probably won't. He stays quiet for a minute, his thoughts clearly racing in his mind.

"How's the record doing..?" I ask, breaking through the silence. He looks at me, clearly shocked that I was worried about that than other things.

"Um, great from the bits and pieces I've heard." He started, shifting in his chair. "We scheduled a tour, it starts in February," he starts, avoiding eye contact.

Then I realize, I don't know what the date is. He said it'd been a month, but that doesn't necessarily mean exactly a month. A little under? Over? Did I miss Christmas? "What's the date?"

"December 19th," He said, looking at me through his lashes.

"I didn't miss Christmas," I say quietly, more to myself than him. "How long do I have to be in here?"

Gerard glances down at his hands, which are still wrapped around mine. I can feel the tension radiating off him, the worry that’s etched into every line on his face. “The doctors say you’ll be here for a bit longer. They want to make sure you’re stable before they talk about releasing you.” His voice is low, almost a murmur, as though he’s afraid to say too much.

I swallow, feeling a lump rise in my throat as the reality of it all sets in. "So... I’ll be spending Christmas here."

The words hang in the air, a weight between us. His silence is almost unbearable, and I find myself gripping his hand tighter, desperate for some kind of response, some kind of reassurance. “I really am sorry, Gerard," I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

He looks at me then, his expression pained, like he’s carrying the weight of every moment he spent watching me lie here, lifeless. “It was hell, you know?” he finally says, his voice trembling. “Waking up every day not knowing if I’d lose you. Not knowing if you’d ever open your eyes again.”

A sob catches in my throat. I try to speak, to apologize again, but he squeezes my hand, and I stop, swallowing back the flood of guilt. “I was angry, (Y/N). So damn angry. I couldn’t understand how you could let it get this far.” He pauses, a tear slipping down his cheek. “But then… I realized it didn’t matter. I just wanted you to come back. That’s all I’ve wanted.”

“I’m here now,” I manage, my voice cracking. “I’m here, and I—I don’t want to go back to that place, Gerard. I want to do better.”

He nods, swallowing hard as he looks down, taking a deep breath before meeting my gaze again. “Then that’s all that matters. You’re here, and that’s enough for me. Everything else, the tours, the records—that can wait. You’re what’s important.”

I take a shuddering breath, his words sinking in, easing the guilt just a little. “I’ll get through this, Gee. I’ll fight.”

His lips press into a small, sad smile, and he reaches out, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be here every step of the way. No matter how long it takes.”

I nod, trying to blink back the tears. "Thank you. For not giving up on me."

Gerard shifts his chair closer, leaning in until his forehead touches mine. “I’d wait a lifetime if I had to, (Y/N). I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it holds so much conviction that it fills me with warmth, even here, in this sterile hospital room.

The moment stretches between us, silent but heavy with everything we’ve been through and everything we still have to face. But with him here, maybe… maybe it doesn’t feel as daunting. Maybe, with him here, I’ll have the strength to face it after all.

thank you so much for reading this series. this story is actually for one of my OCs, but i decided to write it here. my mom was a heroin addict when i was younger (she's so much better now), and idk sometimes when you're a writer, you have to use the things that have affected you.

XOXO_lucajayms

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #fanfiction #frank iero #gerard way x reader #mikey way #my chem #mychemicalromance #ray toro #mychem #the black parade

16 notes · View notes

itstheoneshot · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober Day 5

Exhibitionism: Jonghyun

!dom Jonghyun

“Jagiya,” He murmurs, his voice a little croaky from sleep and the dryness of the air in the plane, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

You aren’t a huge fan of flying, not because you are afraid of it, but the seats are uncomfortable, your legs and back get sore from being in the same place for so long. The food is always trash, and you can’t focus enough to watch a movie or play a video game to keep yourself occupied.

“I just can’t, oppa,” You reply, leaning up to kiss him on the lips, “Did you sleep okay?”

Jonghyun hadn’t been asleep for long, but while he was, you watched him lovingly, the way that his mouth hung open a little, his long eyelashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones, how did you end up so lucky as to have him?

“Better than not sleeping, I guess,” He chuckles, adjusting the blanket that covers you both, “It’s so damn cold in here though.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, nuzzling in as he runs his fingers through your hair, giggling as he tickles your neck. His hand slips under the blanket, trailing down your arm to your fingertips. You try and get closer to him, as if that were possible, finding so much comfort in his closeness, but soon you realise that he had an ulterior motive in the position he has gotten you in, his hand moves further, further still.

“Jjong,” You mutter under your breath, “What are you doing?”

You attempt to steady your breathing as his hand moves to your thigh, fingernails gently grazing your skin as he travels upwards. He smirks a little, taking a moment to answer, hand not pausing as it moves further, inching closer to where it absolutely should not be in public.

“Keep quiet, jagiya,” He soothes you, “I’m just going to help you relax.”

You bite your lip, adjusting yourself in your seat, feeling your cheeks burning. You glance up at the air conditioner vent above you, nope, it’s still on, and wonder how the hell it got so hot in here.

Jonghyun’s hand roams over your core, but continues moving upwards to find the elastic waistband of your leggings. You shut your eyes just as his hand slips under the fabric, trying your hardest to contain your voice as he moves back down. Your nails dig into the seat when he touches you, and you open your eyes to see him straight-faced, as if this wasn’t happening at all.

He expertly moves your panties aside to touch you, one finger tracing the outside before he breaches. You take the first finger easily, able to maintain composure even when he curls it slightly. When he adds a second finger is a different story, and a third, and he circles your clit with his thumb. You whine, unable to hold it back, eyes wide and frightened, glassed over with pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” Jonghyun murmurs, “Do you want everyone to hear you?”

You shake your head, your blush deepening as his fingers move a little faster, and you moan involuntarily, covering your mouth with your hand to try and stifle it.

“I think you do,” He continues, “You need everyone on this plane to know how much of a slut you are, how desperate you were to have me make you feel good, you couldn’t even wait to be somewhere private, could you?”

He is right, and you both know it. The thrill of being seen, being caught, it makes you insane. Having to hold yourself back, focus on keeping quiet, having little to no control over your body, your movements, your sounds, it made the pleasure hit you tenfold. Jonghyun works your body like magic, thighs shaking after mere minutes passed by, your eyes sparkling with tears as you try so hard to remain composed and steady.

“Oppa,” You warn him, your nails digging so hard into the seat that you fear you will puncture holes, “I’m so close.”

Jonghyun smirks at you, his rhythm remaining the same, not slowing down or speeding up, just continuing the pattern that has you seeing stars and falling towards an orgasm that you fear may completely destroy you. You fear that you may not be able to hold back, that your cries will wake every passenger around you, but it is coming, and coming fast.

“Then cum,” He urges you, leaning down to kiss you as he feels you begin to shake, “I’ve got you, don’t be scared.”

You let go as instructed, falling apart around his fingers as you quietly moan into his mouth, the pleasure is so much more intense than you let on, only out of fear of getting in trouble, though that helps the pleasure too. Jonghyun coaxes you through it with ease, prideful that he has this power over you, loving the way that you break so easily.

“Now try to sleep,” He chuckles, your chest heaving as he pulls his fingers out, lifting them to his mouth to lick clean, “We still have hours to go.”

You readjust in your seat, leaning your head on his shoulder to try and do exactly that. Feeling much more calm, relieved to have not been caught, though still embarrassed at how badly the thought of that had turned you on in the first place.

“And when we are at the hotel,” Jonghyun goes on, “I’ll be getting my fix, too.”

kinktober masterlist

#kpop #kinktober #kpop kinktober #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #shinee #shinee fanfic #SHINee smut #jonghyun #kim jonghyun #jonghyun fanfic #Jonghyun smut #kim jonghyun fanfic #kim jonghyun smut

65 notes · View notes

xoxoavenger · 2 years ago

Text

Dreams and Premonitions

pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N has a reoccurring dream, one that tears her relationships apart and her heart in half.

word count: 1763

warnings: angst, mentions of death

notes: yes I know the teen wolf movie sucked and yes I got this idea from it okay // also my din djarin fic got a lot of love so I'm throwing my hat into the ring with Joel (my beloved) I have a longer fic if this goes well

masterlist

When does a dream become a premonition?

Y/N wasn't sure. Ever since the outbreak, she hadn't dreamed much. The few she remembered always caused her to wake up sweating, and one time when Joel had shaken her awake because she was screaming so loud he was afraid FEDRA would think something was happening.

This was different.

It always started out the same. Joel and her were going on a supply run, a normal one that they had gone on many times. They were walking in the main tunnel, an empty one, when her foot snaps on a fungus branch. She doesn't have time to scream because all the sudden there were clickers. Hundreds of them. More than they had ever seen, more than should be possible.

It happened it flashes. Never enough to be a coherent plot but enough for her to feel the pain of everything. Y/N screams, she hears Joel's shouts, the sound of gunshots going off, the clickers filling her ears. It's too much for a couple seconds, her chest hurting with the way her heart races. Then they're gone, and Y/N is left unscathed - not a scrape on her. She turns to see Joel, who is laying lifeless on the concrete, blood everywhere. She's up immediately, trying to figure out where to put her hands to help him.

"Joel," She starts, hands shaking over all the blood. She didn't know where to put them - it seemed like the blood was coming from everywhere all at once. "What should I do? Joel, wake up!" She could feel the tears in her eyes, and the flashes speed up, everything happening too quickly. Her hands covered in blood, Joel's pale face, his hand grabbing her wrist to dye her sleeve a dark red. His eyes are only open for a moment.

"Y/N," He whispers out, his hand falling away and his face going slack.

After that, it's all blurry. Sometimes, if she's lucky, she wakes up right after Joel dies. Once, she woke up before Joel died, right as he opened his eyes, but that hadn't happened since and had only occurred because Joel had grabbed her to pull close, waking her up in the middle of the night. He usually doesn't notice that she's having a nightmare, so sometimes she gets stuck, screaming and crying at Joel to just wake up. He never does.

Today, Y/N wakes up feeling exhausted, tears wetting her face, her neck, the neckline of her shirt. This time, she had been screaming for what felt like hours, bloody hands clutching Joel's corpse. She turns in the bed, relieved to see Joel still asleep. She doesn't usually scream out while she's dreaming, but the few times she has, Joel wakes her up. She's glad he didn't wake up, glad to see the peaceful expression. She sees he's not wearing a shirt, which means he probably didn't stumble into bed drunk and/or high.

She knew Joel was sampling his supply, that he spent a bit too much of their ration cards on the shitty homemade alcohol, but she also knew Joel was haunted by things that happened - pre and post outbreak. She knew he probably needed those to keep him sane, so she didn't say anything.

She gently rubs a finger over his brow, watching his face relax even more. She isn't sure if he's awake or asleep when he reaches out and pulls her toward him, letting her tangle their legs together and push herself against his chest. She's not going to sleep again, but holding Joel close and listening to his heart steadily beating makes her own heart slow.

Joel is fine.

"Why is it always the same dream?" Y/N asked Tess. The two of them were going on a run together, Y/N insisting she couldn't go with Joel this time, much to his utter dismay and annoyance. She needed to talk to Tess, to finally tell someone about the dream. She needed someone like Tess, who would set her straight.

"Begs the question," Tess says, carefully looking around the dark field. "When does a dream stop becoming a dream," She started, and Y/N stops in her tracks, heart speeding up as she realizes what Tess is saying.

"And start becoming a premonition." She finishes, bloody hands and Joel's lifeless face flashing behind her eyelids. "Oh my God," Y/N whispers, turning to see Tess, who stopped a couple feet in front of her.

"It's probably nothing." Tess tells her, sounding slightly annoyed. Y/N shakes her head as she starts walking again, moving the flashlight around.

"What if it's not nothing?" Y/N asks softly, unable to get her heart to stop beating so fast.

"Do you seriously think you're physic?" Tess asked, and Y/N took a deep breath. "Because it's not like it would surprise me during this apocalyptic hell, but," Tess trails off, and Y/N shakes her head.

"But it's the same! Every time!" Y/N says, probably a lot louder than she should. "That has to mean something." She whispers, practically shaking.

"Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't." Tess says as she leans down to the entrance of the tunnels. "But if Joel is going to die, you can't stop that. You can't change the future, even if you could somehow predict it." Tess started to go down the ladder, leaving Y/N standing outside.

"What if I can?" She said softly to herself, thoughts running through her head as she hops into the tunnels after Tess.

It’s stupid, she knows. No one can predict the future. But seeing it happen, being the reason - she couldn’t live like that.

Y/N hadn't seen Joel in a week. She'd been avoiding him, hoping that maybe if she one day up and left he'd forget about her. But there was only so far she could run in the QZ, and only so many things she could grab from their apartment to live in the abandoned shed beside it. Besides, it was only a matter of time before she was either put on the same job or the same run.

"Y/N!" Her body goes rigid at the sound of Joel's voice across the road from her. She had been on litter duty, sure that Joel would want something that paid more. Maybe he was trying to find her. "Hey!"

She walks away quickly, not looking at anyone as she slides into an alleyway before taking off sprinting, dropping the trash-grabber and bag.

"Stop running from me!" Joel yells out, but Y/N doesn't slow. She knows without looking behind her that Joel is definitely gaining on her. "You know I'm faster!" He calls out angrily, and Y/N chances a glimpse backwards as she turns a corner, and Joel is right there. She only has a couple more seconds of running before Joel grabbed her, their momentum sending them tumbling to the ground. Y/N feels her knee crack against the concrete, Joel groaning out as he falls hard. His hand is under her head, which she is reluctantly thankful for.

She wouldn't have to be thankful for his hand if he hadn't tackled her.

"What the hell?" Y/N groaned, putting her arms under herself and pushing up to stand, only putting light pressure on her busted knee.

"You don't have the right to say that!" Joel explodes, angrier than she had ever seen him. "You disappeared for a week! Do you know what that did to me? Jesus," He puts his hands to his head, and Y/N tries not to feel guilty, tries to stay strong.

"Please, Joel, don't act like you care that much." She needed to push him away, needed to say hurtful things to get him to leave. She looked at her hands, her brain tricking her into seeing them stained with blood. She squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn't have to look anywhere, but now all she can see is Joel being attacked by the clickers, being eaten alive, his dead body in his arms.

"You're joking, right?" He asks annoyed, and Y/N shakes her head, eyes still closed. "So all time together, all the talk of getting us through the hard times with one another, that was all just made up?" It's clear Joel doesn't believe her.

"Stop." She says, tears falling down her cheeks.

"This has something to do with the nightmares, doesn't it?" She'd never explicitly told Joel that she had nightmares, but she knew he'd woken her up quite a few times, his worried face looming over her as she heaved in breaths.

"Joel," She opens her eyes to see him looking concerned instead of angry.

"You can tell me." He tries, but she knows she can't. "If you just talk to me, I can help you."

"No, you can't." She whispers, wiping her face as the tears start to slip down her neck.

"They're just dreams, baby. They aren't real." He reaches out for her arm, and shockingly she lets him comfort her.

"When does a dream stop becoming a dream?" She asks, looking up at him. His confusion fights back his own tears.

"What?" He doesn't know what she's saying, just happy that she's standing closer now.

"I don't just have nightmares," She's speaking softly, her breaths light as she forces back the sobs. "I have the same nightmare. Over, and over, and over again. It's always the same. Every single time. It always starts the same. It always ends the same." She's hiccuping now, and Joel reaches to pull her into a hug. She backs away from him, forcing him to let go of her arm.

"It's just a dream." He tells her softly, wanting to comfort her somehow. She licks her lips as she tilts her head, sniffling slightly.

"It's not." She tells him, voice sharp. "It can't be." She turns away from Joel, not able to look at his pitying face.

"Baby," He starts, making her heart race. "What happens in the dream?"

"What do you think?" She barks out a corse laugh, choking on her tears. "You die in the tunnels. I can't save you." She can't look at his face. She can't move as the flashes plague her mind.

"That won't happen." He tries to reassure her, but she's already made up her mind.

"You're right. Because if I'm never with you, the clickers never come after us. And you don't die." She leaves Joel speechless, not looking back as she sprints away. She ducks behind cars, in and out of buildings until she's past the fence, out in the field near the city.

Then she falls on her knees and screams.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader angst

156 notes · View notes