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banzonism · 2 days ago

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WE FOUND LOVE (In a Hopeless Place)

one-shot story

pairing: ceo!jk x fashion model!reader

genre: romance, fluff, drama, comedy, slight enemies to lover, friends to lovers

synopsis: In a string of chance encounters, two people from wildly different worlds, find themselves inexplicably drawn to one another. Maybe the universe has been orchestrating something all along. In a swirl of laughter, longing, and love, they begin to wonder if they’ve finally found what they didn’t even know they were searching for. The beauty of emerging from brokenness, love blossoming in the least expected circumstances, proving that sometimes, even in the most hopeless places, love has a way of finding you.

words count: 8.6k

notes: this is my first one shot jjk ff ahhh i've been thinking about this plot for a while bc of that one jungkook pic above hehe anyway enjoy reading <3

Las Vegas.

Being a fashion model is a balancing act. It’s not just about walking runways or posing for editorial spreads. It’s late nights rehearsing a flawless walk, early mornings enduring hours of hair and makeup, and constant flights between fashion capitals. I’m not a household name like some models, I’ve made my mark. Campaigns for high-end brands, covers on major fashion magazines, and being a regular on exclusive runways have earned me recognition. My career is steady—not overwhelming but enough to keep me in rooms where champagne flows freely and the conversation sparkles.

Tonight was one of those nights.

I had been invited by Jung Hoseok, a longtime friend and one of the most talented designers I know, to celebrate his latest collection's success. The show had been a triumph, and I was one of the faces of his collection, walking the Vegas runway in his stunning designs. His exclusive afterparty was being held at a swanky bar—one of those places where entry was practically currency itself.

I smoothed the fabric of my dress, a slinky black piece by Versace, clinging to me in all the right places. Its thigh-high slit revealed just enough leg to make heads turn without screaming trying too hard. My hair fell effortlessly in soft waves, and my Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as I arrived.

The air was electric when I walked in. Crystal chandeliers hung like jewels from the ceiling, the bar gleamed under dim lights, and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Hoseok, in his signature vibrant suit, caught sight of me and immediately waved me over.

“Y/N!” he beamed, pulling me into a hug. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you! And congratulations, Hobi. The show was incredible,” I said earnestly. “Every single piece was a masterpiece. You’ve outdone yourself.”

His grin widened. “You’re too kind, but coming from you, it means the world.”

We settled into easy conversation, sipping on champagne as the night unfolded. Hoseok glowed with pride—not just from the success of his show, but also from something more personal. I raised an eyebrow when he let slip he’d been in a healthy relationship.

“Six months, huh?” I teased. “That’s practically married in fashion industry terms!”

He laughed, his grin wide. “I know, right? But she’s amazing. Keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m being too extra—which is all the time, obviously.”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. “That’s got to be the longest relationship you’ve ever had, right? Should we celebrate that too?”

Hoseok gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like I’d just wounded him. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’ve had plenty of long relationships!”

“Oh, really? Name one.” I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression.

“Well…” He paused, clearly scrambling. “There was… uh…”

“That’s what I thought.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s okay, Hobi. We’re all proud of you for finally breaking your three-month streak.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Maybe I should start giving you relationship advice now, since I’m apparently the expert.”

“Oh, please,” I snorted. “You’re one more text away from being whipped, and we both know it.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding his hands up. “When are you going to get yourself a man? I’m going to find you someone tonight.”

“Good luck with that,” I muttered, taking another sip of champagne.

“No, I’m serious!” Hoseok leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re gorgeous, successful, and you have taste. What’s the holdup?”

“It’s not that simple,” I replied, sipping my champagne.

“Then let’s make it simple. Tonight’s mission: find Y/N a man,” he declared, clapping his hands together.

“Absolutely not,” I said, laughing.

“Too late. It’s happening.”

He scanned the crowd dramatically, his finger wagging like a radar. “Alright, what about him?”

I followed his gaze to a tall guy nursing a whiskey at the bar. “Probably taken.”

Hoseok squinted. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Look at his hand,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes zeroed in, and then he groaned. “Oh a ring? Seriously? Why do the good ones always come pre-owned?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Because they’ve been snatched up by people who don’t need their friend matchmaking at parties.”

“Rude,” Hoseok shot back, feigning offense. “I’m doing God’s work here.”

“That guy in the navy suit?”

“Too old.”

“Alright, what about tall and brooding over there?”

“Not my type.”

Hoseok sighed theatrically. “You’re impossible.”

Before I could retort, a shift in the room’s energy caught my attention. The chatter quieted for a moment, heads turned, and the air thickened with a sense of presence. That’s when I saw him.

He stood at the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand rebelliously falling onto his forehead. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were enough to make anyone look twice—or three times.

“Wow,” Hoseok whispered beside me, fanning himself. “Now that’s a head-turner.”

I couldn’t disagree. The man was magnetic in a way few people were.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Hoseok teased, nudging me.

“I am not!” I protested, though my cheeks betrayed me.

“You are. And you know what this means,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“You’re going to talk to him.”

I laughed nervously. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, come on! Look at him. This is fate handing you a golden opportunity,” Hoseok insisted.

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point. Go introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I hesitated, and Hoseok seized his chance. “I bet you can’t do it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on this now?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t talk to him, I’m telling everyone here that you chickened out.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling. Now, go,” he said, practically pushing me out of my seat.

I took a deep breath, heart pounding as I glanced at the man again. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before landing briefly on me. Our eyes met, and a spark of something unspoken passed between us.

Fine. I could do this. For the sake of my pride—and to shut Hoseok up—I adjusted my dress, squared my shoulders, and took a step forward.

The night was just beginning.

I took a deep breath as I made my way to him. He was seated near the bar, his profile sharp under the dim lighting, exuding an aura that screamed untouchable. His drink sat untouched on the counter, his focus distant, like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Alright, Y/N, you’ve got this. Just be charming. Flirty. Casual. How hard can it be?

Clearing my throat softly, I slid onto the barstool beside him. “You know,” I started with a smirk, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

He slowly turned his head to look at me, his brow arching in what could only be described as mild annoyance. “Excuse me?”

I faltered but quickly recovered. “I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business.”

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” His tone was flat, but the words stung.

“That’s not—” I sputtered, now feeling defensive. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Clearly, I misread the vibe. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

I turned on my heel, heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fury as I stormed back to Hoseok.

“You’re back already?” he asked, smirking as he handed me a fresh glass of champagne. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said sarcastically, collapsing onto the couch beside him. “Just got verbally smacked by the guy you insisted I talk to.”

Hoseok burst out laughing. “What did he say?”

“That I don’t know how to mind my own business!”

Hoseok clutched his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, my God, Y/N, what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad! I was just trying to be friendly. He’s the one with the stick up his—”

Before I could finish, I noticed the man leaving the bar. He walked toward the exit with the same quiet, commanding air he had when he entered. No goodbyes, no lingering. Just a clean getaway.

“Whatever,” I muttered. “He’s clearly not a fan of parties—or people.”

“Fair,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as two familiar faces joined us. Jihyo and Sana, fellow models and the unofficial queens of industry gossip, flopped onto the couch with the kind of grace only models could manage.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she were still mid-photo shoot.

“Y/N just got spectacularly shut down by the Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok declared, barely containing his laughter.

I turned to him sharply. “Wait, you know him?”

Jihyo’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Hoseok and me. “Hold on, that Jungkook? CEO of Resorts International?”

“Oh, that’s his name,” I muttered, sinking further into my seat. “Explains a lot. The guy’s got all the charm of a brick wall.”

“More like a brick wall covered in barbed wire,” Sana quipped, her brows raising dramatically. “I’ve heard he’s impossible to approach—unless you’re an accountant or a cocktail waitress.”

Sana chimed in, leaning forward like she was about to spill state secrets. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Cold-hearted, doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to, and supposedly—” she lowered her voice dramatically, “—he’s got a different girl in his bed every week.”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “I’ve heard the same. He’s all business, no warmth. Probably because he grew up as an only child with more money than he knew what to do with.”

Hoseok snorted. “To be fair, you did call him a loner to his face.”

“I didn’t call him a loner! I implied it,” I defended. “Big difference.”

The three of them burst into laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in despite my bruised ego.

“Well,” I sighed dramatically, raising my glass, “here’s to tonight. Not exactly my lucky night in the romance department.”

“Hey, it’s Vegas,” Hoseok said, clinking his glass against mine. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Just… maybe avoid the sharks next time.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I took a sip. If nothing else, at least I had good company to cushion my failed attempts at flirting.

Jeon Jungkook had lived his entire life under a spotlight, but it wasn’t the kind that most people would envy. As the only son of Jeon Hyunwoo, the founder of Resorts International, one of the world’s leading gaming and hospitality empires, Jungkook was groomed for success before he could even spell the word. He’d grown up surrounded by glitzy hotel openings, exclusive business meetings, and lavish galas where every handshake could seal a deal worth millions.

When his father announced his retirement three months ago, handing over the CEO reins to Jungkook, the world collectively held its breath. The media speculated endlessly: Would the golden boy live up to his father’s legacy? Was he ready for the challenge?

Jungkook had proven them all wrong. In just three months, he’d already started modernizing the company’s operations, implementing eco-friendly initiatives, and streamlining inefficiencies. But despite his achievements, his reputation among those outside the boardroom was less favorable.

“Cold-hearted.”

“Unapproachable.”

“Stone-faced heir.”

The whispers followed him everywhere, branding him as someone impossible to know, let alone love. In reality, Jungkook wasn’t cold—just guarded. Growing up without siblings or close confidants had shaped him into someone who found comfort in solitude. His reserved nature wasn’t a symptom of arrogance, but rather a quiet reflection of how overwhelming his life had become.

Beneath the sharp suits and calculated demeanor was a man who loved simple pleasures: sketching in his notebook, playing the piano, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions. But no one saw that side of him—not his colleagues, not the socialites clamoring for his attention, and certainly not the father who believed his son’s life wasn’t complete without a wife.

Jungkook’s friend Kim Taehyung, the eccentric owner of one of the hottest luxury fashion brands, had practically dragged him to this afterparty. Taehyung had a knack for throwing events that were equal parts exclusive and chaotic, and tonight was no exception.

“You need to loosen up,” Taehyung had said earlier, handing Jungkook a glass of champagne. “You’ve been running that empire of yours like a man possessed. It’s a party, not a shareholders’ meeting.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Tae,” Jungkook replied, scanning the room full of strangers.

“Of course, you’re not,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. “But you’re staying. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was relentless.

The truth was, he wasn’t just tired from work. His father had been on his case again earlier that day, pressing him to start dating.

“You’re the face of this company now, Jungkook. People look up to you. It’s time you settled down.”

“Dad, I’ve been CEO for three months. I’m focusing on stabilizing the company,” Jungkook had argued.

“Excuses. You’re hiding behind work because you’re afraid of commitment,” his father shot back.

The argument had left a sour taste in Jungkook’s mouth. Relationships weren’t on his radar right now. He wasn’t against the idea entirely, but the thought of being with someone when he could barely keep his own life in order felt irresponsible.

Jungkook slipped away from the main floor and into the restroom, taking a moment to breathe. The thrum of the party dulled behind the heavy door, and for a few minutes, he could pretend he wasn’t Jungkook Jeon, CEO of Resorts International.

He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. You don’t have to stay long. Just make an appearance, then leave. It’s fine.

When he returned to the party, Taehyung intercepted him immediately.

“Where were you hiding?” Taehyung teased, clinking his glass against Jungkook’s.

“Just needed a break,” Jungkook replied. “I was actually about to head out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Taehyung’s grin widened mischievously. “You can’t leave without at least trying to have some fun. Find someone to talk to. Flirt, even. You’re single, man. Enjoy it!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, promise me you’ll stay for at least thirty more minutes.”

“Fine. Thirty minutes,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting it.

He found himself at the bar, sipping whiskey and counting down the seconds until he could make his escape. That’s when you appeared.

“You know,” you said, sliding onto the stool beside him, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

Your tone was playful, your smile confident, but Jungkook could only muster a blank stare. Who starts a conversation like that?

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type,” you continued.

The comment rubbed him the wrong way—not because it was offensive, but because it hit too close to home.

“And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business,” he replied flatly.

Your expression faltered, but only for a moment. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” he shot back.

You stood abruptly, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You know what? Never mind. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

As you walked away, Jungkook felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. He was just… out of his depth.

Deciding he’d had enough, Jungkook downed the rest of his whiskey and left the bar. As he walked through the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. You were sitting with a group of friends, laughing animatedly despite their earlier exchange.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then, the weight of his father’s words pressed down on him again. And yet, as he walked away, your voice lingered in his mind.

The warm, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee hit me as I stepped into my favorite café, the one I always visit whenever I’m in Vegas. Normally, this place feels like a sanctuary—a calm start to my day with a comforting latte in hand. But not today. Today, the universe seemed to have woken up and decided to toy with me.

First, I received some ridiculous news about my upcoming campaign shoot being delayed, throwing my entire schedule into chaos. Then, in my rush to storm out of the hotel, I realized too late that I’d forgotten my purse. Great.

Still, I wasn’t about to let that stop me from grabbing my usual coffee. A caffeine fix was non-negotiable.

“Medium latte, please,” I said to the barista, already picturing the soothing warmth of the cup in my hands.

“That’ll be $5.50,” he replied.

I instinctively reached into my pocket, only to come up empty. My stomach dropped. “Uh…” I glanced up sheepishly. “Okay, so funny thing—I left my wallet at my hotel. But I’m a regular here. Can I just—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the barista interrupted, his tone clipped. “We can’t process an order without payment. Policy.”

I blinked, thrown by his sharpness. “I’m not asking for free coffee. I’ll come back and pay, I swear. You can even ask the manager—I’m here all the time.”

“I really can’t do that,” he said, looking uncomfortable but firm. “We’ve had issues before with people trying to…”

I froze. “Are you accusing me of being a scammer?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, his face flushing. “It’s just…we have to be careful—”

“Careful about what?” My voice rose as irritation crept in. “About someone who forgot their wallet? I’m not exactly trying to rob you!”

The barista looked ready to melt into the floor when a low, calm voice broke through.

“I’ll pay for it.”

I turned to the source of the voice, and my breath caught.

Standing a few feet away was none other than him—Jungkook. The same Jungkook who had practically shut me down a week ago at Hoseok’s party. He looked just as composed and intimidating as before, dressed in a sleek black coat over a crisp white turtleneck, his hair perfectly tousled like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot.

He slid a bill onto the counter without a second glance in my direction. “For her latte,” he said to the barista, who nodded nervously and rushed to complete the order.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

“Wait—what are you doing?” I finally managed to ask as Jungkook turned and headed for the door.

“Paying for your coffee,” he said over his shoulder, his voice casual, like it was no big deal.

“Why?” I demanded, hurrying after him.

He paused at the entrance, looking at me with an expression that was equal parts bored and amused. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

I blinked, caught between annoyance and gratitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied simply.

I crossed my arms, planting myself in his path. “Okay, but why? What’s the catch? Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear you don’t exactly like strangers.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to ignore me. Instead, he said, “And last time we talked, you called me a loner. So maybe I’m just returning the favor.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Wow, you really have a way with people, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Look, if it bothers you that much, don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as me doing something nice.”

“Nicer than calling me pitiful,” I muttered under my breath, but he caught it.

His ears turned pink. “You looked like you were having a bad day,” he mumbled, suddenly avoiding my gaze.

For a moment, I just stared at him. There was something unexpectedly…endearing about how awkward he seemed. Like he wasn’t used to small talk or acts of kindness but was trying anyway.

“Well, I don’t like owing people,” I said finally. “So the next time we meet, I’ll treat you. Deal?”

Jungkook looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, to my surprise, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile. “Sure. If we would meet again.”

He slipped out the door before I could respond, leaving me standing there with my coffee and a strange flutter in my chest.

As I took a sip of my latte, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the cold, untouchable man everyone made him out to be. Maybe…he was just a little awkward. And kind of sweet.

A rare break from my job was the perfect excuse to finally try something new—and for some reason, the idea of working out seemed appealing. Maybe it was the influencers I’d been scrolling past on Instagram with their perfectly toned abs, or maybe I just needed a distraction. Either way, I grabbed my phone and searched for gyms nearby.

After a few minutes of scrolling, I found a fancy spot that looked promising. The problem? I didn’t have a car. Public transportation in Vegas wasn’t exactly convenient, and walking there in this heat wasn’t an option either.

Then it hit me—I had the solution. I dialed my rich friend, Park Jimin.

Jimin picked up on the second ring, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Y/N! What’s up?”

“Hey, Jimin,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Can I borrow one of your cars? I found this gym I want to check out, but, you know…”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat. “Which one? The Lamborghini, the Porsche, or—”

“Something normal, please,” I cut in, laughing. “I just need to get there, not cause a scene.”

“Normal? What does that even mean?” Jimin teased. “Alright, I’ll send one over. Consider it done.”

We chatted for a bit longer, mostly about his upcoming projects and his love for the Vegas nightlife, until the conversation took a surprising turn.

“By the way,” Jimin said casually, like he was talking about ordering coffee, “I’m throwing a yacht party this weekend for my birthday. You have to come.”

I blinked. “A yacht party? Like... on an actual yacht?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said, laughing. “A boat, water, champagne, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of skipping it.”

“I mean... no,” I admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s just... I don’t think that’s really my scene. You know I’m not exactly—”

“Not exactly what?” he pressed, his tone growing curious.

I hesitated, then sighed. “Well... out of your league?”

“Out of your league?” Jimin repeated, his voice turning sharp, almost offended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited you because you’re one of my closest friends. You and Hoseok.”

Ah, Hoseok—the reason I’d met Jimin in the first place. Back when I’d started in the fashion industry, Hoseok had introduced me to his best friend, and Jimin had been an instant ally: warm, funny, and, despite his wealth, incredibly down-to-earth.

“You’re sure I won’t be awkwardly out of place?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

Jimin snorted. “Awkward? You? This is coming from someone who had zero shame asking to borrow one of my cars five minutes ago.”

I burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone softening now. “Listen, I only invited people I trust—people I actually like. You’ll have Hoseok there too. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

And just like that, I could feel the tension melting away. “Alright,” I said, smiling. “Count me in. But if I trip and fall into the ocean, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jimin’s laughter rang out like a promise. “Deal. But I’m making you wear a life jacket just in case. The car should be pulling up any minute.”

As if on cue, I heard the unmistakable sound of a sleek engine pulling into the driveway. I peeked out the window and shook my head, smiling. Jimin’s idea of “normal” turned out to be a shiny black Tesla.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jimin said playfully before hanging up.

Grabbing my bag, I headed out the door and slid into the luxurious interior. I had to admit, the excitement was starting to build—not just for the workout but for the yacht party. Maybe this was exactly the kind of escape I needed. After all, life had a way of surprising me when I least expected it.

The gym was buzzing with energy as I powered through my workout routine. The rhythmic thud of weights dropping and faint music filled the air, and I was in the zone—completely focused. By the time I moved to cool down, my muscles felt like jelly, but the satisfying kind.

I reached for my water bottle and lowered the volume of my earbuds, the background hum of the gym suddenly sharper. That’s when I heard it—a loud, frustrated, “Shit, what the hell just happened?”

Intrigued, I glanced over. There he was: broad-shouldered, standing by a bench, holding a phone that looked like it had lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

It took me a second to process, but when I did, the recognition hit. “Oh, it’s you again!” I blurted out, my mouth moving faster than my brain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said flatly, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke by orchestrating our third meeting.

“What happened?” I asked, biting back a grin as I nodded toward the carnage in his hand. “I heard something break.”

He sighed, holding up the mangled device. “My phone. It fell while I was working out, and I didn’t see it. Then the dumbbell… well, the dumbbell saw it.”

That was all it took for me to lose it. I laughed, clutching my stomach as Jungkook’s expression shifted from annoyed to downright offended.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!” I managed to say between giggles. “But how do you not notice your phone on the floor? Were you that focused?”

“It was an accident!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t exactly planning to obliterate my phone today.”

“Alright, alright,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender, though the grin stayed firmly in place. “What’s your plan now? Or are you stuck in this gym forever?”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll figure it out. I can call my secretary through this,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Wait,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I’ll help you out.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll drive you,” I offered, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I still owe you one from the café incident, remember?”

For a moment, he looked skeptical. “You? Drive me?”

“Yes, me. I’m perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “Unless, of course, you’d rather sit here like a helpless damsel waiting for your secretary to swoop in and save you.”

Jungkook let out a reluctant sigh, finally we stepping toward the black Tesla.

“Nice ride,” he remarked casually. I snorted. If only he knew.

As I unlocked the doors, my eyes betrayed me for a moment, flickering toward him. He was the epitome of effortless cool—lean but undeniably sculpted, the kind of build that spoke of hours at the gym but never looked overdone. His plain black tank top clung to his shoulders, revealing toned arms and just a teasing glimpse of a tattoo curling around his bicep. The joggers he wore hung low on his hips, paired with sneakers that looked both practical and trendy. His hair was tousled in that perfect I woke up like this way, and the faint glint of a lip piercing added an edge that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“You know, if you’re going to stare, at least make it subtle,” his voice broke through my thoughts, his lips tugging into an amused smirk.

I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. “I wasn’t—” I started, but his raised eyebrow silenced me.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “So, do I pass your inspection?”

“Inspection?” I scoffed, regaining my composure. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat, leaving me muttering under my breath as I got behind the wheel. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly smug and good-looking?

Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “Anyway, do you want breakfast? My treat.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Breakfast? With you?”

“Relax,” I said with a laugh. “I’m not proposing or anything. It’s just food. You eat, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild intrigue. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t have a better option.”

By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, he still seemed wary, like he couldn’t quite figure out if I was serious or setting him up for something. But as we stepped inside, I noticed him sneaking a glance at me, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with a soft golden glow from the lights and a gentle hum of chatter in the background. Jungkook and I sat across from each other, separated by what felt like an ocean of awkward silence. I buried my nose in the menu, pretending to deliberate over my choices, but really just trying to distract myself from his presence, which seemed to take up way more space than it should.

Once the waiter took our orders, the quiet felt unbearable. I swirled the straw in my glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and finally broke the silence. “So… are you, like, the CEO of your company or something?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” I said a little too quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Just making conversation.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that’s almost more of an exhale. “Not very subtle, are you?”

Before I could retort, he suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at my phone case. “Wait a minute… is that Gojo?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “You watch that anime?

“Do I not look like someone who would watch anime?”

“Well, you don’t exactly give off weeb vibes.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Excuse me, I’m a proud fan of Gojo Satoru. Who wouldn’t be?”

His face lit up. “No way. Gojo’s my favorite too.”

“Of course, he’s everyone’s favorite,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But don’t even start about his… you know…”

“Death?” he finished, wincing. “Yeah, that wrecked me. Don’t remind me.”

We spent a solid ten minutes geeking out over our shared love for the character, bouncing theories off each other like we’d known each other for years. It was so ridiculous, but for once, the awkward tension melted away.

“See?” I said, grinning. “I’m not that bad.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I never said you were bad. Just… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Like when I tried to flirt with you that night?” I teased. “And you took it the wrong way?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard. For a moment, it felt like the air between us shifted, but before I could process it, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, about that night…” His tone softened, and his gaze dropped to the table. “I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly… polite.”

I blinked. “Wait, you’re apologizing? Like, a real apology?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was having a bad day.”

Curiosity got the better of me. “What kind of bad day makes you snap at random strangers?”

Jungkook hesitated, fidgeting with his fork.

Sensing his discomfort, I leaned back, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, we’re not exactly close or anything.”

For a moment, I thought he might dodge the question, but then he sighed. “My dad’s been pressuring me to settle down. You know, get serious, date someone, think about marriage.”

That threw me for a loop. “Wait, what? You’re Jungkook—the Jungkook. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the king of eligible bachelors or something? I mean… don’t you have a line of people falling at your feet?”

He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “You’d think, huh? But the truth is, I do… mess around, sure, but nothing serious. It’s not exactly what my dad wants to hear.”

I stared at him, genuinely surprised. “So… you’re telling me all those rumors about you sleeping around are true?”

“Somewhat true,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “But they’re exaggerated. Not that it matters, though. My dad doesn’t care about the details—he just wants results.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Wow. And here I was thinking you were out there breaking hearts left and right. Turns out, you’re just another guy dealing with family drama.”

“Guess we all have our struggles,” he said, a bit ruefully.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a small sigh. “You know, I get it. All my friends are pairing up, getting engaged, or having babies, and here I am... still single. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “You’re just waiting for the right person. Life isn’t a race, you know? Everyone’s clock is different.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Wow, that’s... surprisingly profound coming from you.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I have layers, you know. Like an onion.”

I snorted. “Well, thanks, Shrek. But really, I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re doing just fine. No one has it all figured out—not even me.”

“Oh, trust me, that part was obvious,” I teased, earning a laugh from him.

I swirled my nearly-empty glass of water, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“You know, Jungkook, I think we might’ve actually been friends if our first impressions of each other weren’t so... well, awful.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, maybe. But then again, where’s the fun in starting off on good terms?”

“Touché,” I said, rolling my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile.

I didn’t realize how much time had passed until the waiter cleared his throat, his third time checking in on us.

“Oh wow,” I said, glancing at the time. “We’ve been here for over an hour. That’s, uh, new.”

Jungkook looked just as surprised. “Guess we’re better at this talking thing than I thought.”

As we left the restaurant, the crisp morning air hit us, and Jungkook glanced at his watch. “My secretary’s on the way. Thanks for the ride and breakfast, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, waving it off. “Consider it payback for the café incident, you know”

As his car pulled up, he paused and glanced back at me. “This was... nice. Surprisingly nice, actually.”

“Agreed,” I said with a grin. “You’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“And you’re not as... well, annoying as I first assumed,” he shot back, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I’m absolutely annoying. Just not to you. Yet.”

He chuckled, opening the car door. “See you when I see you.”

“Or see you never,” I teased, crossing my arms.

He smirked before stepping inside. I watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling an odd mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in my chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what I expected—but something told me it wouldn’t be the last time our paths crossed.

It was the weekend, and Jimin’s birthday had finally arrived. I’d spent all morning preparing, carefully selecting the perfect dress—a chic yet comfortable outfit that struck just the right balance between effortless and elegant. Jimin had assured me that one of his drivers would pick me up, so I didn’t have to worry about transportation. Classic Jimin, always taking care of everything.

The car pulled up to the dock where we were all supposed to gather before boarding the yacht. The venue was buzzing with an understated elegance—soft lights twinkling above, the gentle murmur of waves against the pier, and a cluster of well-dressed guests milling about. Among them, I spotted Hoseok chatting animatedly with his girlfriend. As always, Hoseok radiated charm, while his girlfriend was effortlessly stunning, perfectly complementing his energy.

I also noticed Taehyung, one of Jimin’s close friends. We weren’t exactly close, but we’d met a few times at events. With his striking features and magnetic aura, Taehyung always managed to make his presence known without even trying.

Before the yacht was set to leave, I decided to find Jimin to wish him a happy birthday. However, as I approached, I noticed him pacing near the edge of the dock, phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. His voice carried easily over the sound of the water.

“Bro, where are you? You’re the only one not here!” Jimin said, his tone sharp but laced with concern. There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded, and then Jimin huffed.

“I swear, I’m gonna tell your mom about this, and she’ll whoop your ass for bailing on my party,” he threatened, though there was an amused edge to his voice. “You’re such a workaholic. Dude, you need to relax for once in your life.”

With that, he ended the call, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair before noticing me standing nearby.

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday Jimin!” I greeted, I stepped closer to hug him. His frustration melted away into his signature warm smile.

“Just an old friend giving me little trouble, something like that,” he said with a sigh, before flashing a grin. “But enough about that. You look amazing. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Now, you better enjoy your night—it’s your birthday, after all.”

“Working on it,” he said with a laugh before we parted ways.

I wandered back toward Hoseok and his girlfriend, joining their lively conversation about the upcoming festivities. Taehyung had drifted into the group, his dry wit adding a humorous edge to the chatter. The minutes passed quickly, and before we knew it, the yacht began to move. The gentle rocking of the boat, paired with the sparkling city lights fading into the distance, set the perfect tone for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

Jungkook leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His desk was cluttered with files, reports, and his laptop—remnants of a day that seemed to stretch forever. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he’d be late to Jimin’s party. Jimin wasn’t just any friend; their bond went way back to childhood, forged through their parents’ business ties and countless summers spent together. Yet here he was, always caught up in work, unable to prioritize his personal life. His mother’s nagging voice echoed in his head: "You should spend more time with your friends. Life isn’t all about work, Jungkook."

The guilt doubled when Jimin called earlier, threatening to tattle to his mom if he didn’t show up. Jungkook could almost hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice. With a resigned sigh, Jungkook finally wrapped up his work and rummaged through his closet. He settled on a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a sleek blazer that gave off an effortless yet polished vibe. After all, he couldn’t turn up to a yacht party looking like he just crawled out of a spreadsheet.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook arrived at the dock just as the yacht began to drift away. The warm glow of lights from the boat reflected off the water, and the sound of laughter and music carried across the night air. He stepped on board, quickly spotting Jimin near the bar.

“Finally!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling Jungkook into a brief hug. “I was about to call your mom again.”

“Don’t start,” Jungkook replied, smirking. “Work ran late.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on, let's have fun.”

The two talked for a while, catching up on life and sharing stories. Despite Jimin’s attempts to nudge him toward mingling, Jungkook remained firmly rooted in the comfort of familiarity, sticking close to Jimin and occasionally chatting with Taehyung, another long-time friend.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in a different dilemma. After spending most of the evening with Hoseok and his girlfriend, the couple’s dynamic started to feel a bit suffocating. As much as you adored Hoseok, third-wheeling wasn’t exactly your idea of fun. Deciding you needed some air, you excused yourself and wandered toward the deck, the cool breeze a welcome escape from the noise and chatter.

The yacht had stopped, its anchor dropped in a calm, picturesque spot surrounded by glittering city lights on the horizon. The music from inside was still audible but muffled, creating an oddly serene atmosphere.

As you leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head slightly and froze. There he was—Jungkook. The man who had somehow become a recurring character in your life. His presence was almost magnetic, his sharp features softened by the moonlight. He caught sight of you and hesitated for a moment before walking closer.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Late to the party?”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, work. As usual.”

You nodded, not entirely surprised. “Let me guess—you’re one of Jimin’s childhood friends?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, leaning on the railing beside you. “And you? How do you know him?”

“Hoseok introduced us,” you replied. “He’s the reason I’m here tonight. Well, that and Jimin being very convincing.”

Jungkook smirked. “Sounds about right. Jimin’s good at getting what he wants.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the distant hum of music blending with the gentle lapping of waves. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but there was something strangely natural about standing there together.

Jungkook turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re not exactly blending into the crowd yourself. What are you doing out here?”

You hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Third-wheeling gets old fast. Thought I’d escape for a bit.”

“Fair enough,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’re both out of place here.”

The night air was cool and crisp as you and Jungkook leaned against the railings on the quieter side of the yacht. The party was still in full swing on the other side, music and laughter drifting faintly in the background, but here, it felt like you had the world to yourselves. The stars above shimmered in the dark sky, reflected perfectly in the calm water below.

“I just realized,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence, “this is the fourth time we’ve bumped into each other. Is the universe trying to tell us something?”

Jungkook glanced at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Like what?”

You grinned, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself. “That maybe I’m the girl you’ve been waiting for.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “Why should I? Life’s too short for games.” You hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Besides, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. “You’re… straightforward.”

You smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “And you’re stating the obvious. Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t mind hanging out with you. You’re nice to be around.”

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook’s mind was a swirl of thoughts. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but you’d been on his mind too. Something about you had stayed with him—the way you spoke your mind, the easy banter, and the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was.

But before he could respond, you straightened up abruptly, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you’d just been. “Okay, wow, that was a lot. I’m blaming the alcohol I had earlier,” you muttered, your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but the slight sway of the yacht threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, you teetered on the edge.

“Whoa!” Jungkook reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just in time.

“Thanks,” you managed, breathless and slightly shaken. But before either of you could regain your footing, the yacht gave a sudden, unexpected lurch.

It all happened in slow motion. One moment, you were staring at Jungkook, his hand still gripping your arm; the next, both of you were tumbling over the railing. The cold water hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs as you splashed into the dark ocean.

The cold, salty water surrounded you as you struggled to catch your breath, disoriented from the fall. But before panic could fully set in, you felt a strong, reassuring presence beside you. Jungkook's hand reached out, and his voice was calm but urgent.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched yours, his face just inches from yours, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest despite the chill of the water. "I-uh, I am not really a good swimmer," you confessed, your voice shaky.

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. His hand gripped your arm, his touch firm but gentle. "It's okay. Just stay calm. Hold on to me," he instructed, his tone steady, like he had done this a hundred times before.

And for the first time, you were so close to him- closer than you ever thought possible. His face was so... beautiful. The rainwater trickled down his sharp jawline, the moonlight making his features look even more defined. His dark hair, now wet and tousled, framed his face perfectly.

You couldn't help but stare, the way his piercing glinted in the dim light making him look even more striking. How could someone look so perfect, so effortlessly attractive? With a body that was both strong and lean, and that face-it was hard to believe he was actually single. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring how impossibly hot he looked, even with water dripping from his face.

You found yourself almost mesmerized by his lips- those full, kissable lips. Your thoughts started to wander, and before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been swirling in your mind.

"Can I kiss you?"

There was a brief pause, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he gave you a small, playful smile. But before you could process it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, so to speak. But then, something shifted. The chemistry that had been building between you two since the first moment you met exploded in an instant.

The kiss deepened, and neither of you hesitated. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht, the cool water surrounding you, all faded into the background. All that mattered was the heat of his lips against yours, the way he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together in the water.

And it wasn't just you who had been thinking about this. Jungkook had been wanting this, too. The way you'd smiled at him, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind-it had kept him awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.

Now that you were here, tangled in the water, neither of you wanted to pull away. Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him, the connection between you both undeniable, magnetic. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely in sync.

It was messy, it was raw, but it was perfect. Just the two of you, lost in the moment.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you still floating in the water. His eyes held a certain intensity, the kind of look that could make your heart race.

"You know," he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the wild rush of emotions, "I've been thinking about you a lot too. More than I care to admit."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering. The confession was unexpected, yet somehow not. Maybe you’d both been feeling this pull, this magnetic force drawing you closer, even without saying it out loud.

"So, what now?" You smirked, the water now lapping against your skin as you held onto him. "I'm waiting."

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

"Duh," you laughed softly, your voice teasing. "Waiting for you to ask me out."

Jungkook’s laughter rang out, warm and rich, his smile growing wider. "Oh, right," he said, pausing for effect. "I guess that would be nice, wouldn’t it?"

You both chuckled, the sound echoing into the night air. It felt so natural, this banter, this undeniable chemistry between you.

“I can’t believe this. Of all the things that could happen…”

“You had to save me, and then we both fell into the ocean,” you finished, chuckling despite yourself.

“Well, if the universe really is giving us signs, it’s not being subtle,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, grinning.

Before the moment could stretch any further, you both heard a loud shout from above.

"Y/N! Jungkook! Are you two alright?!"

It was Jimin's voice, and it snapped you both back to reality. Jungkook rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath. "Looks like we’ve got an audience," he muttered, before holding onto you tighter. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As the yacht crew rushed to rescue you, the gravity of the moment settled in. You had no idea where this connection would lead, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you’d found something real.

end.

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook romance #jungkook and reader #Spotify

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coryndoll · 9 hours ago

Text

chrysanthemums

drew starkey x reader zombie apocalypse au

— “you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

content: zombies, weapons, violence, reader lowk opening up more to drew, short little filler but it introduces the journey theyll go on together !

authors note: guys i started tvd n omggg. anyway if u arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, dms, anons, or reblogs !!

the next few days pass in a blur of footsteps, scavenging, and silence. you, drew, and the dog—who you’ve officially named dog because of his lack of collar and your shared inability to come up with something better—keep moving. drew joked that dog might just be a stray wandering the ruins, but it leaves the uncomfortable question hanging between you two: could animals get zombified too? you’ve been leaning toward no, but the thought lingers, a constant what-if.

meanwhile, drew’s been keeping his distance sometimes, falling into a quiet rhythm that matches your pace without crowding you. it’s a small mercy, really, that he knows when to leave you alone.

you’re not trying to be cruel, but attachments feel pointless these days. they don’t lead to anything good. someone always ends up bitten, or worse, you run into people who think survival means stepping on others. either way, someone gets left behind.

so what’s the point in getting close?

you pull your jacket tighter against the chilly air as you enter another building. it’s small, half-collapsed, with broken windows and a roof that looks like it might give out if the wind hits just right. dog pads in first, sniffing the ground like he owns the place. you follow, stepping carefully over shattered glass, while drew lingers near the doorway, his hand brushing against the baseball bat strapped to his pack.

he asks casually, like it doesn’t mean much, “have you been headed anywhere specific?”

you ignore him at first, your focus on a shelf in the corner. a dusty can catches your eye, and you pick it up, squinting at the label. it’s dented, the writing smudged. it’s empty though. you flip it out of your hand onto the table with a clatter, then sigh as you look away.

dog is sniffing something near the far wall, his tail wagging just enough to show he’s entertained. you watch him for a second, then pull your hair back, twisting it into place and clipping it up. crouching down, you start searching through the bottom racks.

when drew doesn’t get an answer, he moves. his footsteps are slow but deliberate, and when he swings around the doorframe into your space, you know he’s not going to drop it.

“you going to tell me?” he asks again, his voice softer but still persistent.

you can feel his eyes on you as you sift through the mess on the floor. papers, broken glass, an empty bottle. nothing useful.

your hand pauses, brushing against the knife strapped to your belt. it’s instinctive now, keeping it close, even when drew’s around. especially when he’s around.

finally, you clear your throat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before rubbing the back of your neck. the words come slower than you want them to. “i’ve heard rumors. about a place.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a place? what kind of place?”

you push yourself to stand, reaching for his hand to steady yourself as you rise. “clarenora beck,” you say, watching his face for any sign of recognition.

nothing.

“who the hell is that?”

you scoff, dropping his hand and dusting off your palms. “it’s not a person, dipshit. it’s a settlement.” you turn and start moving again, still in talking distance as you scan a half-broken cabinet.

“it’s supposed to be a safe haven for survivors,” you explain, pulling open a drawer and frowning at the empty contents. “not the biggest, but the safest apparently. they say it’s guarded, got crops, animals, people who actually give a damn. a home.”

he follows, a few feet behind, picking through the debris on a nearby counter. “and you’re trying to find it?”

“trying to see if it’s real,” you admit, your voice quieter. “no one really knows where it is, not exactly. part of me thinks it’s just a rumor. but if it’s real . . .” you trail off, shaking your head.

he stops, leaning against the counter, studying you. “where’s it supposed to be?”

you hesitate, your hand hovering over a dusty jar before moving on. “far,” you say at first, hoping he’ll let it go.

he doesn’t.

eventually, you sigh, turning to face him. “vermont.”

he freezes, staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head. “you’re joking.”

“nope.”

“vermont.” he repeats it slowly, like he’s trying to process. “do you know how far that is?”

you shrug, already turning back to your search into another room. “not like i’ve got anywhere better to be.”

drew follows you through, his footsteps softer now, trying not to trip over dog as he tails you. dog pauses at the edge of a room, sniffing at the base of a crumbling wall, and drew nearly stumbles right into him because he’s too busy watching you instead of where he’s going. you don’t notice—or you pretend not to—and he mutters something under his breath, stepping over dog and catching up with you.

"and you don’t even know exactly where it is?” his voice cuts through the quiet. “what, are you just gonna explore ten thousand miles ‘til you find it?”

you pause, jaw tightening as you pull a can off a shelf and turn it over in your hands, examining it for any dents or signs of damage. he’s waiting for an answer you don’t feel like giving. you toss the can onto the table with a hollow thud and move to crouch by the lower shelves, brushing dust off a few boxes.

he doesn’t stop, leaning casually against a doorframe and fiddling with a blade he pulled from his pocket. “seriously, what else do you even know about this place?”

you sigh. “i’ve had leads,” you say finally, your voice quieter. “a month or two back, i ran into these two people passing through. one of them told me about it—clarenora. said it was worth looking for.”

drew raises a brow, his interest caught now. “and you believed them?”

“not at first,” you admit, straightening up and wiping your hands on your jeans. “i didn’t even think about it again ‘til later. but they told me something . . . something people who are looking for clarenora pass along.”

he’s watching you now, his fidgeting with the blade slowing. “what’d they say?”

you hesitate, knowing how ridiculous it’ll sound once it’s out in the open. “they said . . . ‘strike c-4 in the heart of daisy.’”

there’s a beat of silence, the faint shuffle of dog nosing through debris the only sound. drew stares at you like you’ve just spoken in another language.

“okay,” he says slowly, his tone dripping with skepticism. “what the hell does that even mean?”

“i don’t know,” you reply, voice clipped. “and if you’re gonna complain about it, save it. i told you, i didn’t have anywhere better to be.”

he doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching you with that same unreadable expression. you turn away, already regretting telling him, already bracing for the inevitable whining and questions. but instead, he leans back against the doorframe, slipping the blade back into his pocket.

“‘strike c-4 in the heart of daisy,’ huh?” he murmurs, almost to himself. “we’ll figure it out.”

you glance at him over your shoulder, surprised but unwilling to let it show. instead, you turn your attention back to the shelves, ignoring the way his words linger in the air.

you approach another table in the corner, its surface layered with dust and scattered with useless junk. broken pencils, faded wrappers, and scraps of paper clutter the space, but you push through it all, your hand rattling noisily across the debris.

something catches your eye further down the table. you reach for it, leaning in slightly, when a decayed hand shoots out from a gaping hole in the broken wall behind the table.

you yelp, the sound sharp and instinctive, and it alerts drew who whips around. before you can think, your hand is on the knife at your belt, pulling it free and slamming it down into the rotting hand. the knife crunches through bone, pinning the thing in place as you stumble back a step, your heart racing.

you back up into drew, your hand immediately reaching out to gesture dog closer. he obeys without hesitation, slipping to your side.

drew pulls his baseball bat from where it hangs across his back, gripping it firmly. its head is littered with nails and screws, jagged and sharp, and he seems almost grateful for the added weight. you tighten your hold on your knife, your gaze snapping to the doorway as an empty lumbers in, drawn by the noise.

without hesitating, you dart forward, slashing the blade across its temple. the thing crumples, but another two stumble through from drew’s side.

he purses his lips, muttering a quiet, “here we go,” before he kicks one in the chest, sending it staggering back. with a quick swing, his bat arcs through the air, landing with a sickening crunch in the nearest empty’s skull. blood splatters across his shirt, but he doesn’t stop. he yanks the bat free, twisting it with a grunt, and swings again.

the second stiff collapses under the weight of the strike, but drew’s already glancing over his shoulder to check on you.

your knife is buried deep in the forehead of the first empty, and you wrench it free with a sharp tug. you pause only long enough to glance back at drew, your chest heaving.

“you good?” he asks, but his eyes are already scanning the room, taking in the stiffs on the ground. he whistles sharply, catching dog’s attention, and waves him forward. “let’s go,” he says.

you fall into step behind him without question as he leads you out of the building. your pulse is still pounding in your ears, but you don’t look back. there’s no point.

as you head back to the car, drew moves ahead and opens the backseat door for dog, who hops in with a quick wag of his tail. you circle to the driver’s side, sliding into the seat without a word, and the moment you pull the door shut, drew’s voice cuts through the tense silence.

“how’s your leg?” he asks.

you grit your teeth and glance at him briefly. “‘s fine. doesn’t hurt anymore,” you reply curtly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

drew hesitates, narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to gauge the truth of your answer, but you don’t give him time to press further. he sighs, shuts the back door, and makes his way around the car.

as he does, you swipe a fingertip across your face, pulling away a streak of drying blood. it’s dark against your skin, and your gaze drops to your leg. shifting your foot slightly, you look at the spot he’s so concerned about. the fabric of your pants clings awkwardly to the wound underneath, stiff with dried blood, but you force your focus forward as drew opens the passenger door and climbs in.

before he can even settle in his seat, you ask, “where’d you learn medical care, anyway?”

he pauses, then grins, leaning back and shutting the door with an exaggerated sigh. “you mean wrapping a booboo so it doesn’t get infected?” he quips, his tone light and teasing.

your jaw clenches, and you sigh sharply through your nose, staring straight ahead as you start the car. the engine hums to life, and for a moment, the tension hangs heavy between you.

drew glances at you out of the corner of his eye, then leans his head back with a chuckle. “jean,” he says after a beat. “she was part of this group i met a while ago. taught me a lot about survival stuff. said medical care was essential in a world like this.”

you flick your eyes toward him briefly, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. “why’s that?”

“‘cause if you don’t have someone who knows the difference between a heatstroke and dehydration,” he says, mimicking jean’s sharp tone, “you’re as good as dead.”

the car falls quiet for a moment after that. your jaw relaxes slightly, but you don’t say anything, just keep your eyes fixed on the road ahead. drew shifts in his seat, and out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest trace of a satisfied grin.

“thanks,” you murmur, so soft you’re not even sure he catches it.

drew stiffens in his seat, his hand stilling on the hem of his jacket. he doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. when you glance over, he’s squinting at you like he’s trying to figure out if he’s hearing things right.

you bite back a smirk and shake your head, eyes back on the road. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?” his tone is teasing, but there’s a genuine curiosity underneath it.

you finally let the smirk slip, a small, fleeting smile that you know he catches. “like you’re confused.”

“i am confused,” he says, his voice light but his stare lingering.

you exhale a laugh and shake your head again. “look, now that you’re in on this whole clarenora thing, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

he raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat with an exaggerated sigh. “like what?”

you glance at him briefly, your smile faint but persistent. “like solving a riddle. ‘strike c-4 in the heart of daisy.’”

drew furrows his brow, repeating the phrase under his breath. then he turns back to you, his expression all mock incredulity. “so you’re dragging me into this, and now i have to just solve riddles with you?”

you shrug, the smile growing wider as you press the accelerator. “what else do we have to do?”

he groans dramatically, but the faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays him.

tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0 @beabafreakbee @spiderstyles04 @jeyramarie @loves0phelia @writtenbyhollywood @cl4uus @wumblewee

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kaliforniahigh · 21 hours ago

Note

Can imagine Noah making you jealous (not on purpose) and YOU come home and make HIM beg and whimper for you!!! “Say who you belong to Noah!!” 🥵🥹

Warning: reader calls a woman "bitch" once.

You don't get jealous all that often, but it's the boldness of some people that gets on your nerves. And Noah's obliviousness to it sometimes.

You've been observing their interaction from afar. Noah and her weren't even friends. She was just someone that came around from time to time, usually when there was a party of some sort. You knew she's been trying to shoot her shot even before you and Noah got together.

Now, she knew Noah was taken, and still flirted with him.

Later on in the night, after everyone had already left, you had Noah on his back, naked on the bed. Your hands roaming all over. He really thought he was gonna get it easy tonight.

"You like having my hands on you?", you asked.

"You know I love it, baby"

"Yeah, I know you do", you said, with a more condenscending tone. "Like it when I run my hands up and down your arms?", you placed both hands on his biceps, and you felt him involuntarily flex under your touch. You seethed at the though of that bitch feeling him this way. "You like it more when that stupid girl is touching you?"

You looked at him and saw his expression change from lust to confusion, brows furrowing.

"What do you mean?", he asked, turning his head to meet your eyes better.

"Oh, don't play coy with me now", you narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head. "I saw her talking to you earlier. I saw her running her hand up and down your arm while you just stood there and took it"

"Who are you talking about?", you could tell he was genuinely confused, and you didn't know if that pissed you off even more.

You grabbed his chin with your hands, pressing your forehead with his.

"Does the name Mia ring a bell? Or are you going to keep pretending you don't know what I'm talking about?", you hissed a little, and he would be lying if he said your jealousy wasn't turning him on even more.

"Oh, Mia. You know I want nothing to do with Mia", he maintained eye contact, trying to get it through your head.

"I don't know. I think I need a reminder"

"I'll give you whatever you need, baby", he brought one of his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling your bodies closer together. The moment shifted a little, you weren't as angry anymore, and he recognized you needed more reassurance than anything else. He knows you usually don't care when girls hit on him, it comes with the territory. But for you to be so bothered now, there has to be something else eating at you.

"Tell me you're mine", you requested, voice losing it's edge, getting softer and more vulnerable.

"I'm yours baby. You know I belong to you. Heart, body and soul", he cupped your face in his hands, rubbing soft circles on the top of your cheek.

"And no one's ever going to change that, right?", you asked.

"No one's ever going to change that. No one's ever going to take me away from you. I'm yours forever, baby"

You kissed him for the first time since you both made your way to the bedroom. He kissed you thoroughly, conveying his emotions and reassurance through his lips and tongue exploring your mouth.

#made this a little softer #sorry #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fluff #noah sebastian fluff #noah thoughts

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fuckyeahisawthat · 3 days ago

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Re-skimmed through a bunch of Dune Messiah last night because why not and now I am having thoughts:

The thing that sticks with me most is the tone. It's melancholy, it's eerie, it's unsettled and weird. Cannot think of a more pitch-perfect director for it than Denis Villeneuve. He's gonna nail it.

There is...not that much...actual story? Denis has referred to it in interviews as "a small book" and I'm like my guy it is 350 pages. But there are actually not that many plot beats. It's just that every. single. scene. is WILDLY overwritten. The real challenge of adapting Dune is not the giant worms or the dense complicated worldbuilding or the fact that actors have to say the name "Duncan Idaho" repeatedly with a straight face. It's that there are pages and pages and PAGES of internal monologue that have to be externalized somehow for film.

After a re-skim my gut instinct for "how much story goes in a feature film" is that if you just wrote out the dialogue and action that happens in every scene in the book in screenplay format you'd end up with...maybe about an hour of material? Which is great, actually, because it means there is room to add stuff. Like a whole new independent plotline for Chani if they decide to do that.

It may seem insane to add things to an adaptation of what's notoriously one of the wordiest series in classic sci-fi but it's worth remembering that they added quite a bit to Dune Part Two. Most of the first hour of the movie--almost everything before the worm ride except for Jessica drinking the Water of Life--is stuff that isn't in the book. And it's the best part of the movie essential to making the movie work as well as it does. Yes, they also cut elements from both parts (the dinner scene, the whole plotline where Gurney thinks Jessica is a Harkonnen spy, Thufir Hawat's fate, Leto II the Elder, murder toddler Alia) but I understand why each of those elements was cut or changed in the service of cinematic storytelling.

There's an interview (can't remember which one) with Jon Spaihts, the other co-writer of the scripts along with Denis, where he talks about how Dune is like a stage play, with so many of what would be the big action set pieces happening off-page. I kept thinking about that comparison while reviewing Dune Messiah because in addition to the scenes that do exist being wordy and internal as fuck, an absolutely insane list of major events/reveals/emotionally significant moments happen off-page. The list of things that we don't actually see in the main action of the story, that we're only told about after they happen, includes:

Chani finding out Irulan has been secretly dosing her with birth control for YEARS

People trying to capture a sandworm and take it off planet

Chani and Paul finding out Chani is pregnant after 12 years of trying to conceive

Paul flying an ornithopter carrying his extremely-about-to-go-into-labor partner while blind

CHANI DYING (first time reading I did NOT know this was coming and damn near threw my Kindle across the room at the way the information was delivered)

Alia executing a bunch of people including a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother

Paul walking into the desert at the end

You could add all these moments into a scene-for-scene film adaptation of the book and probably still have room to add more material.

The other thing that jumps out is that Paul doesn't really...govern...much. Like there's this whole subgenre of post-Dune/Dune Messiah-era fic that's just some combination of Paul, Chani, Irulan and sometimes Feyd traipsing around the palace having feelings while vague politics happens in the background, but I forgot that Dune Messiah is actually kinda like that??

There is a whole thread of Paul feeling kind of abstractly bad about being Space Hitler but he does not, in fact, actually do anything about it. And like yes both bureaucracies and religious movements can grow to have a life of their own that seems beyond the control of any one person. But also my dude you are the Emperor of the Known Universe. Someone is signing those space checks for the Endless War budget. You are not powerless here.

The one thing that really, clearly drives Paul to actively do things in the plot is not feeling guilty about having unleashed catastrophic religious war on the universe. It is protecting his family. Chani, Alia, his unborn children, and you could probably throw in Duncan by the end. That is what motivates him to act at key moments, and to want to hold on to power. And hey, y'know, if I'd experienced almost everyone I'd ever known getting murdered in a single night, I would probably get a bit intense about that too! It makes sense from a character point of view!

I'm very curious to see how these threads interweave with each other in the film, because the Villeneuve films put a lot of emphasis on Paul's agency and the fact that he may be constrained by shitty circumstances thousands of years in the making, but he still makes choices within that context. I can't see the narrative allowing film!Paul to get away with the same Poor Little Dictator routine as in the book. There are a few ways they could play this but I think the most interesting one is kinda the way they started going at the end of Part Two. Which is that as soon as you start reaching for that kind of power, then power becomes its own end and you will end up doing increasingly horrific things to maintain it. I think it would be quite interesting if the film shows us Paul not just being like "woe is me" but actively choosing to make the world worse because his trauma-driven fear of losing the people he loves makes him cling ever more desperately to power for its own sake.

If they went this route I think it would make Paul's decision at the end hit even harder. FWIW I actually really like Paul walking off into the desert at the end of the book. I think it brings things full circle with his relationship to the Fremen and creates this beautiful arc going back to the duel with Jamis. He first won a place among the Fremen through respecting their customs even though he really did not want to fight and kill someone he had no beef with. And by respecting the Fremen custom of the blind walking off into the desert, he proves himself to be fully Fremen and protects his children not by making them heirs to the throne but by making them Fremen.

And yeah, to a modern audience here on Earth it can look like "Paul conveniently fucks off and doesn't have to raise his newly-motherless children." And we can have a whole discussion about the unexamined ableism of the idea of someone who's gone blind voluntarily choosing death so as to "not be a burden" on their community. But neither of those readings is really the point here. Within the logic of Fremen cultural values, where the survival of the group as a whole is more important than the life of any one individual ("your water belongs to the tribe" etc.) Paul's choice is a willing and intentional self-sacrifice (see also: fedaykin) that wins him huge respect. There's a line in the book about Paul that's like "He would be one of them forever now" and damn if that didn't give me shivers. Like!! The political-symbolic implications!!! Which maybe I'm particularly attuned to because I just wrote a whole fic about what does it mean for an outsider to become Fremen but hmm something something Paul's final* act not being an exercise of Imperial power but an expression of kinship with an oppressed group and that being the thing that's needed to keep his family safe even if he is not physically present with them...IT IS RICH SYMBOLIC TERRITORY.

(*Yes yes I know about events in the next book. Shush.)

This kind of stuff is why I tend to think Chani may start out in a very different place in the story but the end will still be pretty close to what's in the book. It's too thematically powerful and tragic to go any other way.

But also...if they change things around enough that she is still alive at the end of the movie...I won't be sad about it.

#dune #dune messiah #story structure #adaptation #paul atreides #chani kynes #umm #dune messiah spoilers #i guess??#is this really necessarily for a 55 year old book idk

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bones4thecats · 16 hours ago

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New anon appears! (🐝 emoji icon)

Head empty, only TFP S/O with sparklings concept idea from your list! :D

Really thinking about the S/O concept with either Ultra Magnus or Knockout but it's up to you!

Sorry it's my first time ever requesting a fix from someone so my bad if I'm doing it wrong D:

┗ They're Their Dumb Kids; TFP × S/O ┛

Characters: Arcee, Ultra Magnus, Knockout, and Breakdown (Transformers Prime) A/N: Hello there, 🐝Anon! I'm thankful you like that prompt, I was really into the thoughts of them being step-parents to these kids and proving themselves worthy mentally. Hope you do like the Ultra Magnus and Knockout parts! Also, you did perfectly fine on requesting! Not to shabby for a newbie! ⇘ Summary: Having a child and proving your worth to yourself is hard enough, but when that child isn't yours, it can be harder than ever for the person who just earned the title.

Thought I should mention this too, the father's of the sparklings in each pieces are: Arcee's -> Soundwave / Ultra Magnus' -> Dreadwing / Knockout's -> Makeshift / Breakdown's -> Wheeljack

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🏍️ When you joined the Autobots, everyone knew how protective you were of your sparklings. Two little ones, the female you named Compass, and the male your deceased lover happily named Trident.

🏍️ Trident's arms matched Soundwave's, though they were a completely different color. One of the first moments Arcee began to bond with Trident, had been insecure of his appendages, only seeing the evil that came from them. Also known as; his sire.

🏍️ She laid a servo on his shoulder pad and smiled, telling him it wasn't his CNA that defined who he was, but how he acted and what he decided to do. He may look like Soundwave in certain ways, but that didn't mean he was like him in reality.

🏍️ Arcee absolutely adored Compass when she first spoke. She transformed into a tiny computer that could wire itself to any kind of technology and hack like nothing. And, unlike her brother, she had no sense of insecurity, rather, she found it cool that she could do that.

🏍️ Your sparkmate does enjoy spending time with the two, though, sometimes her own insecurities flare up and cause her to believe she would eventually fail in keeping them safe.

🏍️ Every time you three see this, you come up from behind and hug her, giving her so much love that it would make Cupid hurl.

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🎖️ Ultra Magnus was surprised that Optimus allowed you to have your sparkling around, as they were the spawn of a Decepticon. Specifically, Dreadwing. Everyone, even humans, could tell that your female sparkling took the most after her sire.

🎖️ She had the same guarding around her face, including the little movable points around her face plate. She also had fairly large wings for her smaller build. These wings almost reached the size of one of Soundwave's arms, shockingly enough.

🎖️ Ultra Magnus, despite the concerns at first, does enjoy to be around your sparklings. Your two boys, Coil and Backway, both enjoyed to be with him. They were the first to actually accept Ultra Magnus as a sire-figure, which made him loosen up slightly.

🎖️ On the other hand, your only female sparkling, Ember, was more reluctant. She loved her biological sire so much, despite his alliances, and it was hard moving on from him. But, as Ultra Magnus began to lead and show his emotions more with her, she opened up and accepted him.

🎖️ He understands he can't replace Dreadwing, and he does honor him after the war with your sparklings. And it's this actions that brings them closer together. There are no outsiders in your family.

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🪚 Makeshift and you were a match made by Unicron. A complete mess of a bond that ended in a complete blaze. And it was through this bond that three mechs were created, each different completely yet similar by one thing: they were all named by your old friend, Knockout.

🪚 Your oldest, Buzzjaw, your second oldest, Savvy, and your youngest, Snowdrift, all adored Knockout. Because Makeshift was never involved in their lives and development, Knockout became their sire figure through and through.

🪚 Buzzjaw normally keeps to himself, staying just as silent as his sire, but, whenever he spends some one-on-one time with Knockout, he becomes more talkative than a parrot. Meanwhile, Savvy is naturally talkative, and loved to learn about different parts of the Cybertronian body.

🪚 Finally, you have Snowdrift. Snowdrift is by far Knockout's favorite sparkling of yours. He always has a completely blank face due to his mask, but Knockout can tell what emotion Snowdrift feels just by looking into his optics. This makes your youngest feel less like an outsider in his family, and more like a central piece in it.

🪚 You love seeing Knockout telling a story about a successful mission. But, you also love it when your boys end up seeing you buffing your sparkmate down. They have ended up holding back their laughs at seeing the prideful mech all scratched up.

🪚 Oh yeah, he also has this urge to keep the three perfect looking. Meanwhile, each of them (mainly Savvy) will get scratched up so badly that it almost causes Knockout to literally knock himself out

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🥊 You despised Wheeljack with a passion. Back on Cybertron, he was the perfect mech. He was polite and he understood everything you said. But, after the war began, he just completely changed, becoming a bot you couldn't recognize. This led to a fight in which you left his side for the Decepticons, since your closest friends were on that side. Including Breakdown.

🥊 During the fight, Wheeljack had taken two of your boys, Oilbite and Wildfeather. This angered you so much, you had to be put away for a few Earth weeks due to your anger issues. During that time, Breakdown began to bond a lot more with your three other sparklings.

🥊 Riot, your second oldest, did enjoy Breakdown being around. He wanted to smash everything in sight a majority of the time, as he inherited your anger issues and Wheeljack's, but, after speaking with the blue-Decepticon, he learned to control his anger better, which pleased you.

🥊 Whistle, the middle child, just adored Breakdown. She loved seeing him fight and enjoyed spending time with her uncle Knockout. She would spend hours in the medbay with the two of them, hanging around and learning about everything the two knew. It was honestly heartwarming.

🥊 Turbine and Ace, your twin youngests, were the ones that Breakdown was most nervous about being around. But, with the help of Knockout and you, his confidence rose high enough for him to reach out and begin raising the two youngsters. They just love him so much, and his spark almost melted when they called him their sire for the first time.

🥊 On the other hand, the two that Wheeljack took just glared at Breakdown. But, when the war finished and they actually began to speak with you and their distant-siblings, they realized just how much of a crucial role Breakdown played in their growth. Hell, even Wheeljack had to admit, the guy sounded pretty cool.

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ellouchi · 2 days ago

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Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

#the disclaimer was going to be bigger but half way i remembered i had a spine #mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing x reader #x reader

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estrellami-1 · 3 days ago

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Lavender Letters

To those of you who celebrate, who have something worth celebrating… happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else, happy random Thursday!

Part 8

“S-something else?” Steve parrots.

“That’s right. I’m going to put my hand on your body.” He grabs Steve’s wrist, grins at the gasp that gets him. “And you tell me if you like it there. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“So how about here?” He tightens his grip, smiles at the whine Steve lets out.

“Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I know you do, sweet boy. You’re so expressive.”

“Eddie-”

“Mhm?” He pulls back a little, enough to see Steve’s face. Steve just gasps, little breaths in and out. “You like sayin’ my name, sweet thing?” He pulls Steve’s hand behind his back and nudges forward, causing them to brush together. He inhales shakily as Steve moans quietly. “You got an upstairs we can go to, sweetheart? Somewhere I can take you apart?”

Steve sways forward, catching himself just before their lips brush. “I’ve- I’ve got a room upstairs,” he says. “But I’m not- I can’t-”

Eddie pulls his hand to his side again, locks their fingers together. “You can’t?”

“They’re gonna hear.”

“How do you feel about gags?”

Steve shakes his head. Even the thought seems to clear his head some. “No gags. Or- or blindfolds. Or restraints.”

“But my hand around your wrist?”

“That’s fine. You’re touching me. But- but no restraints that aren’t you. Or, um. I could try? If you want me to grab the headboard and not move. I could try.”

Eddie hums. “Nah, I think I like you touching me too much. But we’re out of luck until the party’s over, huh?”

Steve turns sad eyes up at him, nods.

Eddie smiles, touches his finger to Steve’s chin. “That’s alright. We can take it slow for a couple of hours. Get to know each other even better.”

Steve smiles. “Like what?”

Eddie hums exaggeratedly, tapping his finger on his chin. “Favorite sound?”

Steve laughs. “I have two. First is rain. I love hearing rain, especially as I’m falling asleep.”

“Nothing better,” Eddie agrees. “And your second?”

Steve colors. “When Robin sleeps over she talks in her sleep sometimes, and I’ll wake up to hear it. And it reminds me that I’m safe.”

Eddie smiles. “My favorite sound is Wayne’s snoring. It’s not overly loud, but sometimes I’ll sit just behind my door and listen to him sleep until I’m close enough to get back into bed and drift off. I think it’s sweet that Robin’s yours.”

Steve looks down. “Would it bother you if I could never listen to your music? Or never learned how to play DnD?”

“Would you let me rant to you about it? You wouldn’t even have to pay attention, really, or remember anything. Just let me talk at you about it, and don’t get annoyed when I want to talk about it.”

“Of course.”

Eddie grabs his hands, smiles. “Then I promise to do the same about whatever you want.”

Steve grins. “Even if it’s sports?”

“I’ll even watch it with you,” Eddie promises.

“You will?”

“I mean, I’ll at least sit in the same room. No promises that I’ll remember anything.”

“That’s okay. Robin’s the same way. Lucas—did I tell you about him? L?”

Eddie hums. “I think so… most polite? Wicked sharp tongue? Is that him?”

Steve beams. “Yeah, exactly! He likes sports, basketball, and sometimes we’ll play together.” He angles a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a hoop in the back. He’s getting really good.”

“I should hope so, if he’s playing with you. How about football?”

Steve hums. “I like watching it, but playing it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the concussions I have.”

“Wayne likes watching it, too. Maybe you could come over, watch a game with him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Steve’s eyes shine. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He leans sideways against the counter, facing Steve. “Can I ask about the concussions? Or NDAs?”

Steve deflates. “I want to tell you.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Besides the fact that I fully believe the government’s got ears here? I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

Eddie hums, leans closer. “Well either way, I’d like to take you out one day in my van. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, where you can be as loud as you want.” He leans in and whispers, “or say whatever you want.” He pulls back with a smirk. “What do you think?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I think I want to kick everyone out,” he murmurs, “but I also think Robin would never let me live it down if I did.”

Eddie chuckles, pulls away. “Drink your water,” he suggests. “Let’s take some time, dance a little. Socialize. Let Robin know I’m here for a good time and a long time.”

Steve takes a few big gulps of water. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” he says slowly. “In the best way possible.”

Eddie grins sharply at him. “That’s the plan, big boy.”

He winks.

Steve gulps.

This is going to be fun.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic Stobin #this is the most r-rated part of the entire fic #and it’s not even r #I honestly don’t know what it is #Eddie’s having so much fun with Steve I love it #Lavender Letters #starambles #also I DID write an 11th chapter because I have no self-control #so uh. there’s that to look forward to

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that-dreaming-dragon · 2 hours ago

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While my 2.5 lingual-ness is leaning more towards English dominant, I also get frustrated with this situation at times. I mean, it's certainly not an alterhuman only thing since the majority of this world does deal with anglocentrism, and I guess in term, we the alterhuman community suffer from that same issue.

I'd mentioned a bit about it myself, how there are words that I can use in a different language (namely Chinese and sometimes Japanese) that would convey the matter at hand better than in English. Say, for example, divinity and deity. Those words have cultural connotations that present very differently in a Christian-influenced culture (which is also largely anglocentric) when I'm coming from a POV that's asian cultured both in beliefs and linguistical meaning.

I'm in the process of translating Orion Scribner's A Simple Introduction to Otherkin and Therianthropes and gods, I can totally tell you the struggle with that alone. Like, when you talk about shifts in my head I'm just going, wait, how the hell do they speak about in Chinese? Tbf I'm probably one of those who doesn't help enough because I spend the majority of my time in English-speaking alterhuman places. But that's not an alterhuman thing, that's a sort of personal issue that I don't really deal well with Chinese folks. My Japanese is not fluent enough to tell what that part of the alterhuman community would be like. And yes, I'm calling it "that part of alterhuman community" because internationally, there are alterhuman, some use the word, some don't, some have the concept but don't know the word that's available because once again, it's all in English.

I think it's kinda similar for things say, queer identities. My mother and I basically use "middle gender" for me in Chinese because the translation for nonbinary is really clunky to use. I don't even know how to work with the equivalent of "boy/girl/enby" in Chinese because even in English, enby still has quite a bit of issue and many don't use it as well.

I'm getting so off track.

I just feel like, it's not just a language issue. It's also cultural. I feel like a lot of identity talk gets more evolved in English because culturally, there's more acceptance. And it's probably perpetuated by the whole Anglocentricsm thing, but that's a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation I feel like, thus hard to say which is the cause and which is the effect. Let me go back to queer stuff again for a bit. Asian culture-wise, being able to talk about even just being homosexual is already a blessing. How the heck can I talk about aspect or xenogender? If there's no acceptance, there won't be language being built around it.

While alterhuman concepts ironically would be more accepted in Asian culture imo, it also runs the same but different kinds of issues that, it's talking about identity, a community focused culture like some Asian cultures is probably less inclined to make words for it, or if there are already similar concept say from a spiritual aspect, why does it need to be slot into alterhuman (which doesn't have so and so language equivalent of) when it can perfectly talk about the way it is? Meanwhile, actual alterhuman who uses alterhuman language and know about alterhuman in English might not know to make the link, or maybe who knows, it gets called cultural appropriation by English-speaking folks because obviously you can't be yourself, some self-righteous folks will call you names, for wrongfully using your own culture's language.

I don't know, I haven't faced those issues personally, fortunately, even if I'd seen some here and there. And it's really hard to tell both because I have personal issues with what my culture actually is, or I lack confidence on what I can actually speak on because I run the issue of being American Asian, so my perspective is skewed in some way that doesn't always touch enough on those who are more either side instead of in the middle (of nowhere).

Oof, sorry, rambled a lot on this reblog.

Also let me drop this here before I forget again non-English alterhuman communities listing by Lupine Chimere

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

#alterhuman #otherkin #therian #nonhuman #alterhuman community #community writings #anglocentrism #ahpi writing challenge #dream dragon rant

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luv-y0urself · 1 day ago

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18 headcanons for woon's 18th !

day 2 : professional woon . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

army officer!woon x fem nurse!reader , baseball player!woon x fem!reader , barista!woon x fem!reader ♫．genre : slice of life, a little bit of angst for baseball!woon... | wc : 1725 | warnings : third person pov ! usage of y/n, l/n, and noona (only for the barista one). woon is a high schooler in the baseball one, but all others he is an adult (at least 18). mentions of injuries ⏤ nothing specific except woon does receive a knee injury in the baseball one. 𖤐．second post of the series ! sorry this one is a little late; i got a little bit carried away with all of the headcanons :> make sure to let me know which one you guys like the most for the full fic on the seventh day ! more details on the masterlist linked below ↓

ᵔᴗᵔ﹕masterlist | the day before . . . [posted] ! | the next day . . . tba !

army officer woon

army officer x military nurse oh my GOD hear me out guys–

woon is a part of this regiment that often goes out on dangerous missions that often lead to many injuries, which is why the girl would know him so well.

they know each other so well to the point where if he walks in (if he’s walking in; sometime’s he’s on a stretcher with something sticking out from his leg) she recognizes his face and sighs.

“again, officer kim?”

“same ol’, same ol’, nurse l/n. fix me up so i can get out asap, yeah? i don’t like this place very much.”

“i could say the same for the field, officer kim – no need to be stingy about our workplaces.”

he merely laughs, shaking his head as he nearly collapses onto the hospital bed, clutching his wound.

he’s in the medical room so often that she begins to speculate that he gets hurt on purpose so he can come in just to see her – and once she actually accuses him of doing so.

“officer kim,” she says.

“mm?” he has his arm over his eyes while the other is being treated; another gash from an incident that she didn’t want to know specifics about.

“do you get hurt on purpose on the field?”

he takes his arm off his eyes and looks at her like she’s crazy. “excuse me?”

“i mean, if i wasn’t as pretty as i was, i wouldn’t think so, but since i am this gorgeous, it would make sense that you would want to see me every chance you get– i… nevermind.”

he laughs heartily, looking at her with amused eyes. “oh, keep going, nurse l/n. you’re so gorgeous that what?”

“forget it.”

“oh, c’mon, don’t be like that!”

playful bickering – as all military officers do – becomes playful flirting, and before they know it, they fall in love w each other.

but there’s a big mission that’s been assigned to his unit, and he has to go.

he pays one last visit to the medical room, and she rushes out from the supply room where she was checking inventories, her eyes conveying all the worries she has for him.

but officer kim is stoic when he says, “out of all of the worries you have right now, worries about me should be out of the question."

"i’ll be back.”

and he grabs her hand, nods his head to her, and leaves the room. her hand is heavy; she opens it up to find his dogtag with his name and birthdate written on it and a single tear falls from her eyes, praying that he comes back home safely and in one piece.

baseball player woon

i feel like woon would have been such a good baseball player… but unfortunate things have happened to him, causing his career to end early. too early, in fact.

he was on the youth national team and was so good that clubs were lining up to get ready to sign him as soon as his high school career was finished – but at the finals of his high school baseball games, a wild pitch struck him in the knee.

he had to go through surgery but his parents were often busy, which meant that his girlfriend was the one always waiting for him to come out. she had been friends with him ever since they were little, since she lived next door. his parents often told her to go back home, but she refused. she knew that he needed someone by his side, no matter how tough he might act in front of everybody else.

after his surgery ended and he was moved to his hospital room, she didn’t realize the tears that were falling from her cheeks. tears kept rolling down her cheeks as she stared at his leg, covered with bandages and all kinds of medical equipment beeping around her. she was worried – worried for his reaction to his situation, as all he ever knew about was baseball.

he was the one always pulling her out during the week to play catchball with him at the park. he was the one always begging to go to baseball games during the weekends. he was the one who had smiled the brightest when he had gotten a baseball uniform on the day he entered middle school, wearing it to sleep and placing it gently in a case that he kept in his room.

when he wakes up from the anesthesia later in the day and sees his leg covered in all those bandages, i think it would frustrate him a lot – and scare him all at the same time.

i’ve done this for my entire life.

… but i don’t think i can do it anymore.

then what should i do?

what can i do?

“... woon–”

“i… w-why are my legs like this?”

“...”

“i can’t- i can’t move them–”

“woon…”

“it hurts, y/n, it hurts… what do i do? what am i supposed to do? can i not play baseball anymore?”

watching him break apart, crying and asking over and over again what he should do broke her heart. there was nothing she could say that would console him – there was nothing she could do that would make herself understand the pain that he was going through, because that was truly all he knew how to do.

— — —

“although your senses may not be fully restored and you may not be able to move well now, if you continue to rehabilitate and exercise, you should be able to go on with your daily life, but... i think it's better to think that you cannot play on the field anymore.”

“i can’t– i can’t play at all?”

“it seems impossible at this time.”

soon after recovering consciousness, woon’s baseball career was pronounced dead by the doctors who came by during the first rotation. woon had no choice but to accept the fact helplessly in front of the stern doctor, who told him it was impossible for him to continue playing at this stage.

— — —

“y/n.”

“mm?”

“do you think i can go to the college that you want to go to too if i started studying now?

“... of course! you can start now.”

“there has to be something i can do instead of baseball, right?”

“... of course.”

“right? …”

“you’ll be good at anything, woon. i know it.”

woon just stares blankly outside the window.

she’s seen him for over a decade now… but she’s never seen his eyes look so empty.

barista woon

he's friends w this girl that comes to the cafe regularly during his shift – he's too shy to make a move first, but would prolly do it bc his bros told him to (probably myungjae LMFAO)

he would prob use the cup and say like a cheesy ass thing like 'ur cute can i hav ur #?'

anywho. turns out this girl is older than him by a year or two, which makes him call her noona.

they're talking in the cafe during his free time (still platonic friends) but then the latte that she's drinking causes foam to stay on her upper lip. woon, obvi not thinking much of his actions, leans forward and brushes the foam off of her lip, his thumb warm and his touch soft.

“noona, why're you so clumsy?” his smile is shown, and the girls heart goes crazy.

BUT the thing is that this gal already has a boyfriend!!! and she talks about him a lot w woon bc she thinks woon is a true friend :((

okay, but its a rainy day and woon is getting ready to close the shop. he's cleaning the tables at the cafe when he hears the all-too familiar shop bell ring behind him.

he calls out to the person without looking: "the shop is closed right now."

he can hear the footsteps of whoever just decided to come inside anyway and doesn’t turn around, guessing that they would just leave after a minute or two. the rain was pouring outside today, and the cafe was cozy from the heater that he had left on.

warm hands circle around his waist.

something soft falls on his shoulders, and woon freezes like a deer in headlights. he glances at the hands around his waist ⏤ female fingers? they look just like the nails that his noona had shown him a few days ago⏤

woon moves immediately, turning around in her arms, her face looking up at him.

oh... she's drunk.

he can smell the soju coming off of her body. how much had she drunken? woon checked the clock hung across the cafe. it was barely nine thirty... woon hurriedly pulled out a chair, gingerly helping her sit down while kneeling down in front of her.

with his eyebrows knit tightly together, and his voice soft, he asked her calmly, "you okay?"

“woon, he…” a tear slipped down her cheek. “he broke up with me.”

woon narrowed his eyes to figure out who it was for a second before it all made sense.

her boyfriend.

“noona, look, i…” woon pauses, watching her as she tries to stop the tears from falling before he continues to speak. “it’s okay to cry.”

almost immediately, she begins to cry, tears falling freely down her cheeks and her form crumbling. he awkwardly slides into the seat next to her and puts his arm around her, patting her back softly.

“sorry,” she began saying. “i shouldn’t be bothering you when it’s so late.”

“don’t be sorry; what are you sorry about? you’re absolutely fine.” woon watches her shaking form and his heart falls, using his warm hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks, trying to think of something that would make her feel better.

"... you know, noona, when i first saw you, i thought i fell in love," he said, reminiscing. "you were this really pretty, confident woman that lit up the room. you were never rude, and never overstepped someone's boundaries. heck, you didn't even find the note i wrote on the top of your drink weird," he added with a small chuckle.

“... see, what i'm trying to say is, basically, you're amazing. you're confident, kind, pretty, smart – you're everything a person could want from their significant other."

"it's his fault for not seeing that in you. don't blame yourself."

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trans-jon-rights · 1 day ago

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Hm. New Idea. I'm putting this one out there because the Discord buddies said it was good.

Gravity Falls and TMA crossover, but Jon and Martin arrive at different times.

Martin arrives a few years before Jon. He meets Ford, becoming buddies with him. He distrusts Bill a lot, being sometimes reminded of Jonah before he revealed what he was. But Ford is a grown ass adult, and Bill doesn't try to bother him much, so he lets him be.

Jon arrives the day Ford fell into the portal. He tumbles from that exact same portal right before shit hits the fans, and both Martin and Ford end up lost.

He has almost no Eye powers, no knowledge of this strange new place he ended up into, and has to work with Stan to repair the portal and get both Ford and Martin back.

Talk about a Situation to end into.

(I need Martin to become a ruthless killer with Ford and Jon to have to make scams with Stan even though he hates it)

The timeline stays about the same. It takes thirty years for Jon and Stan's combined efforts to bring the other two back. In the meantime, neither Jon nor Martin are ageing due to the Entities still being present.

Just imagine.

The anxiety of Stan seeing himself age during those thirty, long years, unsure if he will manage to bring his brother back or not. Making Jon promise to do it for him if he couldn't go on because, despite himself, he'd learned to appreciate and trust this odd, prickly British guy.

Jon never certain if, when Martin will come back, he will be the same, or if he would have aged like every other person around him, being robbed of this opportunity to grow old together. Martin had never been an Avatar, right ? Jon didn't grow old because he was already dead, in a sense, but what about Martin ?

(Crossing between dimensions was a good metaphor for death and an excuse for Martin's Becoming, but Jon doesn't know that :3)

When twins arrive in Gravity Falls, Jon works at the shop (Stan used his "weird British narrator voice" to make him a tourist guide. For some reason, tourists like his voice).

Also this AU works well with my general idea of Jmart, both of them clinging to that ideal of the other and of what their relationship would be in a non apocalyptic context, making them confront the reality of things when they are reunited again.

Had it truly been their love for each other that had pushed them to work towards being reunited, or had it been the idea that once it would be over, being together would automatically mean they would be guaranteed happiness ?

Also, maybe give them each a period of time during which they were really happy and almost forgot their guilt for the other, and maybe give them some rough time when they're back together. Then, they look back at that and rethink their relationship and their quest, wondering if it really was worth it.

Happy ending for both is expected, of course, just lots of talking things through before. Making them healthy.

And as a bonus, I'm giving them a "Tim" and "Sasha". Not in the sense that they are actual alternate version of Tim or Sasha, in the sense that they are different characters who behave very similarly to Tim and Sasha. Sometimes, they mix up their names, and their face have the biggest grief for some reason.

Bonus point if "Tim" dies in an explosion caused by Martin and Ford and if "Sasha" dies to a shapeshifter. And after that, Jon just guiltily thinks, "At least it didn't take her face this time".

#been a while since i posted an au idea here but look #tell me what you think #max talks #max writes tma #tma #the magnus archives #gravity falls #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #grunkle stan #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #au idea #fic idea #adding that to my endless list of wips

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 1 day ago

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Unspoken Melody p.2

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 1 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

The hotel room was quiet when you stepped in, a sharp contrast to the roaring energy of the concert venue. Your ears still buzzed faintly from the music, the adrenaline of the show coursing through you even as you kicked off your heels and let out a long sigh. Dropping your bag by the door, you glanced toward the bed and smiled.

Mark was there, stretched out with his laptop balanced on his knees. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he barely looked up as you walked in.

“Hey,” you greeted, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” he replied without much enthusiasm, his eyes glued to the screen.

“The concert went great,” you continued, undeterred. “The crowd was incredible. Lando came, like I mentioned, and he brought a friend—Oscar, I think his name was? He seemed really nice. A bit shy, though.”

Mark hummed in response, barely acknowledging your words.

You exhaled softly, trying not to let his indifference sting. You knew he cared in his own way; he just wasn’t great at showing it sometimes.

“It’s such a shame you can’t come to the shows,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He finally glanced at you, giving a half-smile. “Yeah, it sucks. But you know how it is. The volume just messes with my head.”

“I know,” you said quickly, not wanting to push. “I just wish you could experience it. Tonight was one of the best yet.”

Mark nodded, his gaze already drifting back to his laptop.

Before you could say more, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached for it, glancing at the screen. It was your manager.

“Give me a second,” you said, answering the call.

“Hey, you!” your manager greeted, her voice chipper despite the late hour. “Amazing show tonight! Everyone’s raving about it.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, leaning back against the headboard. “It felt great out there.”

“Well, I’ve got some exciting news for you,” she continued. “Lando just called. He wanted to invite you to his next race as a thank-you for tonight. Thought it might be fun for you to see what he does up close.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “Really? That’s amazing!”

“I figured you’d love it,” she said, laughing. “I’ll work out the details and let you know.”

“Thanks so much,” you said, hanging up the call.

You turned to Mark, who was watching you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Lando invited me to his next race,” you said, your excitement bubbling over. “Isn’t that cool? I’ve never been to one before.”

Mark’s expression shifted slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t know about Lando,” he said after a moment.

You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I just—he’s a little too friendly, don’t you think? Are you sure he doesn’t want something more from you?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What? Lando? No, of course not. He’s just a friend.”

Mark’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. Guys like that... they don’t always keep it just friendly.”

You leaned closer, taking his hand in yours. “Mark, listen to me. I love you. I could never think of another man like that. Lando’s just a friend, nothing more.”

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “I guess. I just don’t want anyone crossing boundaries, you know?”

“They won’t,” you said firmly. To reassure him further, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re the only one for me.”

Mark gave a small smile, his tension easing slightly. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you settled back into the bed, your mind drifted to the race. You couldn’t wait to see what that world was like. It was bound to be a unique experience—one you were certain would inspire something new, just as tonight’s concert had.

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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lunnar-phantom2 · 2 days ago

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Ok so...I have four OCs (technically)

Karma,Mogu,Aqua and of course Lunnar

Their design is not 100% yet so they may undergo some changes in the future

And also, my English and my attention is shit, so if there is something weird, let me know and I will fix it

You are already used to Lunna and she needs no introduction

Your favorite ghost XD

Aqua (My little fishboy 🦈)

He would be something like Lunna's best (and probably the only from her perspective) friend and he may seem a bit serious but is a sweetheart

He likes ghost stories and supernatural things in general, he also likes places with lakes, rivers, etc...also he's almost like a cat lady lol

Fun fact:Aqua doesn't know yet, but he is one of several reincarnations of a dragon

Mogu (A Sakura spirit)

She's like a rescued pet for Lunna lol

Ok, ok, ok, jokes aside,in fact she was rescued by Lunna but,despite being close, I doubt that Lunna sees her as a friend

She is kind of uninterested in the world or just lazy but she can get quite excited when it comes to her tree, mushrooms or music(more like she sings)

She's probably the weakest in terms of power on the quartet due to an incident in the past,so when she leaves she's always accompanied (most by Karma)

She is an idol...or a singer...I don't know yet 🫠

Also,apirits are born from feelings, legends, abstract concepts that I don't know how to define 🫠...Anyway!And many of those who formed Mogu are related to beauty,admiration,attention...so she is a little humm...noting modest

Karma,Bad luck,Jinx (he doesn't have a name)

The bad luck spirit that is like Lunnar's big brother or uncle (Although she never agreed with tht definition)

For being a big Ner-I MEAN...A knowledge appreciator,he had a friendship with the moon (night, darkness, she doesn't have a name either) spirit who was Lunna's "stepmother" that's why the brother/uncle relationship

Most of the time he's a spirit without form, but it is more common see him as a cat or a mouse.He only started using a "human" appearance when Lunnar asked him to take care of Mogu and help her

Sometimes he seems to know more than he lets on about the moon spirit disappearance

Also, I like to say that there is something happening between Mogu And him, if you know what I mean ewe

I'm going to take this opportunity to drop a totally random fact about "Lunna's world" XD

So, I think you've probably noticed that in Halloween art, in the background, you can see the Earth, right?Well, that's because Lunna and her gang (except Aqua and sometimes Karma) actually lives on a "magical forest" on the moon 🙃

Yep,you heard right XD

Maybe I'll change this in the future (or not) but for now...It's a long story

So...who is your favorite character?🥹

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xi-xi-chen · 2 days ago

Note

do you think you would ever eventually draw a grown up version of jinx, lux and isha? seeing all the headcanons about them made me start thinking about how lightcannon would handle isha through her teenage/young adult years,,,,, like half of it comes from my desire of wanting to see lightcannon's dynamic as they become a bit more mature and their trauma/hurt is less raw? (if that makes sense? like being able to see them as adults who have grown to be a bit more grounded and secure 🥹) and also wanting to see what isha would look/act like as she grows up bc ... she was robbed of that in canon 🥲🥲🥲

btw i don't mean this as a request or me pressuring u to draw them !! i just wanted to yap about them bc im in my lightcannon + isha sappy feels 🫠

(sidenote: do we have a name for the lightcannon + isha found family relationship?? they literally mean everything to me ☹️💕)

Aw, no problem, I've been wanting to get around to this anyway. I went back and did a rough character study and tried to keep as much of the same features in. However, I tried not to worry too much since this is essentially a transformation from child to semi-adult.

The inspo mostly came from my own hairstyle, I've got curls similar to Isha's at the top, but it strengthens at the ends and back. So with enough length, I sometimes put tiny braids in, so that's where this particular design comes from, of course, with some help of reference from chosen Pinterest images, too. I also wanted to leave Isha's imitation, I think she'd still want to copy Jinx's hairstyles once in a while and implement the same cuts on a smaller scale.

As far as maturity goes, I think they'd communicate pretty efficiently, but of course, to a degree for some needed independence once in a while and all that jazz. However, I imagine they'd also be a tightly knit together family, close enough that they'd want to always carry something around that reminds them of the other. I think for Isha, that's in the form of images and colors, so hair dye and accessories.

I see Jinx growing out her hair eventually, like a wolf cut style, because even I miss my long ass hair from way back when, but Iove the tapers, so a shaved side of the head would follow along. Lux would probably get the cut just shy of the chin and finally use hair dye for the first time. But I can't decide if she'd go as far as to get an undercut as well. I think Jinx would want some kind of trinket for them, so she'd probably go onto wearing piercings, and they'd follow the idea. So, yeah, just little things that represent one another.

These are just a very few rough drafts, I really wanted to draw them, so I'm glad you've shared your thoughts with me, it helped me push through to get something up and running.

(I don't know any new names

for the lightcannon+Isha 😔)

#xi-chat

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d0llsuicide · 12 hours ago

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cam girl | b.e

I texted Billie, asking her if we were still meeting at that one bar like we planned.

She replied positively, and I started to get ready.

I knew she had found out about my secret—about my career.

I thought she would judge me, but she was actually chill and impressed by it.

I began to get ready, trying not to overthink what she might ask me. That was the reason I was meeting her—because of a question she’d been “dying to ask.”

I curled my hair and did some natural makeup.

I grabbed my bag and my keys, and left.

After a 25-minute drive, I arrived.

I entered the dark, noisy bar.

My eyes landed on Billie, and I walked toward her.

She was sipping some kind of drink, so I decided to order the same, as she looked at me with excitement.

I sat down and smiled widely at her.

“So, what do you want to know?”

“If I’m being honest with you,” she said, speaking quickly, “I spent the last three evenings looking at your page, and honestly, you’re mesmerizing.”

I couldn’t help but blush—it felt so nice to hear.

“Aw, thanks so much, Billie. I appreciate that a lot. Sometimes it’s hard to please people, so your comments genuinely mean a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome!” she said. “So, my question is: Is it possible for us to do a show together, even if I’m not a cam girl?”

Her question took me off guard. I was shocked at first, but the idea didn’t sound that bad.

I told her to come over later, just wear some shorts and a top—nothing crazy.

I still had to think about what kind of live stream we would do.

We both decided to go back to my place to chill before tonight.

I texted her, telling her we’d do a fashion show with some outfits and cosplays I had recently bought.

It was now 10 PM, and she texted me that she was in front of my door.

I let her in and led her to my “cam room.”

It was all dark pink, with LED lights, a mirror, pillows, and a big screen with a camera so I could see people’s comments.

I made Billie feel comfortable and asked if I could start the live stream. She nodded, and I hit “start.”

“Hi, guys! Welcome to my live. Tonight, we’re going to do a fashion show for you, and I say ‘we’ because I have a special guest: my friend…”

I paused for a moment, trying to come up with a fake name.

“Claudia!” I said with a smile.

Billie appeared in front of the camera wearing a full black Venetian mask.

“Hi, guys!” she said shyly.

I decided to do all the talking.

“So, as I already told you, we’re going to do a fashion show. My first outfit is this black mini skirt with a rhinestone bikini top.”

I moved away from the camera to change into the new outfit.

“So, what do you guys think?” I shouted, turning around.

I saw people giving me tokens.

“And what about you, Claudia? What do you think?” I turned to her as she looked speechless.

“You’re so hot,” she said.

“Aw, thanks, Claudia. Would you like to try on some of the outfits?” I asked with a smile.

“Yes, sure,” she replied, and I handed her a more basic outfit.

She went to change, and 15 seconds later, she reappeared, wearing blue oversized jeans with a white crop top.

“You look stunning,” I said.

“Thanks, baby,” she answered.

I came closer and whispered an idea in her ear.

She nodded, telling me she was okay with it.

“Alright, guys. For 1k tokens, Claudia and I are going to make out.”

I waited a few minutes until someone offered 1k tokens.

“Well, looks like someone wants some spice in their life,” I said with a wink, turning my head toward her.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fluff

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creepyclothdoll · 24 hours ago

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I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying,

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her.

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did.

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore.

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing.

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter.

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped.

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird.

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day.

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her.

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her.

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand.

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains.

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles.

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake?

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life.

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly.

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again.

She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most.

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed.

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air.

“It’s cold,” she said.

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key.

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain.

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone.

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair.

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air.

Then twelve.

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air.

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky.

Then there was nothing.

#short story #original story #horror story #horror #dark fiction #surreal horror #psychological horror #dark fantasy #horror writing #creative writing #storytelling #Angel #tw: ableism #tw: bullying #tw: murder #Casadastraphobia

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