#fine forecasts au

[goosetooths]

its reverse au time!!!!! i missed my boys!!!

#my art #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #illustration #fine forecasts #fine forecasts au #reverse au #good omens reverse au #oc: doeley #oc: azmodeus

[tasteleeknow]

HELLO STRANGER. PART FOUR.

PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader GENRE: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist and taglist ♡ pt.1 | pt.5

Minho keeps his word. He’s hardly around for the first few weeks, disappearing early in the morning and returning late enough at night that you can almost forget you live with him. It helps that Luna had a chance to adjust weeks before you. She’s decided this is home. You attempt to follow her lead. She’s a little leader, your girl. She always has one of Minho’s cats trailing her, a little companion on her adventures around the apartment. She’s never alone. 

Hyunjin tosses his towel into the laundry as he rushes past you. “I’ll clean up when I get back,” he says just before stuffing a strawberry in his mouth. “Promise,” he mumbles around the fruit. 

“Mm, don’t worry about it. Just have a safe trip.”

He was taking a well deserved break, a weekend away with his parents. When he’d asked you for permission you’d been taken off guard. Why would he feel the need to ask you? And then Minho’s cat had made himself comfortable on your lap. Ah. The roommate/soulmate. You didn’t expect anything to change. As long as you both kept to your normal routine, you’d practically have the place to yourself. 

You should be happy to have some space. But you can’t help sinking a little as the door closes behind him. 

The weekend passes with the only trace of your soulmate the water running through the pipes in the early morning. He’s gone before you emerge. As always. 

It isn’t until you get a warning for severe weather and a text from Hyunjin that everything goes wrong. He was trapped. The ferry had been cancelled due to weather. He wouldn’t be back. Then you get a call from work. Stay home and bunker down. It’s a storm not seen in years, says the evening news. Expect power cuts and prepare accordingly. It’s enough to have you shoving your heaviest jacket on and rushing out the door to the convenience store. It was forecast to last two days. Two days of food and water and some candles, then you could hunker down. 

The rain starts as you’re shoving your haul into your shopping bag, the wheels making the walk back to your building easy—in good weather at least. The sky lights up with lightning as your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Minho. Right. You were getting good at forgetting about him. 

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?” he asks, sounding a little breathless. 

“Out. Why?” 

A door shuts in the background. “Have you seen the weather warnings? I’ll come get you.” 

“It’s fine. I’m around the corner.” 

A rumble of thunder punctuates your sentence. He was holding you up. It feels like the wind is picking up by the second, trees lining the sidewalk shaking their leaves onto the pavement. 

“You’re walking? Do you have an umbrella?” he asks.

An umbrella was useless by this point, the wind would make it unbearable. You weren’t going to waste time arguing with him about it. “I’m good.” Not exactly a lie. “See you soon.” 

It makes sense he’s home. You’re not sure why you’d let it slip your mind completely. It seems like the entire city is preparing to bunker down. You shove your hood over head as you venture out, keeping your head down and marching as quickly as the small wheels on your trolley can manage as it rattles along behind you. You’d broken a wheel off your suitcase this way when you’d moved in. Hyunjin had taken it from you, half carrying the heavy baggage over the bumpy surface. He wasn’t here to help you now, to cushion the tension between you and your soulmate, to carry some of your load for you.

You only had Minho.

You hesitate at the elevator. Wouldn’t it be just your luck for the power to go out just as you take the short ride upstairs. Still, there’s no way you can lug the heavy bag up the stairs. So you’d have to suck it up, your slight anxiety around elevators be damned. 

It’s your last moment alone as you watch the numbers tick over above the door. You’d be trapped with Minho for at least two days. You can’t decide if you’re grateful to not have to weather the storm alone. 

The apartment door swings open before you have a chance to fish for your key. 

“You’re drenched,” Minho comments, pointing out the obvious. His hair is a mess, damp and tousled.

It’s not worth an answer as you nudge past him, dumping your heavy jacket and sodden shoes in the entryway. He follows behind you to the kitchen and then begins moving the items you unpack around the counter like he’s helping. 

“Are you preparing for the apocalypse?” he asks, clearly amused as he starts arranging the many packs of water along the bench. “There’s enough water here to last us weeks.”

You pause your unpacking, turning to face him. “Us?” 

He blinks. “You’re not sharing?” 

You hum, feigning deep thought as you press your lips together. “Haven’t decided.” 

“You’d let your soulmate die of thirst?” 

He uses that word so casually now. ‘Soulmate’ slips past his lips like it’s easy, like he hasn’t thrown the entire concept at his feet and stamped it into the ground, like he didn’t admit to hating you for being his. He’s clearly in a good mood, his tone light and playful. It makes you want to shove him into your trolley and push it down the stairs. 

You take a step towards him, keeping your expression neutral. “Haven’t decided,” you repeat before leaving him to unpack the rest himself.

You needed a hot shower. 

—

He’s gone when you finish. You find all the supplies neatly packed away and the cats devouring their dinner. The light under his bedroom door is the only indication he’s still in the apartment. You settle into the lounge with a heavy blanket as the storm continues to roll in. Storms are nice, as long as you have light. Rain you loved, thunder and lightning. It was the threat of blackouts that had a tiny fluttering of butterflies starting in your stomach. Mina had said it was irrational, to be so afraid of the dark. You didn’t think so. 

What was irrational about being unable to see? It makes you vulnerable. It makes you alone. 

—

You’re completely disoriented when you wake. Two of the cats are sleeping between your legs, your neck hurts from the awkward angle you’d passed out in, and every single light is off. 

It had to happen. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for hours. You’re fine, you tell yourself. 

The sky lights up just as a crack of thunder jolts the cats off the lounge and into the darkness. 

You’re fine. Alone. Fine. 

Minho had left the candles out on the bench. You’d made a mental note of it after your shower. Phone. You had a phone. Where’s your phone? You dig between the couch cushions, willing your eyes to adjust to the darkness. It’s amazing how good brains can be at interpreting any noise in the dark as a threat. What was perhaps once a useful evolutionary adaptation, now serves to freak you out in your own apartment. You swear you hear a shuffle in the kitchen. The sound of slippers moving across tiles. 

“Minho?” you whisper. It feels safer to whisper. 

Silence. The sound of the whistling wind and heavy rain doesn't comfort you like it normally would. Not in the dark. Not when you’re alone. 

“Minho!” you call. You could be embarrassed about this later, in the daylight. 

A crash. You practically jump out of your skin, kicking your toe on the small table in front of the lounge as you leap to your feet. 

Then a door opens. 

Minho. 

“The power’s out. I—” 

“You’re alright?” he interrupts, voice croaky from disturbed sleep. 

“I—I yeah, I just… I thought I heard someone and it’s dark and—” 

“Fuck me,” he groans, clearly irritated. Then he sighs. “Alright. I left candles over here…” You tuck your feet up underneath you as he shuffles around. Then, “Hi, baby. You alright?”

Your heart skips. 

“Oh you’re braver than your brother’s, hm?” he continues. 

He’s talking to Luna.

It’s only when a faint glow appears over the kitchen counter that you manage to pull yourself up. You’re not alone. You have light. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” you offer as he emerges with two thick candles. The embarrassment comes with the light. “I don’t like the dark.” 

It makes sense to get the confession out of the way. What’s he going to do? Think you’re stupid? He couldn't care less about you. You have nothing to lose. 

“Ah,” is all he says in response. He places one of the candles down in front of you carefully, making sure it's away from the tissue box also resting on the small table. “I don’t like heights,” he adds, almost like an afterthought. 

He says it easily. It’s irrelevant. He’s saying it just to offer something. You shared, so he shared in return. You’re not sure why it renders you completely speechless. Nevermind the fact you’d learned as much from your bridge experience. The bridge. The one where he'd called you an infection. A buzzing fly. The memory snaps you from your stupor. 

You snatch the candle from the table. 

“Goodnight,” you offer curtly, silently wishing you weren’t alone—that you didn’t have to bunker down with your flickering candle and try not to think of the darkness surrounding you. 

—

Hours. It had to have been hours. Luna does her best to offer you comfort, curling around your arm as you wait for the storm to settle. It doesn’t. 

It should be easy, in theory, to walk across the hallway and knock on Minho’s door. To ask if he could sleep with his door open just so the thick darkness recedes a little around you. Alone. Alone. Alone. 

But it’s not easy. 

He’s not Hyunjin. 

You reach for your phone. 3% battery. He was unlikely to answer anyway. Not at 2am. Thunder rumbles through the building as you wait for him to answer. Wait and wait and wait. 

“Hello?” he croaks out. “You alright?” 

“Hi,” is all you manage in return, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

He sounds more awake now. Awake at 2am when he should be enjoying his time away with his family. Guilt seeps in to join the embarrassment. 

“It’s—I mean the power went out.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, then: “You don’t like the dark?”

He makes it so easy. “No, not really,” you confess. “Not when it’s storming anyway. It makes it worse… I guess.” 

“Minho home?”

“Mm.”

He’s quiet on the other end. A small comfortable silence. Like he knows you just don’t want to be alone. You can hear the storm through the phone. He’s so close, close enough to be feeling the same crashing of thunder and lightning. 

“Has he been behaving?” he asks. His tone is light but you can’t help feeling he means it, that he’s genuinely worried you’ve had a horrific clash the moment he’s left you alone together. 

“We’ve been fine, honestly. He helped me find the candles earlier when I got a little freaked out. We’re good.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“That’s good,” he hums, sounding tired again. 

You attempt to convince yourself you feel better, that you can let him go back to sleep and then follow him soon after. “My phone is about to die. I’ll let you go.” 

“Mm,” he hums. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

You can be brave, you tell yourself as the line goes dead. It lasts until the next rumble of thunder. Alone. Alone. Alone. 

Minho would be unlikely to murder you if you woke him again. He seemed to be insistent on getting along for Hyunjin’s sake. It’s a risk worth taking as your heart jumps at the next flash of lightning. 

With your flickering candle and racing heart you make your way to his door, attempting to ignore the shadows closing in around you. The cats are around somewhere, you remind yourself. You can attribute the noises you swear you hear down the hallway to them. 

What would you say when he opens his door? This would be the second time you’d disturbed his sleep tonight. Hi, sorry. I know you hate me and resent my presence in your life but I was wondering if you could keep me company? I’m afraid of the dark and the soulmate that rejected me is better than no company at all. Please.

You suck in a shallow breath as you rap your knuckles on the door softly, hesitantly. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9—

He opens the door slowly, eyes bleary and heavy. You’re not sure what to say. So you say nothing. 

“Yeah?” he says after a moment, when it’s clear you’re going to continue standing there in silence. 

Your lips part. Then close. 

A crack of lightning strikes nearby, the loudest yet. 

You watch as his eyes drop down your body, then trail their way back up to your face—like he’s processing the fact you’re really standing there at his door in the middle of night with nothing to say. 

“Is the power back?” he mumbles as he rubs at one eye. 

“No.” You lift the candle up between you like an offering—a silent answer. 

“Ah,” he says. 

You’re trapped. It’s up to you to lead this somewhere, to break this strange encounter before it lapses into awkward silence. You can’t just leave. You need an excuse. An excuse… An—

“Is it the storm?” Minho asks, pulling you from your panic. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “I’ve never heard anything about you being afraid of the dark,” he clarifies. “Is it the storm?” 

You shuffle back and forth on your feet, swaying a little. “I… I guess, yeah.” 

He’s quiet, waiting for you to continue. It’s easier to watch the small flickering flame as you speak. “I love storms. Rain too. It’s just… the combination with darkness and… being alone,” you mumble as the flickering candle casts shadows between you. “It sounds stupid.”

“How are the cats?”

You look up, finding his deep brown eyes on you. “What?” 

“Storms usually freak them out a little.”

“Oh.” You take a small step back before attempting to make out any shapes down the hallway. Pointless. It’s completely dark. “I haven’t seen them since… since I woke you up earlier.” 

Then he’s moving past you, into the darkness. You follow with your small candle, offering him the light he needs. He shuffles his feet as he walks, socks sliding a little across the floor. You feel better already, you realise as you follow him around. Suddenly the heavy rain and whistling wind feels like a curtain, shielding you rather than closing in. You’re safe and warm and you’re not alone. 

“Here they are,” Minho announces as he slides down onto the floor with his back up against the couch. He reaches under the small table and pulls one of the cat’s out. You’re not entirely sure what to do with yourself, standing there with your candle as you watch him console a sleepy cat. 

You decide to place the candle onto the table and sit opposite him. If you stay quiet maybe he won’t leave. Luna slinks out to join you, stretching lazily. None of them look disturbed to you. At all.

So there you are, sitting across from Minho, each with a cat in your lap. At 2am.

It’s nice. 

If only Hyunjin could see you now. You can’t help letting a small breath of amusement out at the thought. 

“What is it?” Minho questions, the candle lighting his face softly. 

“Was just thinking of Hyunjin.” 

He tilts his head a little, confused. 

“He asked me earlier if you’d been behaving, like we were gonna attack each other the second he left us alone.” You pause, watching his expression. You can’t figure it out at all. 

“What’d you say?”

“That we were fine.” 

He blinks, keeping his eyes fixed on you until a crack of lighting pulls your attention to the window. It always seemed to be late at night that you found yourself in situations like this with him. Were you only capable of getting along in the strange period between midnight and sunrise?

“Are we?” he says after a moment—in a quiet window between rumbles of thunder. 

You could lie. You could tell him you’re willing to forget who he is—what he did to you. For Hyunjin’s sake. You almost want to. But you find—as you sit there watching the candle light cast shadows across his cheeks—that you can’t. 

“No,” you whisper. “I wish we were.” 

Luna stirs in your lap, a small noise of contentment accompanying her readjustment before she settles again. She’s completely unbothered by the storm, your brave girl. 

“You don’t like storms at night,” Minho says, apparently deciding to turn away from the current conversation. You were fine with that. “What else?” 

“Hm?” 

“What else are you afraid of?” 

Okay maybe you weren't fine with the change of direction. “Why?” 

His lips turn up at one corner. “Conversation.” 

“We’ve never been very good at that.” 

The other corner joins in—transforming his crooked smirk into a full smile. “So is that one of them? Conversations with me?” 

“No.” 

His smile drops off slowly, then he looks down into his lap. “Good,” he murmurs. “That’s good.” 

“Swimming,” you offer. “I don’t… like swimming.” 

“I can’t swim either.” 

“I can swim. I just don’t like it.” 

“Why?” 

It feels dangerous—offering him parts of yourself. It was naive to think you could live with a person and not let them know you at all. Still, it’s scary. You’re afraid. You suppose you are scared of conversations with him. 

You clear your throat as Luna leaves your lap and you wrap your arms around your knees—tugging them to your chest. “I uh—I nearly drowned as a kid.” 

He says nothing, just waits. He expects more. He wants more? 

“It was stupid,” you continue. “I spent a lot of time at the beach. My friends and I would go down at night—sit on the sand when we had the whole beach to ourselves. We never went in the water—not at night. It freaked us out.” A flash of lightning lights up the room again. Minho is still watching you, like he cares about your stupid teenage misadventures. “My friend’s brother came with us one night. We sat on the sand and watched a storm roll in across the ocean… watched the sky light up on the horizon as the sound of thunder got closer and closer. Then… well he dared me to go in the water with him.”

“And you went?” 

“I’d had a crush on him for 3 years,” you offer in explanation. “I went.” You sigh, stretching your legs out in front of you—under the small table. One of the cats drops its paw across your ankle. “I got dunked by a wave. It was dark and the sky lit up with lightning and I thought I was going to die.” You can’t look at him anymore. You’ve shared too much of yourself. “It’s stupid. When I surfaced… the storm had reached us… and this guy I liked was back on shore with everyone else. They weren’t even looking for me. They hadn’t noticed I was in trouble… I was completely alone.” 

The storm quiets down for a moment, leaving you and Minho sitting there in silence. It’s unbearable. 

“Storms at night,” he murmurs after a crack of lightning disturbs the quiet. 

You look up at him. He’s pulled his hoodie up over his head and his hair falls over one of his eyes. His big brown eyes that gleam in the candlelight. “Storms at night,” you whisper. 

You’re grateful when he’s quiet after that—quiet as the candle flickers between you and the storms rages around you. You’re grateful he hasn’t left. 

And then he stands. “Well…” he starts, “should we eat then?” 

You blink up at him. “That’s not fair.” 

“What? You decided you’re not gonna share your apocalypse stash?” 

“You haven’t shared your fears.” 

He crosses his arms across his chest before slumping into the couch behind him. “Ah,” he says with a deep sigh. “I guess that’s fair.” 

You tuck your knees to your chest again and wait for him to start. You imagine you look a little like an eager child waiting for her favourite show to start. You attempt to wipe a little of the eagerness off your face. 

He clears his throat as he plays with the hoodie drawstrings hanging down his chest. “Well… there’s heights.”

Bridge. Infection. 

“And uh… I don’t really like bugs,” he continues. 

Buzzing around like a fucking fly.

“That’s it?” you question as your shoulders drop. 

He shrugs. Shrugs. As if you hadn’t just told him about your stupid fucking childhood-deep fears. 

“Bugs? That’s all you can offer?” You pull yourself onto your feet and cross your arms across your chest, suddenly chilled. “I’ve never told anyone about the beach before.” 

He tugs his hoodie down, revealing his dishevelled bed hair. He almost looks guilty for a moment before he wipes his expression clean and stands up—the small table working as a barrier between you. “I’m hungry,” he says. 

“Tell me what you’re afraid of.” 

“Starving,” he says with a straight face.

You step around the table, the flickering candlelight and conveniently timed lightning strike making the action seem far more dramatic than it should be. “Tell me,” you repeat, poking him in the chest with your index finger. 

“You’re braver than me,” he says as his eyes flick across your face. “I’m not ready to talk about my storms at night.” 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as a particularly loud rumble of thunder rolls through the building. You almost don’t hear him. You can probably pretend you haven’t. 

“Fine,” you mutter. “Let’s eat.” 

He follows you to the kitchen, trailing behind you much like you had trailed after him earlier. “You’re sharing?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

He leans against the doorframe as you dig out some of the snacks you’d grabbed at the convenient store as an afterthought. Chips and chocolate covered almonds were all you could offer at 3am. “You’re Hyunjin’s best friend. I’m obligated not to let you starve to death,” you say as you toss him the bag of chips. 

He catches them easily. “I’m grateful,” he says. It makes you a little uncomfortable—the way he says it. The way he looks at you. Like he means it. You’re not sure he’s talking about the chips. 

—

You wake up sprawled across the couch, a chocolate almond pressing into your cheek. It’s light out—as light as it can be during a raging storm. 

Minho sleeps on his stomach on the carpet, his head resting on his arm and two of the cats pressed up against his sides. 

He hadn’t left you. 

You’re not sure if it was intentional. If he’d decided to stay with you or if he’d merely fallen asleep without much thought about you and your fears of being alone. 

His blanket is much heavier than you imagined as you drag it from his bed and drape it over him before crawling into your own bed. It didn’t have to mean anything more than a silent thank you for not leaving. You weren’t capable of offering him a verbal one. 

That’s the last time you see him that day. He’s around though. You hear the water run through the pipes as he showers and the clattering of him doing the dishes as the sun goes down. You manage to spend that night alone, curled up under your blanket with the knowledge that Minho was only across the hallway—that you could knock on his door and he’d answer. It made it easier knowing that he would spend the night with you if you asked. You weren’t alone. 

Hyunjin interrogates you when he gets home. He waits until Minho’s in the shower. It takes you until the water stops running to convince him you really, honestly, truly hadn’t argued the entire time. 

His shoulders sag the moment he finally believes you. 

It’s easy to decide then—watching the relief flood across his pretty face—you’ll never argue with Minho anywhere near him again. You won’t add to his heavy load. He didn’t need to carry anything for you anymore. It was the last thing he deserved. 

—

“Please,” Hyunjin whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, disrupting your fork's path to your mouth. You sigh, dropping your head back onto his shoulder. His breath tickles your neck when he speaks next. “I’m sick of going alone.” 

Minho sits silently across the table, slowly making his way through his own breakfast. He’d started emerging from his room more often—hanging around in shared spaces when you’re around. It was a silent agreement you’d made, to share space—silently. Conversation was still rare. 

“I’ve already showered,” you say, lifting your head from Hyunjin’s shoulder to find Minho watching you. “Besides, I don’t like swimming.” 

Hyunjin detaches himself from you and drops into the chair beside you. “Why? I know you like getting wet.” 

Minho’s spoon clatters onto his plate. 

“Rain is different,” you say, ignoring the man across the table. “I haven’t been swimming in years. It’s just… different.” 

“Why?” Hyunjin asks. 

It’s innocent. He doesn’t know. You can feel Minho’s eyes on you. The weight of both of them waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ll come,” Minho says. It’s the first thing he’s said since his mumbled ‘Morning’ as he’d stumbled from the bathroom and into the kitchen. His voice is still a little croaky from sleep. 

The chair scrapes against the floor as Hyunjin stands. “You don’t swim.” 

“You can teach me,” Minho says with a shrug before attempting to shovel the rest of his food into his mouth. 

The grin that lights up Hyunjin’s face almost takes your breath away. “I’ll come,” you find yourself saying  before you’ve realised you’d had the thought. “I’ll come too.” 

Hyunjin drops a kiss to the top of your head. 

—

You own one swimsuit. You’d worn it once a few years ago on a day Mina had dragged you to the beach. It takes you longer than it should to find; to dig it out of a box you’ve left unpacked in the corner of your room. 

It’s snug. Your boobs spill over the top a little more than you remember. You turn to check the back covers your cheeks. Could be better, but not the worst. You’re just grateful it’s a one piece. You suck in a deep breath as you attempt to tug it up a little higher on your chest. You could back out, tell Hyunjin you’ve changed your mind. But then you remember his smile, his soft kiss to the crown of your head. You wrap your towel around you and suck it up. Act casual, you tell yourself as you emerge to find both men waiting for you. 

“Let’s go,” you say with a smile, snatching the keys from Minho’s hands and taking the lead out of the apartment.

It’s just early enough to miss the wave of early morning commuters clogging the elevators. It’s a quick trip down to the pool. You’ve seen it in passing—on your rare trip down the gym. You’ve never seen anyone using it. Hyunjin seemed to be the only regular user. Every single morning he’d make the trip downstairs with Minho before they separated—Hyunjin to the pool, Minho to the gym. 

“It’s heated,” Hyunjin announces as he drops his towel onto one of the poolside chairs. He’s in before you have a chance to do the same—diving into the water like it’s as easy as breathing. You wish you could do the same. But the thought of either of these men seeing your tits spilling out the top of your deep red swimsuit is a little more than you can handle—let alone the body of water you’re expected to enter. 

Minho’s lowered voice drags your eyes from the water as Hyunjin swims to the other end. “You alright?” he asks. If you hadn’t been regretting sharing your storms at night with him already, you were now. How are you supposed to drop your towel when he’s watching you like you might break down in tears at any second.

“I’m fine,” you say, offering a smile. You hope to god it’s convincing. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” he says, “You’re obligated to keep me alive, remember?” 

The storm supplies.

“Does it go the other way?” You drop your towel and tug your hair free, letting it loose. “You’ve gotta keep me alive for Hyunjin’s sake too, right?”

He blinks, a habit you’ve learned to read. He’s processing, sorting through his thoughts. “Yeah,” he says once he’s done. “It goes the other way.”

The water is warmer than you imagined, so warm you almost enjoy sinking beneath the surface. You can count the number of times you’ve done this since the beach on one hand. You usually manage fine. It’s the thought of sinking beneath water in the dark that makes your heart race. The fluesorant lights make it bearable. You can see Hyunjin. He’s here and he’s not leaving you. 

“Nice?” he asks as he makes his way over to you, water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. 

“So warm,” you reply with a small smile. 

He smiles back, bright and tender. You’re almost convinced if all the lights went out this very second he’d manage to light the place up himself. You can’t imagine feeling darkness at all with him here in front of you. 

“Better than rain?”

“Not even close.” 

—

It becomes a habit—morning swims. You never manage to eat beforehand, the anxiety makes it impossible. But once you’re in? It settles. You’re fine—each day a little more so. 

“Why do you do it?” Minho asks as Hyunjin does his laps. He never attempts much swimming, spending his time soaking in the shallow end. 

“Do what?” you ask in return, turning to find his eyes snapping up from the waterline to your face. 

“This. Swimming.”

You must look confused because he pushes his wet hair from his face and continues. “Is it because he asked? You can say no. You don’t have to do everything he wants. He won’t break.” He looks over at where Hyunjin is about to touch the wall at the other end of the pool. “You said you were afraid,” he says in a lowered voice. 

“So?”

His brows draw together. “So… why do you swim if you’re afraid of swimming?” 

“Because it’s nice. I’m afraid and then I get in and I like it.”

He still looks confused. It’s enough to tug a small smile on your lips. 

“It’d be sad to let fear keep me from something that makes me happy, right?” you continue. “Fear is hardly ever a good guide. I think I’m slowly figuring out I’ve gotta try and ignore it when I can.” 

He blinks. 

“Oi!” Hyunjin calls from the other end. “Stop standing around. You’re supposed to be swimming.” 

“You hear that?” you say, turning to Minho again. “Lift your feet off the ground or it doesn’t count.” 

He’s quiet, clearly still thinking—processing. You leave him to it, making your way to Hyunjin at the other end. 

—

The first time you remember throwing up, you were five. You’d begged your mother to make it stop. You didn’t wanna throw up, it was the worst feeling in the world. Then it happened again a year later. A few years after that you’d dropped a lollipop on the ground, picked it up, and popped it back into your mouth. You’d thrown up more times in the following few days than you had in your entire life. Each time you promised yourself you’d never take feeling normal for granted again. Still, you knew that you’d get sick again. You’d throw up again at some point in your life. It was bound to happen eventually. It was inevitable.

Some things are like that, inevitable: getting sick, fighting with your roommate—who also happens to be your soulmate. 

“It’s not up to you!”

He takes a step closer as you shout at him, as calm as he was when this had started. It makes it worse—the way he stays so calm, the fact it’s you who has resorted to shouting. 

“Oh, but it's fine for you?” he says in a level tone. “You can stick your nose in and make choices for him and it’s fine?” 

You suck in a few deep breaths. He’s too close. It’s making it worse. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I buzzing around like a fucking fly, Minho?” you blurt out.

He takes a step back, almost staggers backwards. You suddenly get the urge to cry, that horrible feeling in your throat foreshadowing tears. 

“You wanna fuck around in shit you don’t understand? Go ahead,” he says. “You’ll hurt him. You’ll fuck up and you’ll hurt him and then you’ll blame yourself and then I’ll—” He sucks in a breath and falls back against the wall. You watch as he drops his face into his hands and steadies his breathing. You wait for him to lift his face again, much calmer now—almost expressionless. “Please,” he says. “Trust me, just this once. You don’t know… you don’t know enough.” 

“Then tell me.” 

“It’s not for me to tell,” he says. He sounds tired now. Looks tired. “It’s his storms at night.” 

There’s a beam of sunlight shining in from the window across the room. It cuts nearly directly between you. Nearly. A sliver of it catches his hair and the side of his face. He practically glows. 

“Alright,” you breathe. 

He sags against the wall, a heavy silence falling over you both. It’s awful, the silence after a fight. Embarrassment. Shame. Regret. Exhaustion. Inevitable. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. 

You hadn’t even noticed the tear rolling slowly down your cheek. You wipe it quickly with your sleeve. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. 

He takes a small step forward. Then, “Me neither.”

—

You’re not used to keeping quiet. Mina wasn’t shy. You were free to slip your hands between your legs at night without any worry about holding back your whimpers. 

It’s different now. You live with two men. Two men you very much do not want to hear you whimpering at night. Still, it’s a hard habit to break. 

A tiny whine slips out as your fingers trace through your folds. It’s hard to even tell how loud you’re being. You’re hardly present. You’re somewhere else, somewhere with a faceless man with gentle hands and sweet words. He wants you, he wants to press himself up behind you and slip his heavy cock between your legs… grind himself against you… beg you to let him inside. 

Then you hear it… the running pipes. Minho is the only one home. Minho’s in the shower. It’s impossible to prevent the faceless man morphing into your roommate. You’re too far gone—brainless. It’s his body pressed up to yours, his voice whispering in your ear, his cock sliding between your legs. He wants you. 

You lose yourself with a gasp and whine, far too loud. The only thing that saves you is the fact he’s showering. Minho. 

Fuck. 

Fuck!

You scramble out of bed. You’re so completely fucked. 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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#lee know smut #lee know x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #minho smut #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 19

Everything tries to get in between him and his goal.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, mentions of smut but SFW chapter, he's such a scatterbrain part 3537

Length: 1.1k Words

Callob with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

A/N: no I did not forget that I didn't post

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Alright, regroup. There’s not that much time left until you both have to pack again and make your way back home- and he still hasn’t managed to pop the question.

So today, he’s got a new plan: A nice picnic at a nearby park, all romantic, making use of the good weather forecast. He’s been up way earlier than usual to make some snacks and sandwiches, pack some wine in the rented car, just to wake you up later after he’s made sure he placed the little box inside his pocket as well, so he can have it on himself when he’s ready to make that step.

Walking onto the bedroom where you’re watching him with one eye cracked open, he can’t help but laugh a little as he crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Why’re you up already?” You slur sleepily, while he playfully lets his weight press down on you for a moment. “Come back to bed..” You demand weakly, turning a little to pull him close to you.

“No can do baby.” He grins. “Have something planned for us today.” He tells you, before he leans up again and pecks your lips once more. “And that requires you to get up and dressed. Up up!” He teases, smacking your butt beneath the blankets before he escapes your wrath by running out the bedroom to let you get ready.

This time he’ll get it right.

He’s busy setting everything up while you roam through the bag with the food with wonder, when he hears something odd from close by- something he can’t help but notice, especially when you ask him about it too. “It almost sounds like something whimpering?” You ask, confused and mildly concerned- and Jungkook agrees with that feeling.

You both get up to walk towards the sound to investigate it, finding nothing at first- until the sound becomes louder, and Jungkook finds the source of it between two thick branches of a bush in the park.

It’s a dog- a small one, back legs strapped into a little wheelchair, which got stuck in the branches, causing him to stay fixated in an odd position, helplessly struggling to get back out of his unfortunate situation. “Oh no, buddy-” Jungkook instantly coos, carefully bending down to figure out a way to get the poor dog out.

And once he does, the little canine is eager to show his gratitude by happily jumping up with his front legs, yapping with no agression at Jungkook who can’t help but be affected by the cuteness of the admittedly a little scruffy looking little guy.

“He’s so cute!” You beam at the little dog, squatting down to pet the disabled pup who happily receives the attention you give him. “You’re such a good boy!” You can’t help but tell the little guy, and Jungkook feels his heart swell at the sight of the small thing wagging his tail wildly.

“Oh, there he is!” A woman calls, the small dog running towards her with his wheels.

“He got stuck in the branches there.” Jungkook explains. “So we helped him out. Is he your dog?” He wonders, and the woman shrugs.

“Kind of? I’m fostering him for the moment, he’s actually up for adoption.” She explains, and at that, your head turns a little. “He’s from a hoarder situation. His back legs are paralyzed from an accident but he actually gets around just fine! In the house he doesn’t need the wheelchair at all- I just put some socks over his legs so he doesn’t rub them open. But he’s just as quick for breakfast lunch and dinner as the rest.” She jokes, making Jungkook and you laugh as you watch the little dog look around the park.

“How old is he?” You wonder, and she sighs.

“About five? Maybe six? It’s hard to tell, really.” She admits. “And I know he looks a bit scruffy but I promise he’s a sweetheart.” She sighs.

“Oh no, he’s super cute!” You argue, happily petting the little dog who’s tongue seems to be a bit disoriented as he lets you pet him all you want. “And so handsome, yes you are!” You tell the dog who’s got neither an idea about what you’re telling him, nor does he seem to care.

“No really, I agree. He’s totally cute.” Jungkook says.

“I’m glad at least someone says it.” The woman laughs relieved. “He doesn’t have good chances for adoption since he’s disabled and you know, his eyes are a bit cloudy already and all that.” She huffs. “If you want I can give you my contact info and we could maybe stay in touch?” She hopefully asks, and Jungkook looks over to you. “Bowser seems to have fallen for your girlfriend already.” She laughs, and Jungkook’s eyes widen.

The dog’s name is bowser.

“I totally fell for him too!��� You laugh, chasing the little guy around, careful as to not make the wheelchair tip over. “I mean, we’re not from the area though.” You admit, but the lady shakes her head.

“No problem!” She offers. “It’s a process anyways. Someone’s going to visit you first, check if everything’s alright, and then we’ll talk about the adoption and all that- if you’re interested, that is.” She shrugs, already sharing her phone number with Jungkook who didn’t even notice pulling out his phone.

And after saying goodbye to both the dog and the lady, he can’t help himself as you both sit back on the blanket he’d set out earlier.

“Bowser!” Jungkook whines. “His name was bowser babe, that’s the cutest shit ever! Like a sign!” He says, and you laugh.

“He was really cute. But.. Do you think we’re really ready for a dog?” You ask a little worried, making him shrug.

“I mean, I work from home, mostly. So I’d always be around.” He says. “And you kind of hinted at wanting a pet this year too?” He asks, and you nod.

“I just.. Didn’t know if you wanted that with me.” You mumble a little. “It’s kind of like getting a kid, you know? A big responsibility and all that. Makes a relationship turn really serious.” You say, and at that, Jungkook leans closer to hold your hands.

“Baby, I’ve been taking this relationship seriously from the very start.” He offers. “I always will. And I want to take that step with you, if you’re up for it.” He grins, leaning forward to peck your lips.

And you can’t help but smile as well, throughout the entire way home-

The whole situation making him almost forget that he just fucked up another try to pop the question, only realizing it when he’s in bed with you already, making him angrily run his hands over his face in the darkness of the bedroom.

Why the hell does the world seem to play against him every fucking time?!

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine

[jayden-killer]

YOU LOOK LONELY.. I CAN FIX THAT. (Miguel O'Hara AU!)

summary: Year 2099 and a new A.I. had been lanuched. He is called "Miguel" and he's here to comfort you in your most hard times. But, little you know, he's more than a A.I.

paring: Miguel O'Hara x F! Reader.

A/N: woah there, Detroit: Become Human and Blade Runner combined togheter? Why not, hehehe.

WHAT'S IT LIKE TO HOLD THE HAND TO SOMEONE? INTERLINKED.

DID THEY TEACH YOU HOW TO FEEL FINGER TO FINGER? INTERLINKED.

DO YOU DREAM ABOUT BEING INTERLINKED?

INTERLINKED.

Year 2099. Bright neon leons illuminated the streets, high skyscrapers were imposing themselves, showing on their huge advertising screens and weather forecast. It was night, and the air smelled of smog. She always believed that all those air purifiers wouldn't be very effective. But now it didn’t matter, because among the crowd of people in the street she walked with her head down, tired eyes that seemed off. Next to her, dozens, no, many more people, ready to start their weekend. They planned to go to nightclubs, drink, have sex, or do something she didn't care about. She heard their laughter in the background, and he could clearly see some guys pushing each other, laughing, and joking in the corner of his eye. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get to her house. Then she gave himself a push and marched more quickly, because she could no longer. She wished to put an end to the terrible sadness in her heart.

"I'm home".

The moment she walked across the threshold of her house the lights went on, lighting up the living room and kitchen. She breathed deeply and threw out the excess oxygen accumulated, also expelling the tension she had accumulated in the day. She looked around, and calmly placed the bag on her raw coffee table until she heard some sweets in the house, yet heavy steps. Her eyebrows leapt up and a smile, a soft smile, fell on her face.

"Miguel," said his name softly. "You’re here."

"I am always here, dear. Ven aquì". The man smiled back and extended his arms in her direction. She didn’t waste any time holding him to herself. Miguel tilted his head to the side and a confused expression landed on his face. " I can feel your heartbeat, and your blood pressure is 61 mmHg. What’s going on, dear?" Miguel’s arms touched her gently, almost as if she were a fragile doll, caressing her hips. Her eyes shone.

"I just missed you, my love" she answered quietly, never stopping looking into his reddish, brown eyes. "That's all".

"I want to help you, mi sol, how can I?"

Miguel blinked, genuinely worried about his partner’s health. He gave her a rough hand in her soft hair and continued to caress her. She stared at him with those eyes that showed true love, felt, and felt good because now it was just her and her Miguel. It was just the two of them in his house while the world was doing who knows what beyond those walls. He sighed, and nodded, answering Miguel’s question. "Oh, no, I’m fine. I just missed you so much".

"I’m here, mi flor, I’m here," he repeated once again, bringing his body to him, a hug that Miguel really felt. His heart pompo more, feeling so close to him the person who had immediately shown him kindness, sweetness. The warmth that emanated from his loved one was comfortable. It was all true for him.

"Do you want to watch a movie? In exactly eight minutes, they’re gonna broadcast the "Bicentennial Man". It’s your favorite movie, right?" Miguel smiled at her, grabbing her hand and gently sitting her down on the sofa. She did not take her eyes off him for a moment: his tall, imposing figure, with large shoulders and trained arms, but she only saw a sweet man who needed great affection. He was perfect in every way.

"Of course I do, but only if you will be next to me to pamper me".

"Absolutely". Miguel landed lightly on the sofa and took a breath. With a gesture of the hand, the television went on, and the channel was rolled into the desired one with a single finger move. The girl got much closer to the man, cuddling up to him, resting her temple on his huge muscular arm. Miguel spent no time surrounding his beloved with that arm, bringing her closer to him. The two remained there, enjoying their presence, occasionally discussing the development of the film, a film that she had reviewed over and over again.

It was now night, the hologram of the clock marked 12.12 am. Miguel’s eyes fell on the figure of his beloved then sleeping companion. He calculated his breath and his heartbeats, and everything seemed normal to him. He was just resting quietly. He understood that his day had been intense, without her telling him, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Because over time he had learned to respect the needs of humans. He had become accustomed to their habits, or rather, to the habits of the one who had welcomed him to his house, without treating him as a slave, without showing racism towards him, just because he was a robot. Yet, he felt real every time he touched himself in the face, fingering his facial features. Every morning it was the same. Her arms picked her up, taking care not to wake her. She looked like an angel, he thought, admiring her as if she really was. How could human beings be such beautiful creatures, so deadly?

"Door, please," he muttered. The door to his room opened like a curtain, closing behind him. She walked calmly to her bed, then rested it on the warm mattress she had heated for her. He pulled the blanket up, and he watched her sleep for a few more minutes. She couldn’t believe it, she was the most beautiful creature he’d seen.

"Rest, my love. I’ll be here with you tomorrow too," he smiled, laying a subtle, soft kiss on her lips. His artificial heart blew, even more, even more the liquid that was contained in his circuits. He lowered the shutters and warmed the home environment a little more. Leaving the room, Miguel headed for his post, where he would recharge for the following day.

"Model 70868". This was what was written horizontally on his desk. He was not comfortable with it. He didn’t feel like a simple robot, something built to serve mankind and satisfy it fully. He didn’t feel like a machine.

"I want to be human".

#marvel imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #marvel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #atvs #spiderman across the spiderverse #one shot #angst #sfw #au! #au #another world #marvel one shot #fanfic #fan fiction #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o hara x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader

[possibilistfanfiction]

for surgeons AU could we get some early days, maybe first date or something? obsessed with your work as always

[s/o to everyone who asked for their first date, love u, crossposting this au to ao3 now too i guess lol!]

//

‘don’t laugh.’

‘i’m not.’ 

you glare. 

‘i swear, i’m not,’ she lies.

‘cam, you’re actively laughing. physically. audibly. at me.’

camila takes a deep breath and forces herself to frown. ‘okay. sorry. continue.’

‘bea is just — hot.’

you can tell that camila fights a grimace, which is fair, maybe, because she’s known beatrice for years through medical school. ‘she’s also very kind and understanding, if you wanted to, like, do something that would actually be fun for the both of you.’

‘hiking sounds fun.’

‘ava.’

it’s not all that often you feel the tightness in your chest that you remember from childhood: things are far less limited to you now. you have care you need, and your physical therapy and surgeries and medications are usually effective at letting you do whatever you want day-to-day. ‘just — don’t.’

camila sighs. ‘okay. but i promise bea wouldn’t think any less of you.’

you flop back on her sofa. ‘i know that, i really do. but it’s just so not sexy. and you know what is sexy? beatrice without a shirt on hiking ten miles, all sweaty and —‘

‘— it’s november, i’m pretty sure she’ll be wearing a shirt and a jacket —‘

‘— that’s not the point.’

camila loses her battle and does outright laugh at you now. ‘okay. well, to answer your question, you can borrow whatever of my gear you need, and i won’t tell bea.’

‘you’re a saint.’

/

to be fair, beatrice picks you up in her extremely clean subaru — you refrain from saying anything; it’s way too easy for it to actually be fun anyway — and offers you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from, apparently, her favorite place near her house. it’s a cool, cloudy morning, typical november fair, and it’s still dark out, but you’re used to being up early or really at any time of day or night at this point. you’d done every spine decompression stretch you’ve ever learned in physical therapy, taken some ibuprofen, and truly have no plan other than hoping camila’s trekking poles — a very serious name for very fancy walking sticks — are enough to see you through.

beatrice, for her part, is clearly nervous, and it’s charming: she spends at least twenty minutes talking to you about all of the features of the hike and why it’s an ideal one for the two of you — ‘it’s moderate elevation gain up to the crest, about 2.5 miles, and, since it has southern exposure, we won’t get too much wind today.’ and, ‘if you want to keep going, it’s beautiful along the ridge, and there’s two mild peaks we could summit.’ and, ‘i’ve packed enough food and water for essentially however long we want to go; you can carry some if you’d like, if you didn’t pack much yourself.’ and, ‘anyway, the entire thing is wonderful and, in my experience, fairly empty, especially as it grows colder. but, just our luck: not much rain forecast for today.’ — and then asks, almost painfully awkward, about your last shift.

‘it was fine,’ you say, finishing your sandwich and making sure your trash is neatly packed up in the bag, with hers too. ‘but enough shop talk. i want to know about you.’

she blushes and you see, not for the first time but maybe in a way that’s more obvious than you have before, that beatrice is just a person after all, even if she’s unflappable at work. 

‘it’s okay,’ you say, so she doesn’t shut down or feel embarrassed. ‘i don’t mind shop talk, but i’m just — i’m glad to spend the time with you, away from work. plus you’re like a total enigma. very mysterious. it’s kind of hot.’

you haven’t said explicitly this is a first date, but you’ve been on lots of first dates and you’re fairly certain this is one. you’re definitely certain when she laughs, her shoulders loosening down her spine, away from her ears, and says, ‘only kind of?’

‘well, i wasn’t sure if we were just colleagues or just friends or whatever.’ 

‘or whatever?’

you groan. ‘you’re extremely hot, are you kidding? i think it’s affecting my residency, actually. i get distracted by your hands and then i lose the plot.’

she takes that in, maybe more than you had meant to say but who cares at this point; you’d gotten up at 5 am for her on your day off, so it’s fairly clear how you feel. ‘you’re quite distracting yourself, dr. silva.’

‘in a good or bad way? like, sexy or annoying?’

she rolls her eyes; you can tell, even if she’s still watching the road. ‘it depends. often both.’

you grin, lean back in the seat. ‘i contain multitudes, what can i say. triple threat.’

‘sexy, annoying, and… ?’

‘brilliant, obviously.’

‘oh yes, obviously.’ you pull into a deserted parking lot amidst a lush green forest and a heavy early morning fog; it’s beautiful, and you don’t ever regret that you ended up here, but you feel particularly grateful for it now. ‘you are brilliant, ava.’ it’s serious, the way she says it and the way she squeezes your hand, just once, before she gets out of the car with a soft smile. 

you watch her as subtly as you can as she puts on her gear, following suit as closely as you can without being too obvious about it. you know this is, objectively, really stupid and unnecessary, and jillian is probably spidey-senses yelling at you from somewhere in the world, but you have never wanted to impress someone so badly in your entire life. once beatrice is all ready to go, in her warm fleece quarterzip underneath a waterproof shell, a similar setup for her pants, her boots tied securely and her pack neatly zipped, poles ready at the correct height — so your elbows are at 90 degrees, camila had explained yesterday — and a beanie pulled down securely over her buzzed hair and ears.

‘the most important part for me,’ she says.

it takes you a second, but then you laugh. ‘you’re being funny.’

she makes sure her car is locked, zips the keys in a pocket inside her jacket, and then takes off down the trail. ‘i’ve been known to have a sense of humor from time to time.’

she’s not even walking that fast but it’s cold and jillian is mad at you all the time for how much you have to stand just for work, definitely without the however-many-long mile hike you’re about to go on. ‘the other interns are terrified of you, you know.’

beatrice turns toward you with a smirk. ‘and you’re not?’

‘well, i’ve seen you cry, once not even about a patient but about the fact that the coffee cart was out of earl grey tea.’

‘i hadn’t slept in thirty hours.’

you shrug — that’s probably true, but still — and bump her in the shoulder. ‘i like you,’ you tell her, honest, finally, amongst the moss and the ferns, the sun barely up, no one around to hear you. there’s a different kind of fear you feel when it comes to beatrice: not as dr. choi, indomitably talented and ruthlessly efficient resident, but as someone whose cologne you recognize, as someone who you want to make your grandma’s vatapáfor. ‘you’re kind to me.’

beatrice slows down for a moment — thank fucking god — and takes you in. you feel out of place often, and especially here, but the best thing about her is that, even if she senses it, she never faults you. ’that’s what you deserve.’ and then, ‘i hope i am. i want to be.’

you don’t know much about her, really: you know that she went to boarding school at 14 and had been at the top of her class at the best schools and programs in the world ever since; that she loves to be in nature and has known lilith for forever; that her accent loosens, just slightly, when she’s especially excited or especially exhausted. she likes otters, you’ve gathered, from a little pin on her coat, and she wants to go into cardio because it’s endlessly fascinating to her, and impossible, and miraculous. she runs so much admin for the free gender affirming surgery clinic even though it’s not her speciality and she certainly doesn’t have to; she learned asl last year, in addition to a host of other languages she speaks, to better communicate with patients and colleagues. you think, of anyone in your program, maybe of anyone at the hospital entirely, she’s chief superion’s favorite.

there are so many things you want to learn about her: what makes her scared and who she let take care of her after she had top surgery and what her favorite song is and what book made her cry as a child and if she likes comedies or is more of a drama kind of girl. you want, you can admit to yourself, to know everything about her in a way you’ve never quite wanted anything before.

‘you’re the best person i know.’ you’re worried it’s too much before she smiles — not at you, too shy, but you catch it anyway before she looks away.

‘that’s generous.’ 

‘still, true.’

she worries her lip before saying, ‘i am, technically, your boss.’

‘barely.’

‘ava.’

‘hmm. not dr. silva? doesn’t sound very position of power to me.’

‘i — i like you too.’ you watch her push her poles into the soft ground a little harder, like her whole body is fighting — to say what she means, or to not say it, you’re not sure. 

you’ve had crossroads in your life before, most of them really fucking horrible — until they weren’t, until the world stretched out before you and opened up before you. you’ve talked over and over about this with jillian and the therapist she made sure you went to before you consented to any truly dangerous and experimental procedures or injections: disability was limiting, sure, but the real harm was done by the lack of care afforded you, not your lack of movement. you work so, so hard to believe it on good days; it’s nearly impossible on the worst.

but this is the best day, you decide. camila is right: beatrice is kind and caring and brave in ways you know; in ways you have yet to find out. 

you’ve made it maybe half a mile into the hike but your back is aching, left foot going numb already, your right hand clenched too tight around the handle of the pole, so much so that even the soft cork of it hurts. so, instead of moving and moving and moving like you always do, like you have since the moment you could close your hands into fists so tight you swore you’d never let the world go: you stop.

bea takes a few more steps and then notices; she turns around and looks at you curiously.

‘sorry,’ you say, impulse and fear and habit, then shake your head. ‘actually, uh. i’m not? yeah, i’m not.’

she stands steady, unfazed by that. ‘okay.’

‘uh, well. i like you too. i already said that, but i really like you. i don’t — god, this sounds so stupid. but i don’t want to be your intern.’

the small, amused smile on beatrice’s face makes you feel better. ‘am i not a good teacher?’

‘i think there are lots of other things i would enjoy you teaching me.’ you close your eyes for a moment as she laughs, trying to regroup. ‘okay, i am sorry for that one.’

‘don’t be. i quite enjoyed it.’

‘before — before we tell chief superion anything, if you wanted to try, just — you should know that i shouldn’t have said yes to going on this hike.’

beatrice’s brow knits together, so immediately concerned you reach for her hand. 

‘not because — it’s beautiful,’ you say. ‘you’re beautiful, and i’m so happy you asked me.’

she doesn’t look any less worried, which is fair.

‘i have a spinal cord injury,’ you say, and her face softens into something you’re terrified of for a moment, until you realize it’s only patience, only an opening for understanding — not pity, and certainly not anything close to contempt.

‘okay,’ she says, calmly and as kind as ever.

stupid, annoying tears burn at your eyes. ‘i just — you love hiking, and you asked and planned so nicely, and you wanted to share this special thing with me, and —‘

‘ava,’ she says, then brings her thumbs to wipe your cheeks with a gentle smile. ‘i just wanted to spend time with you. you’re right, i enjoy hiking, but i also enjoy lots of other things. things that i would also want to share with you.’

‘i should be using a cane at work,’ you admit, in the middle of this beautiful forest where no one but her can hear you. ‘i haven’t been because i didn’t, i don’t —‘

‘— while i think it’s wise you’re moved off my service,’ she says, ‘i will burn down that entire hospital if anyone looks down on you for that.’

‘that seems counterintuitive to do no harm.’ the way you say it is wobbly and your nose is full of snot and it’s kind of all so terrible, but then you catch up: ‘you don’t want me on your service?’

beatrice steadies herself. ‘i want to kiss you.’

‘even after —‘

‘ava, listen. i want to kiss you.’

‘yeah,’ you say, and lean forward.

it feels like your entire body lights up, even though it aches in the damp cold — golden light everywhere. 

/

you laugh a little afterward, then beatrice smiles and takes off back toward her car without any complaints. 

‘it’s still rather early,’ she says as you go on your way, ‘and we’re only about twenty minutes from the car.’

you grimace. ‘yeah, sorry.’

she shakes her head. ‘there are undoubtedly so many things you need to apologize for daily, ava —‘

‘— hey —‘

‘— but this is not one of them.’

‘fine,’ you huff.

she’s unfazed. ‘i was going to ask if perhaps you wanted to come over to my place. among other things i like in addition to hiking, i do like to catch up on rest as well. and then perhaps lunch? there’s a spot near me that has wonderful oysters.’

‘a nap? in your sexy house? lunch? with your sexy face?’

she ignores most of it: ‘it’s a rather normal house.’

‘i bet it’s sexy. lilith told me you were rich.’

beatrice grimaces.

‘it’s okay. like, really. i just bet you’re, like, the kind of person who has bespoke everything, aren’t you?’

‘no,’ she says, but she’s blushing and looking away from you.

‘you know, you’ve got a terrible poker face.’

‘only when it comes to you, i’m afraid.’

‘ah, what a terrible fate.’

‘the worst,’ she agrees, shaking her head with a smile. ‘it’s got a good view, i will say.’

‘well, lead the way then.’

‘ava, we’re just walking back to the car.’

you roll your eyes. ‘you know what i mean.’

/

beatrice’s house is beautiful, perched on a hill with giant windows overlooking the sound and the olympics. she laughs — not unkindly — when you admit that all of your hiking gear is actually camila’s, says, ‘i thought that pack looked familiar,’ and then lends you a hoodie and some comfortable running shorts to change into. you don’t ask her so many things brimming inside of you; she doesn’t ask you either, although you’re sure she — as bea and as dr. choi — has a billion questions. you’ll ask and answer everything in due time. 

for today, you bully her — with far too little bullying involved to make her argument of i’ve never seen it before and i don’t waste my time on shows like this — to start binging season 4 of real housewives of salt lake city; even less convincing when she knows all about jen’s escapades last season and then clamps her mouth shut when you laugh into her shoulder.

‘it’s compelling, fine,’ she says with a very dramatic pout, and you’re kissing it off her face before you can think twice.

she smiles into it, your nerves dissipating, and it’s good, and right, and safe. you eventually kiss her cheek and run a hand over the soft bristles of her hair — which you’ve been dying to do — while she smiles and then settle into her side. 

‘thank you.’

she lets out a big breath, peaceful under the blanket, thick socks on your feet, cold rain outside but only warmth in this house with you in it. ‘no, ava. thank you.’

#wn fic #avatrice fic #avatrice #prompts #surgeons au #if there's two things i love it's hiking & rhwoslc! #butch bea 🥺🫡 #they’re both so silly

[snake-cabin]

*set in my cerulean gaze au.

Rain pattered against the windowpane, drumming out a violent rhythm as each fresh wave of the storm was slammed against the glass, tempest winds whipping a thick curtain of fat droplets across the cityscape for the fifth day in a row now.

The worst part was how, despite the storm, the temperature had actually remained consistently warm these past few days, the first taste of the approaching spring settling slowly over the atmosphere like a fawn carefully tucking its long, spindly limbs beneath it to rest over a patch of lush grass.

You couldn’t stand it, being trapped inside for so long, and you and Touya had watched nearly every movie you could think of, even binged a season or two of a tv show you’d been meaning to get around to, and finished your most recent book, unable to make it to the bookstore with the roads as flooded as they were to pick up a new one.

And that was before the power went out.

That had happened a day and a half ago, the city officially entering a state of emergency with a widespread outage that wouldn’t even begin to be able to be resolved until the harsh winds and unrelenting showers died down, which wasn’t forecasted to cease for another two days.

At least you were with Touya, you thought, everything felt easier when you two were together. 

Currently, the entire kitchen and living room area was filled with candles burning to chase away the darkness that loomed just as heavy and ominous as the storm, every board and card game you’d brought over from your grandparents house when you’d first moved in together littered across the living room floor and coffee table where you were currently in the middle of about three different games, some of which you’d made up by combining various pieces and boards from your collection.

And when worse came to worst and the boredom and restlessness became too much, you and Touya would just curl up on the couch under a blanket and nap, forgetting all about the storm and the way it still had a habit of scaring you, even if just for a little while. But each time you felt the apartment complex creak and groan as it fought to stay standing against a vengeful gust you would flinch or tense slightly, Touya feeling anxiety creeping over your form even as you lay there safe in his arms.

“Hey…” he muttered, sounding half asleep, raspy voice low and soothing. “It’s ok, I’m here…” Slowly rubbing a big, warm hand up and down your thigh, he attempted to calm you. “I promise we’ll be fine as long as we stay inside. Only another day or two and it should all be over, ok?”

You shifted to face him, lying chest to chest now and nuzzling in closer to breathe in his familiar, comforting scent as he gently pulled you closer, smoothing a palm down the back of your hair.

You knew it would be over soon. Rain or shine, nothing lasts forever. But that didn’t take away from the fact that this type of weather still scared you, some deep childhood fear that you just couldn’t seem to abandon.

At least there wasn’t any thunder and lightning though. That would’ve just made things all the more worse.

A little while later, as you were nearly drifting off to sleep yourself, you heard Touya mutter, “Remember that day when you came by the old condo and it just started downpouring out of nowhere?” There was something soft and dreamlike to his tone, a certain kind of fondness-in-hindsight veiling a memory that, in reality, had not been entirely as sweet. “It was around the time we first met. God, you were soaked…” He sighed out a breathy chuckle, still able to picture you as you had been back then perfectly in his mind. Tank top. Sweatpants. Stunning no matter what you wore.

You turned your face up towards his, blinking open bleary eyes, and grinning as you recalled, “Yeah, and you let me borrow your clothes. And we were watching that movie but then the power went out.”

“So I got a candle,” he continued, glad that you remembered it too.

“And we ate Chinese food,” you giggled, reliving the parts of that day you still held so dear.

Touya’s smile widened. “And you told me that story about that roommate you hated.”

“Oh my god, you even remember that?” you said, surprised. Even you’d forgotten that detail, until now.

“Of course,” he admitted, as if it would be ridiculous to assume he’d let such a benign anecdote slip his mind. And then, with something a little more teasing lilting through his tone, “And that night you slept in my bed for the first time…”

“Yeah…” you confirmed, drowsy but delighted, returning to where you’d been nuzzling close into his chest, exhaling a slow, even breath. “I did.”

Sometimes, that chapter of your relationship— of your life— still felt like an entirely different reality. Like it had happened to someone else and you’d only ever heard an extremely detailed retelling of it, not actually experienced it yourself. You tried to only focus on the good parts of your beginning together. There had been far too much bad, some pieces of it still haunting you unexpectedly, whether as you went about your day or late at night in your dreams where you couldn’t escape unless Touya shook you awake and reminded you that you were ok, that you were safe, that he was there to protect you until you believed him.

And though you loved Touya more than anything or anyone in the entire world, you never tricked yourself into believing it had all been worth it. What you’d both been forced to endure and survive back then had been nothing short of a traumatic nightmare and there was no amount of optimism or romanticizing that could change that. But in those lighter moments, the times you’d shared laughs and traded griefs and learned to trust each other…

Those were the times that made what you’d been through— what you still sometimes had to relive— a little easier to bear, at least.

“Seems like it was just yesterday…” Touya murmured, adjusting his position around you so you could both be comfortable and letting his eyes fall closed once more.

And yet, you thought, drifting off to sleep, also like an eternity ago.

***

Half a day earlier than expected, the rain finally calmed to a steady drizzle. The roads were still flooded in most places and the power had yet to be fully restored, but the worst of the storm was over and you and Touya could at least make a run to the nearest convenience store for some provisions on foot. The sun was still too shy to break through the clouds but some semblance of dulled, grey daylight was perceivable through the afternoon hours, at least.

You and Touya walked arm in arm, him carrying your transparent bubble umbrella over both of your heads to and from the store, happy to see your mood having lifted a little with the excitement to share the snacks you were carrying in the plastic bags printed with bold red THANK YOU’s down the front.

The walk from the store at the corner and back to the complex was a short one. Ten minutes, tops, and on a nice day, the two of you might even take a detour through the park that sprawled for a few miles across the street. Even with the rain, you were kind of curious to take a quick loop through, survey the damage of the fallen trees and overflowing ponds, but due to those reasons the park was currently closed.

Touya then noticed a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” You said, attempting to conceal your worry with a wobbly grin. “It’s just… the animals. With all the trees falling, their homes, y’know?” You gave a little shrug, voice shaking a bit towards the end as if you were talking about people you knew personally and not a bunch of little forest critters.

Touya was caught off guard by the way you thought sometimes. It would never occur to him to have sympathy for the birds and squirrels post-hurricane. Your sensitivity to such matters was just another thing he loved about you though. But you seemed genuinely troubled by this matter, so he tried to comfort you by giving your shoulder a light squeeze and assuring you, “I’m sure they evacuated to another park, baby.”

You weren’t so convinced, but by then you were nearly back at the apartment complex and something had suddenly caught your eye and made you gasp, your prior thought slipping from your mind.

“Hey, look!” you announced, pointing one of your periwinkle-painted fingers skyward to where a ray of light beamed through the clouds, a promise for the sunny spring days to come. You let out an adorable little giggle and Touya wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side.

It was still drizzling, but suddenly Touya was compelled to close the umbrella, earning a confused look from you and a curiosity of what are you doing on your lips, but he granted you an answer before you could even speak the question into existence.

Pressing his lips to yours, your mouth instinctually parting to let him in, Touya’s lithe fingers gently cradled your jaw as he leaned in to deepen the kiss, a misty spray of rain clinging to your hair and lashes like thousands of tiny crystals. You let the grocery bags slip from your loose, dangling grip, the snacks hitting the pavement with a soft thud as you reached both hands up to twine them through his damp hair, the taste of him sweeter than any hard candies or mochi ice cream that now sat forgotten at the bottom of the bags.

When he finally broke away, the pupils at the center of his half-lidded cobalt gaze were blown wide with nothing except absolute adoration for you, one of those charmingly crooked smiles spreading across his lips, which were now slightly smudged with your favorite glitter gloss.

He let out an amused hum of a chuckle upon your look of innocent bewilderment, still a little taken aback by the sudden and unprompted display of affection, especially in public, but feeling it warm you from the inside out like the sunlight cracking through the clouds.

But then you smiled, big and bright and beautiful, his favorite smile in the whole world, you picking up your grocery bags as he reopened the umbrella above your heads. And as you continued the rest of the way home, the entire time Touya just couldn’t stop thinking about two things: one, how he was constantly reminded how lucky he was to have you in his life, to be able to call you his, and two, how it was never too late to start making new memories in the rain.

#here’s just a lil something cuz I was listening to my playlist for this au and missing him 🥺💕 #also it’s been raining a lot where I live too #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x y/n #touya todoroki x you #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha #dabi mha #mha dabi #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #drabble

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober Day 12 - Amphibian

Silliness alert - He Deserved Better AU, Severus is around five

A response to @waningstarlight's prompt

Diagon Alley was particularly busy; perhaps they should have elected to go on another day, but the present weather was lovely, especially in contrast to tomorrow's when heavy showers were forecasted all over England. So be it - they were ready to brave the crowd for the bookshop and toy store.

Severus found three books he was looking forward to reading and a lovely set of play cards, for rainy days. There were, of course, many such days in the Highlands, and the few times they had taken him out to play, he had come down with a cold. Minerva intended on keeping him indoors as much as possible during the worst days of late autumn, but the boy did like the rain.

Now was time for the mandatory ice cream, a tradition instituted since Severus' first visit to Diagon Alley, over a year ago. He asked for vanilla and coffee, Minerva picked a scoop of pistachio, and Albus, of course, requested a huge cone with chocolate, lemon and raspberry scoops decorated by a garish amount of sprinkles and chocolate sauce. The seller even added a cherry on top of it all, evidently quite pleased with the ridiculous amount of money Minerva ended up paying him. 

The deputy headmistress attempted to make her way back to Severus and Albus without bumping into anyone. They were waiting for her on the other side of the street, in the shade. It was a complex balancing act deserving of the utmost praise, and she was about to comment on it when she caught sight of Severus - in the middle of the street.

They had put the boy in a child harness, for obvious reasons. While they were frowned upon on the continent, English and Scottish people took a more practical approach to things when it came to child safety. But half that leash was now in the middle of the road, and a mule carrying stacks of books was approaching dangerously. The boy was looking in the other direction - Albus was absorbed in the contemplation of a shop display - no one was paying attention -

"ALBUS!" Minerva screamed, stopping most people around her in their tracks. 

Her cry was visceral: she could not breathe properly, and the "s" died in her throat.

The headmaster turned around. His eyes landed on Severus and he immediately waved his wand; the collision was narrowly avoided. People let the furious transfiguration teacher come through, cowering on both sides of the street.

It did not matter how many ice cream cones she was holding: she looked absolutely terrifying. 

"My dear", Albus began contritely, "I have cast all sorts of spells on him - he's absolutely fine - he would have bounced into the air -"

"It does not matter if you know he is safe, Albus Dumbledore", she interrupted him. "What matters is what we teach him. How incredibly stupid can you be? You think it will do him any good, to think he can just wander around because you have cast the right spells?"

The crowds around them, though civilly feigning to look away, glanced at Minerva furtively with a mixture of awe and astonishment. Had the dignified deputy headmistress of Hogwarts just called the most gifted wizard of the century stupid?

Albus lowered his eyes.

"You are right, of course, Minerva. I apologize. This is not about me."

"Indeed", she replied acerbically, her temple vein pulsating.

She turned to Severus, who had been watching them fearfully. Her face relaxed slightly.

"You do not ever go on the street by yourself, is that understood, Severus?" she told him gently, though firmly. 

The boy nodded eagerly. 

"I'm sorry", he replied quietly.

For a second, she thought he was going to cry. She knelt in front of him, determined for their day to not be ruined by Albus' carelessness. 

How the man could be both so brainless and brilliant, she could still not understand...

"It's alright, Severus", she told him softly. "We all make mistakes and we learn from them, mmh? Now you know. Here, take your ice cream."

When she got up, the headmaster was watching them apologetically. She handed him his ice cream, still tight-lipped. 

"May I know what was so interesting to look at?" she told him rather drily, in an undetermined attempt to resume the conversation without letting go of the issue.

Taking the hint, Albus nodded at the shop display in front of them which presented various items of clothing. He was pointing at a specific robe, gold and deep green, with quite refined ornaments and motifs: the triangular sleeves were long and trimmed with delicate emerald lace. Upon closer inspection, though, it had something peculiar...

...The whole thing was covered in slightly lighter motifs of jumping frogs, going from one lily pad to the other. While in the dark they were not very striking, it was all one could see in the sunlight.

"It looks dashing, don't you think, my dear? There's a formal dinner at the ministry next week..."

Minerva closed her eyes, sighed rather loudly, and pulled out a handkerchief from her left pocket. She knelt again and proceeded to clean Severus' face. When she was done, she put it away and simply replied:

"Given your questionable taste in clothing and appalling wardrobe, Albus, this would be absolutely fine at the school. But at a banquet with foreign ministers... think about it..."

"But precisely! I understand green is more suited to the occasion than purple..."

"Didn't you say the French prime minister would be there?"

"I did."

"And you think he is an idiot."

"There are often... gaps in his understanding."

"Then no, Albus, you cannot wear a frog-teamed robe to a meeting with a French official you clearly despise."

The old man looked crushed. 

"And we are here solely to buy Severus a proper raincoat, if I recall. Let's go in."

-

"You seem sceptical, my dear", the headmaster told Minerva as they exited the shop.

He was meticulously folding a green garment, which he then placed in a large paper bag.

"I assure you, Severus is not going to meet any French official, if that is what is troubling you", he added, smiling smugly. 

She rolled her eyes.

-

On their next rainy outing though, she had to confess Severus looked absolutely adorable in that frog-shaped raincoat of his. 

~~~

Severus' coat looks like the combination of these by the way:

#In which Albus is bad with kids' safety and diplomacy #The former is completely canon #The latter is a lesser known fact only thanks to Minerva #severus snape #pro snape #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #snapetober #he deserved better #snapetober 2023 #'Frogs' is used by the Brits as a pejorative way to call the French btw #Which I find very cool and cute actually

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit, part three

Bearshifter!Price AU

rated M for later chapters

Part One

If there's one thing you've come to firmly believe over the last few months, it's that if you frown too long at a forecast, the forecast eventually frowns back. Another fucking night below freezing. It's not the biggest deal - at this point you can even manage it without a heat source - but your joints already ache at the thought. Something about the high altitude, cold temps, and humidity that gets trapped in the Wrangler after a full night with the windows up is the perfect storm to have you hobbling around the next day like your dear departed Gran.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, of course. You could blame poor planning, a shit build, worse luck, but the fact of the matter remains that you're just not supposed to be here yet. Hard to plan for a winter you weren't supposed to see.

The plan had been to stay put until May, head north when you were well and truly sure the biting cold had been chased off. You should have known your fucking ex would ruin even the relative safety of that plan - had in fact resolved yourself to weather whatever storm he threw at you without complaint as you got your ducks in a row - but after the shit show he'd pulled on his birthday, you'd known staying with him another couple of months was more likely to land you in a grave than successfully escaping in the dead of night as per your perfectly laid plan.

So you'd run. And you'd run fucking hard. It was tempting to stop off somewhere in the Midwest, but ultimately you'd scared yourself off settling for longer than a night anywhere within a two state radius of Phil. And once you were north of the fortieth, the siren song of national forests and undisturbed parking kept drawing you up and up until you were finally at your original destination anyway.

Impatient, stupid. You know winter doesn't relent its stranglehold overnight.

You sigh, weighing your options, limited though they were. John had been kind enough to let you belly up to his bar for most of the evening (and that was… something you were going to have to address in the cold light of day) but the worst was yet to come and you needed a game plan. You could drive out to the closest twenty four hour superstore and wander around until they realized you weren't going to purchase anything more than peanut butter. You could save gas by going to the gym, which had the added benefit of a hot shower. The night clerk there had definitely figured out you were homeless by now. It was fine, she was chill, but you suspected she may have blabbed. Ideally, you'd sleep in the Jeep for the first leg of the night, spend the coldest hours on the treadmill, then return to the Jeep and sleep on through until mid-morning. However, the gym manager had been keeping watch lately to make sure you didn't loiter in the parking lot for too long. You never thought you'd miss the craziness of the city, but you can't deny the anonymity had its appeal. Back in Dallas, you could park for any number of hours and the only person whose business it was was the meter maid. Here, streets and parking lots were mostly deserted, and a Jeep with a privacy screen was pretty inconspicuous. It made it difficult on nights like this, when you wanted to be close to some sort of twenty four hour shop when the coldest hours of the night came around.

You decide on the superstore, given you'd gotten ready at the gym earlier. It was unlikely the same employees were there, but that owner could take a gander at your check in times if he wanted and you'd like to deny him the satisfaction of spotting you there twice in one day.

You head west along the main drag, sighing in longing at all the help wanted signs. Some seasonal work is exactly what you need, but jobs require background checks, and background checks set off pings around all your former domiciles, and Phil has his dirty little fingers in all sorts of dirty little pies. You just need time for it all to blow over. Eventually he'd get sick of the hunt - or find a new victim, more like - and then you'd be free. The thought made you a little sick. Not for the first time, you wished you'd found a charge that stuck to him, or maybe a bullet to lodge in his skull; but Phil made friends with cops like it was his job (it kind of was), and ultimately, you just weren't built right for murder. So instead, you'd scrimped and saved over the course of three years, slowly reorganizing your life to exclude him. You weren't well off by any means, and you'd intended to be able to save for a few months longer, but provided you don't blow your fuel budget in the first few months because you're the idiot who decided to test a Montana spring, you should be set 'til the end of the year. And that's with the move down south come fall.

If it comes to that. You're still hoping to try your luck in a few months, put feelers out to see if Phil is still actively searching for you. You'd rather stay up north if possible. You've had enough southern summers to last you a lifetime, and while you'd talked a big game to John, this nomad lifestyle you've found yourself stuck in isn't feasible.

Fuckin' John. You feel for the coaster surreptitiously as you pull into a parking space in a quiet far corner of the lot. All your planning and you hadn't accounted for John. Really, you hadn't accounted for any love interests. When you'd left Dallas, the possibility of what you'd do if someone had caught your fancy had been so fucking far from your mind it would have been laughable if it wasn't so fucking sad. After a man like Phil, there was no 'rebound' phase, no 'get back on the horse' phase, no 'someday, two and a half kids from now, this'll just be another shitty ex' phase. There was just run, survive, and heal; and then maybe someday, years and years down the road, some better version of you could maybe consider getting fitted for a proper saddle.

So why, then, did the massive, intimidatingly handsome (and generally slightly intimidating) man refuse to leave your mind?

When you'd first run into him on the trail he'd scared the piss out of you. You'd become rather timid over the years and didn't appreciate being snuck up on - not that he'd been trying, mind, but a deep gruff voice calling out to you in the woods was probably enough to set anyone on edge, let alone someone with your history. When you realized the stranger was some ridiculously attractive Englishman, you'd been even more wary. Men with pretty blue eyes and good, straight noses had never in your life bode well, a lesson you'd made an exception for exactly once and it had blown up in your face.

But when he came close, you saw nothing but warmth in his eyes and kindness in his smile. He was quick, funny in a slightly (but not annoyingly overt) self-deprecating way you didn't usually expect from people who looked like him.

He also smelled absurdly, disarmingly, distractingly good.

You couldn't even really pinpoint what it was. There was pine and loam, which shouldn't have been considering the sad, wet state of things; a dark, smokey scent like expensive tobacco; something toasty and rich which you've since realized is probably the smell of his distillery; and above all that, or perhaps the sum of all those parts, a homey scent you wanted to bury your face in - like a well-loved quilt.

In the days that followed your little run-in, you'd tried to convince yourself John had only been so charming because he was trying to drum up some business. You reminded yourself that you couldn't really afford a fancy stiff drink right now anyway. And more importantly, you scolded yourself to just leave it the hell alone. What was your end goal here? A quick romp? What are you gonna do, take him back to the Jeep? A spring fling? You could barely stand to touch yourself right now, how were you going to casually tell someone why you need a joint to loosen up and no sudden moves every time you fuck?

A real relationship? Christ.

Still, John was on your mind like an early aughts summer bop. You'd even tried hoofing it a little further north just to avoid the temptation but the area up there was less developed, which made your life far too difficult, needing access to amenities like 'roofs' and 'running water'. Besides, you didn't really want to leave Columbia Falls. After driving all over God's green earth, this was the first place you could see spending a good, happy summer. And you'd even seen a bear! You loved bears. It was kinda scary, sure, but it was also a hell of a motivator to secure your food properly and remember to carry your damn bear spray when you went hiking, damnit.

So, you'd made your way back, and you'd told yourself to just cool it already, and everything had been fine for a few days until you'd parked the Jeep in Columbia Falls, a hair downwind of some fancy whiskey bar and you'd smelled it like some sort of frickin' bloodhound and suddenly you remembered there was a charming man in there who made for decent company and also it was a bit cold out on the street.

John's overt flirting had been unexpected. You'd figured he was just angling for a good tip and had been willing to let him, but when he caught you stealing food off his plate like a fucking Disneyland squirrel and only responded by helping you take more, you'd started to doubt your initial assessment a bit.

The coaster itself is pale, a classic design with high contrast. John's blocky lettering follows the outer edge. You'd thought the woman next to you was going to clap and cheer when he'd handed it off. You shouldn't even be considering texting him. Part of you thinks this is some school girl's crush on the first exceedingly handsome man to ever look your way (not that Phil was unattractive, just not really your type) - that months from now you'll pull your head out of your ass and realize you were blind sided by handsome, masculine eyebrows and basic human decency and you'll be embarrassed to admit you'd fallen for it. Fresh off an abusive relationship, no less.

But a larger, perhaps much more desperate part of you was convinced this was a route worth exploring.

You sigh and tuck the coaster into your visor for now, start busying yourself with the privacy screens. However you decide to proceed, it would be buck-wild to do it right this moment anyway. You may be a notoriously impulsive person, but this could be one of them there baby steps to betterment you're always hearing about.

There's never much sleep to be had in parking lots. The privacy screens help to block out the bright lamps, sure, but they combine to create a perfect IMAX shadow theater where any movement outside projects onto the screens around you. You're in a quiet corner of the lot, but it's not exactly deserted. Occasionally people shuffle past and it always raises your hackles to see a perfectly human silhouette standing right next to you. As long as you keep your lights out, they can't see you - but you also can't really see them and it usually makes your breathing run shallow until they clear out. Still, you manage to catch a fitful few hours before the humidity and cold combine to make your chest hurt too much to stay put so you pack an inconspicuous purse with some dirty dishes and washing supplies and head inside.

The bathroom is cold, and the water is scalding as you try to maneuver a bowl around the tiny sink. It feels good on your joints but leaves your skin feeling too tight, so you make sure to sample some lotion as you wander around. Godbless underpaid retail workers, who do not seem to give a singular fuck what their frequent homeless shopper does while trying to dodge the cold. You stay respectful, stick to sampling designated tester bottles and dishes, and never leave a mess for them and they strike up friendly conversation if they're not otherwise occupied. No such luck tonight which is a bummer because you could use some incentive to stay on your feet, but that's okay. You spend some time tidying a particularly messy T-shirt display, grab your peanut butter, and go.

You charge your phone on the drive back to West Glacier. You don't really need to, as it's only been turned on maybe twice in the last week, but it's probably best to be safe. You refuse to acknowledge the coaster tucked neatly into the visor above your head.

***

There is a grunting noise coming from the passenger side of the Jeep. It's still a little early. Around nine AM if the light spilling through the privacy screen can be believed. You're not certain because you don't want to crawl around in search of your phone and alert whoever or whatever is outside to your presence in the process. It's been about ten minutes of this - small snuffling, grunting sounds moving back and forth on the wooded side of the car. As you've laid there, you've managed to convince yourself by turns that it was one, just a raccoon; two, your actual imagination; three, Phill in the flesh come to torment you; and four, just some other campers stretching their legs. You're debating the benefits of taking a small peek around the screen to soothe your mind when a deep, animalistic groan is the only warning you receive before the whole cab is rocked on its shocks in a way you've definitely experienced before.

"No fucking way!" You exclaim and tear your blind back only to be greeted by the massive, furry chest of a frankly unreasonably large grizzly.

You should be fucking terrified. You're definitely not.

"You again!?" You ask, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

The bear backs up enough that it can duck its head toward your window, its huge golden eye gleaming as it looks directly at you. It huffs, quiet now that it's been caught, and lowers itself back to the ground, head bobbing as it sways in place a bit.

"This your favorite parking lot or something, big guy?" It's the same spot where you first saw it. Maybe the bins aren't cleaned out often enough?

Of course, the bear does not respond. It sits on the ground with a low cow like sound and just looks at you for a moment. This is probably the right time for panic to set in, seeing as this very large predator with zero natural aversion to humans has approached your car twice now, but you suppose begging sweetly for scraps is better than outright attacking your car. Besides, it's so fucking cool.

You lower the screens, trying to get an unobstructed view. The bear watches you curiously but makes no move other than an idle scratch of its own belly. Not for the first time in your life, you find it massively unfair that evolution designed something so goddamn hug shaped and then gave it the approachability of Charles Manson.

It belatedly occurs to you that you may want to remember this and you scramble to the console to grab your phone. It takes a minute to power on, but the bear just continues to sit and watch you, almost expectantly. It cocks its head and huffs when you finally snap your pic, then stands and lumbers in a big circle when you snap a few more. It's huffing becomes slightly agitated and you can't help but tease it rhetorically:

"What? Prefer your solitude?" The bear moos. "Well don't worry, I don't have anyone to show anyway." A small huff, breath steaming in the morning air. It continues to move in a slow circle. You watch it for a little bit but your body is quickly catching up with the fact that you've slept in a cold, cramped space for a few hours and nature is calling. "Don't suppose you're gonna clear out so I can pee, eh?"

The bear takes a step back, cocks its head as if inviting you to try your luck.

You chuckle as you climb into the driver's seat, ferreting your keys out of the hideaway within the seat cushion. "No thanks, big guy. Not quite that stupid. Also, you should know I'm not gonna feed you. So, much as I enjoy your company, maybe find a new Jeep to frisk down?"

Of course, it only continues to stare at you. As you pull out and drive off, it stands to watch you leave and you're struck again by how fucking huge it is. You've never seen a grizzly in person so you guess it's like seeing a moose for the first time. One thing to hear about how massive they are, another to see it in the flesh and realize your imagination is quite limited.

After finding a good place to do your morning ablutions without the threat of mauling, you climb back into the Jeep and take a minute to flip through the photos you took. You want to share them with someone because it's so fucking cool that you shared a morning with a bear, but you hadn't been lying when you'd said you didn't have anyone to send it to, anyway. No social media for obvious reasons, no real friends because Phil had driven wedges between you and all your loved ones long ago. You kept meaning to reach out, but shame and fear of Phil having done so first keeps you away. Your mom, maybe, but you and her had never been close, and randomly sending her cool pictures in an effort to share your life with her would probably make her more concerned for your safety than finding out you'd been in an abusive relationship and were resorting to homelessness had seemed to.

In the visor above you, the coaster hangs like the least assuming sword of Damocles imaginable. And you've got a feelin' someone's gonna be cuttin' the thread.

Part four >>

#bearshifter!price #captain john price x you #john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fatted rabbit

[minkkumaz]

I'M JUST YOUR PROBLEM

after blowing you off, you never thought that things between you and kyungmin would be the same. and it didn't, he was your enemy. when finally getting the chance to confront him about all the shit he's done, why does it make you want want to try making up with him?

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

PAIRING cho kyungmin x fem!reader WC 2.6k TAGS enemies to lovers trope. forced proximity trope. school au. angst/fluff. cussing. kissing. making up. bsf minho. like one kys joke. OMI NOTE marceline songs hit like ten times different so writing this literally had me pumped. i've never done forced proximity before but it's extremely fitting.

cho kyungmin was quite literally the spawn of satan, your sworn enemy til the day you’d die. the face that you fell for ended up being the face that also left you stranded like an idiot. when you couldn’t cry anymore and your eyes felt puffy and numb, you turned to hate.

classes the following week became even more difficult to believe, as you felt small in comparison to his lingering presence. there was a possibility that maybe he forgot about the first date he planned, things happen and that was something you were okay with.

but you weren’t expecting him to act like nothing happened, act like he didn’t spend countless nights laughing over the phone like he was yours. you felt like a mere ghost, parading through his life like a fucking play toy. because from your perspective, you were just his problem.

“i’m going to bury you in the ground, kyungmin.” you sobbed, anger seething through your teeth.

the expression on his face was blank, though you almost swore he let down his guard for a second seeing you hold back hot tears. but you didn’t want pity, you wanted closure. a reason why the idea of your existence dropped from his earth.

no understanding, no communication, not a single dust particle of love behind his dark eyes. that day marked a countdown of hating him and everything that involved him. an ill circumstance that landed him in the most broken spots of your heart.

he understood your feelings in a way that he felt the need to reflect them. so what was once a one - sided hatred became a mutually agreed upon alliance against one another. if anything, this made you more upset. what did you do to end up on his black - list?

day eighty - five of loathing cho kyungmin, and school became insufferable around him. the recent weather forecast had been wearisome, leaving you wanting nothing more than to kick back at home and sleep for the remainder of your life.

the court yard was always busiest during lunch hours, yet the rustle and bustle of school life kept you awake. students scattered about in their cliques, chatting about recent homework assignments or bothersome teachers. you poked at your food with your chopsticks since you didn’t have much of an appetite.

“are you okay, y/n? you’re not eating any of your food and i swear i heard your stomach grumbling during the quiz.” minho asked, stealing a piece of kimchi off your plate and dropping it in his mouth.

“not really, i don’t know. i’m just a little frustrated with everything right now.” you groan in response, setting down your utensil to bury your face in your hands.

“let me guess, does this have something to do with him?” he raises one of his eyebrows as you nod in annoyance.

“dude, i overheard haemin complaining that his only friend,” you air quoted, “was being transferred into my p.e. period. and we both know exactly who he was talking about.”

“that’s rough, have you talked to jaeyun about it? since he’s one of the sports captains, he could probably tell you for sure if that’s what you’re worried about.” he suggests.

“haemin and kyungmin are practically inseparable. even when i liked kyungmin, he was honestly kind of hesitant talking to me without him around. so i know for a fact i’m going to see his stupid face tomorrow.” you ramble, letting out a defeated exhale.

“listen, you’ll be perfectly fine. don’t let him work you up like that, he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction, okay?” he advised you, patting your shoulder for comfort.

“minho, he shouldn’t even need satisfaction in the first place! kyungmin left me at a park. in the rain.” you emphasize the last bit, “i’m the only one that deserves to hate him.”

“i know, and it sucks. but i’ve heard this story like a million times, y/n. we need to get you some kind of therapy sessions if you’re going to keep at it like this.”

“literally choke.”

“kidding! i’m kidding. don’t do that to me please and thank you.” he laughed lightly, “but seriously, you’ll be okay. you always are. plus i’m just a phone call away if you need me to curse him over the phone or something, i don’t know.”

“you do too much for me minho. don’t worry, i know you just want to help me, thank you. i’ll try to figure it out i guess.” you exaggerate a sigh, making minho lean over to give you a friendly hug.

“now, eat your food before i feed the scraps to the birds on our way to next period.” he threatens, pointing a chopstick at your forehead.

after letting out all of your problems like word vomit, you were finally able to swallow down some of your meal. minho, your respective best friend had heard almost all of your hell stories about wanting to rip off kyungmin’s head. it was almost like he experienced the whole thing with you; or maybe the idea of him drenched down in a casual dress was a funny thing to imagine.

lunch passed by quickly, as did the rest of the school day. you took notes, turned in assignments, complained minho’s ear off once more, and suddenly the final bell rang meaning you could finally return home. in between all of this, you somehow forgot about the boy in your aching heart.

your steps pattered against the pavement when a feeling of dread washed over you. why did it feel like your world was going to shatter at school tomorrow? fallen leaves crushed underneath your shoes, resembling how scattered your mind felt.

day eighty - six of loathing kyungmin and every bone in your body felt like it was going to give out and abandon you as a pile of fleshy mush. you and your classmates gathered in the field wearing your p.e. uniforms, waiting for your coach to come out with the proper equipment.

kyungmin was only a couple people away from you and it already gave you an incomprehensible headache. just feeling his presence near you sent shivers down your spine, and you knew he could care less about whether you were there or not.

was it immature to still be hung up on what happened between the two of you even after almost three months?

you couldn’t stomach your stress right now, attempting to take deep breaths to soothe yourself. the cold air helped slightly; you became thankful for the dreary weather and couple raindrops that fell from the sky.

“alright everyone, it seems to be sprinkling a bit, but we’ll pass around the football for now. let’s just hope the rain doesn’t get too intense.” your coach explains, “pair up with the person next to you and come grab a ball.”

“i can go get the ball.” you offer  the girl next to you before walking over to the net full of footballs.

reaching your hand into the bag, you press a finger into each one, making sure you grab one that isn’t too flat nor too full of air. you’re searching for a couple seconds, before another hand bumps into yours.

“oh, i’m sorry–” looking up to apologize, you find yourself face to face with kyungmin. you take back your hand quickly.

“don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault your hand was in the way.” he smiles almost mockingly.

“whatever.” you mumble, pulling away to let him grab what he needs first although there were two bags.

while you wait, more droplets of water pattered against your skin, becoming slightly more frequent. you look over to your coach talking to another teacher, darting his gaze up from the sky and to his co - worker. he blows his whistle suddenly, as everyone looks over in his direction.

“seems like the rain is just going to get worse from here.” he announces before pointing at you and kyungmin, “both of you go put the equipment away, the rest of us will head back into the gym and run some laps around the courts for the rest of the period.

there was a chorus of disappointed murmurs from your classmates, before they all dropped the footballs they were able to grab. this left you and kyungmin alone, making your anxiety sky - rocket. against your will, you grab one of the bags and start towards the shed.

the sound of shoes against squishy grass tell you that kyungmin is following closely behind. you speed up with half of your intentions to get away from him and the other half to escape from the drowning rain.

once you get under the awning of the equipment shed, you slide open the already half - open door to let yourself in. there’s an assortment of different sports balls and rackets, all somewhat organized. kyungmin closes the door behind the both of you unknowingly while you find a spot to put away the footballs.

dropping down the bag in silence, you leave him to do the same and head out. when you twisted the door knob, it felt almost jammed. turning it harder and harder, it was deemed useless, making you panic.

“hello? hello!” you fidget with the door, practically throwing yourself against it in hopes it will magically open.

“did we get locked inside?” the boy behind you questions, making you turn around in disbelief.

“no actually, i’m just communicating with god on the other side. yes it’s locked!” you argued, “why did you close it behind you?”

“i didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to be closed!” he defended himself.

“oh my gosh i think i’m going to fucking faint if i have to be here with you for who knows how long.” you start pacing around the shed.

“i’m right here, you know.”

“do you want me to treat you like a princess or something? is that what you want me to do?” you tell him, “we’re not exactly on good terms you know.”

“you don’t have to freak out about it, someone will come find us eventually.” he shrugs.

“please tell me this is a nightmare.” you mutter under your breath.

“it’s pretty real, i don’t know.” he says, sitting down on the floor.

“oh my god i’m not asking you, kyungmin.”

“this isn’t fun for me either, you know. you don’t have to pretend like you’re the only one in distress here.” he mumbles.

“am i that much of an inconvenience to you? last time i checked there’s no reason for you to be mad at me.” you scoff, taking your own seat on the floor.

“i never said you were an inconvenience to me, i just don’t really want to be trapped in a sweaty equipment shed with the smell of leather like.. everywhere.” he explains casually, picking up a tennis ball.

you curl your knees into your body, leaning your head back against the wall, “yeah, right.”

“do i really stress you out that much?” he asks you out of nowhere.

“yes.” you respond blatantly.

“why?”

“i shouldn’t have to justify what i do. i have nothing to prove, kyungmin. you just do.” you claimed, “and i haven’t even got a proper explanation or apology yet.”

tension became thick in the air, palpable enough to be cut with even the dullest knife. being in the same room with someone you swore was your most hated person made your face heat up. yet you still wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to feel less cold.

the sound of a tennis ball being thrown against the wall and bouncing back filled your ears, though you weren’t in a circumstance to complain. anything was better than sitting in silence for who knows how long. 

minutes went by with no sign of a teacher coming to break the two of you free. it wouldn’t be long before the bell rang for the next period, leaving you feeling hopeless. the rain only seemed to get heavier outside.

being forced in proximity with kyungmin made you less angry in a way. every second that ticked by messed with your head, inching to get come kind of answer out of him. though in a way, it made you miss him more. he’d never leave class without you by his side, getting you juices from the vending machine, holding your hand tightly when you were nervous for a test.

“you’re kind of unbelievable, you know.” you spoke.

“what is that supposed to mean?” he glanced over to you curiously.

“that night. you said you’d take me on a walk through the park after we stopped to get food. but you never showed up to the restaurant, so i assumed you’d be waiting for me there.” you told him, feeling tinges of sadness rather than hate, “i waited on a bench for an hour before it started pouring. you never showed up.”

“you waited in the rain..?” he stammered slightly.

“i shouldn’t have to be the one that makes up with you.” you whisper, “but why do i want to?”

“y/n..” your name falls from his lips like honey.

he scoots himself closer to you until your shoulders are barely touching, his sudden appearance making you flinch. you were still tense next to him as he started to speak.

“i’m so sorry for being so mean to you. for ignoring you, pretending like nothing happened between us when everything happened.” he apologized, “you don’t have anything to apologize for. my mind was so crowded that night. i wasn’t sure if i was ready to love someone like you.”

“then why didn’t you tell me anything, kyungmin? you hurt me.” you began to tear up.

“i didn't know how.. can you tell i’ve never done this before? confronting my feelings while trying to convince myself that you wouldn't break things off with me if i wasn't ready. but listening to my head didn't get us anywhere either.” he confessed, “i was really intimidated when you came up to me the day after, and i wasn’t sure what to do. so i did nothing. it’s a terrible excuse, really.

“you fucked up. i absolutely hated you for standing me up like that..”

“you had every right to hate me. so i don’t know why i thought it was a good idea to hate you back. now that i’m looking back, it was immature. i missed so much time with you because i didn’t have a taste of what it was like for someone like you to love me back.”

“kyungmin, i don’t know what to say i–”

“let me fix this, please?” he moves your head by your chin, turning you to face him directly.

“you can try..” you murmured, watching his stare fixate from your eyes to your lips.

closing the gap, he enveloped you in a kiss that almost felt criminal considering every feeling you’ve had for him in the past three months has been hate. but he was trying. you’d never forget the pain he caused you, but part of you could forgive him.

it was soft, and he held you oh so gently against his lips. his hand trailed around your waist, pulling you closer into him. could this be the beginning of something different between you and him? as he pulled away, he couldn’t help but show a sad smile on his face.

“y/n, can i take you out on a proper date this time..?”

“i’ll see if minho lets me first after all the shit i talked to him about you.” you laugh, looking at his pretty pink tinted face.

“okay, that makes sense, i kind of deserved it. if it makes you feel any better, i’ll pick you up so you don’t have to worry!” he suggests.

“what if i stand you up by not being at my house, hm?”

“then i’ll wait on your porch in the rain for you until you show up.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

#⋆｡˚ my works #cho kyungmin x reader #kyungmin x reader #kyungmin angst #kyungmin fluff #8turn kyungmin #kyungmin 8turn #8turn x reader #8turn fluff #8turn angst #8turn imagines #8turn fanfic #8turn scenarios #8turn drabbles #8turn #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kyungmin imagines #cho kyungmin

[goosetooths]

ya gotta love a reverse au

#fine forecasts #reverse au #my art #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #illustration #digital art

[naomi-nana]

cyno x reader yu bisa yu

summary || it's raining very badly. you were originally going to take the bus, but it seems like a certain someone has other plans.

pairings || modern!au cyno x gn!reader

warnings || lowercase intended, not proofread

a/n || uda ya dek👍😁👍. to others, i hope you enjoyed this rushed little fic i made :D

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ☂️ ༉‧₊˚✧ .

it's seven o'clock right now, and it's raining very badly. you had finished all of your work and planned on going home, but you forgot to bring your umbrella. so now you are waiting at the bus stop like a lost child.

you heard your phone ringing and opens your bag to search for it. turns out, your boyfriend had called you. you answered the phone almost immediately, hoping he would offer to pick you up.

"hey." he said in a monotous tone. your face scrunched up a little after listening to his tone, but decided to ignore it anyways.

"hey mister boyfriend."

"stop calling me that."

you giggled at his answer. "what's wrong? why did you suddenly call me?"

"you mean i can't?"

"i never said that!"

he sighed to the phone and didn't answer, that was until you heard a scream of your name from afar. when you turn around, you certainly didn't expect to see him standing still and waving his hand under the rain like a child, holding an umbrella on his other hand.

"wh- cyno?! what are you doing here?!" you hung up the call and put your phone inside your bag again.

"i figured you didn't bring your umbrella to work because you kept insisting about the 'weather forecast' saying that it won't be raining." he offered you his umbrella, "so i decided to be a good boyfriend and pick you up."

"what..what happened to your car?"

"what do you mean what happened? my car is perfectly fine."

"then why did you not use it to pick me up?"

"because we are dating and i want us to just take a simple walk like any other couple? it'd be rain-diculous if we never walk together under the rain." there was a small silence between you two. looking at his face, you are sure that he took pride into whatever joke he just said.

"alright, i'll let it slide this time. but if both of us get sick tomorrow because of this, i'm not even surprised.."

both of you did end up get sick tomorrow. cyno definitely didn't regret it though.

naomi-nana 2023. all likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated! <3

#nao.writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno genshin impact #cyno fluff #cyno genshin #cyno x y/n

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

deep dark valley | rhett abbott x oc, time travel au

Summary: A year ago, Rebecca Abbott went missing. Now, Rhett is nowhere to be found. The Amelia County Sheriff's Department has put together a search party. One of the volunteers: Tessa Abernathy. But it takes more than searching on horseback for her to find him out in the west pasture. (wc: 3631)

Warnings: background ocs, 🕳 the hole 🕳, language, a bit of a cliffhanger and a flashforward

✎……To start off falltober on a slightly spooky note: the time travel au! I'm really liking how this story is going so far. Please let me know your thoughts and if you want me to continue this! I have so many thoughts and ideas!

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

Don’t go out in the fields at night, Where the black sky opens at your feet And swallows you whole A god with a sickle,  tearing through time Don’t go out in the fields at night, You’ll disappear without a trace Not to be found, not to be home And come back later Not completely whole Don’t go out in the fields at night,  Unless you want To risk your life

Rhett Abbott went missing three days ago. Sent out to check the fences on his family’s ranch on Wednesday and he never came back. The Abbotts thought he was just off doing what Rhett did — drinking or bedding some girl he didn’t know for a few days. So they didn’t call the police until he had been missing for a full forty-eight hours. Worry starting to settle in when they finally seemed to notice that his truck was still parked up by the barn just north of the house.

The sheriff put out a call that a search party should gather at the Abbott ranch at two o’clock after the missing person’s report was finalized and an initial investigation had been underway. Rhett was still out on Abbott land somewhere, of that much the police were certain. Possibly hurt. And he needed to be found fast before anything worse happened to him out there — the weather forecast showing his impending doom as a great storm cloud approached the region. 

Tessa Abernathy, along with her father and mother, answered that call. Arriving at the Abbott ranch with their horses in tow to search the land as best they could. 

Tessa couldn’t imagine what Royal and Cece must have been going through. It wasn’t even a year ago that their daughter-in-law Rebecca went missing on their land. Went out for a walk to cool off one night and never came back home. Her father, the cynic he sometimes was, said it was a little suspicious that another person just disappeared on their property. He wondered if they should just start digging instead of looking for that boy alive. 

His wife and daughter both told him to stop talking like that. His defensive what? making them double down on their efforts.

“You went t’school with’im, didn’ya, Tess?” her mom asked as she peered into the back bench seat where her daughter sat with her knees scrunched up. 

“Yeah,” she answered, unable to look at either of them as she turned her head to look out the window, watching the endless Wyoming landscape zoom past. “Graduated the same year. I — I hope he’s okay.”

“M’sure he’s fine. Jus’got a little lost s’all.”

“On’is own land? That don’t happen! Unless he’s drunk…”

“Nate! Will you quit!” her mom hissed, hitting her husband lightly on the arm with a pointed look back at Tessa.

It wasn’t like she was close to Rhett. She barely spoke two words to him in school and not a single one after graduation. Their friend groups didn’t mix and she stopped doing rodeo stuff. They might have lived in the same small town with not much to do, but the two of them just never seemed to cross paths. Still, a pit, an open maw that gnawed at her insides, had opened up in her gut when she heard the news that he was missing. It hadn’t gone away since and only worsened when they turned into the drive that branched off into the Tillerson and Abbott ranch entrances. The simple rought iron gate with that circled A looming over them like some omen she didn’t understand and didn’t want to. 

What anguish the Abbotts must be experiencing, what worry. What tears had been shed. And what if Rhett was out there somewhere? Injured and alone. Hungry and cold. It made her guts twist up and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Hand reflexivly curling around the bag she brought. Filled with a fresh bottle of water, food, and a first aid kit — just in case she found him. Just in case he needed it. 

Tessa hadn’t prayed since she was a little girl and her parents still dragged her to church every Sunday. But she closed her eyes and spoke to the Lord then as their truck pulled up to the Abbott ranch house. 

Please let him be out there. Let him be okay. Let someone, anyone, find him.

Her father killed the engine and they all climbed out of the truck. The sheriff and deputy were already there, standing on the Abbotts porch talking with Royal and Perry. Cece was out in the yard, talking to a few other women. There were about twenty people there already. All with their four-wheelers and gators and horses to aid them in their search of the expansive land. The sky was growing dark, greyed over in cloud, a wind blowing in from the east.

That storm was coming in faster than anyone expected.

When Cece noticed them, she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, and approached with a tight smile. 

“Thank you f’r comin’,” she almost whispered as she wrapped Tessa’s mom up in a hug.

Her dad patted her on the back, all skeptism gone as he said, “‘Course. Can’t even imagine. Anythin’ else we c’n do t’help — jus’let us know.” 

“I’ppreciate that,” Cece said as she pulled away from the embrace. 

Then she caught sight of Tessa still standing by the truck, hands stuffed in her Carhartt pockets, trying to blend into the background. But there Cece was. Walking up to her with tears in her eyes and the wind blowing her brown hair across her wrinkled face. 

“Thank you,” she said as she took Tessa by the shoulder firmly. 

What do you say to someone who keeps losing family left and right? What do you say to a mother whose son is gone — and might be gone forever? Tessa surely didn’t know as words and phrases that all seemed cliche and insincere rolled and tumbled on her tongue until they all felt like a knotted mess in her throat. Clogging her up until all that came out was: 

“N-No problem.” 

That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say. But Cece didn’t seem to mind. She only smiled and gave her shoulder another squeeze. Then let go to talk to her parents some more. Tessa heaved a sigh of relief as she slipped away, turning on her heel to check on the horses in the trailer. 

A few minutes past two, the sheriff rounded up the search party and gave designated zones of land for people to search. The Abernathys and the Brownings were going to search the west pasture until dark. The section of their land that Royal said Rhett was supposed to be checking the fences of — that butted up against Tillerson property. 

None of the Abbotts’ neighbors showed up to help with the search. Not even Luke, who seemed to be the only one with his head on straight. But neither Royal or Cece seemed to mind. It was probably best that they stayed away, considering the two families' history of bickering and petty squabbling that Tessa only heard in gossip her parents liked to share around the kitchen table. 

At the sheriff’s call for everyone to head out, Tessa mounted her horse. 

Peaches stamped her feet and whinnied softly as Tessa settled into the saddle, a loose hold on the reigns. Her horse was excited to explore the new land, having not gotten off her own family’s ranch much since Tessa retired from barrel racing some years ago. With a click of her tongue and a light kick of her heel into Peaches’ side, they were off at a trot towards the west pasture. 

No one spoke. Abernathys on their horses and Brownings on their four-wheelers. A heavy tension in the air that could nearly be touched. Nothing to fill the silence save for the high-pitched whine of the small engines and the distant sounds of thunder. Tessa looked to the east, one hand on her thigh as she guided Peaches forward. The clouds were still a few miles out, but they were dark as night, lightning already shooting out. The wind whipped at her face. It even smelled like a storm.

“Y’all go north from’ere! We’ll go south!” Mr. Browning shouted over the noise. 

The three Abernathys nodded, and turned their horses to the north. Into pasture that seemed neverending. And after only a few minutes of riding together, they split off as well. 

Tessa veered even more north, towards the treeline. The trees felt like a logical place for him to be. If he got injured and lost his horse, it would provide at least some cover from the elements. Her eyes darted this way and that, focused on the ground, never stopping for long, just enough to make sure there was no sign of Rhett. Picking over the land slowly. She hoped and prayed for the toe of a boot, a scrap of blue jean, or a flash of flannel amongst the dried leaves and ferns and long grasses. Hoped that she would recognize it if she did see it. 

But so far, there was nothing. 

Nothing but empty fields and silence and an incoming storm that would surely cut their search short. 

Sighing, Tessa looked up from the ground for the first time in ages. Her parents and their horses were nowhere in sight. How long had she been looking? How far away were they? A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, her hands tightening around the reins as Peaches shifted anxiously. Tessa didn’t like being alone out here. With the grey and infinite sky, the unsettling howling of the wind, a missing person nowhere to be found. 

Only a mile ahead, she could see the fence line, barbed wire and thick posts, that separated the Abbott land from the Tillersons. Hopefully, if she followed the fence line and headed south from there, she would run into her parents eventually. She guided Peaches in that direction and took off at a faster pace than she had been going previously, eyes still scanning the ground for any sign of Rhett despite her discomfort. 

Suddenly, a hum filled the air. It sounded nearly mechanical — but also animalistic. Otherworldly, coming from a certain point but also coming from everywhere all at once. It made a shiver run up Tessa’s spine like a finger of ice as she turned her head towards what sounded like the source of the noise. Just a little further north. What appeared to be nothing. 

But what if it was Rhett? 

What if he had heard the same strange noise just before he disappeared?

Tessa pushed down her fears, wrestled them into a pit at the very center of her gut that sat heavy and insistent, as she got down from Peaches’ back. She wasn’t about to run off because she was scared. Rhett needed help, and this noise could lead her right to him. So she walked forward. Leaving Peaches behind.

The humming got louder the further she walked. And when she got to the source, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her veins felt frozen. Her lungs seized up, her chest heaving. And despite every instinct telling her to turn back, get back on her horse and run — she couldn’t move.

A horrible void was laid out before her. Large and gaping and utterly black. A dust floated and danced just on the surface. The hum was coming from deep within. Gentle and continuous. It was shaped like a perfectly circular hole in the ground. With no sign of a bottom at the end of it. Just great consuming blackness and swirling dust. Like the opposite of the sun, it seemed to sap what was left of the light trying to stream through the clouds. Casting the field in shadows that stretched and stretched to meet their maker at the center of it all. Even the noise of the wind and the coming storm and small creatures thriving in the tall grass ceased. 

And the void, humming and consuming, called to her. 

 Her feet moved of their own accord, unable to resist as they carried her forward towards the hole. 

Standing mere inches from it now, she could feel the pull of it. The tug that drew in the light and the shadows and the noise. It pulled at her gut. It wanted to take her as well. Another step forward, and she was at the edge. Like standing on a cliff.

Run, run, run — get away everything inside her screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked deep into the void just past the tips of her boots. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the wind blew past her. All around her. But the hum of the inky blackness sang just for her. She felt herself leaning forward. 

Then Peaches whinnied somewhere behind her. Tessa turned sharply — and suddenly she was falling back.

Infinite cold. Infinite darkness. Nothing and everything all at once. There was no ground beneath her and no sky above. Floating through a nothingness that cradled her on all sides with a hum. Because it wasn’t falling. Not quite. Tessa felt there would be no end to this. She would spend the rest of time and space surrounded by void. Consumed. Gone forever.

Just like Rebecca. 

Just like Rhett.

Wait. 

Grass.

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. A gasp escaping past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into pale blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water. 

Then a hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her up. Tessa cried out as she was yanked belly first onto the grass. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Like she had been holding her breath for too long. There was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t stop. And the sun — the sun felt so bright after what felt like an eternity, an entire life age of the earth spent in darkness.

She was then rolled onto her back, a pressure and weight placed on her cheek. There was a muffled voice, like listening to someone through a wall. She tried to open her eyes; blinked against the harsh light of the sun. But quickly, the form of someone’s face was taking shape.

Rhett Abbott’s face. 

“R-Rhe…?” she tried, but the sound of his name came out heavy on her tongue.

Blue eyes looked down at her with concern pulling his brows down over them. His chin and jaw were covered in a layer of scruff. And his hair…It seemed longer than in the picture the sheriff passed out. His face looked harder too. Like he had seen things he shouldn’t — or more than he should have. 

“Hey, hey, c’you hear me? Y’r gonna be alright. We just gotta…” He trailed off as he looked away from her. Then his expression dropped. “No, no, no, no! Not again! Shit — fuck! Come on! Fuck!”

His face disappeared from her sight completely. The weight of what she could only assume was his hand falling away from her face.

She could look up at the sky without squinting at least. Pale blue. The color of early morning. Not a storm cloud in sight. How long was she…Gone? Where even were they?

The only way to find out is if she sat up and got her bearings. Even if all she really wanted to do was go to sleep and try and pretend this was all just some bad dream her friends would think was crazy. But this couldn’t have been a dream. The grass was damp beneath her, wetting her clothes and sending a chill over her skin. It poked into her bare hands. She could smell smoke and hay off in the distance. Those things didn’t happen in dreams.

So she pulled herself up into a sitting position with a groan, blinking hard to further adjust to the light. 

Rhett was sitting beside her. Elbows over his knees with his head hung low against his chest. Her brow furrowed as she took in his attire. Brown pants and worn, dusty boots; suspenders and a white button up that looked too big for him. Not his usual style if she remembered him right — or remembered what century they were in for that matter. 

“Wha —” she tried to ask, but her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’ve been stuck’ere for six months,” Rhett grumbled, not even looking up at her as he spoke. “‘N’now y’r stuck too.”

“Rhett…Y’ve been missin’ for three days…?” 

He finally turned his head to look at her, brows furrowed as he ticked his jaw to one side. “Guess that makes sense. Considerin’ when it fuckin’ spat us out.” 

Drawing his hands over his face with a sigh, Tessa only became more confused. Besides the sudden change in weather, and maybe the sudden change in the time of day (and his clothes and the fact she just fell into a black hole and Rhett Abbott pulled her out of it), everything seemed normal. They even appeared to be in the same field as the one she found that hole in, which was gone now. No hum and no all-consuming darkness. But now that she looked around…There were more trees surrounding them than she remembered. And when did that hill rising to the east with the little log cabin sitting on top, get there?

“I don’understand…” she said with a slow shake of her head as she looked around.

“I don’understand much either. But what I do know s’that I fell n’a hole six months ago n’climbed out of it here — in this field. N’now y’re here. So, same thing must’a happened t’you,” he replied, blunt and bitter.

“I — yeah. I-I guess so. I’s out on y’r family’s land…Lookin’ for ya.” His head jerked over to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “Didn’know I’d have t’fall n’a black hole n’order t’find ya, though.” 

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, but then he looked away again with a shake of his head. “M’sorry. This…Shit…It ain’t gonna be easy.”

“What?” she asked, a sudden and acute fear gripping at her heart.

“That hole didn’jus’ spit us out n’a different place. It spat us out n’a different time.”

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. Which she knew there wasn’t much left of. A gasp escaped past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into brilliant blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water.

Her other hand found purchase in the dirt and she pulled. With a cry and a soft groan, she landed belly fist onto the grass. Gasping for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, she rolled over onto her back.

At least the sky felt familiar. At least her body didn’t ache like she thought it would. Like it did before she jumped. She did wonder though, as she laid there trying to adjust, how she was going to get up from the ground. She was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten down in the dirt for twenty-odd years.

Distantly, like from a different room of the house, she heard a groan and a thud as another body crawled out of the black void. She felt his presence at her side, like he was always supposed to be, solid and warm. Tessa smiled. 

Good. He made it too.

She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. 

What she saw was not what she expected. 

It was a picture of herself. Young and beautiful. The glass protecting it stained from rain and sun, leaned up against a lone fence post. The large picture was surrounded by smaller ones. Wilted flowers. Crosses. Teddy bears. Wreaths. And candles long burnt out. Tessa craned her neck to see what else was there. On another fence post was a picture of Rhett. Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole with his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t have as many things surrounding his picture, but still, there were flowers and candles and a few belt buckles strewn around.

No. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t spit them back out right where they left off.

Would it?

Tessa turned her head towards where Rhett lay beside her and her chest heaved. Her heart raced in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy.

Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole. Unburdended by time and years upon years of hard work. Strong and lean. Before she even knew she was moving, Tessa rolled over onto her side and leaned against his chest. She took his smooth face between her hands, hands ungnarled with no wrinkles in sight, as a shaky breath escaped her.

Rhett opened his eyes, blue and dark as an oncoming storm. Blinked against the harsh light after infinite darkness. And then widened at the sight of her.

“Sunshine?” he whispered, fingers curling around her waist.

She smiled down at him, tears stinging her eyes. “This ain’t gonna be easy.”

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

#oc: tessa abernathy #fic: deep dark valley #fd: outer range #time travel au #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range oc #new fic #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy #lewis pullman #falltober23

[ultimateluckystudent-writes]

Your Face Is Red (It's Not the Sunburn)

Summary: It's Summer, and you know what that means! Wearing your swimsuits to the lake, road trips with your classmates, and being trapped on top of your mortified crush's hard-on. I hope you packed an outfit that says 'sorry for making you accidentally cum'!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags/Themes: , Nagito Komaeda/Reader, Extra Shy and Nervous Komaeda, Mega-Virgin Komaeda, Humiliation Kink, Sub!Nagito, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Reader's Kind of Mean but Girlboss, Slight Exhibitionism, Roadtrip!, Non-Despair!AU

Content Warnings: Accidental Orgasm/Sex, Female Anatomy on Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Public Sex, Under-Negotiated/Accidental Kink, Accidental Sex

A/N: I can't stop writing bitchy, femdom reader and horny, nervous Nagito it's an affliction. Also, I came up with this in one night, this was supposed to be a drabble and I lost control like Two Bros lol. Also, I love mom friend Mahiru and dad friend Hajime *mwah*

Also (last one I promise) here are some more titles I came up with. They get worse as they go on:

Road Trip Travails (and Other Reasons to Pack Sunblock/Thank God for Sunscreen),

You're Really Hot (It's 90, Lose the Jacket),

Forecast Calls for Sunny Skies (And Bumpy Roads)

Get Your White, Sticky Cream on Me (I Forgot My Sunblock)

READ ON AO3

Nobody else had even wanted to sit next to Komaeda, much less on top of him. Being in half-heartedly concealed swimsuits only made it worse. The luggage overflowed onto the seat next to it, all the way in the back, so it meant that someone had to draw sticks. Whoever got the shortest would have to sit in the back next to it all. Nagito drew it with a rueful smile. However, by the time all the supplies were in, you all realized that you were short one more seat.

“We can’t have any more people up front, that’s way too dangerous.” Mahiru frowned.

“We’ve already got four people in the middle seats.” Hajime sighed.

“The back seats are pretty spacious.” Kazuichi shrugged, and it seemed everyone seemed to know what that meant within the same split second. You all turned to look at Komaeda. He was already looking at the floor, picking at a loose thread on the sleeves of his jacket he insisted on taking despite the baking summer sun. It had begun to slip off of him, slumping around his elbows like his bare shoulders in his underconfident stance.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. Kazuichi scoffed audibly. You all knew he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a sort of class trip, and you were urged by Chiaki. However, you were secretly grateful. You knew you’d be just as much of a pariah if you admitted the many friendly moments you had shared with him after classes and in empty hallways. Or how badly you were hoping he’d take off the shirt and let you rub sunscreen on him when you got there. You’d even caved and brought an extra bottle of the lotion kind with you. Just in case.

Around you, everyone had begun to squabble about who would be sitting in Komaeda’s lap. Hajime and Mahiru were already splitting the drive, Akane and Kazuichi were arguing about who between them was smaller (it was definitely Kazuichi), and Ibuki and Sonia weren’t much help. After a moment of this, you realized you were tired already, and the drive hadn’t even begun.

“Everybody shut the fuck up!” You shouted over them. “It’s fine, Komaeda can sit in my lap, can we just hurry up already!”

“Wh- wh- what?” Ibuki gasped, like some sort of DJ. “But Nagi-chan will totally crush you!”

“It’s true, you’re probably better off the other way around.” Hajime mused, clearly sizing you two up. You felt weirdly pleased about the admission.

“I know it must be disgusting to be so near me already,” Komaeda said. He couldn’t even meet your eye. You couldn’t tell if that pink flush on his face was from the sun, or the prospect of it all. ‘Mega-virg.’ You thought to yourself. “I wouldn’t want to be an encumbrance to top it off.”

“I literally don’t care! Just get in!” You groaned, shoving him towards the car. He gave a small yelp and clambered into the back ungracefully, your insistent hands forcing him forwards. He ended up wedged between the middle seats and luggage, stuck between them until you pulled him out with a massive sigh. You couldn’t have anyone think you were too eager for this, after all, least of all Komaeda. He was totally red by the time he was in, but now you knew it was from embarrassment. You slid in after him and sat down on his lap with no fanfare.

As you suspected, Komaeda’s legs were bony and slightly uncomfortable. You shifted, trying to find a spot where he didn’t dig into you, until you realized what you were doing.

“Sorry.” You shrugged, turning to glance back at him.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. He managed to continue to avert his gaze, even this close to you. As everyone else got in and got settled, he began to tug the seatbelt down.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” You caught his wrist and stopped him in the air. ‘It’s… pretty small.’ You couldn’t help thinking. “We’re already crammed in back here, I’m not having this thing choke me on top of it.”

“I understand, but, ah- my luck-” He stammered. He didn’t even move to free his hand. You decided to take pity on him.

“Fine, whatever. But we gotta adjust so this thing isn’t bothering me the whole time.” You didn’t wait for a response before you were pulling the seatbelt on, and moving around on his lap trying to find a better spot. You ended up pressed front to back, his chin having to rest on your shoulder as you leaned against him. ‘At least this is comfy. I wonder if he’ll say anything? Pfft, yeah, right. Human doormat Komaeda Nagito complaining about getting cozy with an Ultimate. I’m surprised he hasn’t creamed his pants yet.’ “There, that’s better.” Sure enough, when you looked back up at him, his eyes were wide and nervous but he didn’t seem unhappy.

“I- um-”

“Alright, everybody ready to head out?” Mahiru asked from the front seat. Akane and Kazuichi cheered way too loud for such a confined space. “Cool, let’s hit the road then.” She nudged Hajime and he pulled out of the parking space.

In front of you, they rolled the windows down as they sang along to the radio, chatted, and laughed away. You and Komaeda, on the other hand, were quiet. He seemed content looking out the window and listening, though you supposed it wasn’t like he could do much else. You put in your earbuds and listen to your own music while you scrolled through your phone.

You didn’t notice the road becoming progressively bumpier until one jolt caused you to knock one of your earbuds out.

“What the fuck guys, where are we driving? Pre-civilization?” You groused.

“I told Hinata to take the regular road.” Mahiru half-sang. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the focused scowl on Hajime’s face everyone knew him by.

“This ways a short cut! I’ve taken it a million times! We’ll get there thirty minutes earlier-” Another bump cut him off.

“Woah!” Ibuiki giggled. “It’s like a roller-coaster!”

“It’s not that bad!” Hajime protested. The bumps eventually calmed down, but the road was still rough. As you drove along it, you could feel the way the uneven path jostled the car. Soon you had to put down your phone and quiet your earbuds so you wouldn’t get carsick.

Everyone else had similarly calmed down. While they still chatted within the rows, the whipping air and hum of the drive were too loud to hear much between them at all. You could barely make out the pop song from the speakers in the middle row. Only twenty minutes into the hour-long drive, but you resigned yourself to looking out the window as time passed.

It was at the next larger bump that you realized something was up with Komaeda.

As you bounced a bit on his lap, you could have sworn you heard the smallest whimper come from him, more a squeak than anything. It sounded pained, and you almost apologized, until a thought crossed your mind. You gave no hint you’d noticed anything as you stretched and shifted on his lap, scooting your hips closer to his-

It was just as you’d suspected. At some point, Komaeda had gotten completely hard.

You almost moaned out loud with the realization. The rush of arousal was so sudden it almost stunned you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you forced yourself not to move at all on top of it, no matter how badly you wanted to begin grinding against him. ‘Holy fuck, he’s hard, he’s hard, he’s hard. What do I do? Do I say something? Would that make it more awkward? What a pervert! Is he getting off on this?’ You looked at his expression out of the corner of your eye, expecting to find him looking down at you already, that filthy look he got on his face when he began to ramble or something similar. But he was staring quite hard out the window at nothing in particular. The muscles in his jaw were clenched. You finally noticed how rigid he was under you, and realized you hadn’t heard Komaeda be silent for this long ever. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

‘Aww, poor thing. He’s hoping I won’t notice. Too bad.’ With no further hesitation, you arched your hips back into him hard, leaning your torso onto the backs of the seats in front of you. You had positioned your pussy right against his dick, knowing he’d feel even more heat now through the thin layers of your swimsuits. Komaeda gasped, the pretty noise torn from his lips with the move. The car’s ride made the seat practically vibrate, and each second bounced you on his lap even as you sat completely still. You could feel his cock twitch and throb with the new feeling. You were glad nobody could see your face, because you worried you’d start drooling soon.

“You okay?” You asked casually, taking the opportunity to look directly at him. His hand was by his mouth. You were sure he’d begun to bite down on it.

“Mhm.” He managed a shaky smile despite his heavy breathing. He even gave a weak thumbs up. You noticed the bite marks in the flesh between his thumb and pointer finger at once. He was so preoccupied with hiding his… condition that he didn’t even seem to notice you’d already found out, or suspect your teasing at all.

“Mmkay. Let me know if anything gets uncomfy.” You turned back to the front and dropped the calm mask at once. The position had him grinding just as hard against your clit. You knew your bottoms were going to be soaked through. You continued in the same silence, though now you had something new to focus on: keeping your breath even as you noticed every move he made. His other hand was curled into a fist by his thigh so tight his knuckles had gone white. His foot was tapping rapidly against the floor. After just a couple more minutes, he had begun to let out a choked sort of sigh with every turn, shift, or movement. For all the hums and nonverbal noises he usually made, it was clear he was doing his best to be completely silent and not disturb you. The idea of him trying to be so good while he was hard and probably aching and humiliated under you almost made you give yourself up.

When your back got tired, you leaned back up against him. Your bodies were now flush with each other. You felt his heart hammering against his chest. Each labored breath of his was now right against your ear. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder and watched his fingers sort of spasm. You had to give it to him, if you weren’t so busy thinking about each new dirty item that had replaced your previous mental vacation itinerary during the ride, you would have certainly given yourself away. If you had been distracted the whole time, or maybe didn’t know what a hard-on felt like, you likely wouldn’t have noticed the weird behavior.

“Ah- um- (F/N)?” His trembling hands tapped your thigh gently. ‘Look at how bad he’s forgotten himself! Addressing me by my first name- he’d never do that. How absolutely precious!’ “I- I- Could, um, could you-”

“Hmm? Oh, do you want me to-” You shifted on your seat once more. This time, you turned yourself to the side as much as you could, your knees pressed up against the luggage. His hard on pressed into your bare thigh. You could see his face like this, petrified and desperate. He’d begun to sweat just a bit. ‘He’s so gross.’ You thought lovingly, your eyes tracing a bead of it down his too-prominent Adam’s apple and past his sharp, pale collarbones. He held his hands up, as if terrified to touch you anymore. “It’s alright.” You lowered them for him, one onto the seat by his leg and your ass, the other on your leg. “There, that better?”

His expression made it clear that the answer was yes, and he wanted to die about it.

“Well, I, uh-” His nose scrunched with another bump. One hand was now pulling at your clothes, the other gripping your upper thigh. He didn’t even seem to notice anymore. You finally gave in. He looked like he was going to combust or faint. Your careful mask melted at once into a knowing smile as you shushed him softly. He seemed entranced as you straightened up to bring your mouth as close to his ear as you could get it.

“You don’t want them to know too, do you?” You murmured. A strangled moan caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” He mewled, giving up all pretenses at once. He squirmed under you, hips stuttering up as he ground against you in pathetic, jerky, inexperienced movements. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” His voice spilled from his swollen, bitten lips, and his eyes were shut tight. Even his torso curled into yours, his head bowed down by yours. There was no warning but a deep inhale before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and his cock twitched against you in time with his hummingbird heartbeat as he spilled his orgasm into his shorts.

He shuddered as you began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly, cradling him against yourself. You wanted to shush his remaining noises, to tell him he did a good job, to call him yours and coo at how pretty he was, but the moment felt too delicate, too precarious-

The blaring sound of the horn made you both jump at once.

“CHIAKI-CHAN!” Mahiru shouted out the open window at the cabin you approached. “WE’RE HERE!”

Akane and Ibuki cheered. Kazuichi hopped over several laps in his rush to get out, holding his stomach like he was going to be sick. Sonia clapped and thanked Hajime like he was her personal driver before sliding out delicately. Hajime yawned and shook his head to clear his drowsiness as he got out. Mahiru folded up the map they hadn’t used and tucked it into the dashboard. Before you knew it, they had forgotten both the two of you and the luggage as they greeted everyone else there.

“They left the seats up.” You scowled out the window to no avail.

“Oh, I, uh, think I can do it from here!” Komaeda said, too eager to be of help. He unbuckled the seat belt and began to reach over you.

“Wait, no let me just-” You tried to get off of him the best you could to give him room to pull the latch that would lower the seats and let you out. 

“Sorry! I think I can-”

“It’s okay, but you-”

“Do you think you could-”

“Ow! Your jacket is caught-”

“Ah!”

“Fuck!”

In a tumble of limbs, the seats came down all at once and the two of you fell back onto them and into each other painfully. You had just opened your eyes again after the crash as the door opened, blinding you once more with the bright sun.

“Hey! What were you two doing back there?” Kazuichi squawked. When you could see again, you realized the position the two of you had landed in. One of Komaeda’s arms was trapped under your back, pressing your faces just inches away from each other’s, and your foot had gotten caught in the handle of a suitcase behind you, wrapping your leg around his waist. Komaeda was only holding himself up with the arm he’d caught himself with, the rest of him pressed up against you.

“I- It’s not-” You stammered as more and more eyes of your classmates had turned towards you at Kazuichi’s accusatory voice.

“How shameful my luck must be for you.” Komaeda sighed, already pulling himself up. “Don’t be silly, Soda-kun, nobody would allow me to disgrace them in such a way.” He chuckled and shook his head at the prospect as he got out. “I’m just too incompetent to even get us out of the car. Such a simple task, and yet-”

“Ugh, god, shut up! You’re right, I’d be an idiot to think anyone would do that sort of thing with you.” Kazuichi looked disgusted.

“Get your mind out of the gutter!” You snapped at him, grateful for the new target Komaeda had supplied you with. “You’re such a pervert, Soda!” You made sure to say it louder than necessary, making everyone’s gaze turn toward him instead.

“Eewww, Pervuichi’s at it again!” Hiyoko cried, always happy to pull out one of her nicknames. 

“They wouldn’t have been trapped like that if you’d remembered to let them out!” Mahiru scolded him. “You were in the middle, you should have been the last one out!”

“Huh? What? Wait!”

As squabbling picked up once more, reminding you of how you had entered the car, Komaeda extended his hand with a smile. His other hand held his jacket by his stomach, over his front. You felt much more grateful for the eyesore. Nobody noticed as you rummaged around for your backpack or when you finally tugged a surprised Komaeda away with a mischievous smile.

“C’mon, let’s head down to the lake already. We’re gonna need an excuse for being all wet already.” You laughed as he nodded quickly in response, until his face fell.

“We’ll have to be quick, unfortunately, my skin burns quite easily-”

“Whoo-hoo!” To his confusion, you gave a cheer at that. ‘Thank you Summer gods! Thank you SPF 100+!’ “Don’t even worry, you have no idea how prepared I am for this. Best vacation ever!”

#nagito komaeda #nagito komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #dr #dr2 #your face is red #its not the sunburn #i should make a better tagging system #oh well #bunnywrites

[norabrice1701]

Twist My Heart - Ch. 1

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

- A TG:M Twister AU -

Series Main List

Also on AO3

Ch. 1 Warnings: Language; discussion of canon character death

Bradley hates wintertime. Tornadic storm activity drops off to nothing. Winter cold roots in his bones no matter how warmly he dresses. Endless days pass behind a computer screen, blurring together until he’s on the brink of madness.

At least, that's what it feels like. Or maybe it’s just been another long ass day of his forecasting model still not compiling correctly. Objectively, in theory, Bradley's program works. He’s studied enough storms forming on Doppler and watched their evolution during his years of chasing, so something must still be off with the back-end code. Exhaling a long sigh, he swivels in his desk chair as he stares at the horrible tornadic behavior model that loops repeatedly on his computer screen.  

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he glances at his wristwatch – 10:27 PM. On a Saturday night. His mom’s voice echoes in his mind, and a familiar guilt creeps over him. Of course, he respects her concern. Of course, he doesn’t want her to worry – he’s just fine. He always has been. And of course, he’s not alone – he has plenty of friends. Besides, so long as mother nature keeps whipping up her violent delights, that’s all he’ll ever need.

The sky has always been his number one passion, his number one love. He still remembers the stories from his dad – how Goose’s eyes lit up and his voice warmed with the thrill of exhilaration when he recounted his tales of storm chasing. How he held Bradley in his arms, perched on a hip as they stood in the garage, explaining the cloud formations and tracking the storms' progress as they passed overhead.

Even when the record-breaking tornado outside El Reno, Oklahoma killed his dad, it had done nothing to diminish Bradley’s passion. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve – his determination to study the skies, to improve humanity’s understanding of tornadoes’ destructive patterns, to take up his dad’s charge to help save lives with better, accurate forecasting. And if his mother and godfather had conspired years ago to stop him… well, that’s a different story. One that Bradley doesn’t care to revisit now that everything's out in the open. Now that he’s on speaking terms with Maverick again (even working in the man’s lab), and that hatchet is well and truly buried.

It just leaves him counting down the days until spring storm season starts with nothing but this damn forecasting model taunting him.

The lab door’s hydraulic hinge gives a familiar hiss, cutting through Bradley’s thoughts and drawing his gaze across the large, workstation populated room. His mouth pinches to a thin line of annoyance and he just resists cursing his rotten luck as Hangman breezes in. 

The man looks good. Fuck, Hangman always looks good, even when soaked to the bone or exhausted from driving all night. His dimpled megawatt smile, tanned skin, and toned physique are ripped straight from a Hollywood magazine – and he knows it, too. It doesn’t help that he is actually good at his job, with a keen mind and razor-sharp instincts behind those grass-green eyes… but he doesn’t have to be such a cocky asshole about it.

Doesn’t have to be, but he always is.

Hangman’s gaze runs over Bradley’s seated form and a lazy grin teases his mouth. “Bradshaw,” his Texas drawl combines with his tone to make the name sound like an insult. “As I live and breathe.”

“Hangman,” he acknowledges with cool indifference. “You look… good.” It’s the truth as much as anything else. He hasn’t kept track of exactly how long Hangman’s been away from the lab on some research fellowship for the last three months, but he’s not surprised that the man would return just before spring storm season fires up.

“Well, I am good, Rooster.” Hangman tosses over his shoulder as he deposits his backpack on his spartan desktop. “I’m very good. In fact,” he flashes a sharp, self-indulgent grin and the light catches in his too-perfect dimples. “I am too good to be true.”

Three years ago, that comment would have earned an eye roll, but Bradley’s long since developed thick skin where Hangman is concerned. “How was Tennessee?”

“Well, I prefer Kentucky bourbon over Tennessee whiskey – but they’re developing some incredible data patterns. Up until the last 20 years, nobody went east of I-35 to chase tornadic activity.”

The map of central US states forms in Bradley’s mind, divided by the north-south artery of the interstate expressway that cuts through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Iowa and Minnesota.

“But that’s changing,” Hangman continues, sitting in his desk chair as if testing the fit after being away so long. “Tornado concentrations in Dixie Alley - Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, Louisiana - have actually been higher than in Tornado Alley in recent years, and everyone’s trying to understand why. Not least of all so we can get a good jump on real estate prices to relocate the lab.”

This time Bradley does roll his eyes. “Mav won’t relocate the lab. He's not a big fan of Tulsa, but we’re in Tornado Alley for a reason.”

“Not according to what they’re saying.” Hangman swivels towards him with his trademark brand of mischievous intelligence gleaming in his eyes. “They say that the greatest concentration of damaging tornadoes is sliding southeast instead of staying in the Central Plains, and they’re trying to pin it on climate change.”

Bradley cocks his head in consideration. “Seems reasonable," he answers after a beat. "After all, the Gulf of Mexico is warming. The prevailing winds are pushing more moisture over the southeastern states, so the dry line shifts accordingly.”

“But that happens over centuries, not decades.” Hangman counters, folding his arms to rest behind his head. The unfairly tight fit of his Henley highlights the build of his biceps. “You know what else has also changed in the last 20 years?”

Bradley assumes it’s a rhetorical question but as the silence draws out, and Hangman raises his eyebrows in silent expectation, he sighs heavily. He tries to conjure an answer, waving a vague hand. “Too many things to count?”

Hangman snorts indignantly as he dips his head to glare under his brow. “You didn’t even try, Roo. Come on,” he says, shifting his hips and reaching in his pocket to produce his phone. “The prevalence of technology – phones, cameras, social media. Instant access to better storm prediction technology. Add to that the boom in storm spotting created by pop culture, and suddenly, any yahoo with a camera thinks they’re the next Bill Paxton.” He waves his black phone for emphasis. “That’s why it’s my theory that higher concentrations of tornadoes aren’t shifting east, just that the last 20 years have seen increased and better reporting of tornadoes in those states outside traditional Tornado Alley.”

A hint of amusement curls the corner of Bradley's mouth. “Well, that’s quite a theory.” He can't quite restrain the soft chuckle in his throat. “Is that what you did in Tennessee, then? Comb Facebook and Twitter and Instagram to build a correlation to reported tornadoes?”

“Privileged information, I’m afraid.” Hangman's shit-eating grin widens. “S’what you get for sitting around here all winter. In fact,” he sits up straighter, raising his hands to frame Bradley in view. “You’re right where I left you. If your pornstache was any more out of control, I’d think that you hadn’t moved at all.”

Indignation flares in Bradley’s chest and he draws a deep breath to squash it, squaring his jaw to measure his words. “Hangman, not all of us have to chase work nonstop around the country. Some of us can do just fine right here.”

That's also true as anything else. Hangman never sits still. He never lets things slide - he pokes, he prods, he pushes. It makes him a great, if irritating, scientist; but if he's not chasing storms in the plains, he's chasing lab work that keeps him on the move. Hell, for all his cocky attitude, Bradley's never known him to boast about anything that implies a connection to keep him in one place for too long. Not even any romantic or sexual conquest, let alone flaunting some gorgeous partner at company events.

Bradley watches Hangman's face freeze for the space of a breath before his expression sharpens. Suddenly, Hangman pushes to his feet with a telltale clench of his jaw as he threads around the workstation separating them. “Well, that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster?” He says, approaching Bradley’s desk, leaning against the edge and crossing his arms against his chest. Bradley carefully tilts his head back to meet Hangman’s gaze head-on, refusing to be intimidated as the blonde continues. “You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… that never comes.”

"You turned too soon," Mav shook his head, evaluating Bradley's performance as the vehicle GPS signals played out in relation to the tornado's position.

Bradley sighed. "If I'd stayed on that road, I would have missed it altogether."

"No, you would have been able to track it north," Mav replied, motioning back at the conference room TV screen showing the data replay of Bradley's last chase. "The twister's already made her turn and the rope on the ground was fully developed. You had everything you needed to know and still, you didn't get there in time."

Bradley ground his teeth. "I was right on target-" 

"Which is always ever-changing." Mav countered, sharp eyes scanning the room. "And that goes for all of you," he pointed a finger at the other chasers assembled around the table. "The numbers will only help you so much, but you can't rely solely on them… you can't think out there. If you think, it could cost you - you could be dead." 

Fire burned in Bradley's veins. Sharp, accusatory words clawed up his throat - is that what happened to my dad? Aren't you just a fucking hypocrite? - but he swallowed them down. He refused to give anybody else in the room the goddamn satisfaction of turning this debriefing into an episode of his personal family soap opera. 

Mav turned back to the screen as the video replayed, displaying the satellite proof of Bradley’s failure for everyone to see once again. “You were on path to intercept,” Mav said, again motioning at the animated GPS tracking signal of Bradley’s SUV. “But with those wind shears and the updraft angle of that twister,” he paused to point at the tornado symbol tracking northeast of Bradley’s position. “You were a minute too late.” 

“Mav,” Phoenix spoke up, cutting through the tension in the room. “He was the only one close enough.” 

“But it still wasn’t enough.” Mav shook his head, fixing Bradley with a hard stare. “You want to capture the data you need for your model, you’re going to have to get much closer than that.” 

Bradley worked a tight swallow down his throat. “We were on course. It was dead ahead.” 

Hangman tipped his head back against the conference chair. “You’re not driving fast enough," he interjected. "You don’t have a second to waste.” 

Bradley’s blood pressure ratcheted higher, teeth grinding together. He refused to dignify Hangman with a response, instead keeping his fury focused on his lousy excuse for a godfather at the front of the room. “It’s not the chase,” he said, steel in his voice. “It’s the chaser.” 

Fire blazed in Mav’s eyes as he hissed. “Exactly!” 

Silence deafened the conference room as Bradley’s heart stopped. The words pierced him straight through and tears stung his eyes but he refused to let any of them fall. His throat tightened as he held his ground. “There’s more than one way to read a storm and get close.” 

Hangman swiveled his head around. “You really don’t get it,” his sharp green eyes pinned Bradley in place, rubbing further salt in the wound. “I don’t mean to criticize - you’re conservative, that’s all. We’re up against the elements that none of us can always predict. Not even him.” He turned to nod towards Mav in reference to his point before turning back to Bradley as a smug - perhaps even pitying - smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s no time to be thinking about the past.” 

Bradley’s spine stiffened with indignation. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Hangman settled back against the conference chair like a cat with a canary. “I can’t be the only one that knows that Mav used to chase with Rooster’s old man. Or that Mav was driving when his old man-”

Bradley's blood reached boiling point and he lunged across the table. His hands connected with the solid plane of Hangman's chest - and despite the restraining hands of his teammates, the cacophony of voices around him, and Mav's incessant demands to calm down - those damnable green eyes held his all the while, burning straight to the core of Bradley's being. 

The memory still burns two years later, and while Bradley's put his past with Mav to rest, he's never been able to heal the wound that Jake Seresin rubs raw. On reflex, Bradley's jaw tightens and his gaze narrows. He's learned to swallow the urge to punch a few of Hangman's too-white teeth from his too-perfect mouth, but the fire that blazes in his eyes should be enough of a warning for Hangman to stand down. 

Unfortunately, those sharp green eyes study his face in relentless pursuit, searching for a crack, for any opening to press his advantage. But then the calculating assessment abruptly ends, and an obnoxious smirk brightens Hangman’s face instead. “So," he says with a jovial tone. "How is that dangerous behavior prediction model coming along, hmm? Figured out yet how to tell if an EF2 tornado will behave more like an EF1 or EF3?” He turns his head to stare at the computer, and Bradly can’t move fast enough to minimize the software screen.

Red and green particles still swirl in their chaotic spirals, but there’s no sense to be made of it. Bradley tries not to think of it as failure – scientific discovery is often marked by what the answer isn’t versus what the answer is, and he’s just on his own journey… but it still stings when a man like Hangman studies his progress.

A man with cunning instincts that never fail when the heat of chase bears down. A man with the uncanny ability to outmaneuver the storm as quickly as it develops – to drive, to position, to take the shot without hesitation. In truth, Hangman’s photography is just as beautiful as he is. 

The torturous truth has gnawed at Bradley for years now. And in the lingering silence, he chews his bottom lip to distract from it as he stares at the computer model. It doesn't help that he can almost hear the red and green particles laughing at him, taunting him.

A hum pitches low in Hangman’s throat before he turns back towards Bradley. “Looks like you still have some work to do. Is that why you’re here so late on a Saturday? All work and no play, hmm?”

Bradley arches an unimpressed brow. “And is this the part where you say that you’re all play and offer to loosen me up?”

“Only if you insist.” Hangman darts a sly look from under his brow. “It’s all about consent, you know.”

"Then, I consent to you getting your ass off my desk.”

Hangman's shoulders move with a breathy, quiet chuckle before he leans in as if to impart a secret even though there’s no one else in the lab. Hints of his intoxicating, subtle, day-worn cologne reach Bradley’s nose. “Just don’t pretend that you don’t like watching it go.” Hangman says, winking with a devastating edge as he stands and walks back to his desk.

Bradley resolutely refuses to look, but he doesn’t miss the extra sashay in Hangman’s hips. 

Series Main List

Tag List: @redfurrycat

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #hangster #bradley bradshaw x jake seresin #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick au #top gun fanfiction #twister au #twister 1996 #glen powell #miles teller

[kmgkmg]

SNOW PLACE LIKE HOME - LEE SEOKMIN

word count: 1.5k...

pairing: seokmin x gn!reader

synopsis: first day after a snow storm with your best friend seokmin!

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided crush!dk(?), clueless!reader

warnings: slightly suggestive, but nothing happens!

rating: pg-13

a/n: another svt fic!! we’re supposed to have a snow storm where i live so i felt it was very fitting to write this! thank you a bunch to @playmetheclassics​ for being a beta reader for this fic, along with creating the title! this is a submission for k-vanity’s season’s greetings event! theme: traditional/lounge, accessories/extras: first snow, snow slopes, snowball fight/playing in snow, peppermint hot chocolate. 

“Y/N, it’s already well past noon!” You hear a familiar voice shout to you from outside, and you jolt up, quickly throwing your comforter off of you. Instantly regretting that you removed your only object of warmth, you jog to your door, greeted with the bright smile of your best friend. The light from the winter sun, along with the freshly fallen snow, is enough for you to squint your eyes, still not fully awake. 

Seokmin was dressed in his most extensive winter outfits you’ve seen him wear, with thick snow pants, but still maintaining his fashionable sense of style by choosing a chevron patterned brown peacoat and multicolored scarf. Was that scarf new? Making it clear that he was proud of his outfit and his success in waking you up, Seokmin invites himself in with an even bigger grin plastered on his face, while enveloping you in his typical cozy bear hugs. 

“Ack! You have snow on you, Seokmin! Not to mention, you’re making me extremely cold and wet. Please…let me at least go get properly dressed first.” You huff, wanting to be surprised by his usual behavior, but nothing he did could phase you at this point. You had been best friends with his dorky self for over a decade, he was your person, and you were his. Letting him enjoy the hug for a couple more seconds, you find yourself becoming colder and colder as time passes. You unlatch yourself from his hug, frowning at him for making your pajamas a mess before he ruffles the  bedhead state of your hair. 

“Take it as punishment for sleeping past your alarm.” He cheekily retorts, clearly not remorseful for making you equally covered in snow. 

“Ugh, I hate you.” You grunt, heading back into your room to change into snow attire.

“You love me.” He replies, making himself comfortable on your couch and scrolling through his phone. 

You thank your past self for laying out your outfit last night and throw on your snow boots before heading back into the living room, “Can’t you let me win once, Min?” He shakes his head in refusal to your request, making you both smile at your daily dynamics. “Ugh, fine, did it snow a lot?” You follow up, preparing hot cocoa and paying special attention to adding a candy cane into his thermos. Peppermint hot cocoa had always been a weak spot for him, and you knew he loved the ‘artisan’ mix from the local market you purchased yearly. Vanilla bean hot cocoa, with some peppermint and marshmallows, added? The perfect way to warm up after a day in the cold. 

“Yeah, way more than the forecaster predicted! We got a little over three feet/one meter of snow. When they said the first snow this year was going to be historic, they meant it.” He informs you, still stunned at the speed at which you got ready. Although spending time outside in the snow after the first snow was an annual tradition, he still found himself always turning giddy the night before you hung out. He loved you in a way that a friend shouldn’t, but you never saw him as anything more than your best friend. While you friend zoning him hurt, he was satisfied as long as he could stay by your side forever. But who knows, maybe he’ll gain the courage to tell you how he really feels someday. 

Unaware of his feelings, you hum at the news of the weather before securing the caps onto your thermoses. “Alright, traditions are traditions, and we are going to go have fun today!” You resolutely decide. 

“Look at my snowperson!” Seokmin insists, making you take a break from your construction of a gingerbread man-made from snow. Glancing at his creation, your eyebrows immediately furrow, unable to distinguish what he made. He wasn’t hiding how much he was anticipating your opinions, clapping his hands together and motioning in a way that said, lay it all out. 

“It’s cool!” You carefully read his facial expression before giving your final review, “I would never have thought to make a snow alien. It’s different and very you!” You smile innocently, immediately regretting your interpretation as his triumphant smile turns into a disappointed frown.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry! Is it not an alien?” 

“It’s you…” He confesses meekly before looking at you again and realizing that you weren’t offended by his work. Seeing that you weren’t insulted gave Seokmin the confidence to be cocky again with you, “Y/N, it looks exactly like you. I practically made a clone.” He pouts, still trying to build his case for his self-proclaimed masterpiece. 

“Uh huh, the day I admit it looks like me, you will know I have actually been swapped with my evil clone, Min.” You comment, still admiring your apparent twin. 

“You clearly don’t have an eye for art!” He childishly defends himself, cringing since you were a well-respected art curator at your local art museum. 

“See, the more you back up, the more it resembles you,” You grin in amusement at his explanation and nod, allowing him to explain more, “from here it- Woah!” Neither of you realized, but he had stepped farther and farther until the end of the flat part of the ground.

“Min!” You tried to latch onto his arm to prevent him from falling down the snowy hill, but it was too late, and you were now watching in horror as your best friend rolled down, laughing the entire way. The slope wasn’t extremely steep since you two used to sled down it as kids, but you know that the fall probably still would make him sore. “Gah, you idiot.” Sighing, you start to waddle to him slowly, but you slip on a patch of ice, and soon enough you’re rolling down the same path, hurtling towards him. 

“I got you!” Seokmin yells from the bottom of the hill, comically holding out both of his arms to catch you. Onlookers were amused at the scene playing out in front of them, certain that you two had to be a bickering couple. 

“Just let me keep rolling- Ow!” You try to motion for him to move over with your hands, but soon enough, your rolling form knocks him over like a bowling ball to a bowling pin. Rubbing your forehead and attempting to get up, your legs were still weak, and you found yourself immediately falling back onto the ground, or so you thought. The ground suddenly didn’t feel as cold or slippery anymore, and soon enough, you opened your eyes. Laying down beneath you was your best friend, making your face turn beet red at the unexpected physical contact. Sure, you were best friends, but you couldn’t deny that he was hot. 

“Sorry, I just added more insult to injury, I’ll get off of you right now-” You begin to profusely apologize, and Seokmin can only continue to smile at you. As you attempt to get up again, he softly wraps his hands around your legs, making you stay down. He slowly sits up, making you straddle his lap, and you can’t help but be speechless since you were laughing at his clumsiness just moments ago. You continued to stare at each other as the world around you began to vanish. 

An old lady had approached you, unknown to the two of you in your own world. “There are children here!” She grabs her cane and hits you both against your backs, scowling at your public obscenity. 

You pry yourself from his grip, and both stand up to say sorry to the older lady, blushing at what just happened. She shakes her hand up in defeat, and you both head over to Seokmin’s car, unable to face each other. After closing his car door and pouring him some hot cocoa from the thermos, you shyly offer the cup to him.

“As an apology for mistaking my clone for an alien?” You smile softly, finally looking up at him. 

He grabs the cup, blurting, “I like you,” at a louder volume than he expected. 

“Well, I figured out that much after you acted the way you did when I fell, Min.” You break your eye contact with him, still unable to process how the day took a turn. 

“I know it might take some time, but-”

“I love you, silly.” You reply, still unable to meet his eyes. 

“You do?” He asks, still unsure if this was all a dream. You nod, confirming his feelings were reciprocated.

“Okay, in that case, I love you too! I just said I like you as a way to softball it, but, god, I love you so much Y/N.” 

“More than this peppermint hot cocoa?” You smirk, relieved that he felt the same you had for years. 

“Oh,” He inhales deeply, pretending to be in deep thought, “well that’s debatable.” 

“Shut up, idiot.” You lightly hit his arm, before taking another swig of your hot cocoa. 

“Make me.” He has a mischievous grin on his face, challenging you to do just that. You knew that this tradition would be able to occur every year, and the thought of that excited you. He was your home, and as the saying goes, there’s snow place like home.

#caratwritersclub #kpopccc #k-vanity #kwonderland #dk #seokmin #lee seokmin #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #dk fluff #seokmin fluff #svt oneshot #dk oneshot #seokmin oneshot #kmgkmgoriginal

[cumaeansibyl]

Hello everyone, I've returned to the daft little Reverse AU/Canon AU crossover series I started a while back using sev @goosetooths 's Reverse Omens characters. As before, this is porn with the barest threads of plot to move the characters into the necessary proximity. I'm having a marvelous time.

You'll at least want to read the first two stories in the series to get the idea of what's going on, and I highly recommend reading sev's Fine Forecasts AU fics as well. There's also more art!

#good omens #my writing