#And actually letting Peeps in and his words sink into his bones - and as he says watching Peepers work so hard but still just be a minion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junnieverse · 9 months

Text

RAINY DAY ➳ SEOK MATTHEW

➙ synopsis: after your plans get cancelled due to bad weather, you found this to be the perfect opportunity to stay in and relax at home. your best friend matthew unexpectedly visiting just made it even better.

pairing: seok matthew x afab!reader

genre: fluff, crack

word count: 3.0k

warnings: not proofread, light cussing, mentions/making food, bestfriend!matthew

a/n: oh just matthew and y/n making me wish I had what they do

Staring out the window from your apartment you let out a sigh as the rain ran down the glass.

"Well, there go my plans," you whisper to yourself as you watch pedestrians squirm around the street trying to seek shelter from the rain.

Letting out a laugh you can't help but note how ironic this all seemed.

You were a homeboy so if anything, plans being cancelled was one of your favourite things, but the one time you actually looked forward to going out to spend time out with friends, the weather was not in your favour.

As disappointing as this all was, you still wanted to make the most of this rainy day in.

Letting out a huff in defeat, you managed to change into some comfortable clothes.

Grabbing an oversized black hoodie from your closet, which you had 'borrowed' from your best friend, paired with some grey sweatpants to finish off your little look.

Mindlessly walking around your apartment in your slippers you throw yourself on your couch landing with a 'plop' as you scroll through your social media to keep yourself occupied for the time being.

Coming across a video of someone baking muffins you decide this would be a great time to get back into baking and treat yourself to some chocolate chip muffins too.

You made your way to the kitchen as you got all the necessary ingredients to make your dessert.

Quickly getting started, you easily breeze through the process of making the batter and adding it into the tray skillfully remembering the special recipe your grandmother taught you as a child.

Feeling proud of the progress you made and double checking the batter, you slip the tray into the pre-heated oven to let the muffins get to work.

The door bell suddenly chimes as your ears perk up at the sound of it leaving you wondering at who it could be considering you weren't expecting any visitors.

Going over to the sink, you rinsed your hands and proceeded to wipe them with a cloth making sure they were all clean clean sticky-free.

Taking of the apron you had been wearing while baking, you hung it in on your kitchen wall hanger and made your way to the door.

Silently checking the peep hole for safety reasons, a large smile soon graced your face at the appearance of the familiar face behind the door.

"MATTHEW!" you excitedly greet your best friend who in turn gave you the biggest smile.

"(Y/N)!" Matthew says happy to see you.

Opening the door a bit more, you step to the side letting Matthew step inside and make sure to close the door behind you.

You soon wrapped your arms around Matthew engulfing him in a bone crushing bear hug which he gladly reciprocated being able to clearly tell you were happy to see him.

No doubt so was he, you were one of his favourite people after all.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting family?" you ask him curiously as you pull away from the hug.

You soon make your way into the kitchen making sure to check on the muffins in the oven that were still baking and decided to start cleaning up the mess that you'd made while preparing the muffins.

Taking off his sneakers, Matthew puts on his slippers he kept here and followed me into the kitchen as he leaned on the counter watching me clean up.

"Didn't you get my text?" He asked sounding rather confused as he dipped his finger in the left over muffin batter humming in approval to the taste.

"My phone was on mute," you respond.

Grabbing your phone that lied on the counter you turn on the screen and there, in fact, Matthew has left you a message.

"Oh-" I say nodding.

"I wont be visiting my family today because of the weather so we decided to reschedule. I'll be coming over to see my favourite friend." He says repeating the text he sent you verbally as he brightly smiled.

"Matthew- I'm your only friend." you playfully remark holding in your laughter but burst out dying when you saw how quickly his smile faltered at your words.

"Haha, very funny." He retorts back sarcastically but laughing softly too.

"Want anything to drink? I've got muffins baking in the oven." you tell him diverting the conversation to something else.

"Hot chocolate would be great. Wait, is that my hoodie-" he asks pointing at you as he looks at you in shock.

"Huh-" you pause your movements like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You're a thief! This entire time I thought I'd lost it, you literally said you hadn't seen it!" he says as his tone starts getting sulky as he felt betrayed by you.

"Well you see the thing is..." you slowly started off by saying before you crept to the door and ran away to your bedroom hiding in your closet.

Matthew's steps were heard coming as your bedroom door busted open, peeking through the closet door you wondered whether or not he'd manage to find you.

"Come out I'm not gonna take the hoodie from you." Matthew says looking around the room as you remained silent.

"(Y/n)..."

He let out a sigh as he took one last look at my closet, having already found where I'd been in hiding but choosing to not come to me directly, "Guess I'll just leave and take my warm cuddles with me."

"Damn Matthew gives the best cuddles and this is the perfect weather!" you think to yourself cursing at his tempting offer

"No wait- don't leave!"

You exclaim as you jump out the closet.

Matthew smiles victoriously as you roll your eyes.

"In all honesty... I slipped and suddenly I was wearing it. I'm keeping it though. Not my fault your clothes are comfortable," you say avoiding eye contact with him as you mumble the last part.

"You don't have to give it back, you look cute in it so keep it." He says confidently before ruffling your hair leaving you a flustered mess.

He then slung his arm over your shoulder and proceeded to place a kiss on the side of your head which in turn you playfully rubbed off gently hitting his chest.

"Dude I told you to stop doing that!" you yell throwing daggers at him with your eyes.

"What, I'm just showing my best friend some love," he teases rubbing the area on his chest you had hit.

He then started provoking you making pouty duck lips at you with smooching sounds.

"I swear, Seok Woohyun, I'm gonna kick your ass right now!" you playfully threaten him.

"Oh not the government name coming out!" he continued teasing.

Just as you were about to kick him, he successfully dodged your kick and ran out the room laughing as you ran after him into the kitchen.

Grabbing the wooden spoon, Matthew soon raised his hands up as he admitted to surrendering and you smiled at your own victory.

"Well you couldn’t possibly attack me (y/n)," he says flashing his infamous eye smile.

He knew it was one of your weaknesses and you ended up giving in placing the spoon down on the counter as you rolled your eyes at how weak hearted you were when it came to your best friend.

Matthew then playfully proceeded to create a heart shape with his arms over his head and you simply ignored his antics.

Remembering the muffins thay were baking, you got your oven mitts on and checked the muffins which were finally ready.

Taking them out the oven, you placed them on your kitchen island leaving them to cool off.

"You should get started on the hot cocoa while I go look for movies we can watch." You suggest and he nods making his way to your cupboards to grab two mugs.

Leaving the kitchen, you make your way to your living room turning on your tv as you scroll through your Netflix looking for something you could watch with Matthew.

Matthew soon came into the room with two mugs in his hands and gave one to you which you were quick to thank him for as you gently blew at the hot drink that had mini marshmallows inside.

"I'll be right back." you announce placing your drink down on your coffee table.

As Matthew got comfortable on the couch under the blankets he'd brought from your room, you went back to the kitchen placing a few muffins on a plate so you and Matthew could enjoy them while watching your movie.

You made your way out the kitchen and placed the plate on the coffee table beside your mug and sat beside Matthew on the couch as he pulled you closer wrapping you in the blanket to keep warm.

Getting comfortable, you enjoyed your warm beverage as you leaned your head on Matthew's shoulder who quietly ate his muffin completely focused on the film.

The rain continued tapping against the windows as the sky grew darker as night time was coming in.

Matthew could be annoying but because he was cute you let him off the hook most time.

Who needs a boyfriend when you have your male best friend to shower you with the affection and company you need on a rainy day.

80 notes · View notes

strangelysamantha · 3 years

Text

crashing ☆

rafe cameron x gn!reader.

warnings: reader gets injured, car crash, swearing.

words: 3,106.

summary: rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

request? no! requests are opened!

a/n: use of they/them pronouns. like and comment if you enjoy this story! thanks <333

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

“alright baby. of course. i love you!! yes, i’m leaving now.” rafe was on the other side of your phone, ensuring that you were ready for your dinner date. the two of you have plans to meet at the figure eight. you will eat at a nice restaurant, and then finish the date off with a scroll through the park while watching the sunset. rafe had planned the whole thing out, excited he could finally show you how much you meant to him. rafe smiled, “okay babe. i’ll see you in a few. i can't wait to see your precious face.” heat rushes to your face because of rafes words. “see you in a few.” you hang the phone up, grabbing your car keys.

you walk to your car that is sitting in your driveway. you hop in, starting your car. you put your seatbelt on, using your phone, you do a map search to the location rafe had sent you. you turn the music up slightly. you check behind you for passing cars or pedestrians, and when the coast was clear, you pulled out of your driveway, and started the drive to rafe.

you had only been driving for five minutes. you were caught at a red light. your light turned green so you pressed the gas to go. immediately a large black car t boned straight into you, hitting you head on. luckily, it had smashed into the passenger side, but the weight from the other car caused your car to shift, making you to hit your head against your steering wheel, and the car's window. the car crashed into a light pole. you were on the border between the cut and figure eight. nobody was ever there unless they were passing by. you struggled to look up, trying to see if you knew who had crashed into you.

the car that slammed into you looks vaguely familiar. you understood why when the guy who jumped out of the car was none other than ward, rafe’s father. you frowned. he rushed to your car, ready to yell at you but panicked when he saw who you were. ward immediately ran back to his car. he hopped into his car, speedily driving away.

you feel around for your phone. when you finally find it, your screen is cracked, and the screen is black. it won’t turn on. the phone must have slipped from your cup holder onto the side of the door, causing it to break. you drove your car forward so you weren’t positioned into the middle of the street. you shut your car off. your head begins to feel light headed, you close your eyes, trying to make the pain minimal. your eyes shut, and you could feel yourself slowly passing out. you try to stay awake, but the sleep engulfed you.

rafe was panicking. you were never late. well, yes you run late, but never without texting first. anytime you ran into trouble you would immediately message him and let him know. he hated this. he didn’t know what he should do. he tried to call your phone but it went straight to voicemail. he exited the restaurant, searching for either you or your car but he couldn’t find either. he frowned to himself. did you intentionally miss dinner? did he do something wrong? rafe was scared, what if you were in danger?

rafe pulled his phone out. he set his feud aside, calling pope. pope glanced at the caller id that was currently ringing his phone. he was shocked to say the least. “rafe?” pope questioned through the phone. pope didn’t want to answer but if rafe truly needed something from pope, he wouldn’t hesitate to get it from him in person. he knew it would be easier if he just answered and figured out what he needed. “pope?” rafe bombarded pope with questions about you; and your whereabouts. pope was confused. he hadn’t seen you since this morning.

“i’m sorry rafe, but i haven’t seen them since early this morning. i’m down the street from their house if you want me to knock on their door?” rafe sighed, “please. see if they are home.” pope nodded. “alright one second.” pope rushed to your front door. he knocked three times. “the car isn’t here, they seem to have left.” rafe smiled. “okay. thank you, pope. i appreciate it, man.” rafe felt relieved. “no problem.”pope hung up. you had actually left to meet him at the restaurant. but if that was true, why weren’t you at the restaurant yet?

rafe decided to stay put. he got confirmation that your car was gone. that shows you had safely left your house. if you don’t show in the next ten minutes then rafe would go looking for you.

you kept dozing in and out of consciousness. after the third time of passing out, you actually stay awake. you open your car door, stumbling out of it. your head hurt, and you felt light headed. you look around, no civilians. you yell out, but no one is around to hear. “HELLO??” you walk away from your car, just a little bit. you take in your surroundings. you walked back to your car.

you try to turn your car back on but the engine is stalled, it doesn’t even sputter again. you sink into the seat, laying your head on the head rest. you pull down the little mirror, examining your face. you hadn’t noticed, but the top right of your forehead was bleeding. It looked to have a pretty big gash. you had a bruise on your left cheek from when your head slammed against the steering wheel. you look at the time, noticing that it was ten minutes past your date with rafe. you jumped out the car, walking towards your house once more.

before you could step inside, you ran into pope. you noticed he peeked through your window. “peeping pope, why are you looking through my window?” you laugh at the added nickname. he stayed still, thinking of an explanation. “rafe called me saying you were late to something and he was worried.” he finally turned around, glancing at you. “what! what happened to your face?” he rushed towards you automatically inspecting the cut and bruises.

“i got in a car accident, ward cameron t boned into me.” you continued, “he got me good. slammed my head against the window and the steering wheel.” pope shook his head, panicked. “we have to get you to the hospital! you had two blows to your head; that's double the chance of internal bleeding.” pope helped you, carrying you inside his dad's car. he speedily drove you to the hospital, signing you in. they took you back, while pope stayed seated in the waiting room.

someone was going to have to call rafe; and it certainly wasn’t going to be pope. before going into the back room, you had handed pope your phone. he plugged it into the quick charging station to see if it was dead. sure enough, the low battery symbol turned on. the phone automatically turned on, showing the numerous mixed texts from rafe. pope ignored them, not wanting to be the one to answer them since it wasn’t his phone.

rafe decided to check your location one last time. the first few times he had checked, it said your location services were off. he didn’t know why it said that, he honestly believed it to be some glitch. rafe’s air got stuck in his throat when he saw your location had updated to being inside the outer banks hospital. he jumped in his car, not even thinking twice. he drove straight to you.

he gave himself a prep talk, telling himself to just remain calm and to see what was going on. he walked into the hospital, his eyes searching for you. he didn’t see anyone he recognized until he saw pope, with your phone situated in his hand. he walked towards pope, snatching the phone from his arm. “why do you have this?” pope shook his head, muttering under his breath. “shit.”

“come on pope. spit it out.” pope shook his head. “rafe, before you do this protective bullshit, just know i’m actually the one who saved them.” rafe stared at pope, confused. “saved them? from what? what do you mean saved them?” rafe questioned pope, “someone crashed into them while they were driving to you. they found me and i rushed them here.” rafe stared at pope. “how bad is it?”

pope shrugs. “i’m sorry, i really don’t know much. they said they were t boned, their head hit the window and the steering wheel. we drove by the car, it’s totaled. crashed into a pole.” rafe continued to stare at pope with wide eyes. “what… how long ago was this?” pope looked out the hospital windows. “a little after they left their house i’d say. it was a seven minute drive from my house to the crashed car, so i’d say five minutes.” rafe sat in the seat directly to popes left.

rafe was breathing erratically. his mind running wild with the amount of possible outcomes. the nurse walks out into the waiting room; and calls your name. rafe immediately stands up walking forward. “we believe the car crash caused them to undergo serious head trauma. no signs of internal bleeding; but we are still checking everyone in a while. you can go back and talk to them if you want.” the nurse smiles softly. rafe looks back at pope, and pope nods his head.

rafe continues, following after the nurse as she leads him to your waiting room. when he walked inside, you were peacefully sleeping. “they should be waking up soon. we truly believe that they will be okay.” rafe nodded at the nurse, watching as she left him. rafe’s hand reached up to yours, grabbing it. he scooted the chair closer to the bed. rafe quickly texted pope saying that he was okay to leave, and that he would keep pope updated.

the wait at the doctors felt like hours, but rafe stayed with you the whole time. he had sat on the chair by your bed, his hand always holding yours. the nurse comes back in. “i’m sorry sir, but visiting hours are over, usually we would allow people to stay the night but in this case they really need rest and if they wake up and you’re here; they will force themselves to talk to you.” rafe frowned, “they have a chance to wake up, and now you want me to go home?” the nurse frowns at him. “i’m sorry, but they need to sleep as much as they can, you can see them bright and early tomorrow morning at seven am.” rafe slowly lowers his head. “okay.”

he walks out of the hospital room, and to his car. he decides he will go home, get clothes prepared for you, and will try to figure out your car situation. then he would sleep, wake up, and meet you at the hospital right when visitation opens. he put his seatbelt on, driving home.

when rafe reached his house he realized that his dad's car had crashed in the front. it looked gruesome. rafe walked inside, greeting his dad. his dad nodded his head in response, walking away. rafe went straight to wheezy, his sister. he knocked on her door and went to open it. “rafe?” she questions him. he looked around. “what happened to dad's car?” he hoped wheezy knew. she tilted her head inviting him inside her room.

she began to whisper. “okay, so basically like our dad t boned someone on the outside of the cut, and he said it’s completely the other person's fault; but sarah believes that’s not true unless he didn’t actually t bone someone, and he was actually just getting brake checked on the highway. how could it not be his fault?” wheezy looked up at rafe’s face and was utterly shocked by his expression.

“rafe? why are you looking at me like that?” wheezy tilted her head to the side, confused. “our father is the reason..” rafe shakes his head, now pacing up and down the floor. you were in the hospital, because of his father. he filled wheezy in, telling her about what happened with you. she gasps in shock. “what are you going to do?” wheezy watched him, he was frantic. “i’m, i think i’m going to confront him.” wheezy half smiled, “okay. you got this! good luck!”

rafe left his sisters room and head to his fathers office. he was always scared of his father, now more than ever, but he needed answers. he knocked three times on the door, and his father opened it, to reveal himself. “hello rafe.” he walks inside, sitting on the chair in front of his desk. “dad, i know you are the reason the car is crashed; and you are the reason someone very important to me is in the hospital.” his dad stood up, straightening his back. “no. they twisted the story, now out. i won’t have you critique me in my own room.” rafe wanted to stand his ground, but he knew he should back down.

he didn’t want to waste all his energy, he still needed to prepare to see you. rafe went straight to his room, picking out a pair of his sweatpants, and a hoodie for you to change into after you get released from the hospital. he put the extra clothes including a pair of your socks into a baggy. rafe speedily changed into pajamas, and hopped into bed. hoping the morning would come faster.

rafe woke up at 6:20am. he had taken a quick shower and changed into new clothes. he grabbed your bag of clothes and hopped into his car. he drove straight to the hospital. he had arrived five minutes before visitation started.

at 7am on the dot, rafe was walking to your room. you were awake, the frown on your face caused his heart to drop. “hey baby.” you glanced up at him and softly smiled. “hey rafe.” he smiles in return. “how are you? i brought you extra clothes.” he lifted the baggy up, before setting it on the extra chair. you reach your hand out to him, and he swiftly moves closer to you. he pulls the chair up once again, sitting directly by your side. “i would have stayed here all night but i was kicked out.” you nod at his words, “sound about right.”

he smiles, his hand tracing shapes on your palm. “how are you feeling?” you wait. “i’m okay. the doctor said the worst thing i have is a concussion. they said if all the other tests come back good, then i’ll be cleared to go home.” he nods smiling, “yay! we’ll be able to take you home!” you bite your lip containing your smile, but it quickly turns sour. you frown at him.

“i’m sorry, rafe.” you look away from him, avoiding eye contact. “for what?” he questions, his heart speeding up scared at what you are about to apologize for. “for missing our date, i really wanted to go.” you frown. he cups your chin. “it’s okay, trust me. i already have it rescheduled,” he looks over at you. “so once you get better, we can go on like we originally planned.” the room went silent, the only thing being heard was the heart rate machine slowly beeping.

“rafe i love you.” he smiles. “i love you too.” you nod contentedly. the doctor walks in, “good morning. today you’ll be able to go home. you seem to only be suffering from a concussion. you’ll have to stay home and rest, don’t do too much or else you’ll be delaying the inevitable. the less time you relax, the longer you’ll be suffering.” rafe talked to the doctor as you played with the tape from the iv inside your hand.

rafe nodded. the nurse came over to you, taking the iv out, as well as the square patches that covered your chest. she left, shutting the door, allowing you to get dressed in new clothes. you frown, the medicine they gave you makes you feel slightly sluggish. “i’ll help you, don’t worry.” rafe untied the medical gown, he slipped it off. he grabbed the hoodie, placing it over your head. you slip your arms through the holes, rafe’s smell surrounding you.

you sit up in the bed, your feet over the edge. you hiss at the cold floor which hits your sock less feet, making you cold. rafe slid his sweatpants on to you. you go to stand up, but he stops you. “let’s put your socks on first, the hospital floor is cold.” you sit back down on the bed. his hand reaches for your foot, it is cool around his hand. he slid your socks on, and then the sweatpants. finally putting your shoes on. “thank you rafe.” he tied the plastic bag shut, it now filled with your old clothes. “anytime baby, i’m always here for you.” you stand up, your hand slipping into his hand, his arm stabilizing you.

the nurse walked in. “the medicine we gave you should be wearing off shortly. that’s why you seem so… out of place.” the nurse nodded, signing you out. the nurse walked you to rafes car. fear began to creep up, now nervous to be in a car again. “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.” you nod. you sit yourself in the passenger seat. rafe thanked the doctors, before running to his side of the car. he hopped in, putting his seatbelt on. he looked over to you, making sure you were okay. he drove extra careful, going straight to your house.

once you arrive at your house, the medicine wears off allowing you to be able to be yourself. you walked to your front door. rafe used his spare key to unlock the door. once inside you go straight to your room, rafe following after you. you lay down on the bed, you pat the spot by you; and rafe sat down by you. he cuddled with you. his head finding its way in your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso.

after a few minutes of silence you spoke up. “your dad is the one that hit me. he ran through a red light.” rafe frowned against your neck, whispering. “i know.” you nod, your hand running through his hair. “okay.” you smile softly, closing your eyes. falling asleep with rafe by your side.

<33

334 notes · View notes

nkhrchuwuya · 2 years

Text

between friends

bungou stray dogs | G | 963 words nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

the world is so entrenched in courtship and flirtation, an experience you feel a disconnect with. chuuya shows you that love isn’t always just about romance. (chuuya ft. aroace reader ft. platonic cuddles)

you bid goodbye to your friend at the end of your little lunch date, on account of having another appointment. after lunch, you’re supposed to meet with chuuya, who’s agreed to help you out in something you’re working on.

but before you can go, your friend laughs a small, pitying laugh in your direction, one that makes your heart stop in your chest before she can even utter the words.

“what a waste that you’re aroace when you have that nakahara guy all over you. if i were you i’d ask for a ring already. ahh, how cruel life can be.”

something ugly sits in your chest afterwards.

and then, when you’d finally met, they’d mistaken the both of you for dating again.

today, they’d mistaken the both of you for dating for again.

“they” meaning the retail worker at the fancy wine shop chuuya had brought you to today. a side-trip in exchange for helping you out on a little pet project you’d been working on.

“oh, we’ve got the best wines if you’re planning a romantic candlelit date. right here we have—”

“not a date,” you cut the worker at the shop off. things like these don’t make you too uncomfortable anymore, but the expectation that everything done by two people is for a couple is still quite a sting. “he’s my friend.”

chuuya looks like he wants to hold your hand and squeeze it, but knowing it’ll just make them misunderstand more, he decides to divert attention to himself instead.

“i’m looking for a wine with structure, something with a long finish…”

the employee looks you up and down once before turning to chuuya, and the weight of his stare leaves you curling in on yourself the entire afternoon.

“this better be good stuff,” chuuya hums to himself, as he plucks the wine glasses out of the cabinet you keep them in at your little home. “it didn’t cost much, but did he tattle off while recommending it, so if it doesn’t keep up to standard…”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, settling on the couch, a pillow against your chest. the feeling from the wine shop still hangs over your bones, and when chuuya brings over to the living room the two filled glasses of wine, the feeling only returns.

“dude at the shop get to ya?” he asks, placing your glass on the coffee table as he sits next to you. he swirls the wine languidly in its glass, waiting for you to answer.

you shake your head. “i was worried about you, actually.”

“me?” chuuya blinks. “think that pipsqueak can do anything to me?”

“not that, silly,” you correct, peeping out from behind the pillow to gently knock him with your knee. “like, aren’t you going to get into a relationship?”

chuuya pauses for a moment, as if letting your question sink in. you dread the silence that follows. you pick up the full wine glass and take a luxurious swig of it instead.

“woah, that actually tastes good,” you say idly, hoping to shift the conversation.

but then a sour expression crosses chuuya’s face. like he’s connected the dots. “you’re worried being friends with ya will stop me from getting someone?”

you laugh at the accidental implication in that sentence. “awfully confident of you, chuuya.”

“don’t change the subject,” he frowns. “ya get what i mean.” he takes a sip of his wine too, and you watch him closely.

chuuya is an attractive man. he’s rich, he’s powerful, he’s strong, he’s a gentleman (when it matters), and he’s got an aura around him that’s magnetic. sure, you’re aroace, but you can recognize that in him at least.

surely he deserves better than being stuck with people thinking he’s with someone like you?

maybe your friend was right.

before you can get a word out, chuuya has pinched your cheek from across the sofa, making you yelp. he doesn’t let go until you’re hitting his wrist with your hand, to which he shakes his head.

“tell me what’s bothering ya so i can help ya.”

“this is a waste of time,” you say faintly. “aren’t you better off spending time with someone who can love you back?”

that makes chuuya’s eyes widen. “ya sayin’ you don’t give a shit about me now?”

“what?” you shake your head. “of course not! you’re my dear friend. i care about you.”

“then what’s this nonsense about not loving me back?” he says. a grin fills his face, one so silly it makes you smile too. “dunno about you, that seems like love to me. friendly love.”

you laugh. “since when did you become such a philosopher about love, huh?”

“right when it’s needed,” he grins. he puts down the half-empty glass of wine, and then, reclining on the sofa, opens his arms wide for you to snuggle into.

you put your wine glass down too and accept his embrace. you settle your ear against his chest, where you hear the even beat of his heart. he begins to run his hand slowly down the locks of your hair; a comforting motion that you’re sure will lull you to sleep.

“we have to get working soon,” you say, even if your eyes are already closed.

chuuya pinches your arm lightly. “rest first. we’ll get on with it when we wake up.”

you take a long, deep breath. not a lot of people will understand how you experience the world, and many of them will continue to refuse to see it through your eyes.

but you’ve got chuuya on your side.

“thanks for being cool about… me,” you say, surrendering to the drowsiness. chuuya laughs, and pats your hand gently with his.

he squeezes you tighter in the embrace. “stupid.”

#nakahara chuuya #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #💌 chuuya lovemail #*drops the 'kouyou was an amazing well-rounded teacher for chuuya' headcanons everywhere i can*#GUYS THE ENDING IS stupid (affectionate)#PLEASE DONT TAKE IT NEGATIVELY #so:alternate #genre:comfort #rating:G

74 notes · View notes

monodipita · 3 years

Text

PLATINUM (Yandere!Jotaro x Reader)

Hello! I just wanted to mention that this is a part of a series on AO3. All of the works are old and were written back when I had a funky writing style, so I don't believe they're worthy of being put on my Tumblr right now. Check out the series though if you enjoyed this one! <3

Word count: 1,740

Warnings: Yandere content warning, blood, gore, mean yandere Jotaro

Of course you couldn't expect a response from Jotaro over something as big as this... but this man never really said anything at all or did anything at all for that matter. The relationship felt one-sided as is - and on top of that, Jotaro didn't seem to be interested at all in having a relationship. You felt unwanted. And now, it was finally time to put your foot down. This guy was still not saying anything.

"Look at you!" You exclaimed at him with a swell of upset and fury, "you aren't even saying anything! It's like you didn't want to be in a relationship with me to begin with!"

Nothing. Not even a change of facial expression - he just stared at you with his usual expression, half of it covered by his ridiculous hat. One, two. . . no. You merely scoffed and flipped his hat off of his head, glaring at his newly-exposed face before turning on your heel and walking away from him. "No more, Jotaro! No more, we are through!"

But that wasn't the end of Jotaro it seemed. He began to tail you, there wasn't even a pause to go pick up his hat. He just started following you without any motive. It was so creepy. You knew it was him without even having to turn around because you could hear the jingling of his chains colliding with one another, it meant that he was matching your brisk pace, trying to reach out to you, but you wouldn't hear it nor would you fall for it.

You needed to run.

Soon after the thought, your body began to pick up the pace to match what you currently felt at the moment. You ran as quickly as you could muster in your school uniform to the nearest bathroom, your heart beating like drums in your ear, fear quickly rising in the beating organ as you hit the door of the bathroom, pushing yourself inside and kicking your way to the bathroom stall. No one was there but you—and that wasn't good at all. Maybe he would leave you alone then? You didn't even know if he followed you to begin with when you started running, but your safe assumption was that he did. At least you were offered this brief moment of respite in this bathroom stall. The silence was both unnerving and calming at the same time. You felt as if you couldn't sit still.

"[Y/N]. I know you're in there." Jotaro's voice sounded eerily calm from this distance. "I'll go in there if I have to. Don't make me do it."

Now you felt the need to panic. You were worried about what he was going to do to you once you stepped out of this very stall. Beat you? Or worse, even kill you? While you weren't afraid of him going far or even doing something like that, for some reason you just felt. . . scared. You didn't want to and felt like you couldn't face him without something bad happening. You stayed still in your spot and didn't make a single word from the stall that you sat in. You hoped that he just... wouldn't come in here, even if he was threatening you with it.

"[Y/N]."

...

"[Y/N]."

No, no matter how irate his voice became, you never wanted to leave this spot. You squeezed your eyes shut and curled up on the toilet seat over the fear that he would be coming into this very bathroom, over to this very stall. You held your breath and waited for him to leave.

"It's because of him, isn't it [Y/N]? That guy that you've been talking to recently behind my back- it's him, isn't it? He's the reason why you're considering leaving me?" You chose not to answer. The more it just seemed like you weren't there, the easier it became to relax.

Complete silence.

Your body was rigid with anxiety, and you were stricken with fear. But, you needed to get up, and you needed to get out of here. Maybe he was either waiting, or he actually left to continue on with his business—you assumed both because he definitely seemed more than pissed off right now, but at the same time, he was never the one to pursue you if you got into an argument. However, that didn't really express how he was feeling right now. He was... angry at your words. Angry that you wanted to stop the relationship and move on. It was a much weirder, almost darker side of him that you didn't want to see.

After some waiting, you wordlessly stepped from your position in the bathroom stall and completely moved out of it, into the open of the bathroom. You could see yourself in a mirror when you looked to your left. A small puddle of water wasn't too far away from the very first stall closest to the bathroom. You barely had time to even breathe before you could hear the rustling of the doorknob of the bathroom, you darted helplessly into one of them instead of utilizing your surroundings and simply retreating back into the one you were just in. You muffled your whimpers with your hand going over your mouth (though it truly didn't do any good) as you heard Jotaro walking into the bathroom, or who you assumed to be. . . until you noticed that there were two pairs of footsteps. The horror on your face when you realized that they were speaking with each other.

"L-look, man, I don't want any trouble! Please, could you let me down—" that voice... it was so recognizable. Was that. . . [bestfriend name]? What was Jotaro doing!?

The scuffed sounds of feet squeaking against the floor were a sure sign that your friend was being dragged across the ground. Jotaro said nothing to your friend, presumably carrying the same wordless demeanor he had from before he left when he was now dealing with your friend. You could only bow your head in fear and hope that he wouldn't do anything to him.

"Hey—what are you—AAAAH!"

The disturbing and traumatizing noise of bone and flesh colliding with the sink of the bathroom was perhaps the worst sound you'd ever heard in your life. In the thick silence that followed for just a split moment, you tried not to make a single peep as the tears slid down your cheeks. He couldn't find out that you were here, or maybe, just maybe you would be next.

"What did you do to [Y/N]? Why does [Y/N] want to leave me? You poisoned [Y/N]." Jotaro's gruff voice asked to the sack of flesh and bone underneath him. Your wide eyes could see the two of them in the puddle left undisturbed on the ground. . . almost like he knew you were looking, but you could already see the damage done to the poor guy he was dealing with. [bestfriend name]'s teeth were gone, knocked out. Blood smeared his lips and cheeks. It was a horrid sight.

"W-what are you talking about?? I didn't do anything to [Y/N]! I only said to be yourself and let him know how you f—"

Another sickening smash filled your ears. "Not a good enough answer," Jotaro answered loudly over the sounds of [bestfriend name]'s screaming. "I DON'T KNOW!" He cried out to Jotaro, "PLEASE! PLEASE ST- AAAAH!"

You let out a sob as a final smash against the sink was heard—the sink underneath the boy falling to the ground underneath, emitting a piercing, loud noise around the entire bathroom. The boy fell to the ground as well, but Jotaro was quick to pull him up to act as both a shield from the water and letting the guy know that he wasn't fully done with him yet. "You're going to help me find [Y/N], or I'm going to kill you."

"I-I don't know where [Y/N] i—" he was silenced, but you don't know how he became so. Your worry became so paramount that you dashed out of the bathroom, ready to piss yourself running right now, but you were determined to at least get your friend some help.

"Stop!" You cried to Jotaro, "he doesn't need to be involved in this! I made this decision on my own!"

Jotaro glanced over at [bestfriend's name]. "Do you hear that? My babe said you get to walk away free. Consider yourself lucky." He dropped the guy from the tall height he held him at.

[bestfriend name] stumbled forward, his eyes staring at you, bug-eyed and nearly bloodshot. He made it two steps before you. Two, single, steps before you, before Jotaro took the boy's skull into his massive hand and smashed the boy's skull against the wall next to the two of you. Your eyes were glued open as they watched his body slide down the wall, to the floor, where blood pooled underneath his body. You flinched and screamed at the noise of your friend being so brutally murdered to only see the grisly sight of the aftermath, bloodied and disfigured by the hefty slam into the wall, and more importantly, lifeless.

By then, your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You turned on your heel almost immediately and sprinted to the door, but Jotaro was right on your ass. He pinned you to the door and laughed at you as you helplessly screamed and pounded against the door, saying, "you're so silly [Y/N], no wonder I found you to be so attractive. But, I think this is getting a little annoying now, don't you think?" He reached around and grabbed you by your frozen shoulder, turning you around to face him. His hand was quick to clamp onto your lips, ultimately forcing you to silence and even calm down.

You were left to stare into those deep blue eyes of his in horror, though the tears overpowered your sight and eventually left Jotaro to be nothing more but a blur.

"Why are you crying, [Y/N]? I think you should be happy. Look," he pulled his hand away from your lips to pull you into his body, crushing you even and holding you tightly as he made you turn and face your best friend. "He's dead now, so there's no one in the way of our relationship anymore. We are free to be together for as long as I can say 'you're mine'.“

#jojo's bizzare adventure stardust crusaders #jjba x reader #yandere x reader #jotaro x reader #yandere #jotaro kujo #yandere jotaro #gender neutral insert #reader insert

158 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 12)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x you #loki of asgard #tom hiddleston #marvel #loki mcu #mcu loki #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki fic #loki fluff #loki angst #thomas sharpe

75 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Play

im jaebum mini series

one / two / three / four / five / six (final) masterlist

pairing: jaebum x reader genre: friends, angst, jealousy plot: you and jaebum have been really great friends. things have been going smoothly because neither of you were in a real relationship, flings? sure, but girlfriends/boyfriends? no. so when Jaebum starts going out with Emma (a bitch), you can’t help but act out <3 a/n: I dont know why I do this to myself... hope y’all like it. this is written very casually. this one will be like six part absolute max.

“Hey, you know this isn’t going to happen right?”

“Huh?”

“This,” he gestured to the two of you sitting in your dark room. The bed comfortable underneath you as you watched Tangled. You realised how you were leaning against him; your head on his shoulder, your side pressed against him. “This isn’t going to happen.”

“Yeah,” you blew out, making a comical face as you snorted. “Of course not.”

You leaned away from him slightly, straightening onto the pillows behind you instead. You stared at the screen, your cheeks burning, “That would be hilariously disgusting, honestly.”

Shit.

“Excuse me,” you said once the movie ended. Before the dark-haired boy could reply you walked into your bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You caught yourself in the mirror. Your eyes wide, your hair a mess, and a face of a fucked up girl staring back at you.

“Shit!” You hissed, quietly, as you stared at yourself.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” You repeated as you kicked the cabinet underneath the sink. You closed your eyes, running your hands through your hair. You kept out a quick breath, as you rested your hands on the bench.

You leaned in closer to the mirror as you stared into your eyes.

“You got this,” you spoke with resolution. “You’re going to go back in there and act like everything is normal.”

You took in your messed up hair and fixed it into place. You corrected yourself and checked in the mirror. You bit your lip as you gawked at the neckline of your t-shirt in contemplation.

“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath, tugging it down to reveal your bra strap. You check your hair once again, sighing deeply to calm yourself.

“Alright, let’s do this.” You walked out the door and into your dimly lit room.

You found your friend sitting on the bed where you had left him. He looked up from his phone, his lips quirking up as he rose his eyebrows, “Have a good piss?”

“Yup, I had been holding it the whole movie,” you replied, as you strolled over to the bed.

Maybe that was why Im Jaebum did not want to fuck you. You talked without a filter and had a grand total of freaking zero charm and wit that other girls had. For some reason when you hung out with Jaebum, you liked to talk and behave like a guy with a dick, instead of a girl who wanted to jump his bones.

You were the goddess of seduction, taking about holding in your piss. Who in their right mind would not want to bury their cock inside a pussy that had been holding its pee for a whole movie.

“We could’ve paused the movie,” Jaebum tsked, getting up to sit straight. The laptop slipped from his lap and onto the bed.

You paused and spun on your heels as you began walking towards the mini-fridge in your room. It wasn’t that you were rich. You had saved up to get this mini prize keeper, so the thieves you lived with didn’t steal your treasure.

“A drink, Jae?” You asked as you bent to open the fridge and grab a bottle for yourself.

“Yeah, why not,” he answered, and you grabbed his favourite. You turned, holding it up and he chuckled before staring at you with a smirk, “You have a problem, y/n.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, skipping over before jumping onto the bed. You didn’t have a bed frame. You weren’t sure if it was because you were poor or if you liked the low-key fashionable homeless aesthetic.

Jaebum took the drink from you, sipping it as he stared at you over the bottle.

“It is a Wednesday night,” he smiled at you, those ridiculously cute little bumps appearing on his cheekbones as he teased, “and you’re drinking.”

“So? are you too,” You scowled.

“Yes, but that’s cause you offered.”

“Yeah, how is that any different?” Your frown deepened as you took a big gulp. You reached for the laptop bringing it onto your lap. You opened a new tab, “Lesbian or gay porn?”

“Y/n,” Jaebum warned. His voice light, a little stern.

You peeped over at him with a teasing smile. You rose an eyebrow holding back your growing grin, “Gang bang then?”

His eyes widened, with a warning.

“With animal suits on?” You gasped, beaming at him as he shook his head. “Now wouldn’t you say that’s a little too furry for a Wednesday night?”

“Shut up,” he closed the laptop, making you turn towards him. You rolled your eyes as you bought the bottle to your lips, chugging it.

“Hey, come on,” he took the bottle off you.

“Hey!” You whined, watching as he placed both your bottles on the floor behind him. He took your hands in his warm hands, and you felt an entire zoo go wild in your stomach.

How could he not realise what he does to you?

“Y/n, listen to me,” Jaebum sighed heavily. You studied his face and instantly looked away. He was terribly gorgeous, so attractive that it should be illegal.

And the way he was looking at you... How could he possibly say nothing could ever happen between you when he looks at you like that.

No one ever looked at anyone like that, not unless they wanted to fuck. Im Jaebum looked at you, properly, truly looked at you. He was looking at you with the presence of his mind, not just staring at you while his mind was elsewhere.

He was watching you, studying you.

You didn’t know if friends did that, especially ones you met a few years ago. It wasn’t just you who felt this energy between you. Everyone else watches the two of you too. Always monitoring for a change between the two of you, a classic would they- won’t they.

There were times when you were so close. There were times when you and him were a second away from finally getting rid of this stressful sexual tension between the two of you.

You glanced away from his eyes. You wouldn't be able to help yourself if you kept looking into those melting brown eyes, and those delicate lips.

You would end up kissing him and whose fault would that be? You would have no choice but to blame him and those beautiful brown eyes.

Jaebum tugged at your hand, making you look up at him. You sulked at him, letting him know you didn’t enjoy this. His eyes watched you, even in the dim fairy lights of your room, you could make out the golden streaks in them as if you had memorised the patterns they made.

You probably did. You were always looking into them, or thinking about them.

About him.

You gulped as his eyes darted down towards your lips for a split second.

“Y/n,” he spoke, his voice soft and serious.

“Jaebum,” you sang, trying to be clever when truly you were scared he’ll realise how sweaty your palms were getting.

“I can’t look after you forever.”

You nodded, snorting, “I don’t need you on my ass all day too, Jae.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, holding his hand now. “I am a grown woman. I have a job and a degree and everything. The sixteen-year-old me would be crying if she saw me right now.”

“She’d be proud to see you live without a bed frame?” He rose an eyebrow.

“It’s a lifestyle choice.” You deadpanned, he bit his lip to hold back that betraying smirk.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, he gazed down at you. His hands holding yours again, once again, he was holding power in the conversation. “You know we can’t always be like this, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening anytime soon,” you snorted, you tried smiling but you couldn’t. Your smile weakened when you saw that look flash in his eyes.

Pity, it was fucking pity.

“Actually,” he started, and you wanted to stop him. You wanted to send him away before he began. “Emma and I have been getting serious now.”

“Hook up Emma?”

They had been hooking up for a few months now. It was causal, she was just the new flavour of the season. Or at least that’s what she was meant to be, but then she started showing up everywhere.

You open Jaebum’s car door to sit shotgun, she is sitting there. You go to Joanna’s for the weekly Friday nights, Emma is there. You make a plan to go hiking over the weekend, surprise, Emma has made herself available.

You wouldn’t have minded if she was nice, but she was an actual bitch. You saw the way she looked at you. You could see straight through the expression on her face as she kissed Jaebum, making sure you were watching.

His phone dinged beside him, and you could bet your firstborn it was her. You felt happy when Jaebum didn't reach for it instantly.

“She isn’t just a hookup,” Jaebum told you, his eyes holding yours. You felt your heart drop at his words. It hurt to see him so protective over someone else, so much that he spoke to you like that.

Jaebum never told you anything. He would tell you stuff, joke, talk, but he never told you something. He never corrected you off so seriously, not unless it was something important.

Seems like Emma unlocked a new level.

“Alright,” you replied soulless, as you took your hand out from his grasp. You pressed the nail of your middle finger into your thumb-pad to stop the prickling in your eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You both sat quietly for a few more seconds before you reached over him. You felt your chests press against his arm as you grabbed your bottle from his other side. You could’ve moved away, but you didn’t want to.

You felt his breath catch before he held it, exhaling it out softly. You felt its warmth brush against your neck, you wanted to feel it all over your body.

You straightened, downing the whole bottle as you held his gaze.

Jaebum gulped visibly before casting his eyes away. He reached for his own bottle taking a big swig, his eyes not looking at you.

“We’re together, y/n.”

You laughed.

“I’m sorry?” you chuckled, staring at him as if he was losing his marbles. She would eat him up alive, and then vomit it out and make him eat himself up. She would ruin him.

“Emma and I are in a relationship. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” You laughed, your mind blanking. Your heart speeding up frantically as your body went into overdrive.

Stupid. This whole thing was stupid.

A fucking stupid shit show.

“What are you in fifth grade? Girlfriend?” You snickered at him. Jaebum only stared at you a frown on his face.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” you tried to make it better but you couldn’t.

You were laughing at yourself. At how fucking stupid you were, at how you were having a literal mental breakdown right now.

“No, actually I am laughing at you.” You shrugged.

“Fuck you,” he groaned, staring at you with loathing.

“Oh, come on,” you hit his arm, playfully. You didn’t know what you were doing. You had absolutely no fucking idea what to do. What is one to do when their crush is going out with the spawn of the devil, and not even the hot kinda devil.

“No, fuck you, y/n,” he grunted, annoyed, as he watched you who was failing to stop laughing. You weren’t laughing because you wanted to, your body just didn’t know what else to do.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just don’t know how to process this.”

“There isn’t anything for you to process,” Jaebum grumbled, lifting his arms in confused defeat. “Just accept.”

“You don’t need any approval of mine, Jae,” you rolled your eyes as you got off the bed and walked towards the mini-fridge. You needed another drink, another lot more drinks. “You are just informing me, and you have. You know I don’t like her vibes.”

“Oh, stop with your witchy voodoo crap,” he groaned, and you could recognise him roll his eyes. You turned to ask him if he wanted another drink, he just shook his head.

“It’s not voodoo, I don’t chant any spells. Her energy is just off.”

“She’s great-”

“-at sucking dick.”

“Y/n,” he warned.

“Fine,” you gave in. Your phone dinged, and you reached over, smiling at the glowing screen.

Dickdown 9/10: You up?

Perfect.

“Are you staying?” You asked Jaebum, inspecting up when he didn’t reply.

You found him staring at you, and you rose an eyebrow, “What?”

“Who’s that?” He narrowed his eyes.

“It’s none of your business,” you smirked. You needed to fuck Im Jaebum out of your system. There was no way you were going to spend tonight sober, and drinking alone would be worse.

And spending the night with Jaebum would be just sad mostly.

“Are you kicking me out?” He smirked at you, teasing.

“Well, Emma isn’t here to kick me out, so...” you trailed off.

“Alright, fine,” he got grabbing his jacket. You watched as he put it on, before running his hands through his hair.

“Bye, Jae,” you whispered.

Jaebum looked down at you, his eyes soft as he sighed, “I wish you weren’t so much trouble, y/n.”

You didn't say anything and only smiled up at him.

“Goodbye, y/n,” Jaebum leaned down, kissing your forehead.

You watched him walk out of your room, the door closing behind him.

You let out a shaky breath as you wiped the tears that slipped from your eyes.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered before downing the second bottle.

You reached for your phone.

Get here in 15 mins.

Dickdown 9/10: Five ;)

228 notes · View notes

voidcat · 3 years

Text

— fangs dipped in wine

characters: chuuya nakahara, you

info: vampire au, lowkey suggestive, 2.3k

a/n: let's all pretend for a hot second bram stoker was an actual author in bsd and that instead of abilities, there are vampires<3 I'll probably do a p2 to this in a timeskip way so itll b more fun yay,,

Several days ago, it was just an idea. A laughing matter. A ‘what-if’ to build scenarios on and giggle.

Several days ago, it was night time too, the taste of alcohol fresh, her laugh right beneath your ear, it was warm, and bubbly and there was a sense of direction, a certainty.

Several days ago your friend hadn’t suddenly announced dropping out and moving out of the shared apartment you two had yet. Maybe she had been considering for a while now but in that very moment, it hadn’t happened yet, your world wasn’t upside down.

“Just imagine!-“ her breath fawned over your ear, glasses clinking against one another. “So I’m talking to this guy, right? Like music stuff, and movies, and all. No feelings whatsoever,” you found it hard not to roll your eyes and was met with a shove. “Not like that!” she protested. “He tells me about his boyfriend, I even helped him plan a surprise party once.”

“You cannot know if he’s faking…” you remember saying, in that knowing tone, smooth like silk and lecturing. “Yea whatever. Anyways! Get this:” placing the glass down in concentration that was foreign to her, you were intrigued.

“They don’t have vampires.”

“No way.” Slowing taking another sip from your drink, it sounded like a fantasy almost. Sure, there were rumors of not every country having vampires but it was numbered, there were so little, and the vampires? They were ever present.

“So he says: ‘Hey, aren’t they all rich peeps always wanting fresh blood? What if you have lots of blood already, and make a deal? You can trick them to pay you loads for it and you’d not even have to have them near your neck!’-“ she paused to let out a bark, you’re sure she’s been doing it since she first saw the message.

“And-“ another pause, to shed a tear, “and he says, ‘and if the vampire is hot? Bonus points! They got those fancy houses, you’d no longer pay rent either.’” The mocking of the voice comes to an end. “Can you believe? A deal, with a Vampire of all people! And he says rent fixed!”

You had to admit, for someone who claims to not met any vampires, it sounded charming on paper, but in Yokahoma?, not so much. At a moment of weakness, you looked at one another, daring, and next, breaking into a fit of laughter and downing the glass in one gulp.

How many days has it been since that night? Five? Maybe seven? It was long enough to miss her presence now, but too short to be threatened by the landlord.

One night you’re at your favorite pub with your dearest friend downing drink after drink. You can remember the stars in the sky that night, you thought it was just your brain imagining it, as well as the crescent moon hanging so delicately.

And next thing you know, you’ve just left this bar, despite the temperature it was cold on your bones, and here stands the redhead, his breath fawning over your neck, mouth open, but not to tell a story for the laughs.

He didn’t bother to hide the fangs and you didn’t bother to leave the place.

An idea you called stupid few nights ago just happened to make sense in that sad sulking state. And then he had to appear, with a glass of expensive wine, locks covering his face just fine, a vest that fits his body perfectly and fangs shining under the dim lights of the bar.

“Oh-kay, that’s enough.” You push his face off with your palm in one go. The ‘thump’ of his hat falling on the floor and the yelp coming from his lips fill the air.

“You’re no fun.” he pouts as he picks up his hat.

“So, how we’re doing this? And no, you cannot drink straight from my neck!” you finish before he can raise a finger.

A moment of silence follows the two of you, it’s a nice place. Expensive looking furniture though it’s more like a house from a catalogue than a home. Still, impressive –he, ‘what was his name again?’, definitely has a taste. The empty crystal glasses sit on the table, next to the bottle, a candle close to burning out completely flickers its flame lazily as your eyes wander.

Your gaze moves onto his sapphire eyes then, watching your every move and breath carefully, but not patiently. You can hear him vibrate with every molecule in his body, trying so hard not to lunge forward or speak up, maybe grab your arm and pull you back towards his chest.

“So? Hello?..” you drag the the ‘o’ and wave a hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”

Like someone hypnotized stepping out of a trance at a snap of fingers, he jolts, pupils narrow, then widen and focus on your face. “Ah, sorry-“ he starts walking away.

Then he fakes a cough, as if you didn’t catch him staring already… Just how the hell did you find this guy in a city filled with vampires?

He stops, turns back, reaches for your hand and you let him. “Did you drink the wine?” he walks a step ahead, still hand in hand.

“If you ask me one more time, I’ll start suspecting you added some sort of drug.” This seems to get to him, obvious from the way he almost trips on his foot and turns back in a hurry, both hands up in defense and shaking his head like crazy.

“Wh- No- No, no no! It’s nothing like that- I-“ if he didn’t look so embarrassed, you’d even say he looks flustered. His rambling stops when you snort and decide to take pity on the guy.

“Relax I was just joking.” His shoulder drop in relief. “Besides, if you put anything, it’d have kicked in by now.”

“Ah, yeah, right…” he looks down, to his right, and that’s when you see the velvet couch there. He extends his hand, in an offering manner and follows you right after.

Reaching for a pocket in his vest, he whispers to himself, you barely hear. “I just like the taste of wine in blood...”

“Weird, not what I expected, but could be worse. I’ll take it.”

Another silence follows, he avoids your gaze while your eyes never leave his eyes fumbling with his vest and cape. Maybe it’s like one of those cape like jackets, certainly matches the vibe he carries.

Under the shivering candle light, he looks so different from the bold smug suave guy who brimmed with confidence, flashed his teeth like nothing, as if the world belongs to him and anything that does not care for him simply does not exist.

And now with the same face, sits besides you someone else, eyes cast down, hands fumbling, there’s comfort in knowing this is as awkward for you as for him.

(You wonder for a second if there’s something you can do to clear the atmosphere.)

“Maybe you should be having another glass instead of asking me.” You try to say nonchalantly and it takes him a second to get what you mean. Then he smiles, and the hint of a small giggle comes out and his body seems to calm down.

“Give me your hand.” He holds out his, the palm facing the ceiling. “Well? This is the easiest way to do it without leaving permanent marks.” He sounds irritated.

“Or noticeable.” You say and he repeats, a little impatient.

Giving him your less dominant hand, you eye the dagger for as long as you can. When the cold blade meets your palm, you can barely feel its weight.

“Okay, I’ll be honest here.” He stops midway, the dagger in the air. You raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. “I’ve never done… this before.”

“So- uh- whatever’s the standart payment, or the whole, you know,” he waves the hand holding the dagger in the air “etiquette for this.” He sounds to be relaxing with each word. And with him, so do you. Then comes back that familiar confidence from the earlier, decorated with a hint of threat and a dare. “Just- Don’t ever try to scam or fool me.”

And goes away the determined face, replaced with surprise, as you start laughing loud, one hand over your stomach.

“Look, listen-“ you stop as you’ve begun. “Chuuya.” He fills the gap for you.

“Listen, Chuuya.” You test his name on your lips. “I’m a broke college student who can get kicked out of their flat any day now. Crossing a vampire is the last thing on my list, trust me.”

Eyes soften, a genuine smile blooms and the silence to follow isn’t heavy anymore.

When he slashes the dagger over your hand, it doesn’t sting. The blood soon reaches the surface, red thick liquid glistening in the candle’s flame, ‘life’ it says.

This is what they want, why they want it, drink it, kill for it.

Hidden in the blood, is life, with all it has seen and will see, warm, moving, trusting.

You watch in a daze as he brings your hand to his mouth. Cold lips make content with your skin, how cold and lifeless they feel against you, you see in clear contrast. The sinking of teeth doesn’t come, you don’t flinch. You can tell he’s making an effort not to bite too hard into your giving hand. Drinking the blood slowly, trying to contain himself from getting greedy, there’s no sound in the air except for your loud heartbeat, echoing in your ear and fastening with each move of his back.

The glimpse of a smile you catch in this scene before you tells, he can hear it too, and probably relish in it.

With each flicker of the flame, his lips start to feel warmer and soon he straightens up. Not a single speck of blood on his frame, he offers you the same smug smile from earlier.

Blood makes place for itself on his face, like roses blooming under the sun. His skin gains color, you didn’t notice just how dull and gray he was up until now. Life spreads so fast in his limbs, soon you can feel his warmth near you, in the air, in your hand, on the spot your knees touch. Once the base color is done, pink decorates his cheeks faintly, most likely an after effect of all that wine.

Maybe if he intervened his fingers with yours, it’d feel warmer, and in a weird way, safer.

Watching your eyes on him with amusement in his crystal ones, he seems to enjoy this, that is until his eyes focus on a spot of yours and cannot stop examining every other spot, every single pore, mark, hair and color you have, memories you carry.

The flicker of the light blends in, the warmth pulls the two of you in, time feels gone, like it never existed, maybe nothing every existed except for the two of you sitting before each other.

A sudden crash, from the outside and the magic is gone with a snap.

Noticing your hands, you pull it back to your chest fast.

His goes back to his head and he looks away, anther shy smile on his face.

“What- How should we proceed next?” he breaks the silence first, attempting to gather back a sense of seriousness to his voice. In a way, he should too, this is technically business, isn’t it?

Glancing at your palm, you open and close it few times. Not a speck of pain is there.

“Once every week maybe? If that’s alright. Although we may cancel few weeks, you never know what comes up last minute.”

The dagger nowhere in sight, probably returned to a pocket of his already, he looks pleased with your reply. “Sounds good to me.”

Without further ado, you get up to look for the door you first walked in.

“Wait!-“ he follows in a hurry, almost slipping, again, and trying to find something in his jacket.

Go you! For forgetting why you agreed to a vampire’s house in the first place. “Is- uh- is this alright? Or is it so little? We never discussed payment, y’know.” He holds out a lot more than you expected, but then again, vampires live for thousands of years. He must have quite the amount lying around somewhere after all.

Unsure what to do with the money he slips into your hand, you meet his eyes. “That’s… more than enough actually. Thanks.”

He rests one hand on hip, taking in your surprised face. “Don’t mention it. I’ve got plenty.” Touching your elbow lightly, he guides you to the door, dragging his feet. By the time you reach the door, he makes no move to open it, not that it was ever locked in the first place.

Turning of the knob, you take a step ahead, motions limited on both sides; dragging, waiting for something to happen, something to be said, for the air to be broken.

By the time you’re one foot outside, he clears his throat with a fake cough, covering his mouth. “Same time, same place, next week?” his gaze cast on the floor, stealing glances to see what you will do next.

You turn to him with a smile. “Works for me.” And tilt your head “but what if one of us cannot find the other?”

“Oh I’ll find you alright.” He chuckles with a grin. Truly a sight to sell the whole vampire image he got going, even if he hadn’t been one.

Feet standing next to each other, you’re out now, furrowing your eyebrows with a look of disapproval to match his grin, unimpressed.

“You sound like a creep. Don’t do it again.”

And with it, you turn your back to him, already on your way. The ginger left behind, an unfinished “okay” hanging on his lips, eyes focused on your form, swallowed by the shadows, waiting for the next night to be spent with you, already impatient.

129 notes · View notes

wh6res · 3 years

Text

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase.

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name.

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights.

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face.

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering.

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel.

so he watched from the sidelines.

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore.

and then you left home.

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing.

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later.

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that!

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point.

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!”

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface.

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it.

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time.

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced.

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived.

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once.

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive.

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin.

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory.

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car.

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins.

he missed this, your complete and utter misery.

but he wasn’t done yet.

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you.

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral.

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.”

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop.

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one.

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch.

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss.

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery.

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears.

you never dared step foot out of your apartment.

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be.

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes.

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head.

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment.

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface.

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under.

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop.

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment.

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt.

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit.

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic.

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers.

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself.

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it.

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans.

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin.

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files.

hands shaking, you clicked on the video.

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand.

wait a minute.

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries.

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best.

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her.

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis.

this doesn’t make any sense.

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself.

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms.

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen.

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there.

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic.

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin.

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom.

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now.

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall.

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning.

he’s come for you.

he’s come to finish the job.

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard.

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up.

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you.

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes.

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him.

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water.

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet.

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong.

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision.

“nothing? are you sure about that?”

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat.

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love.

“no…” your voice breaks.

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth.

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself.

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat.

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities.

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel.

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart.

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun scenarios #tw violence #tw religious themes #tw ptsd #tw swearing #tw mentions of suicide #tw murder #tw death #tw abuse #yandere xiaojun #yandere wayv

117 notes · View notes

blackberry-gingham · 3 years

Note

Can I request a cute Ringo x Reader where Ringo falls for the reader who’s just an assistant in the neighboring recording studio from theirs?😆❤️ and the reader is extremely shy haha

😂😂😂 I was actually referring to my very long list of drafts and requests, but I do appreciate the eagerness to help a bored girl out, so I’ll do this one now anyway haha. Besides, Ringo needs more solo fics on this blog and shy reader is always a good one 😌🥺 Thank you, and enjoy!

---

The old florescent lights hum overhead, flooding the recording room with a bright, hot light. Ringo wipes the back of his palm across his forehead, vaguely listening to John, Paul, and George as they discuss some tweaks they should make to that last recording or so. Paul never seems to be satisfied, and now John and George have teamed up to start bickering with him. Their alliance does not matter however, as it would appear Paul has no plans to budge.

Their voices get louder and louder, and Ringo lights up a cigarette in the meantime, hoping it’ll help with the pounding in his head. Doesn’t he get a say in all this? The others may not say it, but he knows what they think. He’s the weakest link here, “Just the drummer, not even a very great one”, or some rubbish like that.

John slams his guitar down onto its stand with a twang ad now he’s dangerously close to being up in Paul’s face as he continues to argue. George appears as though he’s about to fall back and mediate the situation he helped escalate, but before anyone can do anything, Brian slams the door open, “That’s enough now! Get out and cool off, the three of you!”, he shakes his head out and rubs it as though it’s hurting him, before taking his leave.

“Fine by me!”, Paul gives John a pointed look and storms off, with the other two making similar statements and following close, but not too close, behind.

And poor little Ringo is left alone. Forgotten.

Suddenly the room feels cold, like the vacuum of space, and Ringo himself is the one feeling hot. He knows he’s not one of the star trio, but how about a little respect, eh? Maybe a “you’re doing great Ringo?” Or, “you can take five, too?”

But no, nothing of the sort.

Ringo’s face twists into a scowl as these thought swirl through his mind. He’s as much a member of this band as any of the other three! This isn’t fair! On that note, he smashes his cigarette into a nearby ashtray and jumps up from his stool as it clatters to the floor. You know what? He needs more then a break. He needs some fresh air.

With a head full of steam, he stomps down the stairwell and through the hall, all the way to the big, double glass doors. He only stops when the sound of pouring rain breaks through the fog of his thoughts. The rain is coming down in droves, thundering in a flurry of drops off of the sidewalk, and not a single soul can be seen outside.

For a moment, he considers turning around and going back to the studio. Or perhaps finding an abandoned break room, away from the others, and blowing off steam there, but...

No. He shakes out his head and heaves the heavy door open out into the downpour. He’s had enough of this whole damn building, and he’s not going to let a little rain stop him from getting the break he needs.

Ringo walks and walks as the icy water soaks through his fine suit, to his skin, and down to his very bones. Perhaps this wasn’t the wisest decision, he thinks. He takes a few more steps, trying to tough it out, but after a window rattling sneeze he decides to duck into the next building he can. This whole street is made up of little recording studios, so it’s not as much of a change of scenery as he’d have liked... but at least it’s something.

A corridor filled with office doors stretches out before him and, rather then continue leaking a little pool here in the entry way, he decides to go find somewhere to take a load off.

Ugh, he feels absolutely filled with water, like a damn sink sponge. Ringo tilts his head to the side as he sloshes along and bangs the side of his head, hoping to dislodge some water. It seems to be having some effect at least, and just as he’s about to switch ears, an unexpected collision knocks him on his back.

“Tsk, oh no no no...”

A timid voice mutters softly, and even through his waterlogged ears, Ringo can hear the sound of scuffling and paper shuffling.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Um, are you... alright?”

Ringo sits up, but his soaked mop top is completely obscuring his vision. He can only imagine how silly he must look to you right now, sopping wet and a full curtain of hair hiding nearly everything except, of course, his bulbous nose. Great. He huffs, and parts his bangs with both hands to see you.

You look about as shy as you sound, and perhaps even a little afraid. But also... kind, and sweet, and caring, and... Pretty. So pretty...

“Oh! Ringo! I um... I’m such a big fan...”, you laugh nervously, and despite the warm words, your face seems caught in some sort of a wince as you go about busying yourself with picking up your stack of papers and folders.

But he doesn’t want you to be scared. Or nervous, or intimidated, or stressed, or... or anything like that! He wants to see that concerned, but sweet smile he heard you wearing when you were first talking and didn’t know who he was. He sees the very faint little lines by the corners of your nostrils, and just by that he knows you like to laugh. He sees how eager you are to collect these things and go about your day, and he feels a connection to you through it. He knows what that’s like... running around and doing other people’s business.

Hop to it!

We need this done like that!

Don’t mess this up!

All of it.

Ringo hurries around to scramble onto his knees with you, “Oh no no, I’m sorry! Here, let me help...” He snatches up some stray pages into a nice stack, and as much as you want to tell him it’s ok and he doesn’t have to, you can’t bring yourself to say a peep.

The two of you work in harmony, and as you finally reach for the last sheet, it would seem Ringo has the same idea. Your hand touches down on it first, with his finding it’s way right over top of yours. It’s surprisingly big, particularly compared to yours, and while you blush at the thoughts it’s giving you, Ringo is thankfully too distracted by how soft and perfect your skin feels under his callused paw.

You come to your senses quickly though, forcing yourself to snap out of your daydreams. Nervous energy takes over and you jerk your hand away a little too roughly. “Ahem, sorry but I really mu- ow” You put the last paper on your stack and set the whole thing down to cradle your hand. A small cut has been made on your knuckle and a fine line of blood begins to seep out.

Ringo looks guiltily from your injury to his ornately engraved ring, the culprit of your little gash. He bites his bottom lip and adds his papers to yours, before scooting closer. “I uh, I-I’m so sorry. Uh here, here...”, he pulls out a handkerchief from inside his suit jacket and goes to apply it to your now freely bleeding cut.

“Oh, you don’t have to-!”

“No no, I insist! It’s the least I can do...”, he looks up at you almost pleadingly. Anything he can do to communicate to you how badly he wants to help.

With your go ahead, he gently wraps up your hand with a neat little bow underneath. He holds your hand in both of his, offering it timidly to show you his work,“...Better?”

Relived, you smile sweetly at him, and it’s even more wonderful of a sight then he imagined, “Yes, thank you... Still hurts a bit though”, you chuckle.

“Oh... I know a trick to help with that!”, Ringo smiles cheerily, gently grasping your fingers in one hand and slides his other down to support your elbow as he brings your knuckles to his lips. They’re thick and soft and warm... and as though a soothing fireplace has been lit beside you, suddenly it feels as though any rainy day chills or frayed nerves have been purged from your body.

His lips linger on your knuckles for a few extra seconds, and when he comes up to the shy, but blissful smile you’re wearing, he thinks in that moment that nothing would make him happier then to see you happy... But knowing he was the one to give you that smile... He’s over joyed.

And with a fleeting thought, he wishes he could give you a smile like that every day. He finds it that adorably endearing...

He brushes his hair out of his face once more, still holding your hand, and gives you a toothy grin as he huffs a nervous laugh of his own. His eyes are caught on yours now, and how sparkly and vibrant they are. He can’t bear to tear his gaze away, even as he asks, “I... uh... C-can I help you take your papers?”

You give a tiny, melodic laugh and the sound of it sends Ringo’s heart pounding with excitement. With your free hand, you return a stray loc of hair to the rest of his side swept bangs and when his face is all clear, you press a soft, timid kiss to the tip of his long, round nose.

“I’d love that...”

#SKKSJFSDKLJFSDK SOFTNESS ALERT !!!!!!!#the beatles #ringo starr x reader #ringo starr #beatles fic

60 notes · View notes

vicegrips-fr · 3 years

Photo

Into the Black

Azizi divulges his upbringing and the horrors that came with it.

-------------------- I’ve debated sharing this on here because to be completely honest it’s very personal and not for everyone. I’ve decided to open up and share it anyway with the appropriate warnings. It’s no secret that I vent through my own ocs to explore the intense abuse I survived and this is one of those lore posts that delves into that. Hopefully some of you will take the time to read it and if not I completely understand. It’s a long one and difficult to read in many ways I’m sure.

Gustav belongs to my boyfriend @wyvernrising!

Warnings: language, themes of parental abuse, drug/alcohol abuse mentions, and unpleasantness abound.

Pings: @fusefr @kattafr @stimmy-dragons -------------------

They’re together for the night. Himself, Gogo, and the Sub Rosa sent to protect them which includes his boyfriend Gustav. There’s an injury to his hand which isn’t self-inflicted but the product of his past come back to bite him in the ass today. Since then they’ve been sharing their stories to pass the time and ease the tension, getting to know each other better and well, now it’s his turn.

“You don’t have to share,” Gogo peeps up sympathetically, scooting closer so that their thighs are pressed together.

He already knows the truth, knows how hard this will be for Azizi to talk about.

Azizi waves a dismissive hand in the air, happily allowing Gus to take hold of the injured one and press a kiss to the knuckles. Some small part of him does care what they’ll think but it’s drowned out by the stubborn I don’t give a shit what you think of me attitude he’s spent a lot of time cultivating for himself. “We’ll see about that,” he says, pouring himself a glass of wine.

He pauses, bottle in hand as his eyes land on Gustav’s glass. There’s still wine inside but he fills it back up to the top for him anyway. Whether he chooses to drink it or not is irrelevant. Maybe he doesn’t want him to; more wine for him.

Their previous compliments earlier in the night did not fall on deaf ears and bring a smile to his face when he remembers them. “Ha! I am a pleasure to be around, aren’t I?” he chuckles, licking his teeth, “If I were a bore then I wouldn’t be netting as much dick as I am on the daily.”

It’s crude but true. He’s popular for a reason and part of it is his bombastic, nasty personality. Truth is sunshine and rainbows have no place in a brothel, no matter how hard Gogo tries to change that fact.

“But you’re right about what you all said,” he sighs, “It’s an ugly story, just like the rest of you have.”

For a solid few seconds he lapses into silence, picking through the pieces of his life inside his head like dusting off an old photo album. None of the pictures inside are things he wants to see, they’re kept in a box for a reason, after all.

“Where to begin?” he muses to himself, swirling the wine in his glass around, transfixed by the dark red liquid sloshing around the sides.

“Like Gustav and Gogo I was born in Neo Necropolis. The slummy part, obviously. My mother’s name was Tiwa but she went by Candy. If that doesn’t tip you off she was a stripper. A popular one, I was told.”

He stops to sip his drink, the mere mention of his mother’s name enough to elicit that response. Jesus. How long has it been since he said her name out loud?

“My father’s name was Ayoola but everyone called him Ayo,” Azizi continues, the wine burning all the way down his throat, “And his biggest claim to fame was his appetite for men and women. He frequented just about every brothel and strip club in a fifteen mile radius.” Azizi looks up, eyes passing over everyone’s faces in favor of focusing on anything but.

“You can all put two and two together and figure out how my parents met,” he laughs without joy, “They were never married, of course, but they lived together and it wasn’t long before I was born. Not like they were kind of people to use protection, but I sort of wish they had.”

It’s a terribly dark thing to say and painfully true. Plenty of people in a bad situation have the same thought- I wish I was never born!- and he can’t count how many times he cursed the world for being forced into it. “They fought all the time,” he says, recalling the first time he was old enough to understand the words they were yelling.

------------------

”Get off of your ass and do something for once!” Tiwa screams at the top of her lungs, “I work my ass off on the pole every night and you can’t even get off the couch to get Zizi his breakfast? Pathetic!” It's early. Early enough that the sun is only just coming up, bright light streaming in through the dingy window in his bedroom despite the tall buildings that surround their home. It’s not the first time he’s been woken up this early from his parents fighting. His mama is gone all night, returning every morning and sleeping most of the day away, but not before their daily fight. Tail between his legs Azizi tiptoes quietly to the end of the short hallway, his little hands gripping the corner of the wall as he peeks out from behind it to see what’s going on. ”Oh, I’m pathetic?” Ayoola shouts back, “That’s rich coming from a pole crawler who calls herself Candy! The pipsqueak isn’t even up yet so fuck off to bed already and quit your yapping.” Azizi can’t see them from where he’s standing so he lets go of the wall and steps into the living room, ducking back into the hallway as quietly as possible when he catches a glimpse of his father laid out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand. ”No Ayo YOU fuck off,” Tiwa says loudly from the kitchen, bone tired and her tail lashing behind her in anger. “I’m not dealing with this mess when I’ve been up all fucking night, do you hear me? I’m not your mother, I’m your girlfriend and I need your help. We’re barely getting by, for fuck sake. Just… try to be responsible for once in your miserable life. Please.” ”Jesus fucking christ Candy, get a grip,” Ayoola snorts nonchalantly, rolling over so that his face is pressed into the cushions of the couch, “I’ll do the dishes and get the brat his breakfast, alright? Will that shut you up?” Tears in his eyes, Azizi shuffles off back to his bedroom and curls up on the small mattress laid on the floor of his tiny bedroom, pulling the blanket over his head. The shouting continues but it’s muffled through his hands over his ears and, after a little while, he falls back asleep.

-----------------

“It was really annoying,” he scoffs, “How they’d fight over just about everything. It was like they couldn’t help themselves. No matter how small the affront they would manage to find a way to turn it into something more.”

He’s getting off track. Blinking away the memory like it’s nothing, Azizi drinks deeply from his glass and marches forward. “Anyway,” he mutters, taking another small sip, “I was, hm, about eight or nine years old when my mother up and left. I can’t blame her, really. My father was a bum and an addict who brought other men and women home when she wasn’t around. More than once she walked in on him cheating on her and I guess that plus his allergy to contributing anything to the ‘family’ was enough to put the final nail in the coffin. We all have our breaking point.”

-----------------

”Where’s mama?” Azizi asks, tugging lightly on his father’s pant leg. It’s midday and she hasn’t come home yet. Ayoola is passed out on the couch, his dirty hair sticking up in different directions, spit and booze drying in a crust at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t respond right away. It takes Azizi asking the same question a few times before he’s finally roused awake. ”Huh?” he mumbles, cracking an eye open, “Oh. That.” Ayoola doesn’t seem particularly worried about Tiwa’s absence, just slightly annoyed to have been woken up. ”She left,” he sneers, grunting with effort as he pushes himself up and grabs a crumpled piece of paper that had been wadded up underneath him. “Don’t worry, she’ll come crawling back eventually. Until then how about you go play or something. Daddy is trying to sleep off a cold.”

It would only be a couple more years before Azizi would realize that these frequent ‘colds’ were actually hangovers of varying degrees. A week turns into a month, a few months turn into a year and Tiwa still hasn’t come back. Around the six month mark was when Azizi realized he would never see his mother again. In another three months he would grow angry and resentful, pounding his little fists into the floor because she left him behind. She left him alone with HIM. ”That selfish bitch!” Ayo yells, putting another hole in the wall with his fist, blood seeping from between his fingers, “Leaving me to take care of you by my fucking self! How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?! Tell me how! Where’s the money going to come from?! I’m sinking here! Do you know how many people I owe money to?” Azizi sobs into his hands, tiny body curled up into a ball on the sofa as his father paces back and forth like a caged animal, ranting like a lunatic at the top of his lungs. ”I… I don’t know!” Azizi cries, far too young to understand all of the things his father is saying, “I’m sorry dad! I’m sorry!” -------------------

“After Candy split the house chores fell to me,” Azizi murmurs darkly, setting his drink down to reach for another cigarette instead, “The cooking, cleaning… Him. Ayoola was a full time job. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I had to clean him up after a blackout. Put him on his side and make sure he wouldn’t throw up and drown in his own vomit.”

Azizi pauses, takes a drag from his cigarette and sighs.

“He drank and shot up so much that the floor was littered all over with the aftermath,” Azizi chuckles bitterly, “I’d have to wade through the filth being careful not to stab myself with a used needle, turn him over and check his pulse. Clean the puke off of him with a rag and then pick it all up.”

Gogo sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry on the back of his hand. It’s at this point that he wants to interrupt, to tell Azizi that he doesn’t have to go on if he doesn’t want to. But as if reading his mind, Azizi looks over at him and smiles sadly.

“It’s okay, Gogo,” he says as soothingly as he can manage, “I’m fine.”

Another pause as he tries to collect his thoughts, memories he wishes didn’t belong to him. “As I got older we started to fight more and more,” Azizi murmurs, “At that point I really had replaced my mother in almost every way.”

----------------

”Zi! That you?”

”Yeah, it’s me dad,” Azizi replies a little flippantly, “Who the fuck else would it be? One of your booty calls?”

Ayoola snorts with laughter, looking up at him as he walks into the room with bloodshot eyes. ”Have I ever told you that you look like your mother?”

Azizi rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in the doorway.

”Yeah,” he answers flatly, “Like, fifty times this week.” Ayoola nods sadly, head rolling to the side as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep again. Frowning, Azizi goes to his room.

----------------

I won’t cry, Azizi thinks, he doesn’t deserve my tears. “Eventually I ran away,” he informs them, unable to bring himself to give them the gorier details of his life, “And I went out with a bang.” Chuckling softly at his own wording, Azizi brings the glass to his lips again. “That makes it sound like I shot him dead,” he hums, “Sadly, I didn’t. We got into a fight, another bad one where he didn’t just use his words to berate me but his fists. I shoved him backwards, he shoved me harder, I slapped him, and he told me to get the fuck out of his house- I happily obliged.”

----------------

”You!” Ayoola screams, following Azizi around the house as he does his best to get away from him, “Where do you think you’re going?! I’m talking to you! Where the fuck were you?! You knew you had a client coming over! You knew and you went out anyway- hey!” His hand lashes out violently, grabbing Azizi by the arm and yanking him back. ”I’m not playing with you Zi!” Ayoola says, spittle flying and his teeth grinding together as he gets up in Azizi’s face, “You’re in big fucking trouble. If you’re going to live under this roof-” ”I don’t want to live under this roof!” Azizi screams back, slapping Ayoola in the face in an attempt to get him to let go, “I want to be as far away from you as humanly possible! You’re a fucking monster!” Ayoola doesn’t hesitate to backhand him, the force of it throwing Azizi to the floor where he sits shocked and rubbing tenderly at his freshly bruised cheek. ”Then get the fuck out!” he shouts, jabbing a finger in Azizi’s face as he looms over him, “Leave! Just like your mother did! I’ve taken care of us for how long and you’re acting out like this because I ask you to do your part?! All you have to do is put out! Easiest fucking job on the planet!” Azizi stares at him, dead behind the eyes as he’s yanked back up onto his feet and shoved hard against the kitchen wall, a hand around his throat. ”You hearin’ me? Answer me-” Azizi screams, shoving his father back so hard that he trips over his own feet and falls backwards. ”Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” he wails, shoving past Ayoola and out the front door. Ayoola gives chase, pausing in the open doorway to yell after him. ”Then go! Die on the street for all I care!”

He does not follow.

-------------------

“To make an already long story short,” he says, glancing over at Gustav and then quickly averting his eyes, “I spent a long time, years, on the street just like Gogo. I did what I knew how to do best. Eventually I ran into Chaka.”

At the mere mention of his name his blood runs cold, the events of his sad life replaying all over again. He handles it though, shoving it deep deep down inside himself where it belongs. “He took me in off the streets you know. Well, for the most part anyway,” he admits, “There were plenty of times he’d leave me on a corner. To teach me a lesson, he’d say. I mean, I do have a reckless mouth so is that any surprise to you guys?” He laughs humorlessly, eyes finding Gogo’s. “But I met Gogo because of that,” he adds very fondly, “So hey. Silver-linings.” Sighing deeply, Azizi downs the rest of his drink in one go.

“I’ll save the stuff with Chaka for another time,” he murmurs, “If I go into that right now we’ll be here all night. Needless to say I didn’t go down the best path after leaving that hellhole, but if I’m being honest I don’t regret it. Dealing with Chaka’s bullshit was a hell of a lot better than dealing with my old man’s.” Despite his best efforts there’s a wet shine to his eyes now, but the tears don’t fall. Not even when the memories are threatening to choke the air out of his lungs. “So, that’s part one of my story,” he says faux cheerfully, “Now you know I come from trash. Do with it what you will.”

End.

#flight rising lore #fr lore #lore: the velvet fang #azizi #my lore #sorry for any typos #this was a pain to format on here

15 notes · View notes

chaoticdean · 3 years

Note

As another big Green Day fan, I'm curious to know what are your opinions on each Green Day album (studio albums only, not recopilatory, but feel free to add the live ones) and why you like/don't like that album 🖤

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A COOL QUESTION TO GET MARA, THANK YOU! Buckle up ‘cause this will probably, inevitably go long. I’m also gonna use this to catalog each album in order, with dates and shit because a lot of people have actually reached out asking how much material there was before American Idiot got released in ‘04, and my dudes, my peeps, THERE’S A LOT.

#1 — 1,039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hour (1991)

So this is probably the one I listen to the less to this day, not because I don’t like it but because I discovered most of the tracks on that album through live bootlegs or videos, which in turns made me like the live versions way more than the studio version (Knowledge, looking right at you). That said, this is the epitome of Sweet Children/Green Day, and it’s pretty nice to be able to go back and listen to this album knowing it’s a compilation of their first two maxi albums that came out in ‘89 and ‘90. That being said, I still think it’s criminal not to have Paper Lanterns recorded live on any live album to this day — Billie Joe, imma sue your stupid ass.

#2 — Kerplunk (1992)

THE PRODIGAL SON. Knowing that this is the album that got them to have some form of recognition among the punk community at the time, so much so that Warner was able to get a whim of this Bay Area band, is enough of a tell. There are so many good songs on this album, and you can already sense Billie Joe’s storytelling through some of the songs. I have a very soft spot for 2,000 Light Years Away, even if like most of the older songs I do prefer any live version to the studio version. Like I also said earlier, Green Day were my introduction to a lot of older bands, and I’m pretty sure I discovered the Who by listening to their cover of My Generation on this album. Honorable mention to Tré’s first delight of a song, Dominated Love Slave. Keep slaying, my chaos demon. 💚

#3 — Dookie (1994)

Well, how do you talk about an album that rocked your entire world without turning into a puddle of tears? I discovered Dookie shortly after I bought American Idiot for myself and realized there was more to this band than just this album, and I was blown away. I distinctly remember falling asleep at night with me hear glued to my stereo with the volume on low as to not wake up my parents, and I’d just listen to that album on repeat. I don’t know if it was so much about the music than the lyrics, really. I was about 10 or 11 and hearing Billie singing on Coming Clean felt like a breeze of fresh hair to a little girl that already figured out she wasn’t straight. Dookie holds a lot of good tune but the subject they’re touching are so in touch with society even still today. This is an album that is forever going to hold a very special place in my heart, and I still can get enough of it. It’s actually sitting on my turntable right now.

#4 — Insomniac (1995)

Insomniac is the album I’ll listen to whenever I have a bad day, because it’s so angsty. It’s very different from what Dookie felt like despite being released only a year after. To me it’s also the first album where Billie starts making some sort of bolder statement, especially with a song like Walking Contradiction. Panic Song is also another of those songs that I keep going back to because it’s musically extremely interesting (that bass line! that drums opening! that guitar riff! yes, fucker, gimme more!) and the subject it touches (panic attacks, essentially) is something that I’ve been struggling with. Again, when you’re a young girl struggling with this, it’s comforting hearing your favorite band talk about that same subject. That album is riddled with good songs and it’s a shame that Insomniac still doesn’t get nearly as much credit as it should have.

#5 — Nimrod (1997)

To me, Nimrod is really the first album they started experimenting with a wide variety of different styles. A lot of people (Billie included) would probably argue that Warning had a deeper dive into diversity, but hearing songs like Walking Alone or Last Drive In, god, even King for a Day was not something they would’ve done before. Another solid album that holds one of my major favorite songs, the first song I’ve ever learned on guitar: Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). Billie’s songwriting on that album is a bit different from what we’re used to, he’s diving deep into his personal life and I think it’s probably the rawest we’ve seen him be at that point. Another one of the album that doesn’t get enough recognition (but then again, the next one too).

#6 — Warning (2000)

It’s... I’m not gonna lie, it’s a peculiar album. I love it, but I know it’s an album that’s been dividing fans for two decades. It’s still Green Day exploring, but to a very wider pace than they did on Nimrod, and this is SO GOOD. Misery is a very good example of that, actually. It’s also Billie’s first ‘real’ dive at politics with songs like Minority and Macy’s Day Parade. Hell, even Warning can be held as some sort of statement. I do love that album, but you can also sense that at that point the band is not doing well. We know that now because they’ve talked about it at length, but you can sense in the music that they’re searching for something that they aren’t able to find.

#Comp — International Superhits! (2001)

Not gonna go in great length about this, but the two exclusive songs (Poprocks and Coke, Maria) are some of my favorite b-sides that they’ve ever released.

#Comp — Shenanigans (2002)

This is a peculiar compilation, I don’t really think I’ve ever seen a compilation of b-sides and rarities being put out as a compilation in any of the other bands I’ve been following around for decades, but it’s a nice one.

#7 — American Idiot (2004)

How do you talk about an album that literally changed your life? I’ve talked about it earlier today, but American Idiot was the first album I’ve ever bought for myself, with my own money, and it blew me away. I wasn’t raised in a house where music was prominent. Both my parents aren’t really fans of rock music (I mean, my mom listens to Dire Straits a lot and has a soft spot for Alan Parson but that’s pretty much it), so my taste in music stopped at what the radio gave me. And then Green Day came along, American Idiot started spinning in my room and that was some sort of a revelation for me. This is such a bold album. It got released during the Bush presidency, 3 years after 9-11, and there’s such an intensity to the songs that it’s still an album that you can listen to today and go “it still holds the same meaning”. Without even a shadow of a doubt, this is the best album they’ve put out so far. This is a masterpiece, and it’s no short of a surprise that it went this far in terms of number. Let’s not forget that it also birthed a live album, several gigantic world tour, a European Arena tour, a play that’s been on Broadway for more than a year at the time, and a soundtrack album from the play. This is something that is bigger than just an album. This is my #1 album, all artists included. I don’t think any album can top that one for me, not only because it’s a masterpiece both musically and songwrittingly (i don’t care if that’s not a word), but it holds an extremely personal connexion in my heart.

#Live — Bullet in a Bible (2005)

This was filmed in Milton Keynes (UK) at the end of the European Arena Tour that Green Day did in 2005. I cannot even begin to count the number of time that I’ve watched it. I started a band because of this live album. Just like American Idiot did, this blew me away. It’s a shame they still haven’t put that much more live material out in recent years, because this is a band that is so good live. Anyone would tell you that they’re absolute monsters on stage, even people that aren’t Green Day fans.

#8 — 21st Century Breakdown (2009)

Anyone will tell you that putting out another album after such a strong success as American Idiot would be a sink or swim. This is a swim, and a very good one at that. Politically speaking, I feel like this goes even further than Billie went on American Idiot. This album continues to blow me away even after 12 years, I keep going back for a listen and discovering new layers underneath Billie’s lyrics, and I love it. I have a very soft spot for Last Night on Earth because it’s a song for Adrienne, Billie’s wife, and we hadn’t gotten an Adrienne song in a long while ❤️

#Live — Awesome as Fuck (2011)

I have a love/hate relationship with that live album. I absolutely love the fact that they decided to release some more live material, but I don’t understand what they tried to do with it. By that, I mean that I don’t get why the live footage we get to see has been taped in a different country than the tracks on the album (which are all from different venues and different shows across the world). That being said, it’s still live Green Day and it’s still so damn good.

#9 — Uno! / #10 — Dos! / #11 — Tré! (2012)

I know that I have a pretty different opinion about the trilogy than most of the fans I’ve met so far, but I, for one, absolutely loved it. That being said, the style is different from regular Green Day, closer to garage rock/surfer pop-punk than anything else they’ve put out. It reeks of live recording and club shows, and yeah sure Billie’s songwriting is not at the heights he was on the previous albums, but the songs are so raw and personal that I connected with those three albums instantly. That said, you can sense how deeply depressed and struggling he was at the time by just listening to songs like Lazy Bones or Nightlife. The entirety of Dos! is a statement, it’s a cry for help. So yeah, I’m fairly certain this is some sort of unpopular opinion, but even if the band’s state of mind wasn’t good, these albums are a good spin to me.

#Comp — Demolicious (2014)

If I’m not mistaken, that’s a compilation that was specifically put out for Record Store Day in 2014. Another bold choice for a compilation, and one I love because people often don’t know what demos sound like (and I LOVE IT). I hold that vinyl very tightly in my record collection, it’s a clear pressed vinyl and it’s very good-looking lmao.

#10 — Revolution Radio (2016)

Green Day returns to making bold statements and higher songwriting! This is an album I didn’t really connect with at first because I was going through some really deep shit in my personal life. This was also the first time I was gonna be able to go and see them live, and I ended up missing it, so that’s a forever burn on my calendar lmao. This is a solid album that holds some very good songs (politically, but also personally). I tend to view Still Breathing as an answer to the song Lazy Bones on Dos!, and it’s no coincidence that it was one of the most massive hit on this album. Bang Bang is literally American Idiot’s little sister. I feel like a lot of the songs on this album are answers to earlier songs actually, and I’m just realizing that now by writing it and browsing the tracklist lmao.

#11 — Father of all Motherfuckers (2020)

Until that album was released, I didn’t think Green Day could ever disappoint me. I was... well, I was wrong. I don’t understand what they tried to do with that album, and I’m saying that with love. This is a band that’s used to experimenting with different styles (I mean, just have a listen of Warning or Nimrod), but this... This feels hollow. This feels like they’ve been pressed to put out a record and they just went with the cheapest thing they could. Now, I don’t hate that album, I just don’t see the intent. Some of the songs are good enough, but they aren’t up to the standards of enough Green Day used to give us. I still give it a listen every now and then because I’m one of those people that think some records need to be “tamed” before you really start liking them, and I do like some of the songs (Oh Yeah, Graffitia), but this feels more like Billie Joe having fun recording stuff in his garage than the band being hard at work in the studio with a producer.

Okay, as promised, that got excruciatingly long! I do hope that was entertaining enough though lmao.

#I NEVER EXPECTED TO GET SUCH A COOL ASK BUT HERE WE ARE #inacatastrophicmind #green day #listen........ i told y'all i could go feral for green day #this is me going feral #i can talk about that band for HOURS #my knowledge knows no bounds #though sometimes i'd like to have some bounds

14 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 5 years

Text

;sleepy (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

Jungkook’s never too sleepy for sex...

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader genre/warnings; domesticated goodness in the form of smut and fluff, morning sex, sleepy jungkook, established relationship words; 2,254

more﹆chapter index

“Morning,” Jungkook’s sleep laden voice vibrated in your ear, his arms slinking around your waist as he pressed his body into the back of yours. “How long have you been awake?”

You pushed back against him. He sounded groggy and hoarse, barely awake. Made you want to stay in bed some more. In the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. But there was something beginning to distract you...

“Are we just going to ignore the boner against my ass?”

There was a beat of silence and then he chuckled brokenly, wiggling his pelvis, his dick conveniently snug between the cheeks of your butt.

“We might have to,” he croaked. “My eyes are practically glued shut.”

He was so sleepy he probably hadn’t even noticed the morning wood he’d been sporting until you’d pointed it out. But now that you had he couldn’t help but keep messing around, nudging you with his hips. There was something about the comfort of your boyfriend’s boner against your ass. You probably couldn’t voice it out loud to anyone else, but it was a special kind of intimacy that you shared. If didn’t even have to be sexual. You just liked how complete and warm it made you feel.

“What time did you get home last night?” You asked, wide awake, despite your eyes being closed. You were just enjoying the feeling of this lovely lazy Sunday morning.

Jungkook nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His breath hot, tickling you almost as he replied. “No clue... 2...3am?”

“Jungkooook.”

“It’s the weekend,” he protested against your whining, “and you left me to hang out with the girls so of course I had to meet up with the guys. Not gonna stay inside on my own, am I?”

You could hear the pout in his voice. “You big baby.” He grunted, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Are you hungover?”

You’d arrived home around 8pm after your day of retail therapy and cocktails with your friends and had hit the hay quite early, maybe 11pm, the house too quiet and boring without your boyfriend. You’d vaguely remembered stirring momentarily in the middle of the night, feeling Jungkook’s weight on his side of the bed, signalling he’d arrived back home, but other than that you hadn’t heard a peep. The beauty of being such a deep sleeper.

Jungkook shook his head. “Didn’t drink much.”

“You smell like you did.” You wrinkled your nose as you spoke, the smell enough to rouse memories from your college days.

“I’ll shower in a min’,” he mumbled into your skin, the timbre of his voice in your ear setting you alight a little.

As much as you liked to romanticise his morning surprises, you were only human, and your boyfriend still managed to affect you in ways unimaginable, even after all these years together. You snapped your eyes open, determination and mischief deep in your bones.

“Please don’t do that,” he groaned pretty much immediately when you started backing up on him, because apparently when you started playing too, he couldn’t handle it. “I have no energy to fuck you right now.”

“I do,” you quipped, wiggling into him and feeling his dick just about twitch.

A pause and then– “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeated. You felt his arms loosen their grip as you twisted around. “Can’t say no to that,” he grinned. You didn’t even need to ask him to get on his back, he was already moving, fluffing up his pillow for the ultimate comfort.

You settled yourself on his lap, legs either side and took a moment to stare down at him. It had been a little less than 24 hours since you’d last saw his face, sue you. He looked just as tired as he sounded, hair bouncy and in his eyes which were barely open. Face swollen, lips a little chapped. A long sleeved sweatshirt on and just his boxers. He looked so cosy you almost just wanted to cuddle him, but the lump pressing against your underwear reminded you ever so impatiently why you were straddling him.

You bent, mouth against his neck, trying to ignore the light stench of alcohol on his skin. His hands reached for the back of your head, trying to pull you back, eager for your lips on his. “Kiss me, woman,” he demanded as you fought it.

You squealed, hands bracing yourself against his chest. “Nooo.” You could handle the smell of stale alcohol, just not the taste.

“I brushed my teeth when I got home.” He was adamant, whining against your cheek. “Honest.”

You pulled back slowly, expression judging. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“What? I needed to get rid of the taste. Yoongi made me drink something disgusting.”

You laughed at his upturned nose. “Just admit you hate the taste of alcohol, Jungkook.”

He went to argue with you, for some reason, always having to fight you on that one, but you cut him off. With your mouth. He was telling the truth. He had brushed his teeth. You mean, his breath was a little musky but so was yours after sleep, and love does that to a person, you didn’t really care.

His hands fell down your back and then to your ass, slowly rocking you against his crotch. Things got hot soon after that but as you pulled away to catch your breath you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Your hair is so floofy!” You exclaimed, unable to stop yourself from combing your fingers through the bouncy strands. “What the hell did the hair salon do to you?”

“It’s a mess right now. Looked better yesterday. You wouldn’t know...” He was grumbling, but his eyes were slightly more awake now, a little bit glassy, jaw relaxed as his breathing continued to shallow. He wanted you bad.

“Shut up. You sent me a snap.” You dismissed, unable to stop brushing through it. “I love it.” A quick kiss to his mouth ended up lingering. “I love you. You’re so cute.”

He pushed his head further back into the pillow, hips rising into yours as he grunted. “My dick’s so hard right now, I don’t want to be cute.”

“Too bad,” you shrugged, but you couldn’t ignore the infuriating burn between your legs any longer. Sitting up you popped his dick out of his boxers, gripping him firmly around the base. He inhaled sharply but stayed silent, gaze locked between your bodies as you pulled your underwear to the side to rub him against your heat.

You were wet but could probably do with a touch of warming up before you let him dive right on in. However, you didn’t have the patience for that right now, not when you were desperate to feel him inside you.

Hastily, you went to shimmy your underwear down your hips but a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. “Shit, noo, keep them on.” Jungkook almost begged, and you complied because well, whatever he asked, he got. If he found it hot, then so did you.

Aligning him with your entrance you began to push down, popping over the bulbous head of his cock, biting down on your lip with a groan at the sudden fill. You let go of the delicate fabric, his dick now able to hold it back for you and attempted to sink lower, supporting yourself with a palm flat against his pelvis, knees digging into the mattress.

Jungkook’s hands slipped under your tank top, holding your hips as he watched you slowly take him inch by glorious inch. “This looks so fucking hot,” he croaked. You couldn’t tell if he was still tired or just coming undone quicker than usual.

You huffed, nearly there. Nearly filled whole. “Y’know maybe if your dick wasn’t so thick I’d be able to take it better.”

Laughing loudly, he folded his arms behind his head cockily. “Keep inflating my ego, babe. Makes me happyy–umfph.”

He choked on the last syllable, eyes bulging as you swallowed the last inch and rocked forward. You smirked. “What was that?”

He groaned as you began to move forward and back, warming yourself up, getting used to the stretch, fists bunched in his sweatshirt. “Shit.” He was chuckling breathlessly, dick so snug inside your walls that pure pleasure was etched all across his face.

He raised on his elbows, hands flat to the bed as he watched you begin to bounce lightly and that’s when he began tugging at his shirt. “Want me to take it off?” Maybe he was getting too hot, maybe he wanted to see better... Whatever the reason you nodded eagerly, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips.

You bounced a little harder as he stretched awkwardly, garment over his head and you could hear his muffled groaning underneath the fabric. When he finally got free and threw it to the floor, his hair was even more fluffy, bouncing about as you rode him, his cheeks tinged red. Definitely awake now.

He was breathing heavy as he grabbed your hips, holding you steady to back you both a little further up the bed, his head propped up against the headboard. You flattened your hands to his stomach, needing the leverage as you continued to fuck down on him, feeling his muscles contract along the way.

“That’s it, ride my dick,” he moaned, grasping a hold of your middle tightly, helping you bounce. You took him easily now. Could hear how wet you were as he slid in and out. “God. I missed you.”

You rolled your eyes, which was actually a lot harder than it seemed when you were riding dick. “You literally fucked me Thursday night.”

“That’s a whole 3 days ago.” He had an answer for everything, but before you could think to tell him that he started thrusting his hips up into you. Jiggling you about in an extremely unflattering way, the straps of your tank top falling down your arms.

“W-what are you doing?” You managed to squeal out, body collapsing into his as you grasped onto his shoulders as he kept going.

“Trying to make your boobs fall out.”

How old was he? His plan wasn’t working anyway because now your chest was hidden from view. “You’re lame.” He just kissed the comment from your lips.

“And you’re weak.”

“Hey.” You warned, but he was right. You were out of breath and your thighs ached. Riding dick had never really been your forte unless he was helping you, and right on cue–

“Keep still. I’ll help.”

He held your hips down as he began to thrust and the pleasure was so amazing and instant you couldn’t help but moan loudly. “You were supposed to be sleepy.” Your voice was weak, shaky.

“I was.” He grinned. “I just got woken up because there’s an insanely pretty girl sat on my dick.”

Lame ass. You would tell him again but you were now at a loss of words. He was fucking into you pretty hard. Harder than he’d done in a long, long time. Determination and concentration set in his expression as he grunted every now and then. You were sensitive, each stroke of his dick setting you on fire, and if you could feel an impending orgasm, so could he. He squeezed out his question. “You gonna cum?”

“Maybe,” you gasped. You didn’t want to jinx it. “Keep going.”

He grunted in exertion, voice so low it ripped straight through you. Just like his dick. “Faster?” You nodded crazily, unable to do much else, a moan tearing at your throat. He obliged. “That’s it. Squeezing my dick so hard because you’re gonna cum all over it.”

You whined, at this point burying your face into his neck, folded into him, because everything just felt so good. “Fffuck, Jungkook.”

You were holding your breath, dangling over the edge as you concentrated on each thrust he gave you, and then there were tears in your eyes as you urged the final push. Successful, because Jungkook could quite literally fuck like no tomorrow, red hot pleasure exploding through your body with a cry.

He came too along the way. You were a little bit dazed but could hear the sigh of bliss leaving him through the blood rushing in your ears. His body relaxed instantly, grip on your body loosening as his thrusts turned shallow, fucking you lazily through the waves of pleasure before you both had enough, slowly coming to a standstill but still slightly breathless.

“Good morning to me,” he beamed up at the ceiling.

You slid off him, settling on his thighs and groaned, your eyes feeling heavy now as sleep tried to pull you back. Oh, how the tables had turned. Your underwear snapped back into place over your heat, blocking any spillages for now, but it wouldn’t be long before his cum started seeping out and potentially threatening to soil anything in its path.

You grabbed both his hands, attempting to tug him forward. “Come onnn.” You tugged harder. “Get up! Shower time!”

It was a big fat fail. Jungkook was one big lump of muscle, freakishly strong. He ended up humouring you and sitting up himself with a chuckle, pretending like you were victorious.

“So strong, baby. Have you been working out?” He folded his dick back into his boxers with a goofy smile your way, and you kissed it off, unable to help yourself, despite the displeasure of his sarcasm.

He just looked so cute.

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2019

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:flll

9K notes · View notes

txylorwrjtes · 4 years

Text

I’ve got you, sweetheart: Part 2

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning(s): Mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, reader has brain damage

Character(s): Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Novak, Y/N Y/L/N

Summary: Your mother marries an extremely abusive man, who abuses you to the point you get brain damage. You have a hard time with speech and learning all of the things you already learned before, but you have Dean by your side to help you every step of the way.

Word count: 1,210

Previous part || I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

The lobby to the hospital was full of patients waiting to be checked in. But concerning your conditions when Dean had carried you in, screaming for help, doctors and nurses had rushed you to the Emergency room, where they hooked you up with an IV bag. Fluids of morphine to help with the pain for when you woke up pumped through.

They x-rayed your whole body, finding that no bones were broken, but you would be extremely bruised for the next week or two. What they were concerned about was your brain. You were knocked pretty hard in the head. So everyone, including the Winchester brothers and Castiel had waited for you to wake up so the doctors could do some tests.

It took you almost two hours to finally rise from unconciousness. But when you did, you found yourself having trouble processing things. You could hear what the doctors were saying, but you didn't know what to say, or how to say anything.

"Ms. Y/L/N, are you feeling any pain at all?" One of the doctor's asked, your eyes slowly trailed over to the doctor. It took a while for the words to process inside of your mind. Everything was slow, your brain hurt, your entire head was throbbing, you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out. Your voice wasn't gone, you just didn't know how to pronounce a simple no. "Honey, talk to us."

Dean stood outside of the room you were in, his brother and Castiel standing behind him with curiosity running through their veins as they wondered what was going on. The door was shut, blocking any sound that anybody was making. He looked through the small squared window on the door, allowing him to peep into the room. He noticed that your mouth was moving. It was moving slowly. Confusion had spread across your face as you looked around the room, the two doctor's that were in the room with you glanced at each other all before one of them turned to the door, stepping out of the room to explain to the three men what was going on.

When the door shut behind the doctor, that's when Dean began asking questions. "What's going on with her, doc? Is she okay?" He asked. Genuine worry sounded in his voice as he watched as the doctor's face fell into a bit of sadness.

"She will be okay." The doctor explained to three men as she nodded her head. "She has bruising along her stomach and her side, but no broken bones. Our biggest concern though..." Her words trailed off. She didn't want to worry your boyfriend. She knew this would be a hard thing to deal with.

"What is it?" Dean asked, his patience was running thin. He just wanted to know what was going on with you.

The doctor inhaled a deep breath, all before she spoke. "Her stepfather kicked her pretty hard in the head. It damaged her brain." She said. The brothers and Castiel glanced at each other. Each one of them were worried, but they still focused their attention onto what the doctor was saying. "It's not permanent. It'll heal. But it could take months up to a year or two for her to get better. She is currently having trouble with her speech, the things people say to her, she is having a hard time processing. And you might have to teach her the things she had already learned before all over again, starting with walking, then writing, and then swimming and so on. Do not let her handle any knives or anything that is sharp until she is one hundred percent better."

Dean nodded his head at this information. He could feel his heart heavy in his chest as he tried his hardest to breathe. He looked back through the window and into the room. He could see your blank face as you stared at the wall. You had tears running down your face from the frustration and the confusion you were dealing with. You didn't know anything, any word you tried to get out, you struggled with. You couldn't even say your own name.

It was hard for Dean to see you like this. He wished there was some way to take all of this away, but he knew. He knew there wasn't anything he could do.

"How long is she going to have to stay here, doc?" Dean could hear his brother ask a question that was stuck in the back of everyone's mind.

"A week." The doctor said. "Just until her bruising is a bit better."

~~~

The entire week you were in the hospital, Dean had stayed. He had gone back to the bunker that first day to drop off his brother and Castiel and to pack up clothing for the next few days all before heading back to the hospital, where he would be spending the nights with you.

You didn't say anything to him. You either just slept, or stared at the wall. You couldn't bare yourself to eat actual food. You couldn't even say what you wanted to eat and that frustrated you.

So the doctor's would come up with a small bowl of Applesauce and some water with a straw.

The first time trying to eat your Applesauce, as you tried to put the spoon into your mouth, your hands were too shaky and you got Applesauce all over your hospital gown.

You fluttered your eyes shut and let out a sigh all before you tried again, just to make more of a mess. You dropped your spoon in the bowl in frustration all before balling your hand into a tight fist. You let out a frustrated cry, causing Dean to look away from the tv show that he was watching. He pushed himself out of the recliner that he was sleeping in and made his way over to you.

"Sweetheart, it's okay." Dean reassured you as he grabbed a napkin from the tray the doctor had brought up. He used it to wipe up the Applesauce you had spilt onto yourself all before throwing it into the tiny trash can near your bed. He then reached for the spoon and lifted it to your mouth. You looked up at him as though he was crazy. You weren't a baby. And it seemed he got your look as he spoke up again. "I want to help you. I'm going to help you get through this, I just-... need you to let me help you."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you allowed the words to slowly sink into your mind. It took a couple minutes, before you slowly nodded your head, opening your mouth for him to feed you.

So he did, he fed you the entire bowl of Applesauce and helped you take sips of your water. He stayed close to you the rest of the time, helping you drink some water all until you fell back asleep.

That's how it was all week. But he couldn't really help you with taking showers. That was your doctor's job. But he helped you with everything else and he planned on helping you every day after you checked out of the hospital.

~~~

Next part || I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

My Jensen/Dean girls tag list:

Message me if you’d like to be tagged here.

My Jared/Sam girls tag list:

Message me if you’d like to be tagged here.

My Misha/Castiel girls tag list:

Message me if you’d like to be tagged here.

I’ve got you, sweetheart tag list:

@plushpyrate

Message me if you’d like to be tagged here.

67 notes · View notes

valkyrieofsmut · 4 years

Text

Captive Love 5

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: (Y/n)'s day at the skelebro's house, Sans' day out.

A/N: So, in this chapter, we find out that (Y/n)'s soul trait is integrity; honesty and strong morals. The only problem with having integrity as a main soul trate is that, because you're so honest, even if you don't want to trust people, you can have the tendency to believe people easier, because you expect others to mean what they say as much as you do. Even extremely smart beings with the trait can second guess their instincts or have them overwritten because the person lying is someone they (want to) trust or have positive feelings about/ for. Based on the note... can you guess what's going to happen in this chapter... lol Also, sorry, guys! I kept trying to get this to post all day, but I guess that tumblr hates long posts...? Or me... Might just be me... lol.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story

Little lies never hurt anyone.

Sans leaned on the counter of the odd and ends shop, though it should rightfully be called a thrift shop, since most of its contents had come from other people and not “sources” like a normal store.

“You got a friend you’re buyin’ all this stuff for?” The bunny on the other side asked suggestively.

Sans gave her a smirk. “what’d make ya think that?”

“Well, you haven’t flirted with me once since you walked in the door,” she hinted.

“ah, sorry, doll. jus’ a lil distracted fer a sec, thinkin’ a comin’ in... did ya want ta hop on th’ sans express an’ ride it ta th’ bone zone?” He asked with a heavy handed lewdness.

Honestly, he’d rather spend the time with his sweetheart, but he had to keep up appearances so that no one got suspicious.

Plus, awkward sexual tension filled innuendos were easier to deal in than talking about feelings and shit.

The bunny gave a giggle and continued to lean over the counter toward him instead of going to get his requested items. “Still as charming as ever, I see.”

Sans flashed his smirk again. “so, can i get my stuff?”

The bunny giggled again and with a wiggle of tail asked, “so, does that mean that you’re thinking of getting a pet? Going to go out and take one?”

He let out an annoyed sound. “can i jus’ get my fuckin' stuff?”

She looked a little startled by the suddenness of the change, but took it in stride as it wasn’t really so strange for the former Underground citizens to be testy, and turned to go to the back.

"So," the bunny’s brother asked as he brought the requested items out a moment later, "you gonna wear these, then?"

Sans sneered at him. "you wish ya freak."

"A little too much denial…?" The bunny suggested with a smirk.

Sans gave a disgusted face. "go fuck yerself." He turned, flicking his fingers and letting his magic tug on the piles of stuff on the shelves above the bunny's head. "get dunked on, ya ass hat," he called back over his shoulder.

“aww, ya ain’t seen nothin’ at all?” Sans asked with a suggestive grin to the small cluster of spider ladies selling their baked goods in the corner of the bar. "'s a human, hard ta miss..."

“Ooooh, no,” one hummed.

“No, not anything… Do you wanna buy a croissant, Sans? It tastes soooo good with mustard…” another tempted.

“heh. ‘d rather have somethin' a lil sweeter on my tongue,” he insinuated, thinking of (Y/n) at home, spread across his bed, his tongue tasting all sorts of things…

Drool was slowly pooling between his sharp teeth, and he quickly wiped it, giving an internal groan at how fast his cock had risen to attention at the thought.

He needed to get with his sweetheart quick, even just enough to curb the appetite growing inside of him.

The spider girls giggling brought him back to the present. He flashed a grin and went to the bar, getting a mustard to drink as he continued around, checking everyone for info.

After the rest of his rounds, he headed to his last few information gathering contacts. The ones he knew couldn't keep their mouths shut.

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was stuck in this house, not able to leave, not much to do, nowhere to go.

Sans’ room was messy, her clothes were dirty, it wasn’t even lunch time…

First, she went to the bathroom and washed her clothes in the tub the best she could, cleaning herself as much as possible in the process, hanging them to dry so she could have something clean to go home in.

Then, she went back to Sans’ room, looking around. She couldn’t read any of the books on the shelf, seeing that the words were all written in a strange sort of glyph, and remembered that Sans had told her he couldn't read human language, but as she put all the books on the shelves, she saw the covers had various strange pictures, outerspace, numbers, shapes, most of them looked like school books, but, like they’d be for some advanced courses. She flipped through the pages of a few of them and saw all sorts of charts and formulas that looked reminiscent of something she’d seen on a tv show with Neil deGrasse Tyson as the host. Very smart… and science-y…

(Y/n) put them on the shelves, trying to keep them together as best she could. Some of the books were obviously not… string theory… or whatever the hell the others were… but, novels or something, a few of them she had only a vague idea, having to make a guess that one with a simple cover of a monster laughing at a casket and a crowd laughing at the two was either a black comedy novel, or a book of dark jokes.

She leaned toward the dark jokes.

Under his desk, she found a folded up paper and opened it, trying to see if it was important, though she'd really have no idea, and saw that it looked like some sort of congratulatory certificate. High school diploma, maybe?

After she got everything sorted, she tried to put it with other things that looked the same.

She went out into the rest of the house and found a garbage can under the extra tall sink cabinet, and took it up Sans' room, only throwing away things that were obviously trash; food wrappers, crumpled up bits of paper, other strange little things that might have been dried lava, or eternally frozen snow… any way, they were things that looked like they had fallen from his shoes.

When she took the garbage can back down, she found something that looked like it might be a vacuum, and she looked at it, turning it around and pressing the buttons to see how they worked without any power, before sticking it back in the closet and pulling out the broom and dust pan.

Sweeping was better than nothing… and also better than blowing up the house.

The next task (Y/n) tackled was sorting out the laundry, though she couldn’t find any washer or dryer to clean them in. Maybe they made laundromat trips?

After that she figured it was about lunch time, so she dug through the fridge and ate a small portion of the lasagna from the night before. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, but it was far from the best. Maybe if she hid some of the spices he’d used that should have stayed out of the mix, like sage, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg… really, she thought maybe he’d just put some of everything in the spice rack in there.

She tried turning on the tv and entertaining herself, but the only channels they seemed to get all had the same robotic actor on them, overdramatically giving monologues, "hosting" or cooking things- awful things… that’s probably where Sans’ brother had gotten the recipe for the lasagna…

She turned it back off, and decided to look through the windows to try to get an idea of the area she was in. Knowing that she was at least supposedly in danger, and most likely truly could be, she only peeped from the edges of the window for the first few minutes, but after noticing that there didn't seem to be anyone or anything outside but tall grass and flowers, she just looked through it normally.

I thought they said we were in monster territory…?

(Y/n) put a hand over her face. What if they were all the way on the other side of the monster territory? She certainly couldn't find any landmarks that looked familiar, and the tall buildings usually on the horizon seemed to be missing.

Only more support for her 'Sans is actually a nice, though perverted, guy' theory…

She sighed and decided to go look out the windows in Sans' room, thinking that maybe she'd see something familiar from higher up.

(Y/n) was standing at the window, wondering what kind of flowers were in the field, when the door opened. She, of course, expected it to be Sans, this being his room and all, but the blood drained from her face was she saw the tall skeleton in the doorway.

"HUMAN, I THOUGHT YOU WOULD PROBABLY GET HUNGRY, AND I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D BE ABLE TO FEND FOR YOURSELF," he shouted, sounding extremely put upon. "AND I KNEW SANS WOULD BE TOO LAZY TO REMEMBER TO FEED YOU, SO I- WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE?" He asked suspiciously, cutting himself off before getting to his point about how much of a hassle it would be if she died from starvation.

Her color had gotten paler when she'd seen him, and her eyes had started darting around the room, as though taking stock of what she could use as a weapon. Papyrus automatically did a check and found that not only did she have a blue soul, denoting her strong integrity, but it seemed to have a bit of a purple glow around the edges showing her perseverance, looking a bit like blue velvet; blue, but purple in the shadows caused by the texture, and she had an extremely low LOVE, around that of a child's, and was surprised that her desire to find a weapon went so against her stats.

It must be a survival tactic, then. Probably to defend against any oncoming attacks.

She posed no threat to him, but he applauded her instinct to be ready to fight if necessary.

She swallowed harshly and managed to rasp out a broken whisper. "Loo-n- ou-si-." She pointed out the window to try to help him understand what she was saying.

He seemed to have dismissed her, though, looking around the room. "OH MY GOD!!"

She jumped at his exclamation. Did she do something wrong by cleaning?

"THIS IS THE CLEANEST I'VE SEEN MY LAZY BROTHER'S ROOM SINCE WE MOVED IN!! BUT, WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THE LAUNDRY? IT'S JUST SITTING HERE IN PILES."

"C-ou-... cou-n't fi-d," she rasped, shaking her head nervously apologetic. Her hand went to her throat, and the way she winced showed how hard on her throat just getting that much out was.

Papyrus hummed, his fingers lifting to his chin. It would make sense that she wouldn't wash them if she couldn't find anything to do it with. "FEAR NOT, HUMAN! I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, WILL SHOW YOU WHERE THE WASHING MACHINE IS! AND HOW TO USE IT!!"

(Y/n) opened her mouth to object that she did know how a washer worked, but it didn't matter, because he had just turned and started out the door with, "COME, HUMAN, AND BRING A PILE OF LAUNDRY!!"

After having the instructions on how to use the machine yelled at her, for no particular reason, she was glad that it had been Sans that had found her, and that Papyrus had only come to check on her and would be leaving soon. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to stay in his presence without constantly being on the edge of a panic attack.

When she came back into the front room from where the laundry room was, behind a hidden door in the kitchen, Papyrus was standing a little awkwardly near the door.

"W-WELL… I CAN'T SPEND ALL DAY MAKING SURE THAT YOU DON'T DIE! I HAVE TO GO! …" He stood silently for another moment, then announced, "I'M GOING."

(Y/n) gave a smile and waved, the most she could do without hurting her throat further or risking offending him, and had to hold back a laugh as the start of a red glow touched his cheeks and he looked flustered for a millisecond before he gave a tug to straighten his outfit before he turned and walked out through the door.

After Papyrus left, (Y/n) mostly just hung around and did laundry, looking through things, but not finding much for her to do until she found a deck of cards, then she sat on the floor and played solitaire, pausing only when the laundry was done, to fold it and put it on the desk chair, not wanting to dig around in Sans’ drawers.

He was a guy… guys had… stuff … that she’d rather not stumble across… especially due to the strange things that had apparently turned him on before. Also, being a skeleton monster made him different from every other guy she'd known, and the thought of finding super weird fetish stuff that she'd inevitably be morbidly curious about gave her pause.

She wasn't a "freak" but… curiosity was something that had gotten the better of her before, and some things in life, you just didn't need to know.

(Y/n) had finished the few loads of laundry, folded them, and turned to just playing card games by herself on Sans’ bed by the time the door opened and Sans walked in, looking tired and sweating a weird sort of translucent, but red tinged, perspiration.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him before looking up, but then froze in place and swept his shocked and slightly horrified gaze around the room.

For the second time that day, she wondered if she'd done something wrong by cleaning Sans' room.

He stiffly walked to the chair and pushed the laundry off onto the floor.

(Y/n) made an indignant noise from the bed, but heard him mutter, "too clean…"

Ahh, so he's one of those people who need a little disorder to feel comfortable , she noted, feeling the anxiety leaving her as he tossed his coat on the chair and turned to her.

He smiled and lifted a bag onto the bed. "i, uh- i uh- gotcha some stuff…" His expression shifted to that angry sort of flustered look he'd had before, paying close attention to how his other hand was fiddling with the edge of his red sweater. "somethin' ta wear, s-so ya don't have ta keep wearin' dirty clothes…"

Sans glanced over at her and felt another pang in his chest at the beautiful smile she was giving him.

fuck-! so adorable! an'... why d'i feel disappointed that she's not wearing my clothes, now?

(Y/n) smiled at him, mouthing thank you . She hesitated before nervousness seemed to grow over her a little and her gaze focused on the bed.

“wassup, sweetheart?” He asks, feeling a bit nervous about what was on her mind.

She gestured, asking, can I go home? She immediately winced and glanced up at him then back to the bed, as though she were worried he was going to hit her.

Sans felt his soul throb painfully at the thought of her leaving, and his hand automatically went to it. He realized what he was doing, and changed the movement to scratching his sternum through his sweater. Luckily, he had a reason for her to stay. He move the bag onto the floor, then sat on the mattress and laid back with his shoulders about even with her, making himself comfortable as he told her, “i talked ta alla my contacts, an’ it sounds like no one knows ‘xactly where ya are, but they definitely know that there’s a human on monster turf.”

Her brow dipped in confusion and she asked, how?

Sans shrugged as he put his arms behind his head, his fingers running over a crack on the back of his skull. “dunno fer sure-” ok, it might have been from his asking so blatantly if anyone had seen a human around- “but i hadda getcha here somehow. coulda jus’ been spotted on th’ way. tough luck, but, should be good in two or three days. ‘f we wait fer three, they’ll most likely ferget ta be lookin’ fer ya.”

(Y/n) eyed him, and he was glad that he’d already been sweating so that she hopefully didn’t notice the fresh round of perspiration beading on his skull. Finally, she seemed to accept it, and he let out an internal sigh of relief.

“so, you, uh, ya have an ok day?” She gave a half nod half shrug. “noticed ya cleaned up ‘round here… an’ i appreciate th’ thought behind it, sweetheart, ‘s real sweet a ya, but, i gotta ask ya; please don’t. kinda wigs me out when ‘s too clean. like it’s a fake fuckin’ storybook,” he muttered.

She put a hand on his arm, and it felt like Sans’ soul tumbled around his rib cage. He looked up to see the apologetic look on her face. Sorry...

Apologies? Yeah… Those were something that never happened in the Underground.

In a kill or be killed world, any sign of niceness was seen as a form of weakness, so niceties had been dropped long ago.

The way his sweetheart was so nice, showing kindness and caring was definitely something he liked about her, but… it also made him uncomfortable.

Sans would never turn away from her for her weakness, he wanted to protect her, keep her with him and safe. But… he didn't know how to react to this kindness. So he again took it to a place he was more comfortable with.

“ah, dollface, don’t worry ‘bout it…” He turned and his thumb went out to run down her cheek, trying not to let the tiny flinch get to him. “if it’d make ya feel better, i know somthin’ ya could do ta make it up ta me…” He gave her a smirky grin and took his hand back, putting a fingertip on his cheek. “how ‘bouta kiss?” He watched her gaze turn wary, her body stiffening like she was getting ready to bolt.

False, flirty affection and innuendo was so much easier to handle than real affection, even if he wanted her affection like a starving man wanted food. It seemed, though, that she knew how to take flirting about as well as he knew how to take a compliment, so he again changed directions.

“kiddin’- ‘m kiddin’, doll,” he assured quickly, feeling a prick of pain in his soul. He was not kidding. He'd probably do anything to get her to willingly kiss him again. “heya, knock knock.”

She looked at him uncertainly, but lifted a brow and tilted her head. Who’s there?

“sherlock,” he told her, watching as she puzzled over it.

Sherlock who…? Seemed to be what she asked with her confused expression after a moment.

“ sherlock yer door tight, sweetheart,” he told her, watching as her eyes closed as she took it in, then her posture changed as she silently chuckled.

Sans’ smile widened in satisfaction that she enjoyed his joke. “knock knock, doll.”

She lifted her brow to ask who's there, but it was the cute little smile on her face that made his soul throb.

“mustache,” he told her, watching her expression contort in confusion.

Mustache? Can skeleton monsters even grow mustaches? What the hell? She thought and tilted her head inquiringly.

“ mustache ya a question, but i’ll shave it fer later,” he told her with a blow off expression, watching her giggle as squeaks and huffs left her.

There… that adorable expression on her face was a much better look than her being worried that he was going to do something unpleasant to her. Even if the worry was justifiable, given his track record concerning her…

He just watched her giggling for a moment, red spreading over the bridge of his nose.

She tapped her hand to his arm and managed to ask, you know a lot of knock knock jokes?

“knock knock,” he told her in answer, and she lifted a brow immediately in question. “rhino,” he told her.

Oh, this one had to be good. She tilted her head and lifted her brow again.

“ rhino every knock knock joke there is,” he told her, his grin getting a bit goofier at her reaction. Stars she was cute! “so, what else d’ja do?”

(Y/n) wondered if it was something normal for monsters to talk so comfortably with someone they’d only really just met the day before. It really seemed like some ideal relationship situation from some rom-com; he got home from work, told her about his day, asked about hers… The only thing missing was an actual relationship…

She masked the feelings her internal musings brought up with the ease of practice and gestured around the room. She was good at ‘don’t rock the boat.’

“jus’ this, huh?” He asked and she nodded before pointing at the cards, indicating that she'd also played cards. “sounds like a good day ta me, but maybe ‘m jus’ lazy,” he said as he closed his eye sockets. A contented smile tilting his normal grin up. “‘m gonna try ta get a nap in before dinner. feel like joinin’ me?”

(Y/n) shook her head to answer him, knowing he could see her though his slightly open socket.

“suit yerself, sweetheart,” he told her, shifting his shoulders as he got comfortable.

He seemed to almost immediately fall asleep, soft snores coming from him, and not even reacting when she’d waved her hand in front of his face.

She went back to her card game, the weird feeling of being so comfortable around a strange man (one that had pushed her against the wall and basically rubbed against her, no less!) struck her as wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to be truly uncomfortable.

Uneasy and worried from his actions sometimes?

For sure.

Uncomfortable?

Nope.

Something brushed against and down her back, laying against her butt.

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder, seeing Sans' arm laid out behind her. She watched him closely, not wanting to miss any tell in his expression, but other than slightly rolling toward her, he still seemed asleep.

She gave a doubtful glance, but it fell to the back of her mind as she continued her game.

After a few minutes, she felt Sans rolling toward her more, his hand sliding over the bed, snaking over her thigh, wrapping around her waist and burying his face against her thigh.

Oh, yeah. He's asleep, my ass, she mentally grumbled.

She rolled her eyes and went back to her game, not entirely comfortable with this extent of touching, but she knew that some good friends got touchy and cuddled, so it wasn't some insanely strange concept to her, even if they weren't that close.

Halfway through the next round of her game, (Y/n) felt Sans' arms tighten around her, and she looked down to see him rolling over onto his stomach, putting him on the cards and into her lap, his head awkwardly pressing against her.

She tried to shift around to get rid of the discomfort of his skull pressing against her hip, and the weird kink he'd put in his neck vertebrae to do so.

Of course, with all of her edging around his head, and their shifting around, she ended up laying back with him in her lap, his skull laying on her stomach. How could this end any other possible way with her luck?

Honestly, though, with all the terrible things he could possibly do to her, that she knew of and worried about, laying with his head on her stomach hadn't even made the list.

She gave a shattered, huffing sigh that made her cough a little, but it cleared quickly.

She kept herself ready in case she was going to have to defend herself from the skeleton, but folded her arms over her chest to feel like she had at least a little cover, and resigned herself to laying there until either he "woke up," or she had to convince him to move so she could use the bathroom.

Sans tightened his arms around his sweetheart as she coughed, hating that he didn't have green magic to try and fix it instantly, but, thankfully, it quickly ended.

He tried to be subtle, not wanting to give away that he was awake, but it was so hard when all he wanted to do was nuzzle into the soft squishiness of her belly. Especially when some of her squishiest bits were against his clavicle and were tempting him to rub against them… and give them a sniff…

fuck- ya smell so fuckin' good, sweetheart… He mentally groaned to himself.

(Y/n) shifted under him, but he didn't let it disturb him; he was an expert at pretending to sleep.

"SANS-"

The skeleton on her belly jumped at the loud voice, giving a grunt of surprise.

"YOU BETTER BE DOWN HERE IN FIVE MINUTES TO EAT DINNER!!"

"paps, you fuckin' sonuvabitch," he grumbled to himself, not quite audible to (Y/n).

"welp. dinner time, doll. you joinin' us downstairs 'gain t'night?" He asked as he sat up, not leaving the bed, or her pile of cards, but off of her.

She gave him a nervous look, not wanting to be afraid, but also very afraid of the tall, loud skeleton downstairs.

"aww, c'mon sweetheart, he ain't that bad. i mean, don't get me wrong, 'e's bad, but not that kind a bad."

As strange as it was for her to trust anyone so quickly, his words kind of made her feel better about being in the same room as the taller skeleton.

She followed him downstairs, deciding that she was misreading the look on his face and posture as content and proud, as though she trusted him to be her knight in a red sweater; it was probably just self confidence.

God knew she'd never felt that much of it to know.

Sans pulled out a chair for her, but instead of waiting to push her in, he sat in the chair next to it and shifted the seat, pulling it closer to him when she sat.

(Y/n) would protest, but she really did feel safer being closer to him, and farther away from the other skeleton.

He served her a small slice of lasagna, and she knew that it was because he knew it was going to taste awful, and he didn't want to stick her with too much to eat instead of a plot to starve her.

It was a quiet dinner, much the same as the night before, with the toe of Sans' sneaker hitting the leg of her chair he was so close, and Papyrus giving her not at all hidden suspicious glares, as though he didn't think it was safe to hold a conversation in front of her.

(Y/n) took another bite of the lasagna and hid her wince.

She really should have hidden those spices earlier…

A/N: Oh Sans... there's a difference between telling Paps that he's an amazing cook and telling (Y/n) she has to stay there because there's no possible way she can get home. Also, I recently got a message from someone who had made fanart of another story I wrote and asked if I wanted to see it- uh, fuck yeah, I do! You kidding?! You were inspired by something I wrote?! I'm gonna fangirl... I love it even more because I can't draw... I guess what I'm saying is that if you do anything inspired from something I've written (art, stories, drabbles), you don't have to ask, there's a 100% chance I want to see it. And that I'll squeal.

25 notes · View notes

propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years

Text

Afraid Ch 8

Warnings: Mild smut. A smidgen if you will

The smell of blueberry pancakes permeated my nose and I rolled awake to Nikki, still naked like always, flipping through channels with the tray from room service next to him. God I love him so much, I thought fondly, but then another smell hit my nose. Bacon. And my stomach turned. Bolting out of the bed I ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach right into the toilet. The Jack must have affected me worse that I had previously thought, but I felt better after getting it out.

“Uh what was that?” Nikki asked from the doorway to the bathroom.

“The Jack last night made me feel a little sick and I think it just hit me again. I feel fine now I just need to wash my mouth out.” I shrugged going to the sink.

“Are you sure? You don’t feel like you’re running a fever or anything?” He asked pressing a hand to my forehead.

“You’re sweet babe, but I feel perfectly fine now. Just not the drinker I used to be you know.” His concern reminded me of why I was so enamoured with him in the first place.

We sat on the bed eating our breakfast and watching the news despite me being bored by it. Nikki liked keeping up to date now that he ‘wasn’t clouded by the fog of heroin’ so the news in the mornings became a new routine. Nikki luckily ate his bacon first so the urge to vomit subsided quickly. I had just phoned the desk for new towels when there was a knock on our room door.

“That’s weird. Maybe it’s Tommy?” I pondered outloud. There’s no way the towels were being brought to the room already.

Nikki opened the door with a loud groan and soon Doc was walking into the room.

“We’re going back to LA for a few days.” He wasted no time getting to the point of his visit.

“What? Why?” I asked. We still had a lot to do with the album as the boys were still working out kinks with a few songs.

“Well we need the boys to do a few more interviews and I have to have a meeting with the record company” Nikki rolled his eyes and Doc continued. “We leave late tonight so get your shit together” With that he was out of the room.

“I hate interviews” Nikki groaned flopping on the bed on his back.

“I’m sorry you are going to have to do a few interviews.” I chuckled and he rolled over to lay his head into my chest.

“It’s just hardly ever about the music and mostly about the rumors or gossip. Not to mention that I feel like I always end up doing the talking for the band. I don’t want it to seem like I’m the leader when we’re a family, but they just don’t really talk.”

“I miss Alarik so I kind of am excited to get back.” I laughed and Nikki sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to be okay with having a fucking cat around Whiskey”

“Has he ever even been around a cat?” I forgot Nikki had a dog.

“No, but he has been to a few obedience classes so he’s really good.” Nikki tightened his hold on me. “Every time I have to leave like on tour or rehab he goes to training.”

“Wait.” I realized we were talking as if our animals would meet any time soon. “We’re speaking as if this is a near future. We just made things official.”

“Oh I….yeah you’re right.” Nikki kissed the spot on my sternum. “I just got ahead of myself.”

“I just don’t want to rush anything yet you know? I love how things are right now between us.” I lazily dragged my fingers through his hair.

“I get that” Nikki sat up and connected our lips in a soft kiss.

I never got tired of kissing Nikki. Every touch of our lips together sparked something inside of me that caused my heart to beat at lightning speed. I quickly flipped us so I was straddling him.

“We still have a bit of time to kill before we need to actually start getting things together.” Nikki cooed trailing his hand down my body before his thumb landed on my clit and began making tiny circles.

“I think maybe we can think of a few things to do to kill the time.” I said between moans bucking my hips against his hand.

“I can definitely think of a few things to do before we absolutely need to get ready” Nikki smirked sinking two fingers inside of me.

“Oh fuck” I gasped.

“Not yet, but we’ll get there.” Nikki chuckled.

“Shut up and finger me Nikki”

The jet ride was as I had pictured it would be in all honesty. The boys were all being shit heads and despite me trying to distract myself with a book it wasn’t working.

“All I know is when we get back I’m asking Doc to give me a new room at the other end of the hall from you idiots” Mick huffed.

“What do you mean Mick? I thought you liked rooming next to me?” I asked a little hurt.

“That was before you and Nikki started going at it like rabbits.” Mick rolled his eyes and continued tuning his guitar. “If I wanted to listen to other people have sex all the time I would watch the porn channels”

“Well at least you know I’m actually getting off” I shrugged and returned to my book.

“Wait what do you mean? Those girls are getting off.” Tommy asked suddenly interested at the mention of porn.

“No way. They’re clearly faking.” I laughed. “No girl sounds like that when they actually get off.”

“The sounds they make are too loud to be fake.” Vince scoffed.

“Nikki” I hollered getting the distracted bassists attention.

“Huh?” He looked up from his notebook.

“Have I ever sounded like how girls do in porn?” I asked to prove a point.

“Once. When I gave you that really awesome orgasm.” He smirked. “You remember, we were having a quickie at the studio and I told you that we don’t finish until you finish and then you… wait.” The pieces connected in his mind as I watched.

“I needed to get back to work” I shrugged.

“So you faked it?!” Nikki exclaimed suddenly standing.

“I had to we needed to get back to work.” Next thing I knew Nikki was dragging me into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“I got off that day and you didn’t” Nikki said matter of factly.

“Yes I just said that.” Nikki picked me up and set me on the counter of the sink before dropping to his knees.

“I’m going to rectify that.” And rectify he did.

My whole body ached, I had a runny nose, and I was nauseous. It was safe to say I was sick as a dog. Nikki had offered to stay with me and skip his MTV recording with Vince, but I wouldn’t let him do that. I took a bit more cold medicine and made my way back to my VCR to put in Dirty Dancing when there was a knock at my door. Sam and Nikki had a key to get in so if it were either of them I would think they would just walk in, I thought as I looked through the peep hole and caught a glimpse of Tommy.

“Tommy? What are you doing here?” I asked opening the door.

“Heather is out of town for filming something and Nikki is doing the MTV thing and said you were sick so I figured you would be home.” He waltzed right in and to my cabinets as if he owned the place.

“How did you get my address?” I made myself comfortable on the couch again.

“Oh, Tom.” He whirled around in my kitchen. “You don’t have anything in this place.”

“I’ve been in Canada with you guys. I haven’t had a need to buy groceries.”

“Okay you wait here I’ll be back” I wanted to ask what that meant, but he was gone before I could form the words. Oh well, I’ll watch my movie then. About a half an hour later Tommy was walking into my apartment with a few bags hanging off his arms.

“Woah what is all this?” I asked my curiosity peaked.

“Well I know Heather likes some certain stuff when she’s sick so I figured you would probably like the same kind of stuff” He acted as if the gesture was no big deal. I checked the bags over and saw there was soup, chocolate, and The Lost Boys on VHS.

“Oh Tommy you didn’t have to do this for me.” I was on the verge of tears.

“It’s no biggie.” Tommy shrugged grabbing a beer from the six pack he was putting in my fridge and sat on the couch. I was making my way back to the couch with the chocolate in hand when there was another knock on my door. Confused again I looked through the peep hole and saw Sharise.

“Sharise what are you doing here?” I flung the door open startling her.

“Oh Sharise what’s up?” Tommy waved.

“Vince said Nikki told him you were sick and I thought you would like a little company.” Sharise made her way into the apartment and plopped on the couch next to Tommy.

“Did Nikki make it sound like I was dying or something?” I joked joining them.

“Honey I’m home” Nikki called out in a funny voice walking through the door, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Tommy, Sharise, and I giggling on the couch. “I was just thinking it smells like T-Bone has been here”

“Hey babe” I spoke around giggles “T-Bone let me have a few puffs of his joint to help my nausea”

“It worked” Tommy smiled proudly.

“Well if Nikki is back that means Vince will be home soon so I better head out. Feel better hun.” Sharise hugged Nikki and headed out the door warning him to take good care of me.

“Yeah I’ll head home too so Nikki can give you his own dose of medicine.” Tommy winked sticking his tongue out earning himself a small flick on the nose from Nikki.

“I’ll see you tomorrow T-Bone.” Nikki sat down on the couch and motioned for me to climb in his lap.

“I missed you all day” I nuzzled my face into his neck.

“Remember when you couldn’t stand me?” He chuckled pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“You made a horrible first impression.” my voice muffled into his skin.

“Ya got me there. How about breakfast for dinner? I could make blueberry pancakes?” My stomach growled at the mention of food. “I’ll take that as a yes”

I watched fondly from the couch as Nikki began to prepare our breakfast for dinner. He was much more caring than I would have ever given him credit for in the past. He hummed a melody I didn’t recognize to himself as he worked.

“Almost done babe, I just need to prepare my bacon” He flashed a smile at me getting the bacon in the pan. Then the smell hit me. I ran to the bathroom just barely making it to the toilet. I had never been a big fan of bacon, but the smell never made me sick before now. That’s when it hit me.

“Babe are you okay?” Nikki’s worried voice came from behind me.

“Nikki what day is it?” I asked trying not to panic.

“The seventeenth why?” the confusion evident in his voice.

Slowly I lifted my head from the toilet.

“I’m late.”

“Late for what?”

“No Nikki. I’m late, late.” I tried again.

“I still don’t- oh. OH. Oh fuck.” The pieces finally clicking.

“Yeah. Fuck”

#nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fic #douglas booth!nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue fanfic #nikki sixx #afraid #smidgen of smut

80 notes · View notes