#they liked Horror when he was smaller because he used to throw doors and his teammates at them

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

What do the bad gays think of the stars? (Also, IN BAD(LYDRAWN)SANSES WE TRUST)

Killer: they're pretty annoying… biting into apples in front of Dream is kinda funny though :), and stealing Ink's vials is even funnier! Killer's shirt: NO BITCHES? Horror: heh heh heh… Horror: well, they're okay. they liked me when i was shorter though (heh) Dust: …Swap's yelling gives me headaches , and Dream is a fucking eyesore . Ink is too violent and puts too much strength into his attacks. Dust: (he's probably going to end up killing one of us some day) Cross: Dream, I understand. Wanting to- help people, that is. Blue, whatever, probably got pulled in by the lure of fame and helping people. Ink… Cross: . . . Cross: What a giant fucking idiot you'd have to be to see good in such a horrible fucking person, huh? Cross's book: 101 pranks (and how to pull them off without getting caught) Nightmare: My brother is a very complex subject to talk about, but I can say with confidence that Ink is a reckless idiot and Swap Sans will not last in the environment and conditions he is in with the Stars.

#killer sans #horror sans #dust sans #cross sans #nightmare sans #they liked Horror when he was smaller because he used to throw doors and his teammates at them #now it's trees and semi trucks #Cross is being really depressing in most of the posts he's shown up in isn't he #Blue and Dream get mixed opinions from the bad sanses but Ink is just kinda disliked tbh rip Ink #it's fine Ink shattered Dust's skull so he deserves it kinda #queue

[taleasnewastime]

The feeling’s slow to fade

Summary: There’s something out there. In the woods. On the streets. In your home. You know it’s there have just never seen it. It starts with one seemingly small death, a bird but builds into bigger and bigger animals. Everyone brushes it off, only you feel the ghost of something following you, only you keep seeing the animals it horrifically kills, only you think something bigger is going on here. But when you start to try and work out what’s happening, it seems the guy who has hated you since school is also taking an interest. The two of you embark on a journey to try and find out why animals are mysteriously dying in your town, discovering things about each other along the way.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, horror with a touch of fantasy, smut, fluff, angst.

Word count: 26.7k

Warnings (there are spoilers in this): Mention of death of both human and animal, mentions of readers parents dying – though not graphically described it is heavily discussed, more detailed descriptions of dead animals, reader kills something, blood, reader feels queasy, uneasy feelings and feelings of being followed, reader is sick, idk I don’t think it’s overly scary but these are still the themes, it’s more emotional than scary? swearing, Explicit sexual content, safe sex, penetrative sex.

Authors Note: Happy (slightly belated) Halloween! Written for the BTS Writing Café’s Welcome to Horrorwood event. Surprise @sunshinerainbowsbts​! Or maybe not as I feel like I was being the most obvious person in the world. I tried to throw you off, but it’s hard to not talk like yourself (before the whole squash debacle I even tried to use the flavor not flavour etc. but quickly gave up when it became obvious I’m not American). I apologise for the length of this, I got carried away as I always tend to get when I write. I also really struggled with the ending of this. But before I completely downplay how great this story is, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all your help writing this, I hope you notice all the little bits I added from the answers you gave in your asks. Et Voila!

There’s blood everywhere. Splatters on the floor and dots all over the walls.

Something died here. Or maybe it was dragged here given the smears in the blood by the door. Whatever happened, it wasn’t pretty, and it happened while you were sleeping only a meter away.

You feel a little queasy. You’d just stood in that blood, can still see the outline of your foot. It was how you’d first realised something was off, waking up and immediately standing in blood isn’t exactly your definition of the best start to the day. Flicking on the light to brighten the near pitch-black room had shown you the horror you now stare at.

Your stomach turns. How did you sleep through whatever happened here? What created so much blood? Whatever it was put up a pretty good fight. And though you have an idea of what, or who, may have done it, it does nothing to ease your worries. If anything it only heightens them.

Heart hammering, you work your way downstairs. Careful to not step in any of the blood, though much of the smaller patches have already dried. You’re not sure if you want whatever it is to be alive or dead. Both seem pretty grim options.

You follow the smears and splatters around your house. They don’t take you far, mostly because the cottage is only small, but soon enough you’re stood in your kitchen staring straight at the thing that created all the blood.

It’s dead. Lifeless body a bit mangled with no hope of resurrection. And sat on one of the bar stools, looking as if he couldn’t care less, is the murderer.

“Tofu,” you scold.

Your cat gives you a curtesy glance before going back to cleaning his paws. Given the amount of blood all over your home you’re surprised his pristine white fur isn’t marred. Though, honestly, you couldn’t care less about your arsehole cat in this moment. You give him a small push towards the exit and then a soft boot out the door. Through the window he gives you a small glare, you’d have normally given him food before kicking him out the house for the day, and he must be pretty proud about his catch. But he’s coated half your house in blood and by the looks of it, has already had a half decent meal today. No, he deserves to be outside, at least until you can clear this up. You’ll shove some food outside before you head to work.

You look back at your room, a headache already forming. You hate Fridays for various reasons, you really don’t need this on top of everything else.

Settling on at least getting rid of the bird’s body before heading to work you try to work out the best approach. The blood around the house will take longer than you have to clean, but maybe you can at least put something on the patches to stop it staining. Honestly, right now, it all feels like a problem for future you, though she won’t be impressed with that decision.

You step closer to the dead animal. It’s a big bird and you’d feel a little impressed with your cat if it wasn’t for the situation. You don’t examine it too closely, it’s pretty mangled and not the nicest sight, plus you don’t have any desire or the time to look at it closer.

You end up having to rush around your house to get ready for work, that headache only increasing in intensity as you leave the house.

The bell dings above your head, a twinkling sound so at odds to what you associate with this place. All you feel is dread whenever you step into the small, quaint bookshop.

The bay window holds a display that changes weekly, today there are various Agatha Christie novels and games. A murder mystery theme for Halloween. The walls of the shop are lined floor to ceiling with books and even in the small space there are a few tables also crammed with books.

Tonight they’re all pushed to the side and one is cleared and crammed with people around it instead. Games night. One of the few occasions you ever come into this place. All other times you avoid it like the plague. It’s a shame, because in any other situation you’d try your hardest to come to this place daily. It just so happens that the man you hate, or more the man that hates you, owns the place. You’re surprised he even lets you in on games night, there’s probably a barred sign with your face behind the till even though it’s only him and Olivia that work here, both know you. He’s probably scribbled little horns on your head and uses it as a dart board, you know, the usual.

As it turns out, you’re allowed on the premises, if only for one night every fortnight.

The man in question, the one who hates you with every fibre of his being, is currently stood looking down at the group sat around the table. He’s smiling, something you rarely see, and you hate the fact that the expression seems to suit him. It brightens his face, lightens his normally dark eyes, causes little creases to appear in the corner of his eyes and those little teeth are kind of endearing.

Ok, nope. Your traumatic day is obviously getting to you because nothing Yoongi has ever done can be considered endearing.

You take a small step into the room and call out, “hey.”

Yoongi’s head is the only one to turn your way. His whole demeanour changes in the process. Before he’s even made eye contact with you his smile has dropped, his body becomes stiff as he stands straight. He looks at you for all of one second, his expression flat, telling you everything he’s thinking; he wishes you weren’t here, hell, he probably wishes you didn’t exist. Your fake smile only widens a little, because as much as you wish you weren’t, you’re not as low as Yoongi and would never treat him like he treats you, even if you do dislike him.

His eyes flick to your smile, a look of disgust crosses his face as his jaw clenches and then he’s twisting and heading out the room.

Well, it could have been a lot worse. At least he didn’t verbalise his hatred.

You take another step into the room, shrugging off your jacket and trying your best to not let your first welcome set your mood.

“Hey guys,” you say again, this time slightly louder.

“There she is,” Seokjin turns and beams at you, at least someone seems happy to see you. “You do realise this thing starts at 7, right?”

“It’s 7:20, Jin, she’s hardly late.”

You shoot Olivia a grateful smile before looking back at Seokjin. “I’ve had a shit day, ok?”

“Oh?” He sounds happy rather than the concerned you were hoping for.

“At least sit down first,” Namjoon cuts in this time, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

You drop your jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down. You don’t miss the fact that Yoongi has drifted back into the room. He’s stood behind the till messing with something you can’t see but you’d bet he overheard the fact you’ve had a shit day and has come to bask in your misery.

Honestly, you’re not sure when his hatred started. As far as you’re concerned it happened when you moved here and started at the same school as him. It was a rough time for you, your mum recently passed away due to a car accident, and your dad in his grief moved the two of you halfway across the country. New house, new town, and new friends on top of all the other emotions you were trying to process; you’d tried your hardest to feel upbeat walking into your first class. When your teacher pointed at your new seat you’d shuffled over to it and then smiled as warmly as you could at the boy sat in the seat next to yours. You introduced yourself, watched as his eyes dragged their way across your entire being, judgment and displeasure written on his face the whole time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile back or tell you his name, he just turned away from you and sat as far as he could while the class started.

When you brought up his reaction to others, they didn’t seem surprised, apparently it was a very Yoongi reaction – whatever that meant. You brushed it off, took it to mean he was shy. Only, the next lesson with him, he was sat somewhere else. So disgusted by just the sight of you, he asked the teacher to move.

It only went down from there. You started in the school late, were well into your GCSEs by the time you joined. You did well academically, actually enjoyed school. Unfortunately, Yoongi was in most of your classes, both of you at a similar level that you became rivals of a sort. You wouldn’t have minded much, could live with being in the same classes, but he obviously hated it. Whenever he outperformed you on a test he’d gloat, it became a race to answer the teacher correctly before you could or get better marks then you.

You remember one time trying to extend an olive branch by asking him for help with some homework, he didn’t even look at what you were asking for help on, just mumbled how he couldn’t help you and disappeared. The next day you saw him helping one of your classmates, Aimee, with the same piece of work.

You’ve never been able to work out what you’ve ever done to Yoongi for him to hate you. Apparently just existing is enough. Any time you brought it up with your mutual friends they brushed it off, that same old excuse of it just being what Yoongi does. It never felt like that when he only left rooms when you appeared or lost his smiles with you around or became impossibly quiet in your presence. Whatever it was he had against you went on well into sixth form, right until the point you left for university. While he stayed where you grew up, you moved away. You started a new life, studied hard to progress in the career you always wanted, while he opened this bookshop.

And then it all fell apart.

Your dad announced he had cancer. Stage 4. Terminal. All the words you never want to hear about a loved one.

You moved home to look after him. Left your job and your life. You had to, he had no one else, there was only you and you could never leave him when he needed you the most.

It’s been three months since he passed. Just over a year since you moved back here. Months when you could have left, gone back to your old life. And yet you’ve stayed.

“So come on then. What was so shit about this day?”

You look at Seokjin and the broad smile on his face, one of the group of friends from school who still live in the area. “Do you want me to go get you some popcorn so you can properly enjoy this, or are you happy listening without snacks?”

His eyes glimmer at the joke. “Yoongi will get it, won’t you?”

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at the man, his eyes already on you, cold and hard as if it’s you asking him to personally attend to your needs. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to, anything to not add another black mark against your name. He disappears out the back before you can say anything.

Seokjin’s still smiling innocently when your eyes turn back to him. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Tofu killed a bird this morning, there’s currently blood all over the house,” you begin in a flat tone. “Then when I got to work Pedro gave me a list longer than my arm to complete, insulted me approximately ten times and then proceeded to sit back and do nothing all day while I slaved away.”

“Only insulted you ten times? Sounds like an improvement to me.”

“I don’t know why you still work there,” Olivia comments over Seokjin.

“Because I need money.”

“Yeah, but you have a degree. You could get a hundred jobs better than that one.”

Not here. You don’t say the obvious words because that would lead to questions you wouldn’t know how to answer. Instead you say, “if you know of any, feel free to let me know.”

“Yoongi was saying how we could do with some help with the accounts.”

Olivia says the words the same moment Yoongi leans between you and Namjoon to place a bowl of popcorn on the table. It throws you, the statement from Olivia because everyone knows Yoongi hates you, so why would she even bring it up if not to stir the pot? The fact Yoongi is so close, placing the food Seokjin asked for right by you also doesn’t help the way you tense at her words. The combination makes you unable to respond meaning Olivia carries on talking.

“That’s what you did before, right? An accountant for Jacobs or something?”

“I doubt I’d pay Y/N enough to enable her to quit her job,” Yoongi’s deep voice comes from right behind you.

You’d assumed he’d left the room again but when you turn he’s there, like right there. You have to crane your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes he lifts an eyebrow. Flustered you turn back to the table.

“Yeah, but I bet there are other businesses that need the same services. You could be freelance?”

“I, uh –”

“I bet if we asked Jungkook he’d say the gardening company would take you on too.”

She’s getting way too excited about this thing that’s never going to happen. You can’t start your own business, there would be hoops to go through, things you have no idea about to do. Yes you hate your job, yes you worked so hard to get high up in your old accountancy firm and yes you loved it. Part of you craves to go back to it and if an opportunity came up here to do just that you’d jump on it.

But that doesn’t mean you can do it alone with no experience of freelance. You can’t rely on your friends for business. And by Yoongi’s response it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t hire you even if you were going for it. No, it’s not happening, not even a possibility in your mind. You need to shut this down.

“Where is Jungkook anyway?”

There’s a second pause at the change in topic. Luckily Namjoon picks up what you’ve dropped.

“Worked late tonight so couldn’t make it.”

“Which,” Seokjin’s beaming again, this time the smile not directed at you but behind you. “Means you’re going to have to play. For even teams.”

There’s a pause and you can almost feel the hole being burnt in the back of your head.

“I count four of you. You don’t need me.”

“Two on each team. We need someone to ask the questions and you know, check Y/N doesn’t cheat.”

You glare at Seokjin; he doesn’t even look at you. They love to poke at the fact that Yoongi hates you.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbles behind you. “Let me go get something to drink.”

You almost ask him to get you something too, preferably something strong to help you get through this night. At least you already know the result of the game because there is no way you’ll be winning even if you’re on a team with Namjoon.

This day just gets better and better.

There’s another dead animal. It wouldn’t be a weird sight on your walk to work given you see it on the main road through town, roadkill happens all the time, but this animal doesn’t look like it’s been hit by a car. What causes a chill to run down your spin is the amount of blood. And more the way it’s splattered across the road, mirroring your house.

Much like the bird in your house, this fox didn’t die without putting up a fight.

It’s too big for Tofu to have killed, even if he was allowed out at night to have done it. It’s too big for any cat to have killed. Maybe something bigger? A wolf? But you don’t get wolves here. Plus, you don’t think any animal would cause the injuries you can see, it all looks too calculated. Messy, but like they knew what they were doing.

Another shiver runs down your back.

Standing up you glance around the street. You have the feeling of being watched but as you look around you can’t see anyone. The street is empty and completely silent. Still, that prickling sensation lingers.

Completely spooking yourself on you decide it’s pointless lingering here, you can’t do anything for the fox now. You start back on your route to work, trying to shake the weird feeling that’s come over you.

“It’s weird.”

“Yeah,” you say, putting a pumpkin in your basket, you probably won’t eat it but it’ll look cute by your fireplace. “I mean it’s got to be a coincidence seeing two brutally killed animals so close together.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says, looking at the vegetables laid out in front of you. “But that’s not why it’s weird.”

You wait for her to pick the perfect courgette, something that takes far too much consideration. You sometimes do your food shopping together. You told Olivia about the dead animals you’ve seen in the last few days, how upsetting, gross and unsettling it is. The friends you have in the area is what you pin staying here on. You never had friends you could talk to so openly or go food shopping within the city you used to live. In reality there are other things, deeper feelings rooted in your dad’s death that keep you here. But even though it’s been months since he passed, you’re still unable to properly delve into those thoughts and feelings.

“It’s weird because I also saw a dead animal yesterday.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like the ones you saw, only it was a badger,” she picks up an apple, pausing. “I think. You know, it was hard to see with all the blood and you know, disfigurement.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She frowns at you. “You wanted to know about a dead animal?”

“If it was killed the same way as the one I told you about in my house, then yes.”

“Thought that was Tofu?” She says but then waves it off, starting to walk away from the veg section. “Anyway, it’s all a weird coincidence, like you said.”

“But what if it’s not?”

She gives you another look like she thinks you’re crazy before looking at the range of sausages. She doesn’t even give your answer a response.

“I mean Tofu couldn’t really have killed a bird the size of a pigeon. And there was no blood on him, but there was blood everywhere,” you pause, another thought only just coming to you now. “He’s not even aloud out at night and I don’t have a cat flap, so how did he bring it in?”

“Maybe he’s a better killer than you think,” she says flatly, not giving your theory any room to bloom. “You should watch out.”

“But there have been two other murders on top of that.”

“Of animals,” she corrects, carrying on with her shop, yours is long forgotten.

“Don’t you think that’s more than a coincidence though?”

“Tofu killed that bird. The other two were probably just a car or something.”

“A car didn’t kill that fox.”

“Ok then another animal.”

She’s stopped now, is staring at you with an exasperated look. You’re stood in the middle of the dairy aisle possibly having an argument with your best friend about, what exactly? Some dead animals around town? It feels stupid when you think about it, but you can’t let it go.

“This is why I didn’t tell you. What do you want me to say?” She says, her tone just as tired. “That some sick person did it? I don’t really see what that’s going to achieve.”

She’s right, of course. You’re not really sure what you want from this conversation, maybe just someone else to acknowledge how weird it is, to make you feel better about the dread you’ve felt since seeing that fox, that lingering feeling of being watched. But even if Olivia agreed with you, even if she said she also had a weird feeling about it, what would that achieve? It would surely only worry you more.

“You’re right,” you say, deflating. “Sorry, I’ve just a bit off all week. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Olivia softens too. It wasn’t really an argument, but you’re both back on more even terms now.

“Do you want to pick up any medicine?”

You glance at your half empty basket and then plaster a small smile on your face when you look back at her.

“Nah, I think I might just head home and have an early one.”

Worry seeps into her face, smaller than before, but there nonetheless.

“I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I feel. I can always take the day off.”

She’s still frowning when she talks, but at least has a joking quality to her tone. “What would Pedro say about that?”

“He’ll have to do some actual work for once I guess.”

None of your laughs are real, both of you faking that you’re ok after the conversation you’ve had. But neither of you say anything as you turn and pay for only half the food you came here for. You bundle yourself tighter into your jacket when you leave the shop and prepare for the walk home alone in the already dark evening.

“Heard about all the dead animals around town,” Seokjin’s stuffing his face with crisps, seeming not to care about any crumbs. “Weird how they’re all dying around Y/N.”

“Maybe she’s cursed,” Jungkook jumps in before you can respond.

“Or, maybe she’s the one killing them,” Seokjin looks to the door that leads to the back room and shouts, “she’s probably practicing before she kills you, Yoongi.”

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide his laugh, while Namjoon at least stuffs his face with some pretzels to hide his. Seokjin still looks satisfied when his eyes fall on yours across the table.

“Maybe it’s you that should be watching out,” you reply, Jungkook ‘oohing’ and picking up the bowl of sweets as if watching a fight. “And anyway, it wasn’t just me that saw the animals.”

You glare at Olivia, the snitch, who conveniently avoids your eye contact.

“Was it also you at the old cottage?”

Your eyes snap back to Seokjin, “huh?”

“Police have reported a break in and asked for anyone to come forward with any information.”

“Well, if you don’t know anything, no one stands a chance. It is where you live isn’t it?” Jungkook teases Seokjin and you watch as a small fight breaks out over the sweets Jungkook holds.

It’s weird though. The old cottage is run down, sat in the middle of the forest it’s been empty since you were at school. One of those places that kids dare each other to go in. Maybe that’s all there is to it, some school kids playing a prank and the police having enough of it and finally trying to crack down. But why now? Why didn’t they report all the times it’s happened before? What’s so special about this time? And what are the chances that it happens at the same time all these animal deaths keep popping up?

“I might go.”

Your statement gets Jungkook and Seokjin to stop bickering. Silence falling over the room and all eyes on you.

“Go … where?” Namjoon asks.

“To the old cottage.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Because don’t you guys think it’s weird?”

“Yeah,” Olivia chips in. “But the police are dealing with it. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh come on,” you look to Jungkook and Seokjin, the two most likely to be happy breaking a few rules. “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime. Walking through the woods isn’t a crime, is it?”

“No, just creepy as hell,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t know I was sat with a load of wusses.”

It doesn’t get the reaction you wanted, you thought it might make someone bite and agree to come with you, but the table remains silent. Fine, you’ll go on your own, though you’re not about to admit that out loud given the reactions so far.

“Fine,” you sigh, relaxing back into your chair. The table seems to do an audible sigh of relief.

“I don’t get why you’re so obsessed by this,” Olivia asks.

“I’m not obsessed,” you say, not convincing yourself let alone the room. “Just curious.”

“It’s weird,” you decide it’s best not to point out that’s part of the point.

“Y/N’s just into creepy stuff,” Jungkook smirks.

“Yeah, you wish you knew that,” Seokjin hits Jungkook’s side with a wink, gaining a disgusted look from you and Jungkook.

“No I don’t,” he’s quick to defend, before his tone turns lighter. “But I know someone who would.”

“Alright,” you shake a hand, wincing. “Can we just get back to the game? Who’s go is it anyway?”

“Mine,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time.

Everyone trusts he’s telling the truth; no one even thinks he might be using it to his advantage to get an extra roll of the dice.

You look up at him, mind distracted by what you’ve learnt and what you’re going to do with the information. You know you have to go to the abandoned cottage; you just wish someone else had agreed to go with you. But whatever, you’re a big girl, you can go through some woods alone, however creepy.

Your eyes drift from Namjoon, catching someone staring at you behind him.

Yoongi’s stood behind the till, even when you look right at him, he doesn’t pretend to not be staring. His eyes bore into you like he can read every thought. It’s you that flushes and focuses back on the game. Yoongi just continues to stare at you.

A branch cracks in the distance. You jump, clutch the flashlight tighter in your hand as you look back towards the sound.

It was probably just as deer. Or a badger. Or a terrifying creature that’s following you through the woods determined to –

Nope. You’re not letting yourself do that. You’re not getting carried away.

It was just a deer. You repeat the words in your head as you turn back on your course. Heading up the track that’s covered in dead leaves you try not to let your mind wonder. Focus instead on the orange and brown leaves that make a light crunching sound every time you take a step. It would be idyllic if not for the creepy trees, darkening skies and near silence that surrounds you. But you’re trying not to think too hard about that.

There’s another snap, this time closer and you swear you hear footsteps.

You don’t turn to look. Heart hammering you just increase your speed. As if walking faster towards the creepy, abandoned house that’s brought you here is going to help. Why you thought coming here would be a good idea, you’re not sure. The sun is setting, soon you’ll be alone in the dark with the potential of something following you and no one knowing you’re here.

You’re going to die.

You’re going to die alone, in the woods, with no one even realising.

Another twig snaps this time closer, louder. You jump, trip over a tree root, and decide it’s just better to hide then run. Rounding a tree to hide you pull your phone out your pocket and clutch it to your chest. Your breath comes out unsteady and loud. You try to slow it down, try to calm yourself even as you hear footsteps getting closer.

It goes silent and then a figure rounds the tree and stands right in front of you.

“You alright?”

You jump, knock the back of your head on the tree and then stumble forward. There’s a dull ache made even worse when you look at who’s just appeared.

Yoongi looks at you, a small smile on his lips you wouldn’t see if you didn’t know him. It’s a look that’s subtly smug, a look that if you told anyone they would say he just looks flat faced but you’ve seen it enough to know that he’s amused by you. Not in a good way. Amused at the fact you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of him. Just another reason for him to dislike you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching your thumping heart. “Yoongi, what the hell?”

His head cocks to the side and that coupled with his casual greeting shows how he has no idea how scared he’s made you. That, or he was doing it all on purpose and is happy to see it’s all worked.

Rubbing a hand on the back of your head, more to make a point than anything, you send him a glare before continuing to walk. He easily falls into step beside you and even though you expected it, it still annoys you.

“What are you doing here, Yoongi?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Well I asked first.”

“I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to come out here.”

You turn your head to look at him, a deep frown on your face, only to see he’s not joking.

“We?”

“In the bookshop.”

“I hadn’t realised you were part of that conversation.”

He’s quiet and when you look at him there’s a slight colour to his cheeks. It could just be the walking and cold air, but you like to think it’s because of what you’ve said. Good, he should feel awkward, he wasn’t even part of that conversation and what right does he have to come following you to tell you shouldn’t be here?

“Is this all something you’re doing?” His head turns to you at the question so you’re both staring at each other. “You know, is that why you’re following me here? Because you don’t want me to work out it’s something you’re up to?”

He looks taken aback, even shakes his head a little as if to clear it. “You think I’ve been killing animals?”

No, you don’t. Still, you shrug and focus back on the path even as Yoongi stares at you. “Maybe.”

“I came here because …” his voice is full of anger and the fact he cuts himself off makes you look back over at him. You both stare, a tension rising as you wait to hear his reason and he tries to hold it back. “Because I didn’t want you walking in the woods at night, alone.”

“But you thought I’d agreed not to come,” you push because it’s too awkward to acknowledge his reason because that would imply he cares about you and that’s absurd.

He gives you a look that speaks volumes, one that says only a fool would believe that.

“Right. Well. Next time don’t creep up on me.”

“Next time don’t go off on your own.”

“Well maybe next time you could speak up and help me not look like an idiot in front of my friends.”

“That’ll take some convincing.”

He says it lightly, playfully but in this moment and because it’s him, the joke flies over your head. You glare at him before walking a little faster, attempting to increase the distance between you. It only takes him a second to close the distance. There’s a light laugh on his lips when he’s back at your side.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you know I was joking.”

“Do I?”

“You’d have laughed if it was Jin who said that,” the lightness in his tone starts to seep out again, not that you notice, your anger consumes you.

“Because he’s my friend,” you say and then as if to drive the point home, add, “and he never made fun of me and my grades at school.”

It’s not fair and it’s not a point you overly dwell on anymore. Sure, it upset you growing up and it’s what caused such a divide between the two of you. But you’re old enough now to be over it. It’s just that in this moment, tensions running high with the man you are so rarely alone with, you find everything seeping out of you.

It’s silent as you round the top of the hill. And when you look at Yoongi there’s a frown on his face and a distant look as if he’s trying to work through something.

You sigh, about to apologise or move on but he speaks before you can.

“You think I made fun of your grades at school?”

It’s more the way he says the words that take you back. The light, slightly broken tone he uses as if the thought upsets him.

“Well, yeah.”

He looks at you with a face that reflects his tone, and you find yourself trying to explain as if he wasn’t there for it all.

“You never helped me with homework, and I remember hearing you laughing about a bad grade I got once. I’m pretty sure Jimin told me that you said you were surprised by me when I first joined too.”

“I never laughed at your grades.”

You roll your eyes. Though you’re not sure what you expected. When you moved back here you thought that after years of not seeing each other Yoongi might be more normal around you. He wasn’t, so you’re not sure why you’re disappointed not to hear any ownership for his actions now.

“It was never like that. I told –”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. Even if he sounds keen to explain you don’t want to listen to his excuses. “It was years ago anyway.”

“Is that what you’ve –”

You cut him off again by pointing out the house that brought you out here. You should never have brought up your history anyway. And Yoongi trying to deny everything he did only proves that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t say anything as you walk towards the house. It’s creepy, the cottage has some its windows boarded up, ivy growing up the exterior. There’s a metal fence a few meters from it, a notice telling people not to enter. You ignore it, stepping up to the fencing you look back at Yoongi in a silent question. Understanding, he steps towards you, flicks you a smile before placing a hand on the joint between two fences and pulling them apart to make the gap bigger for you to slip through.

Flustered by him being a gentleman for once, you slip through the fence without a thank you.

A chill runs through you as you take a step towards the house and wait for Yoongi. You’d never admit it aloud but you’re glad he followed you. The dark, crumbling house looks less than inviting and despite your attempt at heroics you know you would have backed out of this by now.

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” You look over at Yoongi when he steps beside you.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before going back to the house.

“Shall we get this over with?” He ignores your question, walking away from you before getting an answer to his.

You nearly trip in your haste to catch him. “Because I get that you might not have believed me, but how did you know I was coming tonight?”

He continues to ignore you, hand going to the door he gives it a hard push and it creaks open.

You’re annoyed when you walk in, a common emotion when you’re around Yoongi. He continues to walk away from you, doesn’t hold the door open for you this time and you don’t think to catch it. Just before the door clicks shut he turns with words on his lips.

“Don’t let it –” the door shutting cuts him off and he flashes you a glare. “Close.”

“Right, because it’s my fault.”

He rolls his eyes, looks to be struggling to bite back words as he walks back towards the door. You watch as he reaches for the handle, but there’s nothing there. Your heart drops, blood runs cold and again you have that weird feeling of being glad you’re not alone.

“I never said it was your fault,” his voice comes out low, quiet as he tries to not snap at you. It does nothing to calm you.

“You didn’t need to.”

He ignores you, his fingers working at the door, body pushing into it. While you stand staring at him, verbalising your annoyance, he’s being proactive and trying to get you out of this mess.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“Yeah, well I bet you’re glad I did now. What would you have done if you were stuck here alone?”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me, then maybe I would have thought to hold the door open.”

“I didn’t realise you found my back so distracting,” his voice is still deep, but that same jokey tone has seeped back in. Much like last time it only riles you more.

“I didn’t ask you to come Yoongi. I don’t need you to save me or whatever the fuck you think you came here to do.”

Silence fills the air. Thick and heavy. Yoongi’s stopped prodding at the door and you’ve stopped shouting.

He turns to look at you and you can’t read the emotion written over his face when he looks at you. A mixture of too many things to decipher. His eyes flick over your features no doubt trying to read you the same way you’re trying to read him. Whatever he sees has him looking away and clenching his jaw.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks away deeper into the house.

You stand, shocked by the door for a few seconds before twisting and chasing after Yoongi.

“Where are you going?”

“To find another way out,” he says it curtly, a message to not argue with him. You once again ignore him.

“But we’ve only just got here.”

“And there’s clearly nothing here.”

“We’ve not even looked.”

He rounds on you. “Listen, I don’t know what you expected, but there’s nothing here Y/N. Even if there was, what would you do? What would that tell you?”

You don’t know. It’s the same thing Olivia asked you and you still don’t have an answer. You don’t know what you expected or what you wanted. But, just like with Olivia, it doesn’t stop his words hurting.

This time when he walks away from you, you don’t follow.

You were going to do this alone, you don’t need to follow Yoongi around like a scared pup. You take a few seconds to calm yourself before twisting in the opposite direction.

It’s not a big cottage, only three rooms on the ground floor and you assume the same on the top. You can imagine it would have been nice back when people lived here. But after so long sitting unused and unloved, it would take a lot to get it back to that state.

Still the exposed beams are cute, the windows old and warped. You peak your head around the door of one of the rooms downstairs, do a visual sweep of the room without stepping in and when you find nothing of interest you back away. Just because you’re trying to be brave doesn’t mean you’re going to be reckless.

You pause at the bottom of the stairs. There are vines crawling up the banister, a small window blocked from letting in anything from outside.

Gripping the banister, you put a foot on the first step. Slowly put your weight on it to test it out. There’s a creak but that’s it. It doesn’t collapse, doesn’t strain under your weight. It’s only the first step, but it makes you more confident to slowly go up.

Your heart pounds with every creak your foot creates. Alone, you can feel your fear building. However hard you try to supress it, it doesn’t work. You can’t help but think that Yoongi might have left you here alone. You wouldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly fun to be around earlier. Still, the only positive you can think to him leaving you is that he found an exit. All you need to do is do a sweep of upstairs and you can follow his lead.

There’s an overpowering smell when you reach the top of the stairs. Throat thick, heart hammering you don’t want to consider what it could be. You’re only half aware of Yoongi calling your name as you walk towards the smell.

It’s a cleaner kill then any you’ve seen so far but it’s a far bigger animal.

Stood frozen in the doorway you gaze upon the animal as footsteps work their way up the stairs. There’s a soft curse as Yoongi comes to your side, but you’re more aware of his warmth seeping into your side.

“It looks like someone slept here,” your voice is husky, eyes still firmly on the animal despite your words.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you can see his head scanning the room before he turns to look at you.

“Do you think it struggled?”

He doesn’t answer, because what can he say to that, even if he answered it would be a lie. His hand coming to rest on the small of your back rips you out of your trance. Head twisting to look at his soft features.

“I found a way out.”

You nod, find yourself twisting to look back at the animal. Yoongi stops you with his other hand going to the shoulder furthest from him. He turns you to fully face him.

“It won’t help,” he says the words you know but can’t process. “Let’s go.”

Still in a trance you let him guide you. Honestly, you’re terrified. You’re not sure what you hoped for but finding another dead animal, bigger than any you’ve seen before, more human sized, hasn’t helped. It’s cemented in your head that’s something not right, but it’s also made you realise that you can do nothing.

You don’t know what it is and even if you did, something that’s killing animals that big, that violently, what help do you think you’ll give? You feel so helpless, so lost, so scared as Yoongi guides you downstairs and then out through a window he managed to open in one of the back rooms.

Together you walk silently back through the woods.

The next few days are much the same as your everyday life, the only difference being your mental health.

You can hardly sleep, feel nervous as you walk to work, are jumpy at even the smallest noises. You don’t socialise as much, try and find comfort in solace, though it doesn’t comfort you in the slightest.

Every dead animal you’ve seen in the past few weeks plays across your mind and every day you expect to see a bigger, more horrifically killed one.

Though it was the smallest, the bird is the one you dwell on. It was killed so close to where you slept and you were unaware until you woke that it keeps you up at night. You don’t know what’s causing it, don’t know what you’d do if you came across it. The not knowing somehow makes it all worse. Your imagination running away with you.

The only thing that you can think that makes it any better is that so far you don’t know of any humans who have been killed.

You go through your days worried and more like a zombie than a human.

“What you buying?”

You jump, clutch a hand to your chest. This man is going to give you a heart attack one of these days.

“Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?” Despite the question you shove the chocolate you were trying to convince yourself not to buy in your basket and move through the store.

“I didn’t sneak up on you. You’re just really unobservant.”

“I had my back turned; I literally couldn’t see you. Hence, you snuck up on me.”

He lets out a little sigh when you stop by the bread, but you continue to ignore him. You have no idea why he approached you to begin with let alone why he’s following you. Normally you both stay on opposite ends of the shop if you are unfortunate enough to visit at the same time.

“I’d go seeded if I were you.”

You glare at the bread you were mentally debating over and even though you know he’s right you grab the loaf of white, squishing some slices as you put it in your basket and carry on around the shop. Yoongi continues to follow.

“You planning on advising me on all my shopping?”

“I can if you want.”

You come to a stop by the juices. If he’s not going to leave you alone, you’ll just ignore him.

“Orange and mango is way better than just orange.”

“Thanks,” you say, picking up the apple juice.

“I’d go cloudy apple too.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter continuing to ignore his advice as you walk away.

You pick up some rigatoni and then pause and look at him when he doesn’t make a comment. There’s a small smile on his face to show that while you’re hating this, he’s loving it.

“Not got anything to say about my pasta choice?”

“It’s the one I would have gone for,” he shrugs. “Not going to change it to prove you prefer everything different to me?”

You work your jaw as he continues to smile. This whole thing is so unnerving for so many different reasons. And while you could stand and argue with Yoongi all day, you just twist and continue with your shop.

“What do you really want, Yoongi?”

You walk a few steps before he says anything.

“I wanted to see how you are after everything.”

“I’m great.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glance at him, can’t even bring yourself to give a sarcastic smile. “Thanks.”

He rubs his hands together as you continue to debate your choice of squash, there’s just so much choice. You pick up on the fact you’re making him uncomfortable but do nothing to change your tone. If he’s regretting doing this then he can just leave now.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” his voice sounds like a sigh, as if he feels as tired as you are. “I’m just … the other night was a lot and I wanted to check you’re ok.”

The words make you pause. You know you look like shit, you know you look as tired as you feel. But Yoongi has never shown concern for you before, normally he does everything he can to ignore you. Speaking to you in the first place is strange enough but checking in on you is something else.

You pick up the orange squash, it’s your favourite flavour.

“I’m fine.”

Before you can twist and walk away Yoongi’s hand reaches out to grab the handles of your basket. Your jaw tenses as you look down at it and he’s quick to drop them, though he doesn’t apologise.

“What are you doing after this?”

You frown as you look at him. This conversation is only getting more and more weird.

“I just,” he pauses again, runs a hand through his hair as his eyes dart around the room in search of the words he wants. Now you’re looking at him you can see the same tiredness in his features. Maybe you’re not the only one having sleepless nights over this. “I wondered if we could talk about it?”

“I thought you thought it was all bullshit?”

His head dips as he narrows his eyes at you. “Can we just talk?”

You toy with the handles of your basket, become fidgety as you play for time. Yoongi lets you have it, is patient as he waits for your answer. You know what you should say, it’s just that it’s Yoongi. But he’s the only one who’s on the same page as you and you won’t deny that you also need someone to talk to. Even if it this person who you don’t like very much, you realise you have to talk to someone soon or you’re only going to build it up more in your head.

“You alright to come back to mine?” Yoongi’s shoulders relax at the words though his face doesn’t change in emotion. “I need to get this stuff in the fridge.”

He nods. “I’ll follow you.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

You turn as you speak, “he’s not a people person, so I wouldn’t –”

You cut yourself off when you see Yoongi. Tofu is winding his way around Yoongi’s legs, his purr loud enough for you to hear. As Yoongi bends down to scratch his head your cat even leans up to try and deepen it.

That bitch.

You beg for his affection and he never gives it and yet here he is willingly giving it out to a man he’s never met before.

“He must realise I hate you.”

Yoongi chuckles, his eyes still on your cat, completely unbothered by your statement. You start to warn him that he hates being picked up but are too late. It doesn’t matter anyway, because as Yoongi cradles your cat in his arms, he only snuggles closer and purrs louder. It takes you a second, the picture of your grumpy cat looking so content in the arms of a man you thought you hated, someone who currently looks softer than you’ve ever seen him, is a sight that’s hard to break away from.

“Of course,” you mutter, eyes still focused on the scene.

Yoongi only looks up at you, a bigger smile than you’ve ever seen on his face directed straight at you. Your heart does a weird flip, your stomach twisting, the air in your throat catching.

“He’s cute.”

“Tofu,” you manage to mutter.

Yoongi looks back down at your cat with that same big smile and eyes full of love.

“Well Tofu, as much as I love this, you’re getting white fur all over me.”

He gives the cat one last scratch before setting him of the floor. You watch, still frozen to your spot, as he wipes a hand down his top, trying and failing to get rid of all the white fur. When he looks up his eyes meet yours and his smile only widens at whatever he sees in your face.

“You alright?”

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

“Right,” he laughs, stepping further into your house, closer to you. “You pictured me as some sort of all hating, miserable guy.”

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“Well, I like cats.”

“Ok,” you nod, trying to snap out of it. “Want a tea?”

Tofu follows both of you as you head to the kitchen. You ignore them both as you flick the kettle on. You can sense Yoongi looking around the room, taking everything in as you focus on making the drinks. His first question still takes you off guard though.

“Have you got plans to move back to the city?”

It’s asked awkwardly, not the best way to necessarily word what he’s asking, but you know what he means.

It’s a question about where you live of sorts, possibly his way of broaching topics you’re less comfortable with but intrigue him. Because they intrigue everyone. And now he’s here, in your home, maybe he thinks it’s ok to start asking. The topic that never comes up, finally some vague way to broach to it.

You clench your jaw as you reply only a half answer.

“It’s been so long I don’t think my old company would take me back.”

“You could contact them and ask?”

You shrug. Honestly you’ve thought about it, but there’s always an excuse as to why you don’t have time. You know you’re putting it off, you’re just not ready to dig into why.

“Or you could re-apply for some other jobs?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

There’s a small pause and then Yoongi says, “the other day, when Liv said I need an accountant and I … well, I do actually need a hand if you want?”

You finish making the drinks, turn to place it on the counter in front of him. He seems genuine, nervous even. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“It wouldn’t be a handout. I need an accountant, you just happen to be one.”

“Used to be one,” you correct.

Yoongi shrugs. “I can get someone else but the offers there.”

Focus on your tea, fingers fiddling with the handle, you give him a small, muttered thanks.

“So the other night,” you thought he’d ask more, thought he’d start asking about your dad the way everyone tries. You look up at him, surprised he’s already moving on to the reason he asked to come here. “What did you think?”

You frown, again, not the question you were expecting. Yoongi seems to catch himself, letting out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away from you. He seems overly nervous since arriving here, it’s only now you’re looking at him you’re picking up on it.

“I guess what I’m really asking is, are you ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you answer too quickly.

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows lift. “It was just a lot, I guess.”

“It was just a creepy –”

“And you seemed to space out a bit when you saw that dead deer.”

Is that weird? You want to ask. Seeing a dead animal and not being overly comfortable. Seems perfectly reasonable to you.

“And you wanted to check I was ok?”

“That’s hard to believe?” He asks, your tone obviously suggesting it is.

“We’re not exactly friends.”

“I can still want to check in on you,” he says sharply, almost annoyed.

You take a beat so that when you talk your tone no longer holds any emotion. “Alright, I’m fine. You?”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, or at least looks like your answer hasn’t done anything to reassure him. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, just nods his head.

“Great,” you say. “Now can we get to the reason you came?”

Yoongi waits, doesn’t say anything. He looks like he couldn’t care less about asking anything else. As if he’s already spoken about whatever it was that made him want to come here.

“The animals are getting bigger,” you state, as if giving him the answer in the quiz.

Still, he says nothing.

“Does that not creep you out?”

“Does it creep you out?” He throws the question back, irritating you.

“What is this? A therapy session?”

He looks taken aback by your sharp tone for a second, but quickly levels his features. “I guess I don’t know what you’re expecting from all of this? Animals die all the time.”

You clench your jaw as you turn away from him. He’s just like everyone else, you should have realised. This was why you were going to do it alone all along. Because everyone thinks you’re insane. Because no one else gets how weird and creepy this whole thing is. Because no one else had an animal murdered a few feet away from where they slept. Because no one else cares that things are dying and that maybe, just maybe, something could be done to stop that.

“But yes,” Yoongi carries on in a tone as if he’s stepping on eggshells. You’d feel bad for making him feel like he has to try and work out how to navigate this conversation with you if you didn’t dislike him so much. “I have to admit that deer didn’t look like it died of natural causes.”

You turn back to face him, he’s said enough to deserve that but not enough to get rid of the glare on your face.

“Is that what the bird looked like when you found it here?” His words sound the equivalent of a hands up gesture; please don’t shoot.

“Yep,” you say. “I found it right where you’re standing.

He doesn’t seem phased by the fact, his eyes just casting down as if he’s going to find some clue there.

“That must have been pretty creepy,” he admits, his eyes going back to yours. “You ok here on your own?

“I have Tofu to help, it’s fine.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you, but at least doesn’t dwell on it. “And you’re sure Tofu didn’t kill the bird?”

“I don’t let him out at night. How would he have gotten the bird in?”

He pauses to think. “What do you think it means?”

You sigh, it’s the million-dollar question. “I don’t know. But I was hoping we’d find some sort of clue at that house. All we discovered was it’s probably some sick human who’s camping out at an abandoned cottage in the woods. They’ve probably run away from there now anyway if the police really were there.”

“Maybe fully run away? Meaning this is all over anyway?”

“Maybe,” you say, not convinced at all.

“What’s everyone dressing up as for Halloween then?”

It’s Friday, which means it’s another games night. While everyone is focused on their hand of cards, trying to work out the next best move, Seokjin is leaning back in his chair his cards face down on the table. You’d wonder if it were a tactic into making you think he’s amazing at this game if you hadn’t already played it with him before. He’s horrendous at it. He just doesn’t care enough to get any better.

“Can’t tell you. You’ll find out on the night,” Jungkook says as he moves around the order of his hand.

“Boring,” Seokjin states, eyes trailing around the table. “Yoongi, what are you wearing?”

You find yourself looking up at the man in question. For once he sat at the table with no complaint. Though he’s still sat as far away from you as possible, he didn’t try and get out of playing or run into the back of the shop when you arrived. In fact he might have given you what he’d consider a smile when you walked in. Now though, he’s sat not quite as relaxed as Seokjin, but his cards are loose in his hand, and he looks like he knows exactly how he’s going to play and will probably win this game.

His eyes flick to you as if sensing your stare and you dart your focus back to your hand, face flushing.

“I’ve got some black jeans on and this top says Fear of –”

“Yeah, not now,” Seokjin snaps as if he’s the only one allowed to get the laughs Yoongi’s currently gained from the table. “For Halloween.”

“Right,” he replies flatly, though you think you hint a smile in his tone. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Oh my god. Y/N, help me out here?”

“Uh, I was going to do Jen Walters,” you pause and when everyone wears blank faces you continue. “You know, She-Hulk?”

“You’re going to paint yourself green?” Seokjin’s face lights up like Christmas day.

“No,” you crush his hopes. “I’m going as Jen Walters. The human form. You know, big shirt and … never mind.”

“Yeah, sounds boring.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you smile and look back at your cards.

“I’m surprised you’re not going as the killer.”

Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared. You don’t look up at Seokjin, don’t want him to see that he’s gotten to you, it’ll only encourage him. But it’s too late. However small your reaction, he’s seen it.

“You could bring a dead animal, have blood splattered all over you and –”

“Alright Jin.”

To yours and seemingly everyone’s surprise, it’s Yoongi that cuts Seokjin off. Yoongi looks at him with a hard gaze while Seokjin looks back with his lips twisted into a smile. Your heart pounds for so many different reasons as you watch whatever is happening unfold.

“What?” Seokjin sounds innocent enough. “I was just saying it would be a good costume.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t funny.”

“Who said it was a joke?”

There’s silence from Yoongi, his glare seeming to harden which only makes Seokjin’s smile widen.

“How is that all going by the way? Gotten any closer to catching the killer?”

All eyes turn to you and you heat from within. You know their feelings about this and you know they don’t align with yours. No matter what you say, they’ll tease you for it.

“You don’t care, so why should Y/N tell you?” Yoongi once again comes to your rescue and you’re too relieved to question it.

“Maybe you can tell me then? You have been helping, right?”

Yoongi flashes his eyes to you, something like guilt crossing his face, though you’re not sure why he would feel guilty.

“Can we just play this game?” Jungkook cuts everyone off. “I really wanted to get home by 8 for bake off.”

“Is that who you’re going as?” Taehyung jumps in. “Paul Hollywood?”

Jungkook just pouts his lips a little as if to stop his smirk and shrugs. Picking up three of his cards he announces, “three tens,” and places them in a pile in the centre of the table.

You don’t even bother to look at your own cards to check how that affects you. You’re too busy looking at Yoongi and wondering what the hell just happened.

“Are you dressed as Tofu?”

Yoongi looks down at himself, then back at you. “Isn’t Tofu white?”

He has a point. Still, the small amount you’ve had to drink coupled with his all-black outfit, little black cat ears so soon after meeting your cat makes you question it. Or maybe it’s just the surprise of him wearing something besides his normal outfit. You can’t recall Yoongi’s previous Halloween outfits, but you’d put him down as a wear normal clothes and say he’s Ross from Friends sort of person. But here you stand, at the annual Halloween party, being proven wrong.

“Yoongi’s met Tofu?” Jimin hands you the drink he left you to make. “When?”

He sounds way too interested and you feel a little sorry for Yoongi given the smile Jimin’s shooting him. The smile only adds to his outfit, the half red, half blue hair really makes him look like a psychotic Harley Quinn.

“The other day,” you cut in, attempting to save Yoongi but only put the spotlight on yourself.

“Yoongi came to your house?”

“That is where my cat lives, yes.”

“But Yoongi was there?”

“Is that so unbelievable?”

Jimin looks back to Yoongi, something unspoken goes between them, something you don’t understand. You take a sip of your too strong drink to cover your awkwardness before Jimin is looking back at you.

“No,” he says with a smile, everything about him screaming that the word he’s just said is a lie.

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well I need a new drink,” you lift your still full cup up, eyes flicking between Jimin’s beaming smile and Yoongi’s flat face. “I’ll see you weirdo’s later.”

Before you make it out of earshot Jimin’s already on Yoongi.

“You went to her house?” He half screams and you resist the urge to look back at Yoongi’s expression.

“It was nothing.”

“But –”

You don’t catch anything more. Jungkook’s appeared in your face making that horrific slurping noise as if about to spit on you. You push his shoulder, fingers running along the exposed skin on his chest. Does his V-neck really have to be so large?

“You’re not Chris,” he makes the same joke he’s made a hundred times. And like every time before you don’t laugh.

“And unfortunately, you’re not Harry Styles.”

Jungkook just beams at you. “Harry Styles wishes he could be me.”

You hum, smirking into your drink. You have to admire the boys confidence. And his costume is pretty cool or would be if he wasn’t incessantly making spitting sounds as if he’s going to spit on Chris Pine.

“You should have brought a goat,” you say.

“And what are you anyway?” His eyes trace up and down your shirt covered body, disapproval on his features.

“She’s my Sophie of course,” an arm wraps itself around your back.

“It’s a crap Sophie costume. Isn’t she, like, an old woman?” Jungkook continues to judge.

“Nah, she’s as gorgeous as this lady here.”

You roll your eyes as you look up at Taehyung. “Is one drink all it takes for you guys to turn into utter sleaze balls?”

“Ouch,” Taehyung laughs, his arm only brining you closer into his side. “Thought you wanted me to show you the world?”

“Isn’t that Aladdin?” Jungkook says flatly.

Taehyung brushes the comment off. “Same difference.”

“Well, thanks Howl,” you say, slipping out of Tae’s arms. “But I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You know who he is but not me?” Jungkook shouts after you as you walk away, sounding genuinely offended. “At least let me know if you see Chris!”

You look over your shoulder laughing as you shake your head at them. Eyes drifting you see Jimin and Yoongi still stood talking where you left them, the latter’s focus is purely on you. It makes you stutter the way he doesn’t hide the fact. His flat features would have once caused a pang of anger to shoot through you, as if annoyed he would be staring at you with such dislike for doing nothing. Now, knowing Yoongi better, you can’t help but wonder if the look isn’t dislike at all. Instead of a pang of anger, you only flush and whip your head to look away from him. Your heart still leaps, though the feeling is nothing like annoyance.

You spend the party trying to avoid Yoongi. Once you would have done it because you had no desire to be around him. Now, it’s because you can’t trust your feelings.

You drink, have one too many of Jimin’s ‘special’ cocktails that taste like pure alcohol. You laugh at Seokjin trying to convince everyone why dressing as John Tucker is the best outfit. You watch as Olivia walks in dressed as Chris Pine and Jungkook finally gets to spit on her lap, it’s gross and yet Olivia laughs like it’s the best joke they’ve ever made.

For what feels like forever, you have fun. Sure, there have been glimpses of fun since your dad passed, but tonight you feel fully free of everything. For once there is no guilt or overbearing thoughts of something you should be doing instead.

You manage to avoid Yoongi until late in the night when, stood alone, someone comes to stand by you.

“How you getting home?”

You twist to look at Yoongi, a smile still on your face. For once it doesn’t drop when you meet his flat face.

“Huh?” You glance to where you see people leaving; is it already that late? “Oh, I’ll just walk.”

He raises an eyebrow, gives you a look to let you know that’s not an acceptable answer. You flounder, search for something to say to distract him.

“Did you see Namjoon scuttle?”

“Scuttle?” He questions and you beam, mission success.

“Yeah, you know,” you pincer your hands in a crab like motion. “Scuttle, like the crab he was dressed as.”

“Oh,” he elongates the word. “Was that what he was?”

You giggle. You actually giggle at something Yoongi said. And it wasn’t even that funny a joke.

“God, I’ve had way too much to drink.”

He lets of a small, huffed laugh. “I’d don’t know whether to be offended or not?”

You laugh again, this time swaying a little because of it. As if on instinct, Yoongi’s hand comes out to steady you.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “I can walk home alone.”

“You’re on my way.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then it’s not much of a detour.”

“In a place this small it really is.”

He levels his gaze at you, clearly done with coming up with reasons and is just going to try and scare you into agreeing. It doesn’t work. But you still find yourself stopping from putting up a fight. It’s an effort to argue and not any other reason that you don’t continue to push.

Yoongi stands by your side as you go round and say goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly nobody comments on it. You thought Jungkook would for sure make some sarky comment, but maybe he’s had one too many too as he just pulls you into a hug and whispers something about having a good night but making sure you’re safe. Maybe he is concerned about the mysterious thing killing animals after all.

You walk in silence. Your focus on your feet as they move through the pitch-black night.

“Did you have a good night?”

Yoongi’s cheeks are tinted with colour from the cool night air when you look over at him. His gaze is set forward, avoiding eye contact after the awkward question. You don’t think anything of it.

“Yeah. Hoseok even let me try on his astronaut’s helmet.”

“Wow,” you look at him, catch the smile he’s trying to hide. “That’s a big word for you.”

You laugh, the tension between the two of you instantly disappearing. Once that joke would have rubbed you the completely wrong way. Now you find yourself wanting him to keep talking.

“Says the man dressed as a cat.”

He hums, the noise deep, developing in his chest and vibrating through his throat. Fuck. Has Yoongi always had that low a register? It’s not something you’ve picked up on before. Not in this way anyway. Not in a way that makes you look at him like you’ve never seen him before. The smirk growing on his face tells you he knows you’re looking at him.

You clench your jaw, eyes darting from his face up.

“Hey! Your ears have gone!” He reaches up, mock shock on his face as his hands go to his actual ears. You giggle, again, and gently slap his arm. “Your cat ears.”

“Oh right,” he says as if he didn’t know that the whole time, the wide smile on his face telling a different story, one that says he’s proud of the reaction he got from you. “They were making my head hurt.”

“Oh,” you pout, looking back in the direction of your house, you’re nearly at the top of your lane now. “I thought they looked cute.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you think nothing about what you’ve said.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, possibly one of the better Halloween parties Liv has thrown.”

“Really? You weren’t a fan of the 80’s themed one?” You say it in a teasing way. No one was a fan of the 80s themed year. Firstly, there was a theme that wasn’t just Halloween. Secondly, it was back before you all went to university when everyone drank way too much, Jimin didn’t know his limit and threw up in the first twenty minutes, Taehyung following close behind merely at the sight. It all went downhill from there.

Yoongi only laughs at the memory, shaking his head at you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way …”

“Always a great start to a sentence.”

You pause, before deciding to just go for it. “I never really took you as one to enjoy parties.”

It takes him a second but he laughs at your words, a small huffy laugh that implies the words aren’t a surprise to him.

“Because I’m a cat hating, party hating, fun hating sort of guy?”

“No, it’s just …” you look around as if in search for the words, though mainly are trying to avoid Yoongi’s stare. It’s not unkind, it’s just interested and a little intense. “I don’t know, we didn’t really get on growing up.”

“We didn’t?”

You look at him, eyebrows raised in a really? expression. He smirks back.

“Ok, you didn’t get on with me.”

He frowns a little at that one. “I didn’t?” This time it does sound like a question, not an attempt to joke.

“You hated me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true …”

“You changed seats so we weren’t sat by each other in class. You used to boast whenever you got a question right that I didn’t. I’m pretty sure you mocked my choice in shoes one time.”

“Ok, maybe I was a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” The word throws you.

“Well, yeah?” He throws back as if it’s obvious. “I mean you had it so easy.”

“Easy?” Another word you weren’t expecting. This one never being something you’d associate with any part of your life.

“Yeah. You just walked into school one day wearing the uniform like … well … like you did and everyone instantly liked you and then you were sitting next to me and I had no idea how to talk to you. Then you just made it all worse by being so good at literally every subject. You were perfect.” He shrugs, looks across at you and you swear your mouth is popped open as wide as your eyes currently are. Frankly, you’re unsure how you’re still walking. “I was jealous, Y/N.”

You were perfect.

You must have misheard or not understood. But the words, said in Yoongi’s deep tone, just keep cycling through your mind.

You were perfect.

You would never have thought Yoongi would say those words. Because surely that’s not true. He hated you. He would leave whenever you arrived, looked angry when his friends invited you to stuff, was annoyed when you got better marks then him, looked disapproving when you turned up with your tie in the perfect knot and your skirt floating mid-thigh. He hated you.

You were perfect.

But he was jealous? All this time you’ve read his emotions wrong. He was jealous of the girl who felt like she struggled to fit in, who’s mum had just passed away, who was awkward and hated her hair and the spots she’d get across her forehead, who thought every girl in school was prettier and funnier than her. Who thought the boy currently walking beside her was far smarter than her. He was jealous of her?

“This is you, isn’t it?”

He knows it is, but your far away look and the fact you haven’t turned down your lane makes him ask. You look at him, mind still whirling trying to work out what it all means, and nod.

He’s back to being awkward as he continues to do as promised and take you to your door. By which point you’ve at least made up your mind that Yoongi isn’t as bad as you thought, that maybe you need to give into the fact that you like him more than you make out. If he can admit he was jealous of you – which you still can’t get over!! – then you can admit you like him.

“So, uh, goodnight?” Yoongi says when you manage to unlock your door. Your turn to face him, endeared by him clutching his hands and looking awkward. He once thought you were perfect.

“You don’t want to come in to see your biggest fan?”

His eyes flick over your shoulder as if half considering it. “I should head home.”

“Oh come on,” you reach out and grab his wrist, encouraging him into your house. He doesn’t put up much of a fight to stop you. “I’ll find my dad’s scotch and everything.”

“Oh … you don’t have to –”

“It’s only going to waste in the cupboard anyway.”

You’ve dropped his hand now and while he awkwardly stands by the door watching you, you’re a riot of movement around the kitchen.

“Honestly, it’ll be nice to see it enjoyed,” Yoongi still doesn’t say anything as you grab two glasses and a half empty bottle of scotch. “I hate the stuff. But still find myself having a sip from time to time,” you pause, even having had a drink you find it hard to admit. “It’s probably weird, but it helps me remember him, helps me feel closer to him sometimes.”

“It’s not weird,” Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

You nod, thankful even if he’s only saying it to be kind, and then lead the way to the living room. Setting the glasses down, Yoongi says nothing as you pour large, nearly half full glasses of Scotch. When you settle into the sofa you take your glass with you and find yourself twisting to look at Yoongi.

He’s staring down at the amber liquid, watching as it swirls around the glass. When he looks up at you his face is flat but everything about him is soft.

“Will you tell me about him?”

It’s asked in a way that tells you to say no if you want to.

But the feeling that comes over you is utterly mad because you find yourself wanting to answer him. It’s mad because you never answer that question; not when he was alive and struggling, not when you were the only one there to help him through it, and certainly not since he’s passed. Every time someone has tried to broach the topic of your dad with you, to see if they could help when he was battling cancer, see if you were ok when he was passing away, see if they could do anything when he was finally gone; every time, no matter who it was you’d push them away with a none answer. And yet here you are, wanting to answer. Which is mad because it’s Yoongi. The man who you thought hated you, that you disliked, that you’re now not sure how to feel about. Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened to the two of you recently, extreme circumstances pushing you together despite your feelings. Or maybe it’s because he's someone that you’re not as close to, someone you feel you could talk to and then not have to see again.

Like most emotions you feel, you know the reason you want to open up to him, you’re just not ready to acknowledge it.

“He was really funny,” you start, and it takes Yoongi a second to realise you’re not saying no. As you talk, he takes a sip of the Scotch, his face warming and his body relaxing as he listens to you. “But in the way most dads are. He loved to embarrass me. I remember once I got 100% in a test, and he would tell everyone who would listen about it. I found it really embarrassing but now looking back I can see he was just really proud of me. He was the same when I got my place at university. He didn’t cry or tell me he was worried; he smiled the whole time he drove me there and left me in my new flat. It must have been hard though, driving his only child off to a new life leaving him all alone. But he was so excited and he obviously didn’t want me to worry about him.”

You pause as you take a sip of your drink, wincing against the strong taste. It helps soften the tightness in your chest though.

“He sounds like he really loved you.”

You smile at Yoongi, sadness still in your eyes. You’re putting on a brave face like you always do when this topic comes up. But for once you don’t deflect, you say what’s actually on your mind.

“I think that’s why I feel so guilty,” you start, finding your glass of Scotch easier to look at than Yoongi. “I hardly came back here, left him all alone while I was out building a career. I even pushed him away at times, used to cancel coming home and say I couldn’t do weekends when he asked to visit. All because I was trying to build a different life.”

You pause again, take another, much larger, glug of your drink. It goes down easier this time and when you look at Yoongi he just sits patiently waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sure you know my dad had cancer,” Yoongi gives a gentle nod as you expected. “He didn’t hide it from me. He didn’t even know he had it until he went to the hospital for something else. But I just wonder if I hadn’t moved away, if I hadn’t pushed him away, if I’d seen him more, maybe I’d have notice something wrong. Even if he hadn’t realised, maybe I would have. Maybe he’d …”

You trail off, not able to say the words. Tears fall down your face and your throat matches the tightness in your chest.

It’s how you always feel when you even think about your dad, let alone talk about him. The guilt and feeling like you never did enough. As if you wasted the time you could have had with him. He did so much for you in his life and you took it all for granted. You feel so rotten. And it’s why you never think about it.

You try and push away all the emotions now, conscious that Yoongi is still sat watching you.

“Sorry,” you smile despite the tears rolling down your face.

“Don’t apologise.”

As you wipe your face Yoongi shuffles closer. You don’t even jump when his hand comes into contact with your knee. It’s done so gently and feels so comforting you let him leave it there.

“I’d offer you a tissue, but I don’t know where you keep them.”

You laugh, spit flying out your mouth. It’s gross but Yoongi is still smiling at you, his thumb now rubbing soothingly on your knee.

“I just … you asked me what my dad was like and now I’m just laying all these unwanted feelings on you,” you laugh again, this time it’s hollow and Yoongi doesn’t join you in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he gets you to drag your eyes back to him and does something that shocks you. His spare hand reaches out and wipes away some of the tears you missed, you jump a little at the touch but not enough to get him to stop. “I told you not to apologise.”

You nearly apologise again but manage to stop yourself and just end up nodding instead. Catching the slip, Yoongi smiles at you, his one hand still on your face, the other on your knee.

It doesn’t feel weird, if anything it takes you a while to click who you’re currently sat with, who’s hands are currently on your face and on your knee, who you feel comfortable with and don’t want to pull away from. But you do realise who it is, and however comfortable it feels, part of you thinks how weird it is.

Slowly, you pull away. Part of you wanting to stay in his hands, gaining his comfort. Part of you not wanting to upset him. Part of you still feeling a little weird that you are feeling all of this towards Yoongi and that he’s so willingly giving you this affection.

He doesn’t look offended or upset as you pull away and wipe a hand across your face, he just lets you go. The distance between you increases, but only marginally. There is no longer the length of the sofa between you like when you first sat, though he isn’t holding you anymore, his knee still grazes yours and if you wanted to you wouldn’t have to reach far for his hand.

“Anyway, that’s all in the past.”

Yoongi looks unsure for a second, doesn’t seem to know whether he should say anything that might upset you more or just leave it and let you gloss over everything. Secretly, you get what you want.

“I never knew him, so I realise how this will sound, but you know he’d be proud of you, right?” He pauses, waits a second as if expecting a reply. “And all that stuff, the guilt you feel and the sadness, you really don’t have to apologise, I’m happy you told me. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. It sounds as if he got everything he wanted. His daughter going off into the world and making something of herself. If he really did go round shouting about how great it all was and how proud he was, doesn’t that tell you how happy he would have been to see you achieving everything you did?”

He's right, you know he is. And having opened up for the first time about your guilt, it’s the first perspective outside of your own that you’ve heard. It’s one you’ve not considered or at least one you’ve not let yourself consider.

You sniffle, the noise not cute or delicate. You’re past caring.

“Thanks Yoongi.”

He reaches out and lightly squeezes your knee, though this time his hand doesn’t linger.

“You know, you’re really not so bad,” it’s easier than you had imagined to admit. “I can see why everyone’s friends with you.”

“And here I’ve been hoping you’d be the one to convince them to leave me alone.”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the blatant lie for the purpose of comedy. A smile returns to his face as he looks at you and it makes your chest tight for a different reason. Your focus goes to your empty glass. It’s a good distraction, leaning forward to fill it back up, topping Yoongi’s up as you go.

“So, what do you think?”

Even though he’s already drunk plenty of it, he takes a long, slow sip to savour the flavour and give you an honest opinion. You watch as his lips pucker, his Adam’s apple bobs and then his tongue runs a slow trail along his bottom lip. You feel flushed when his gaze finally levels on you.

“I think your dad had good taste.”

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart stutters when you notice it, but it truly drops when you look fully up at it.

Of course you’re right by the graveyard.

Of course that’s where you see a shadow like figure darting away from you.

Of course it’s night time and a mist has settled over the village.

Of fucking course.

A deep breath and you’re heading into the graveyard. You contemplate telling someone but then question who you’d tell. If the last few days have told you anything it’s that nobody believes you, or even pretends to show an interest in this.

Well, that’s a lie. There is one person.

It’s at the first noise that you break. It’s only a bird taking flight from the trees but you jump so high, your heart nearly giving out, that you decide to give in. Yoongi hasn’t been that bad recently. Maybe it won’t be so bad telling him.

“Y/N?”

He sounds surprised. His pitch high, you can almost picture him looking down at his phone as if double checking he didn’t misread the name. The mental image almost makes you smile if it weren’t for the more powerful thought that you’re calling Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you’re supposed to hate, who’s supposed to hate you and therefore not answer your call. Especially sounding so –

“Y/N,” his tone is firmer, the question gone.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you stumble over your words, eyes scanning the misty graveyard. “It’s just that, well, it’s probably nothing. And sorry for calling you, you’re probably really busy and don’t need me disturbing –”

“What is it?” He cuts you off.

“Right, sorry,” you say these two words slowly but the following coming in such a rush they sound like one word. “I thought I’d let you know I think I saw something in the graveyard and just in case I die or go missing someone should know where I went so yeah that’s where I am the graveyard.”

“Hang on. Slow down. You’re where?”

“The graveyard.”

He curses before you hear some background noise. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he’s doing.

“I didn’t call to get you to come here,” your voice has lost its fear at least.

“Stay where you are.”

“Yoongi –”

It’s your turn to curse at your phone. The fucker hung up on you. The cheek. The fucking ego on that man to think you always need saving. He has some sort of hero complex, that at least might explain why he’s always trying to help you.

You click on your phone, about to call Yoongi back, but are cut off by a branch snapping and when you look up you see something moving in the shadows.

Blood running cold, phone forgotten, you start to move towards it. You’re too loud though, the thing pauses long enough to look at you – at least you think that’s what it does, the dark doesn’t help – and then it’s moving a lot faster in the opposite direction to you.

Cover blown, you shout after it to stop as you try and run after it.

Whatever, or whoever it is, is too fast though. Every one of your steps seeming to be three of theirs.

“Wait,” you shout into the darkness, your breath coming out in a thick fog of white.

You really need to get in better shape. Only a short distance covered and yet you’re panting as you come to a stop. The thing is gone. At least out of sight in the dark foggy night. But there’s something else. A weird smell in the air. When you get your breathing under control you realise what it is.

Your blood runs cold as you stand straight as a rod. Despite the fear you head towards the smell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wonder around the graves. You find it where you saw that thing, only making you more certain that whatever that thing was, was what you’re after. It’s smaller than the deer you saw in the cottage, but bigger than a fox, but its body is so disfigured that you can’t tell what it is.

You feel sick.

“Y/N.”

You’d nearly forgotten you’d called Yoongi, nearly forgotten he was going to come here. At least this time his appearance doesn’t make you jump.

“Y/N,” his voice is louder and when you look over your shoulder you can see his silhouette outlined by the streetlights behind him.

“Here,” your voice is hoarse, but his head still snaps in your direction. You don’t watch as he stomps in your direction, can just hear his annoyed mutters as he gets closer.

“- told you to stay. Assumed that would be clear enough to mean the entrance of the graveyard not the fucking darkest spot. What if something had –” he cuts himself off when he comes to your side. You expect him to question what he’s looking at but he remains silent. You guess it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“I saw whatever it was,” you say, drawing Yoongi’s attention to you. “I chased it but it –”

“I’m sorry,” his tone it tight, terse and gets you to look at him. His features are just as stern. He looks livid. “You did what?”

“It ran off before I could see what or who it was.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” his tone almost has you stepping away from him in surprise. It’s been a while since you heard him speak to you like this.

“Oh right, sorry. Didn’t realise I had to wait for you to arrive before I went and found out what’s been causing all this.”

“Do you have a death wish or something?” It’s a rhetorical question, still he continues before you can answer with a snarky comment. “I asked you to stay put and wait for me. Not run headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, and what help would you have been?”

“Probably none. But at least we would have been together.”

Together. The word feels so weird to associate with you and Yoongi that it makes you pause. Both of you stare at each other through the white fog created by your breath.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Yoongi’s voice is softer, still tense but less accusing now. “Shall we leave?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, take one last glance as the dead animal before nodding your head.

Yoongi waits for you to lead the way, closely following behind you. He doesn’t leave your side until you’re safely back at your house. Even then he looks reluctant to leave you.

Yoongi doesn’t appear at your weekly shop. You don’t bump into him in the street. It’s the week off for your games club.

What once would have been a week you’d have loved, now seems weird.

You don’t miss him, but you notice his absence. You find yourself looking for him when the door opens in the grocery shop. You find yourself looking over your shoulder when walk to work. You find yourself listening to Seokjin a little more closely, just in case Yoongi’s mentioned. Everywhere you go, you look for signs of him.

He’s not mentioned. He’s not there. And strangely, you feel it. Even Tofu reminds you of him now.

All of it only pushes you more into working out what’s going around town.

There haven’t been many dead animals in a while, but that doesn’t comfort you. You’re on edge all the time, waiting for something else to turn up. You fear this time it won’t be an animal that you see, which only makes you think about the whole situation more.

The police have gone quiet, not that they were doing much in the first place, but they at least were looking into the abandoned house in the woods. And then there was the graveyard. Maybe it’s moved to another location to sleep, but whenever you try and think of somewhere it could sleep, there’s nowhere.

When you think of all the times you saw dead animals, the time you saw whatever it was in the graveyard. There’s a thread. Thin, but a lead none the less.

You have a plan.

He wasn’t best pleased when you didn’t tell him last time you did something like this. You could text him your plan, or call him, or just not bother saying anything at all. Still, you find your feet walking towards Yoongi’s shop.

The lights are still on and as you approach the glass door you can see Yoongi’s shadow moving around in the back room.

You pause only a beat before knocking on the door. As expected, Yoongi’s head pops out from behind the door to the back, his lips popped open in that way you’ve grown to know is his thinking face. It’s cute.

The thought jolts you. Maybe it’s why you give an awkward wave of your hand, forcing a smile onto your lips as Yoongi tries to smother his as he heads to the door. He doesn’t unlock it before he opens it.

“It wasn’t locked.”

“I noticed,” you say through your forced smile. He makes it hard for you to like him.

“Ok, well you know for next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“You coming in or ..?”

“No.”

“Ok,” he pauses, waits for you to explain. As always, his patients outlives yours.

“I, uh, I’m going back to the cottage in the woods.”

His head cocks to the side, surprised. You carry on before he can get annoyed.

“I thought I’d tell you. Only because, you know, you seemed pretty pissed off last time I didn’t.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw. But he just nods his head, his hand slipping from the door.

“Give me a minute.”

And with that he turns and leaves you standing alone at the door.

You fiddle with your fingers, shift your weight from foot to foot. Yoongi’s quick to grab a jacket and appear back at the door. His reaction is expected at this point, but it doesn’t make it easier, the way he comes so easily without question. Especially given the fact that you so easily came here. You’re not one to easily ask for help.

“You alright?”

You force the smile back on your face, not sure if the gesture is reassuring or makes you look more manic. “Yep, good, great. You?”

He hums, you definitely need to chill out. Any second now and he’s going to call it a night before it’s even begun.

Yoongi locks the shop, tests the handle to double check and then you’re both walking.

“What you been up to recently?” You shoot a look at him as if his question proves he knows how much you’ve been missing him this past week. He doesn’t look like he’s been secretly watching you or hearing things through your friends, he looks like he’s genuinely interested.

“Uh, just work,” it’s awkward and it gains you a small smile from Yoongi.

“And works made you want to go back to the cottage?”

It throws you, like most things Yoongi says. It puts you on edge even though he says it lightly, the smile still on his lips.

“Oh come on,” he laughs the words. “Did Jin tell you the police had been back?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what’s changed?”

Your whole demeanours changed since first seeing him. You’re on edge, preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say. You knew he wouldn’t be happy about this, you just hope he won’t talk you out of this.

“Nothings changed,” you say flatly. “I still want to find out whatever’s happening.”

“And you always have to do that when it’s pitch black out?”

He laughs at his joke, you only clench your teeth. His laugh continues as he looks at you, low and light, but meeting your pissed off makes him realise you’re not on the same page.

“Hey,” he mutters, hand coming out clasping your wrist, bringing you both to a steady stop. You don’t look at him, but also don’t pull away. “Let’s go later, when it’s light out. Come back to mine and we’ll have a cuppa.”

You shake your head. No. Being stubborn has never been one of your best traits.

“I have a theory,” you admit. He waits, hand still holding you in place. You take a breath before explaining. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But I was just thinking about it and every time I’ve seen an animal it’s been at night, or just as the day’s started. And when we last went to the house it was night and there was nothing there. I just thought, maybe, it hunts at night and if we went now, in the morning, we might see it.”

“Ok,” he says gently. He doesn’t point out that if you waited a couple of hours like he suggested your theory might still be proven. Maybe he sees how anxious you are to do this, how you couldn’t sleep last night after thinking the theory, how the minute you could class the day as starting you got ready to go. His eyes roam your face for a second, his fingers holding onto you for a second longer before letting you slip away “Let’s go now.”

Both of you walk in silence as you head towards the path that’ll lead you to the house. Slipping into the trees the day only grows darker.

You’re lost in thought as you walk. You’d not considered your plan this far in advance, maybe a small part of you had thought Yoongi would stop you, but there he is next to you. Your thoughts turn to whether your theory is right. If that happens then you’re about to come face to face with whatever is doing this. And then what?

As different scenarios flash through your head you get distracted. The darkness, your distracted mind and the tree roots littering the path is a combination that has your feet tripping. Your hands go out to break your fall and while it stops your from hitting your head, it doesn’t stop the pain.

Your hands and knees bang into and then scrape along the ground. The pain starts in your right knee but it flares brighter in your hands. Yoongi is down by your side before you can lift them up to inspect the damage.

“You ok?” There’s no hint of anything but worry.

His one hand is light on the small of your back, while the other goes to your hands as you lift them from the ground, not quite touching but hovering around them, unsure. There’s a sharp intake of breath as you turn them palm side up. You can’t see any cuts, but that’s more because there’s too much blood to see where it’s being produced.

“Let’s get you up.”

Yoongi’s hand moves from your back to your hip and though you don’t need his help, it’s nice to have his support as you scramble up from the ground. You know he’s a one step at a time sort of guy and you also know with how bad this cut is what his next words are going to be. It’s why, when you’re stood up, you turn your hand away from him, push it down to your side as you stand facing him.

“It’s ok,” you say before he can speak.

A frown forms between his brows. “We should go clean that.”

“It’s fine.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“And yet, it’s fine. We should keep goi–”

“You must be joking if you think we’re still going.”

“Then call me Nicole Byer, because clearly I’m fucking hilarious.”

“I don’t know who the fuck that is,” Yoongi says flatly. “I’m not taking another step unless it’s in the direction of my house.”

“Relax,” you say despite clenching your own jaw. “It doesn’t hurt that muc- ow!”

You accidentally brush your hand against your leg causing a flash of pain. One of Yoongi’s eyebrows quirks, a sign of him letting you know he’s right. Your jaw only clenches tighter in response.

You’re about to protest further but the sound of a branch snapping behind you stops you.

Yoongi’s eyes shoot over your shoulder as you grow tense. There’s another snapping twig, closer. You can only watch Yoongi’s reaction to whatever is playing out behind you. The way he tenses, his eyes wide, his skin losing all its colour, only terrifies you.

You open your mouth, about to ask what’s happening as you start to twist. Yoongi’s eyes snap to you. He lunges, takes the step to close the distance between you and closes his arms around you.

“Shhh,” he whispers into your hair.

There’s no comfort in this embrace. It’s all fear and tension. You want to know what he’s seen, need to know what’s going on. As if predicting this, Yoongi speaks again.

“Don’t move.”

Despite the words you do the opposite, Yoongi’s hands tighten around you in response.

“What is it?”

He shushes you. Not rudely, but in a quiet way, a panicked way. It only makes you want to twist in his arms more, which only makes his grip tighten.

“Y/N,” he mutters, his lips right by your ear. “Please, for once, listen to me.”

“What is it?” You whisper back.

“Nothing.”

It takes a second for him to reconsider. And then before he can clarify his hands are on your hips and moving you from his front to behind him, his whole body a shield as another branch snaps, the closest one yet.

You can see it now. Over Yoongi’s shoulder, hidden behind his back.

It’s like nothing you’ve seen before. More human than animal. But less human than anything you’ve seen.

It’s walking slowly towards you. Its movements distorted, head jolting from side to side with every step it takes, arms held out limp in front. It’s wearing clothes but they’re ripped and torn showing scarred skin underneath. Its head, if you can call it that with hollow sockets where eyes should be, thin to little hair and a flattened nose, lifts in the air.

It’s stops then. The action should feel comforting, if only a little, but it moves its head around as if sniffing the air.

And then it looks right at you.

Body no longer moving, you feel like your breath has stopped. Yoongi’s grip tightens on you, his whole body tensing as if he’s readying to fight.

The blood on your hand, you realise. The cut that you created only moments ago is what has brought it here. It kills animals, devours them presumably for food. And now it’s sniffing the air as if it’s about to do the same to you.

And while you’re utterly petrified at whatever that thing is and what it might do to you, the strangest sensation washes over you.

You don’t want Yoongi to die.

Sure, you also don’t want to die. But he told you to run while he was going to stay and fight. He’s now protecting you like a human shield. He’s now gripping you as if he’s feeling exactly the same way about you.

Oh god. Do you like Yoongi? Like, more than like Yoongi?

The answer doesn’t have time to form in your mind as the thing jerks, drawing your attention back to it. Yoongi pushes back into you, clearly also shocked, but in doing so he knocks into your hand, pain coursing from the cut there. He must realise, hearing you suck in your breath or maybe from your body language, because his hold on that side of you softens.

Both of your focus still on the thing and waiting to see what it’s going to do.

To your surprise, and utter relief, it takes one last sniff, turns and then runs away. Both you and Yoongi stay where you are for a second longer, just in case. But only a couple of seconds pass from it disappearing from view to Yoongi letting you go enough to turn and face you. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs your good hand and starts to lead you out of the woods and back to his place.

Your hand is clutched to your chest as Yoongi tears around the room. You thought you’d seen Yoongi mad before, but it was nothing in comparison to this. You can’t even take in his home, which you’ve never been in before, due to your eyes tracking his every movement, unsure what he’s going to do next.

He tears open a cupboard door so forcefully you think he might rip it off from the hinges. You bite back any words you might have; you don’t want to add to his annoyance, but your hand is also throbbing so badly that you just want something to help with the pain.

“Why do you keep doing it?” He spits the words out as he searches in the cupboard for anything to help mend you. “Why do you care so much? You always hated this place and yet you’re so fucking obsessed with that thing.”

You tuck your hand a little closer, blood dripping onto your already ruined top. Your stare is firm when he twists round to look at you, bandages in his hands. His look is like thunder, still you hold it. Tension rises as neither of you break the stare or the silence in the room. When Yoongi speaks it’s soft, almost croaky with emotion.

“You could have gotten us killed.”

Your eyes drop at the words. Maybe it’s the shock setting in that’s making him lash out, but he doesn’t need to say it out loud, you were both there and you both know you were only there because of you and that thing only came because of your blood. You almost killed him. And what’s even more confusing is he was going to act as your human shield.

There’s a deep sigh before the sound of feet shuffling towards you. A scrape of a chair before you see the tops of Yoongi’s feet. When he sits his legs are framing yours, his knees almost touching yours. Still you don’t look at him.

“Let’s see it then.”

His voice is gruff and doesn’t inspire you to give over your injured hand. Yoongi must realise, he’s much more observant than you thought. Shuffling closer his knees press into yours as he lays his hand face up on your lap so you can see it.

You look up at his face. There’s a pleading look in his eyes, like he really wants to help you.

Reluctantly you lay your hand in his, keep your eyes on his face so as not to see the cut. Yoongi looks down at it and lets out a sharp hiss. The noise makes you start to pull away but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and stop you.

“It’s ok,” he mutters, his free hand trying to sort out the things he needs.

“It doesn’t sound ok.”

“There’s just more blood than I expected.”

“My now red shirt didn’t allude to that?” Your tone is snappy despite the attempt to joke.

“It’s ok though,” he pauses, looking up at you with a smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have to cut it off.”

You flush, have to look over his shoulder to stop the tightness in your chest. It’s a terrible dad joke, something Seokjin would say, and yet you find it loosening you.

“I’m going to clean your hand,” he goes back to his muttering. “It might sting a little.”

The wipe touches the outside of your palm, as far from the cut as possible. Yoongi works it over your skin in gentle swipes, getting closer and closer to the cut. He pauses before he wipes the cut and then, holding your hand firmly in his, he runs the wipe over it. Instinctively you try to close your hand, but Yoongi doesn’t let you.

“It’s ok,” he says, gently. “Just a little more and then it’ll all be over.”

He continues, muttering about how he has to do it to stop any infection, how the cuts not that bad but maybe you should go to the doctors in the morning and keeps repeating how close to finishing he is.

He doesn’t say anything as he puts some cream on your cut and then wraps a bandage around your hand. It gets a little unnerving. You liked his gentle mutters, found comfort in it. But the silence is horrible, worse even then when he was slamming the cabinet doors. At least then you knew how he felt. Now, you have no idea.

“Thanks,” you say as he twists away from you and starts to clean. The only thing that gives you a little hope you haven’t completely messed this up is that he hasn’t drawn completely away from you, his knees are still firmly pressed into yours.

You nudge your leg into his. His movements stall for a second, not much but enough to create another spark of hope. Still, he doesn’t look at you, just continues to clean. Or maybe he’s just pretending to clean.

You move to knee him again, a little harder, a more distinct movement to tell him you want him to look at you.

The smile that was starting to grow drops as Yoongi pushes away to stand.

Eyes wide, you follow his movements. Heart pounding in your throat you watch as he runs a hand down his face.

Maybe you misread everything. Maybe these feelings aren’t two sided. Maybe Yoongi is genuinely just being nice. But how could you have read this all so wrong? As if to answer the question you silently watch him for any signs.

He goes back to cleaning up, winding up bandages, creating a neat little line of safety pins, something for the sake of nothing. He’s avoiding you; being near you, looking at you, talking to you. Everything. And it only makes your heart pound that bit harder.

You should leave him to it, you shouldn’t push him. But something makes you reach out and take his wrist, the same gesture he’s done to you so many times before. It gets him to stop his movements if nothing else. But he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the counter.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name. It’s spoken like a question, one you’re not even sure the meaning of.

His eyes flick to you, his body still facing away from you, your hand still wrapped around his wrist.

An unknown confidence sparks inside you despite the fact your throat tightens. You swallow before slipping your hand lower. Yoongi lets you lace your fingers with his, his eyes tracking the movement before they look back at you, a small frown now between his eyes. You try not to worry about how your actions could be a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the words are said as gently as his name was.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to apologise.”

You nod, not sure what he wants you to say instead. He doesn’t enlighten you to what he does want and the fact only makes you more desperate. There was a time, not so long ago, when you wouldn’t have cared what Yoongi thought of you, in fact, him ignoring you would have been welcomed. You would have done anything to push him away. But now, you don’t want that.

“Yoongi,” your voice sounds pleading as you push yourself to stand. He doesn’t back away, doesn’t pull his hand out of your grasp, so in the end you’re chest to chest with him, bodies not quite touching.

“I don’t get you,” he says, and though it’s not what you want to hear, you’re so relieved to hear him talk that you just want to hear him continue. Because you can’t lose him too, all your other friends didn’t believe you, they left you to do this alone, only Yoongi stayed by your side and now after one mistake, you can’t lose him too. “I don’t get why you keep pushing this.”

You know why. You may not have realised the day you saw that dead bird in your kitchen or when you started to realise that wasn’t an isolated incident. You didn’t read into it, probably because it was too painful to admit. But now you know why. You just can’t seem to admit that to Yoongi.

Your eyes dart over his shoulder. “Because that thing is killing animals in –”

Panic. That’s all you feel as Yoongi shakes his head and starts to pull away from you. Heart hammering you chase after him, scramble to reattach your hands.

You can’t lose him too.

“Because so many things have died in my life, so many people, that I can’t risk any more dying.”

The words fly out of you. They ring around the room in the silence that follows. Neither of you are moving anymore. Yoongi stopped at your admission and you followed suit not long after. His brow is furrowed even though you thought he would have guessed that was the reason why, just wanted you to admit it, show you trust him.

It pains you to carry on. But it’s as if now you’ve said one thing, you can’t stop.

“Because my mum died. And then my dad. And honestly, I can’t let anyone else die,” your voice is pained, starting to take on a husky quality as the emotions start to build in you. “Because that thing is starting to kill bigger and bigger things and who’s to say it won’t be Jin next, or Liv … or you.”

It doesn’t look like it was the answer he was expecting. But as soon as the first tears slips out of your eyes he’s back on you, arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest, lips by your ear as he tries to sooth you.

“I can’t … let … anyone,” your words stop coming out, throat closing as tears continue to fall down your face and sobs wrack your body.

Yoongi pulls you tighter against him, letting out a soothing shush in your ear.

“It’s not going to kill anyone. I won’t let it.”

You nod, even knowing Yoongi has no power over that. Your throat is too tight to speak.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

It doesn’t feel that way but you want to believe him regardless. You trust him and over the past few weeks you’ve started to rely on and lean on him for support. Even if he can’t do anything, maybe it’s best you start letting someone in, help hold the load that’s been weighing so heavily on you. Together, that’s the words Yoongi used and it’s one you need to start believing in.

Your breath comes out as a shudder as you pull away from Yoongi’s chest, just enough to be able to look into his eyes. They’re full of concern as he flicks between yours, deep gorges of worry lining his forehead.

Neither of you move. Neither of you speak. You’re hardly even breathing as you stare at him from what feel like a breath away.

A tension rises between the two of you, one you’ve felt before, but this time there’s nothing causing it to break and you find yourself not wanting to break it.

It’s you that leans in. It would feel like a risk but knowing everything Yoongi has hinted at about how he feels – or at least felt – about you and after growing so much closer over the past few weeks, you’re confident he wants this as much as you do. And you know, or at least can guess, that the first move will always have to come from you. There’s too much troubled history between you and Yoongi seems like one of those guys that wouldn’t be able to read a sign if it was right in front of him.

He’s still when your lips touch his and you’d bet if you opened your eyes you’d see him looking back at you. Lips curling at the edges at the thought of how affected you’re making him, you push further into him, take his bottom lip between yours and tug it gently.

You feel him gasp, his fingers tightening on your hips. You smile again as you start to pull away. But Yoongi’s finally woken up from whatever shock possessed him. He chases after you, so eager that he pushes too much of his weight into you causing you to have to step back.

Still in his arms you laugh as your lips pull apart. How have you gone from Yoongi slamming doors and shouting at you that you nearly killed him, to this? It’s surreal.

Holding you steady in his arm Yoongi attaches his lips back on yours. There’s no laugh on his lips and he effectively kisses yours away.

There’s so much want in his kiss. His fingers curling around to your back, tugging you impossibly closer as if he needs more and more of you, wants to make sure he’s not missing out on a single thing.

All your thoughts simmer down until only those of Yoongi are left. The feel of his hands, so large, on your back. The push of his legs against yours. The taste of his tongue as it pushes against yours. The feel of his slightly chapped lips. The smooth plane of his nose running along yours, dragging along your skin as he twists and turns his head to get the perfect angle to kiss you. The coolness clinging to his hair as you tangle your fingers in it.

Every part of him is a contrast. And every part of him you want more of.

You push into him, too hard to begin with so that he has to take a step back. You laugh while Yoongi remains serious, hands on your hips dragging you back onto him. His lips steal your laugh, swallowing it as his hands start to roam your body. Laugh turning into a moan, you arch up into him, try and silently encourage him as your own hands wonder the panes of his body.

He’s solid. Far more than you thought he would be.

You shift, your thigh grating along his body. You’d not noticed before, your bodies pressed fully against him, but obviously not there. He’s hard. And now you’ve felt it you realise how much he must be straining in his pants. While Yoongi tries to twist away, get back to the position you were in where you couldn’t feel him pressing into you, you try to chase the feeling of him. Because, damn, is that how turned on he is from making out with you?

“Stop,” he pulls away, hand firm on your hips to make sure you follow the command, the other going down to his crotch to adjust himself.

You smile at him, glance down at where his hand is to see what you’ve only felt until now. When you look back up at his face, he’s finding it hard to hide the amusement he’s feeling.

Pushing forward you steal a kiss before he can stop you.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?”

The question should be obvious but it seems to throw Yoongi off, the hand on your hip tightening as his face quirks in surprise. Your heart squeezes.

“You know, so we can …” you drift off, not quite able to spell it out so plainly. Still Yoongi doesn’t say or do anything, your words seeming to freeze him. “Unless you just want to continue making out in your kitchen?”

His eyes flash to your lips then just as quickly go back to your eyes. Colour lights his cheeks. You think he��s going to chicken out, think you’ve moved too fast or said something wrong, read him wrong, but then he’s moving. He nearly grabs your injured hand, but just as his fingers graze the bandage wrapped around your hand he pulls away. You laugh as you hold out your other hand. Back to being serious Yoongi takes your hand and leads you through his house.

You catch glimpses of his house as you head through his hall and up his stairs. It’s not much smaller than your house, a narrow hallway leading to some steep stairs. There aren’t many photos, not a lot to tell you about the man in front of you. A few pieces of art, even fewer photos, all on white walls; clean and tastefully placed, rather than the more chaotic and colourful approach you take.

It’s very Yoongi, you realise. And the fact that doesn’t worry you tells you everything.

As soon as you walk through Yoongi’s bedroom door, you’re back on him. Tugging his hand, you get him to twist towards you before you push into him and place your lips back on his. Even as your tongues tangle you don’t stop moving. Your hands go under his t-shirt, feeling the smooth yet hard panes there. You feel his muscles go taught as your hands go higher.

You smile against his lips, satisfied with the reaction you gained. Your hands start to go higher but stop when Yoongi’s hands take a handful of your ass. Gasping you pull away from him, pulling your hands out from under his top you lightly slap his chest.

“It’s a good ass,” he defends, as if that would help.

You hit him again, still soft but a little harder so that you push him backwards. He laughs and when you go to push him again, he takes your wrists in his hand. He easily tugs you back into his arms, keeping your hands pressed between you as he gently kisses you.

Nipping and tugging, he pulls your lips gently between his teeth before kissing the spot better. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips but when you open up for him, he doesn’t go in. He’s teasing you and while it frustrates you, it really turns you on.

Building you up to a point where your hands are tugging to be out of his grasp, he finally lets you go.

You tear at his clothes, struggle for a second to find the hem to his top but when you do you break away from his lips to tug the material over his head. Making the most of the opportunity, Yoongi rids you of your top in a similar manner, his eyes roaming your chest appreciatively. Rolling your eyes you reach behind you and remove your bra, giving him something to actually look at. Colour tints his cheeks but his eyes don’t move away.

“You just going to stand there?” You smile, working at the button of your jeans.

Your trousers are halfway down your legs before Yoongi comes back to himself, the colour remaining on his cheeks as his hands go to his trousers.

“You got a condom?” You say when you’re both naked and your lips are back on each other, the back of your knees touching the bed.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters but doesn’t move from the spot in your arms.

Too transfixed by him, it takes a second for you to do anything. “Are you going to get it?”

He hums against your lips. “In a minute.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Yoongi. Still neither of you break from each other.

A minute passes and then another. Hardly any time but enough time for you to want more.

“You going to get that condom?” You say against his lips, only gaining a hum in response.

It feels like torture to pull away from him. You let your legs dip beneath you as you sit down on the bed behind you. Yoongi’s hands fall away from your side, your lips feeling cold without his on them. Now much lower, your eyes are level with one of Yoongi’s other attributes. Only having seen it straining against his trousers before now, you can’t help but admire his hard, thick cock. You don’t even realise you start to lean towards it until Yoongi steps away, a deep laugh leaving him.

His hand wraps around himself as you continue to watch. Dragging your eyes up to his, you curl your lips into a smile. He doesn’t react, his face flat as he stares down at you. You swallow, swear a pool is starting to form between your legs. And then he nods his head to the headboard, and you know you’re dripping.

He’s silent as he drifts away from you, cock still wrapped up in his hand. Your eyes track him as he walks to his draw. He pauses before looking over his shoulder at you. Fuck. He doesn’t have to say a word to get you shuffling back up his bed.

The draw opens and as Yoongi walks back over to you he rips open the foil pack, dumping the rubbish on the floor but keeping the condom rolled up as he crawls onto the bed. Your breathing feels heavy and laboured as he crawls towards you and then knees either side of you, shuffles over you. He stops only when his knees are level with your hips.

You watch, breathless, as Yoongi kneels over you and rolls the condom down his length.

Is this happening? Are you really about to have sex with this guy? It’s not even that, are you really about to have sex with Yoongi? The guy who hated you, who you disliked, who you couldn’t even be in the same room with only a few months ago.

Even as you watch him rolling the condom on. Even as you’re lay naked beneath him. It’s hard to believe.

“Hey,” the word makes you drag your eyes up to Yoongi’s face, now full of concern rather than lust. “You sure you’re ok with this?”

You nod, then realise that you should verbalise your feelings. “Yeah.”

“We can stop. We don’t have to go any further.”

“I want to,” you reach a hand up and he leans in so you can more easily run your hand along his jaw. It’s a contrast to all the heat between you up until now. “I just can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either.”

You feel like you mean it in different ways. The way Yoongi says it doesn’t make you think he means he can’t believe he’s about to have sex with the girl he hated not so long ago. No, he looks like a man who’s dreams are all coming true.

Yoongi leans down, chest resting on yours as his lips touch yours. Slowly, deeply, with so much love that you try not to read into, you kiss each other. Tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing, lips pushing and pulling.

You reach down between your bodies but before you can get to where you’re aiming, Yoongi’s on you. In that all familiar way his hand encompasses your wrist. He doesn’t even have to break the kiss as he drags your hand back up your body and pins it over your head. The whine you let out is halfway between pleasure and dissatisfaction. You want more and you want it now.

Yoongi is slow to give it to you. His hand pinning one of yours above your head, the other injured one he’s more careful with.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You’re so drunk on him that you can’t comprehend the words just yet. Arching up into him you just try and let him know how much you want him too. Still, he takes his time with you.

Kissing you for another excruciatingly long minute, Yoongi finally reaches down to grab the one thing you want. He never breaks the kiss as he runs his tip between your folds, but when he comes to rest at your entrance. Forehead pushing against yours, his breaths are heavy as they mingle with yours, chest heaving so much that it dips low onto yours.

He doesn’t push into you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kiss you or move. Just looks down between your bodies breathing so heavily you begin to wonder whether it’s him that’s not ok with this.

His hand now loose on your wrist you easily pull out of his grasp. Gently your run your fingers through his hair, his eyes flicking to yours at the gesture. You don’t rush to speak, let the moment linger for a second.

Eyes now on yours, you don’t even get a chance to speak before Yoongi’s pushing into you. Just the tip to start. In and out in slow yet satisfying motions. Your eye contact never breaks. Even as he starts to push deeper into you, even when the pleasure becomes so much you have to fight to keep your eyes open, your contact never breaks.

Pushing your feet onto the bed you angle your hips so you can push up into Yoongi every time he grinds down into you. Deepening how much Yoongi goes into you, increasing the pleasure, which seemingly only gets Yoongi to stop.

“Fuck,” he elongates the word as he comes to a stop fully in you, his eyes closing and head dipping. “Please don’t do that.”

It takes you a second. He doesn’t want you to help him? Only wants you to lie there looking pretty? But then it occurs to you.

“What, this?” You say as you clench around him.

He lets out a low growl like sound, his jaw tight as he angles head to look back at you.

“Just give me a minute, ok?”

You smile, at least it seems that one thing hasn’t changed, your joy for winding him up hasn’t diminished. “You going to come so early?”

A nerve in his jaw ticks, his eyes darken.

“And what you going to do, huh?” You carry on when he doesn’t respond. “If I don’t stop?”

You wait a second and then smirk as you clench around him.

“No, seriously,” he says, voice strained as his chest buckles in towards you. “I need a second.”

You bite back your laugh because that’s not going to help this. Hand going to his head you run soothing lines across his scalp, pushing him to relax into the crook of your neck. It’s flattering, honestly, because even though you’re not gaining much physical pleasure right now, Yoongi being so affected by being inside you is such an ego boost.

Slowly, as if not wanting to move too fast too quickly, Yoongi begins to move again. His head remains where it fell on your skin, his forehead pushing into you, lips hovering just over your skin, breath coming out in huffs that fan out across your skin.

His pace builds. From long, slow movements, to faster and quicker thrusts. Your head falls back, you can’t stop yourself from arching up into him, your hips gyrating into Yoongi on their own accord. This time he doesn’t tell you off, doesn’t stop, just keeps going.

“I’m going to come soon,” he admits more breath than words.

You can’t even speak, words losing all meaning before they can leave your mouth. Instead you hum out your agreement. You’re so close, his tip running along every seam within you.

He shifts on the bed, skin becoming slick with sweat, he adjusts his knees either side of you so he can thrust deeper but slips as he does so. Though not graceful, it pushes him into you at such an angle that has you groaning out.

“Oh,” he says in his own bout of pleasure, pausing just long enough to feel you loosen around him before thrusting into you again, trying and succeeding to hit that same spot. You twist in pleasure beneath him, the coil in your stomach knotting and tightening. “That’s the spot?”

You don’t respond, can’t respond, as Yoongi leans over you hold your hip on the side of your injured hand and your arm on the other side, pinning you in place as he thrusts again. He makes it harder to move, puts you in a position you’re at his mercy. You’ve let him know your weak spot and he’s going to use it against you.

The moans fall from your mouth of their own accord as Yoongi punctuates every spot by making sure he hits that spot within you. Every time you can flutter your eyes open you see his own face contorted in pleasure, screwed up in a way that lets you know he’s fighting every instinct to come.

Reaching a hand between you, you sloppily place a finger on the bunch of nerves to help you get to your release. With every thrust you feel Yoongi’s skin on the back of your hand. With every thrust the coil in your centre tightens and tightens.

“You close?” Yoongi can barely get the words out, his hips never stopping for a second. “Please tell me you’re close.”

You let the question go unanswered again. Unable to answer him. But yes, you’re so fucking close. And as if spurred on or maybe just growing impatient or possibly just chasing his own release, Yoongi dips back down onto you, his hips flush with yours as he puts more power behind each thrust. One, two, three, four short but powerful thrusts is all it takes for you to come. And on the fifth Yoongi stutters and comes in the condom.

His hips continue to move, slower, shallower, as he mumbles words you can’t hear against your skin.

Too tired to move, you both stay like that for a few minutes, when Yoongi finally pulls out you’re already half asleep. You try to rouse yourself, you should head home but Yoongi’s hand grazes your forehead.

“You should sleep,” he mutters.

Too tired to protest or think much about where you’re with, how significant it could be to stay the night, you fall asleep.

The last thing you’re aware of is a light press of lips on your temple.

A twig snaps.

Your heart hammers as you look around the woods. It’s so dark but the moon is bright tonight and it’s letting you see the outlines of the trees around you, but nothing else.

Another twig snaps. This time louder. Closer.

You twist, heart hammering as you look behind you.

There’s nothing there and it only terrifies you more. There’s something out there, watching you, getting closer and you can’t see it.

Snap.

You twist a final time and there it is. Limbs disjointed. Movements jolty. You watch as that thing takes another slow step towards you. It’s still far away, but it’s getting closer. You would twist and run but when you try and move this time you find you can’t. Looking down your feet are in thick, wet mud.

Panic sets it. Withering and pulling and fighting you try to escape the mud keeping you trapped while that thing gets closer and closer.

Snap.

You want to scream, but your voice catches in your throat. Silent and stuck you become a victim to whatever it wants to do to you. You can’t escape.

You watch in horror as it tilts it’s head in that now familiar way, seeming to sniff the air. You expect it to twist away like it did before. Expect it to be repelled rather than attracted to your scent. What you don’t expect is its head snapping in your direction.

You finally let out a scream as the thing comes running towards you.

You wake with a jolt. Feel sweaty in the bed from the dream you just had. Heart still pounding from what you’ve just witnessed.

Just a dream, you try to reassure yourself, despite it feeling so real.

The next thought that goes through your head is that this isn’t your bed. The arm draped over your waist isn’t something you normally wake up to. And yet it doesn’t add to your panic, if anything it helps calm you down.

Twisting, you roll over so you’re facing the person next to you.

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy with sleep, barely open as a smile transforms his face.

“Morning.”

Your stomach flips at the dark husk that is his morning voice. Yoongi’s hand tightens on your hip, his fingers rough on your skin but so nice. It brings back flashes of last night, only heating you up more.

“Hi,” you whisper back causing Yoongi’s smile to broaden.

A silence falls over the two of you, not awkward or weighted but comfortable. Yoongi’s fingers steady on your hip, a small comforting movement on your skin. Sleep still heavy on your brain, laying in bed, in Yoongi’s arms, you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

That is until you shift, the initial aim to get more comfortable, but your leg bends and pushes a little too close to Yoongi. You feel him, not quite erect but still hard.

Every nerve in your body comes alive, the point on your leg that touched him retains the feeling. Even though you touched him all last night, had him inside you, have now slept in his arms, you still feel unsure how to react. Do you call it out, try and be sexy and cool, two words you’d never associate with yourself? Or do you pretend nothing happened, something you once would have done but now unsure if that’s how you should be?

Yoongi, the ever-patient man, let’s you think it out.

“It’s weird,” you say, surprising both of you by speaking so calmly as well as the actual words. “I would never have thought I’d wake in bed next to you.”

Even though the words come out as rude, Yoongi smiles, his fingers squeezing your side. “The Min Yoongi.”

You giggle, shuffling closer into him, though careful to avoid anywhere your leg touched earlier.

“I’m pretty sure my fifteen-year-old self wouldn’t believe this is happening either.”

It’s something he’s alluded to before, something you’ve never pushed for more information but now you have the chance.

“Because he hated me?” You say it with a smile, a hint of a joke, but it’s a serious question you want to know the answer to.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I would have used.”

“It’s what I always thought.”

“I guess I was a bit of a dick with all the nerves I felt around you.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t believe me?” He says. When you nod your head he hums in thought, the hand on your hip pulling you even closer to him so that his hand can rest on your back, your chests ghosting each other, your faces only inches away so that you could hear each other even if you whispered. It’s like, even though you’re the only two in the room to hear whatever is spoken, you want to make sure these words are only for the other. “Jimin mentioned there was a new cute new girl who started before I ever met you. He thought anything with a heartbeat was attractive, so I didn’t think much about it, until you walked into that first lesson.”

You can’t smile at anything he’s saying. It all feels too real. Probably because it is real. All these things he’s hinted at in the weeks you’ve been getting to know him and yet it still feels strange to have such a shift in what you believed to be real.

“I don’t really know what I thought. I’ve never really reacted that way at just the look of someone. You just looked so beautiful and perfect and my hormonal self really struggled when you started to walk towards me and I realised you were going to sit beside me,” he smiles as your heart pounds. “Fuck,” he chuckles the words. “Let’s just say I wish I had a pillow.”

“So you asked to move seats?” Your voice is raspy, but neither of you draw attention to it.

“You really I think I could have sat next to you when that was my first reaction to seeing you?”

You laugh, “what did you tell Miss Talbot to get her to move you?”

He shrugs, the colour tinting his cheeks telling you a different story. It warms your heart thinking of that boy you knew from school doing all of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” you say. “I can’t believe you actually liked me.”

He hums again, his eyes flicking over your face. “I think I more than liked you.”

“You had such a funny way of showing it.”

He groans, closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing into yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. You can only laugh.

“I was an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to react around beautiful girls.”

“How did you ever pull?”

“I hardly did,” he mutters into your neck.

Your heart clenches, your hands going to the messy strands of hair on his head. “Still, I really did think you hated me,” you pause then add, “even when I moved back, I thought you hated me.”

He pulls away from you, holds his weight so that he’s resting above you. His eyes are intense now, no longer half closed and sleepy, but instead are awake and dark.

“I’ve been a dick,” he repeats, no excuses made. “Can I make it up to you?”

You watch as his eyes flick to your lips, a clear message of how he hopes to make it up to you. It’s still weird, still takes you a second to comprehend just who this is and what you want him to do to you.

It’s so different from last night, at least the start when you were the one who was having to push him. That shy, nervous guy is gone now.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He’s slow to lean down into you. Slower still to move his lips against yours. Nose pushing into you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. There are so many emotions behind everything he does, as if if wants to tell you things without using words.

Even when he pulls another condom out, rolls it on and pushes into you, his movements are slow. His lips reattach themselves as he rolls his hips into yours and you try and not think too hard about the fact that all of this feels like way more than just sex.

The bell tingles and for the first time it doesn’t fill you with dread. What you do feel though, is nerves. They’ve been pumping through you before you even saw Yoongi through the window, well before you decided to come here after work, to be honest they started nearly as soon as you left his house this morning.

The door closes slowly behind you. Your focus purely on Yoongi and the way his eyes drag slowly to yours. They’re indifferent to start, start to warm in welcoming a new customer but then burst with shock before settling on what you think is joy, even if he does school his smile down from the beam to a small curl of his lips.

“Oh hey,” your eyes shoot left at the voice, not realising Olivia was even here. “You’re here.”

Her eyes flick to Yoongi, a question on her face that reads what the fuck is going on? when she looks back at you she plasters a smile on her lips.

“Don’t see you here much.”

“Oh right, hi Liv,” you say, not having thought too much about the fact you’d have an audience for this. Turning to Yoongi you’re surprised he’s moved from behind the till, stepping towards you with that same small smile.

“Don’t you have some stock to deal with in the back?” Yoongi asks Liv, predictably she doesn’t move.

As you step towards him you can’t help but remember that this is the first time seeing him after the night you spent together. It was only this morning, but you didn’t do too much talking before you left his place. You heat, try and fail not to suddenly be awkward. Yoongi’s smile only widens, clearly picking up on your behaviour and is clearly very amused by it.

“Hey,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s smile twitches, his eyes alive. “Hi.”

“You ok?”

“Yep,” he pops the p. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” you smile like a fucking teenager who’s in front of her crush.

“Did you come here for anything in particular?” Yoongi’s tone is playful. “Need my help finding anything?”

You laugh, light and gentle. Your mouth opening to come back with some retort. The words never leave your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” it’s Olivia that speaks this time, dragging your attention to her but failing to get Yoongi to stop looking at you. “What the fuck am I watching right now?”

You heat for a second time, find it hard to drag your eyes back to Yoongi even as you can feel his focus still on you. This whole thing is weird enough without Olivia being here.

“I – uh –” you look back at Yoongi for help, he only raises an eyebrow as if also wondering the same thing. “Well, I’ve come for a book.”

You look back at Olivia and smile, though you’re sure the gesture looks more manic than reassuring. Olivia frowns, eyes flicking back to Yoongi with that same unsure look.

“Ok,” she elongates the word as her eyes drag back to you and your still manic smile. “I guess I have work in the back to do then.”

She hesitates a second, reluctant to go as if waiting for you to shout out for her help any second. Slowly, she drags her feet along the floor in the direction of the back room.

“So what book do you want?” Yoongi’s tone is all amusement and cheek.

“Lord of the Rings?” It’s the first book you think of, one that causes Yoongi’s lips to pop open for a second before he nods and starts to lead you around the room.

He takes you to the corner furthest from the open door leading to the back room. His back to you as he searches the shelves you build up the courage you need.

“So, uh, I didn’t actually come here for a book.”

He turns, his face still alight with amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, though his tone suggested that was pretty obvious.

“Well that’s good because I don’t have Lord of the Rings in stock.”

Your eyes flick to the travel books he’s lead you to as if betrayed by something you didn’t even want. The smile is wide on his face when you look back.

“Who doesn’t stock Lord of the Rings?”

“I can order it in if you want?” He lifts an eyebrow, a laugh on his lips. “But I thought you didn’t come here for it?”

“Right,” you flush, eyes darting away from him. The only way you think you’ll be able to ask him is if you don’t keep eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to mine for food tonight?”

Your eyes flick back to his face to gage a reaction. The smile doesn’t fade, his eyes don’t dim. He still looks immensely happy and your heart softens in relief, worry seeping away as if he may answer any other way.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “That would be nice. I can get to you by 7?”

You nod, a smile to match his taking over your whole face. Back to being crushing teenagers you stand for far too long just smiling at each other. The only thing to break you being Olivia dropping something heavy in the background. You jump in the air as you hear a loud ‘sorry’ that doesn’t sound very apologetic.

Flushing you look back to Yoongi who still looks like he couldn’t care any less by the rest of the world. As if, as long as you’re stood in front of him, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“Right,” you mutter. “Well, great, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Yoongi nods, you nod back and then remembering the audience flash your eyes to the back room before darting out of the shop to safety.

Tofu darts out the door when you open it. Yoongi’s stood with a bottle of wine and a large bunch of flowers. You awkwardly take them off him, the items getting in the way enough that all you can exchange is a small half-hug. You flush and ramble about having to find a vase as you lead Yoongi to the kitchen.

“I didn’t even ask if you ate meat,” you say, horrified as you put the flowers in an inch of water in the sink. You look around at the nearly finished meal. “Or if you have any allergies. I mean do you? Because we can order something in or I can run to the shop and get –”

Your words trail off when you turn and look at Yoongi leaning against your counter, a wide smile on his face.

“It looks and smells amazing,” he says.

“It’s just roast chicken.”

He hums, then says in a sweet yet sarcastic tone, “just,” as if there’s nothing throwaway about what you’re making.

“Well,” you say, drifting off and turning away from Yoongi’s gaze. You’re so unused to this Yoongi. Or at least having to interact with this Yoongi like it’s a normal thing. “Shall I pour some wine?”

“Tell me where the glasses are and I’ll do it.”

You look over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “A proper gentleman,” you tease before telling him where he can find them.

You fall into an easy rhythm as you both get on with your own tasks. Yoongi pouring the wine, you managing the food. It’s easy, feels normal. It’s nice.

“Here you go.”

You turn to be given a glass of wine, gladly accept and gulp a large sip. The two of you fall into easy conversation about your days.

There’s a weird noise, a meow that’s high pitched and more a warning than anything. Still half concentrating on Yoongi you flick your eyes over his shoulder.

You see it. Through your kitchen window. It’s in your fucking garden.

You go still before the panic fully sets in. Yoongi’s still talking, his back to the window he’s completely oblivious to what you’re seeing. But that thing is all you can see.

It’s seen something, you can tell. Your heart hammering in your ears, your breath shallow, your mind is slow to catch up to what you’re seeing.

And then you realise.

Your first instinct is to go for a knife you left out to cut the veg. Sharp, powerful, you don’t think any of this through as you start to walk to the door.

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s words are slow to come to your ears, but as you’re slow to head to the door, he’s faster to work out what’s going on. “Fuck.”

Your hand is nearly on the handle when Yoongi stops you. You fight against him, are deaf to his words begging you to stop.

“It’s Tofu,” you blurt. “It’s going for Tofu.”

Yoongi’s hand slackens enough for you to pull out of his grasp. Banging the door open you rush outside, Yoongi hot on your tail.

“Tofu,” you scream as if your cat is like a dog and would run to you. He doesn’t, his attention is solely on that thing. Cornered, Tofu’s fur stands on end, back arched, tail bushy to make him look as big as possible.

Heart still pounding, adrenaline coursing through you, you start towards that thing. You scared it off once, maybe you can do it again.

Something stops you. A tight hand wrapped around your wrist. When you turn to look at Yoongi it’s with betrayal.

“Give me the knife,” he says

“I’ve got this,” you bite back, trying and failing to escape his grasp.

“Give. Me. The. Knife.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he warns.

You look at him, glance over your shoulders to see the thing nearly on top of Tofu. His small furry body starting to shake in the corner of your garden. It’s not stopping. If you don’t do something now it’s going to get him. When you look back at Yoongi you’re sure it’s with desperation.

“Please,” you mutter. “Let me do this.”

His hand slackens, his face softening. You know he’s not happy about this, but he can see why you want to do it. You’ve opened up so much to him, more than anyone else. Still, he doesn’t let you go.

“Please,” you plead.

He shakes his head and your heart drops. But then he releases your arm. Before you can turn and carry on your mission he says, “we do this together.”

You nod though really you have no plan and no time to come up with one. In the time Yoongi stopped you, all your confidence has gone. Your adrenaline is still high but fear is starting to creep in.

“Hey!” Yoongi screams, he gains your attention but you’re not sure it’s done anything to that thing. “Over here mother fucker!”

You’d laugh if this were a different situation, but as it is your face stays steady as you look back towards Tofu. That thing is now looking at you, it hasn’t moved this way but is at least looking, head cocked to the side in an almost unnatural angle.

“Hey,” your voice is croaky, and you have to cough a little to clear it. “Get the fuck away from my cat.”

It comes out clearer. The thing turns and looks fully at you now. And then it starts to move.

“Y/N.”

There’s a flash of white fur as Tofu takes the opportunity to run. The thing is moving straight for you now, faster than you’ve ever seen it move before. It’s why Yoongi shouted your name. It’s why you held up the knife, the only thing you could do, hardly enough time to do anything else.

You scream, guttural, more like a war cry than from terror.

You stick your arm out, feel and hear the knife penetrating skin and then muscle and eventually the cracking of bones. There’s a screech from the monster, high pitched and full of pain. It flails it’s arms, catching your arm and ripping the skin. Still, you manage to hold the knife tight, your own screaming mixing with its. Blood sprays out of it and from your arm. Your injured hands gives a twang of pain as you bring it to grip the knife, twist as you pull out and then stab it again.

This time it pulls away. Movements more disjointed but slow as it slinks away from you. Blood pouring from the wounds. You don’t want to watch but you also can’t look away. You did this, you need to watch the consequences.

Slowly, but eventually, it stops moving. The world is silent and the thing is dead.

There’s blood everywhere. Not quite splattered like the bird you first discovered was, but this time it’s all over you.

Twisting to the side, you throw up all over your lawn. Yoongi’s almost immediately there to hold your hair back and rub your back through the whole thing. He whispers words you hardly hear, things about how it’s ok, how there was no other choice, how he’s going to stay with you for however long you need him. You think that might be forever, and you think if you asked he’d agree.

You remain on the lawn far longer than you should before Yoongi coaxes you inside for a wash. He takes care of everything, the long-forgotten food, Tofu still hiding outside, and you.

It’s all over, you let yourself think as you fall asleep in Yoongi’s arms that night.

“You can’t place a Jack on a King.”

“It’s the same suit.”

“Yeah, that means fuck all.”

“They’re both picture cards.”

“Have you even played this game?”

“Pretty sure I’ve played it more times than you.”

“You do realise this isn’t cheat, right?”

“Y/N,” you try to dampen your smile as you look over at the man whining at you.

“Seokjin?” You ask back in a sarcastically sweet way.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to fuck off?”

You hum as you look over at Yoongi, that smile becoming hard to hide. You open your mouth to say as much but Yoongi leans in and kisses your words away. Pushing his shoulder you laugh before he can kiss you again.

“I preferred it when you two hated each other,” Seokjin groans as he fishes his Jack off the pile. You and Yoongi are too consumed by one another to hear.

#Yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi fan fiction #horrorwoodcafe22 #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga fan fiction #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff

[burgundybmw]

Munson's Mixtape

Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cunningham!Reader

Word Count: 2,572

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, shitty police work, trauma and trauma responses (Chrissy's death hits hard), this chapter is sad, Reader is implied to be smaller than Eddie, suggestive themes (no smut), hurt/comfort.

Summary: Chrissy has been acting weird, and like a good big sister Y/N drives to Hawkins from Notre Dame to check in on her. Only to find out she has plans to meet up with Eddie Munson. Things take a turn for the worse and now Y/N gets wrapped in to the horrors of Hawkins. Hey, at least she has the company of the guitarist she was sweet on back in high school for comfort.

Author’s Note: Not gonna lie, this is angsty. However, I will never just post angst without comfort or resolution! I'm way too soft for that.

Track Five

Y/N didn't how long she'd been laying there, Chrissy's cold broken body in her arms. The lyrics to Over the Rainbow long since ending, she was humming the song now, still running her fingers through her sister's hair. She could tell Eddie was freaking out, he'd been pacing the room for awhile. He went for the door at one point, hand reaching for the handle after Y/N started singing. He stopped himself, mumbling curses under his breath. He stayed for her, but Y/N knew she had to leave soon, leave her sister there.

Eddie's Uncle Wayne would return from work in the early hours of the morning, and find them all there. The cops would come, question them about what happened. She had no idea how the hell she would explain what went down, she barely understood it herself. How her sister was fine one moment, then she was suddenly levitating into the air, bones snapping in every direction by some invisible force. Like something out Wes Craven's horrific imagination. They'd blame Eddie, condemn him as a vicious murderer. They wouldn't listen to her, listen to the truth. They never listened to girls when they were scared and upset. He'd go to prison, because how the hell can you prove innocence for a crime like this? Y/N needed to think, had to come up with some plan. She couldn't let Eddie get hurt, but the thought of hiding her sister's body somewhere, burying her in some shallow grave in the woods, made Y/N sick to her stomach.

"We need to grab all of your drugs and run." Y/N finally spoke, voice even, emotionless.

"What?" Eddie stopped his pacing, looking at her with panic stricken eyes. His eyes were normally full of light, they were dull and exhausted now.

"We need to grab all of your drugs, anything that can pin you to a crime. Some clothes, a toothbrush, spare cash if you have it. A gun would help too." Y/N could hear the sound of her voice speaking, but it didn't sound like it belonged to her. Nothing felt a part of her anymore.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N stopped moving her hands, choosing to move them downwards instead. She pushed the weight off of her chest, sitting up for the first time in god knows how long.

"The cops will come eventually. They'll find the body, you'll be the one they blame. Chief Hopper isn't around anymore, I heard he died in the mall fire last summer. The rest of the police force in Hawkins aren't as competent as him, they'll throw you under the bus and wipe their hands clean of it. We need to clear out any contraband present, so in case they do find us they can't hold you on anything solid. I just... I need more time to think of something else. This will buy us time." For once in her life, Y/N thanked her mother for forcing law school plans onto her shoulders. She'd taken a few Pre-Law classes at Notre Dame, planning on adding it as a minor. Last semester it was Street Law, most of it was about the war on drugs, but Professor McGarrett discussed police procedure in lecture. How often police neglect to follow through with investigations, especially in smaller towns and cities, more so if you were considered an outsider. Eddie was the perfect scapegoat, and she refused to let another person she cared about person get hurt by this, whatever this was.

"Okay, um, alright. I'll ugh, grab a duffle bag. Just, just stay here. I'll be right back." Y/N had no intention from moving from her spot. Where would she go? She didn't want to be alone, not right now. She could see Chrissy's body in the corner of her eye, skin dull and gray, lacking the usual vibrancy it possessed.

Y/N so desperately wanted to cry, to feel something. Something other than this awful numbness that sank deep into her bones. She felt like she was made of plastic, smooth and shiny and lifeless. Ironically enough, something her mother desperately wanted in her daughters. Nothing felt real in that moment, tunnel vision clouding her eyes. It was dark. Everything was black, rotting, decaying. Less of a plastic feeling, closer to rigor mortis. Yes, rigor mortis. Stiff. Dying. Dead. She felt dead inside, a breathing corpse.

Eddie came back at some point, he must of, because she was moving now. She couldn't grasp time progressing. One second she was sitting on the floor of his trailer, now she was in the van, Eddie was talking to her, explaining something. She nodded her head occasionally, muscle memory drilled into her brain.

"You're supposed to acknowledge people when they're talking to you dear." That was her mother's voice. She could hear it in her head. Reprimanding her for her rudeness. She was being rude to Eddie, not responding. But all she was capable of in that moment was nodding. Mindlessly agreeing to whatever he was saying. The van stopped at some point, Eddie opened the door for her but she couldn't find the strength to move.

"Y/N? Can you hear me? Please answer me Princess I'm begging you." She looked to Eddie, his skin tear stained and blotchy. Those big brown doe eyes shiny and wet. She nodded, and tried to get out of the seat but there was a weight on her chest, something pulling her back. She felt trapped, and she began to struggle against it.

"Hold on, hold on Y/N I've got you. Don't worry, I've got you." She felt Eddie's hands on her, the first time she felt warmth in hours. One hand was resting gently on her shoulder, the other struggling with something on her side. She felt a release then, and Eddie's warmth drifted from her. She was in the dark again, the cold dead feeling sinking in. Y/N reached out to him, gripping his shirt with her fist.

"It's okay. You're safe. I'm right here with you." He gently lifted her hand from his chest, holding it delicately with his own. He was leading her again, the darkness was surrounding her, she didn't know where she was. But Eddie's warm hand kept her there, a lifeline in the dark, so she didn't sink into the cold, hard, ground beneath her feet. They were walking upstairs now, a bright light shining inside. They were in a house? There was a bedroom here, so it must be a house. She could see a bed in the middle of the room, a dresser, closet, and a door to a bathroom towards the back.

Eddie kept walking, leading her to the bathroom. He gently sat her down on the edge of a bathtub. Cold, hard, porcelain under skin. The warmth was gone, the numbness back in full force.

"Just a second sweetheart, I'm going to find something to clean you up with." His voice is so gentle, kind. Y/N felt his warm hands again, this time on her face, a damp wash cloth wiping away something sticky and thick. Chrissy's blood. She remembers now. It's Chrissy's blood he's cleaning up. She can feel some bubbles on her face, he must of used some soap. It smells clinical.

"There, that's better. Can you take your shoes off, or do you need help?" Eddie was standing between her open legs, his hand holding her chin up so she could look at him.

"Can you help me?" Her voice sounds so small. Eddie nods, and slowly gets down on his knees. He lifts up her foot onto his thigh, undoing the laces from her sneakers. Starting with her left, and moving on to the right. After he completes his task, Eddie stands up again, brushing the dirt off his pants.

"I grabbed a t-shirt for you to sleep in and some shorts. They might be a bit big on you, but I thought you would like something clean to sleep in. Rick has a washer and dryer downstairs, I can throw your uniform in. It should be done by tomorrow." Eddie hands her the clothes and walks out the door, giving her some privacy. Y/N slowly takes off her cheer sweater, then the spandex top underneath it. Her sports bra feels tight against her chest, so she takes that off too. Next goes the skirt, spanky pants, and socks. She grabs Eddie's shirt and throws it on over her head, the smell of cheap laundry detergent fills her nostrils. It's an old Black Sabbath shirt, it has a couple of holes in the collar, clearly well loved by the man who gave it to her. She tries to put on the shorts, but they sag uncomfortably against her hips, so she neglects to put them on.

Y/N picks up her dirty clothes in one arm, Eddie's clean shorts in the other, and walks out of the bedroom door. Eddie is sitting on the bed, he must have changed while she was in the bathroom. His Hellfire Club t-shirt has been replaced with a simple white one. Thin and worn out. Y/N can make out some of his tattoos underneath it, the black ink peaking through. He's wearing black boxer shorts with no socks, bouncing his knee up and down. She walks over to him, placing her uniform on the ground and tosses his shorts on top of the empty dresser. Eddie goes to reach for the uniform but Y/N stops him, he looks at her confused.

"It can wait until morning... I don't want to be alone right now." Eddie's eyes widen briefly.

"Do you need me to stay in the room with you? I can sleep on the floor if you want." Y/N didn't know what she did to deserve this kindness. He's being so good to her, and she desperately wants his goodness to sink into her. Replace this nothingness with him.

"We can share the bed." Y/N sees his Adam's apple bob up and down, she stares at it, fixated with the movement.

"Okay.. I'll just.. go get the light." Y/N nods and lays down further up the bed on her back. Before Eddie turns the light off he walks to her side, lifts the blanket up and tucks her in. He goes to move a strand of hair behind her ear, but second guesses it, and moves his hand away. She wants him to touch her, feel his warmth. She craves it more than anything else in the world at that moment. She feels so cold.

The lights go out, and she feels a weight sinking into the bed on her right. The heat from Eddie's skin is radiating her side, but he doesn't touch her. There's only an inch, maybe two, of space between them. The warmth is back but it's not enough, not nearly enough. The numbness is swallowing her whole, every atom in her body. She needs something, anything, to stop this.

Hours or minutes pass by in the dark. Eddie and Y/N laying side by side together in a stranger's bed. She can tell he isn't asleep yet, his eyes are closed but his breath hasn't evened out yet. Y/N's eyes are wide open, staring at the white popcorn ceiling above her. She imagines she's inside of her own coffin, trapped beneath 6 ft. of Earth. The deadness has consumed her. Black, rotten, decayed. She can't take it anymore. This cold, unforgiving, cadaverous feeling inside of her. She's desperate for warmth, yearns for it, like a moth to a flame.

Y/N suddenly sits up, like a vampire awakening at midnight. Eddie's eyes shoot open, surprised by the sudden movement. She swings a leg over his hips, straddling him.

"Y/N, what- what's happening. Wh-what are you doing?" Eddie stutters out, but all Y/N can focus on is the heat. It's back, it's finally back. She needs more. She can't handle another second without it. She leans down and rests her forehead on his, thrusting her hips against him. A shaky breath escapes from Eddie's mouth, and Y/N swallows it. She wants to move that final inch, taste him, drink him in until she's drowning. All of her thoughts are Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

She feels his hands tighten around her hips, stopping her momentum. She struggles to move against his grip, but he doesn't allow her to a budge a single inch. He sits up, increasing the gap between them, Y/N hates it. She tries to move closer but Eddie stops her again, one of his hands cradling the side of her head. It's gentle but strong, so she's forced to stay in place.

"Y/N, no." His voice is unwavering. Y/N stops struggling, she remains motionless on top of him.

"I know... I know what you're trying to do. Tonight... fuck, tonight was the worst night of your life. A living goddamn nightmare, but you can't... We can't... We won't do this. I will lay here with you, hold you, but I won't touch you. Not like that. You can't use me like that, and I refuse to take advantage of you.. Do you understand?" Eddie doesn't take his eyes off of her as he says it, he doesn't even blink. She can feel his pulse from his wrist as it rests against her face, its racing, pounding against her skin. Eddie is so alive in that moment. The moonlight shines against him, and he's so painfully beautiful, and honest, and good. So good. Too good for her.

And just like that, the numbness vanishes, replaced with a flood of different emotions. Embarrassment, comfort, frustration, affection, grief, so much grief. The dam breaks, and Y/N's eyes fill with tears.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright. You're okay sweetheart. Let it out, it's alright." Y/N sobs against Eddie's neck, his arms wrapped tightly against hers. He's resting his hand against her hair, softly petting her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. It reminds her of what she used to do with Chrissy, she's never had the motion reciprocated before. She cries harder, and grips the back of his t-shirt, afraid if she lets go Eddie will vanish into thin air, or worse.

"Chrissy's dead! She's dead, and she's never coming back!" Her tears are leaving a wet stain on Eddie's shoulder, but he just hold her tighter.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N." He's rocking her back and forth, and Y/N allows herself to be comforted, going pliant in his arms. She cries, and cries, and cries, until there are no more tears left to shed. At some point she must have passed out from exhaustion, but Eddie never lets go of her.

Once her breath began to even out, Eddie slowly leaned back and adjusted the sleeping girl above him. He's moves her to her side, so just her head is resting against his chest. Both of their legs parallel to each other, one arm is wrapped around her waist, the other still gently petting her hair. Eddie's heart is still pounding, refusing to calm down. His mind is racing with a million and one thoughts. All of which a drowned out by one, just one, and its Eddie repeating her name over and over again in his head. Until he to eventually falls asleep. Sinking into the bed, feeling the warmth of the girl in his arms, breathing in each other's solace.

Taglist:

@imchangkyunned , @creativedogs , @nightless , @kik51199 , @thecraziestcrayon ,

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x cunningham!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanficton #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson

[wildmtthyme]

Character Introduction/Headcanons in "Judgement" for

Captain John "Bravo 6" Price

Is obviously mature, not just in body but in mind and emotions as well.

Fiercely protective of his team and his friends.

Just as protective of his private life. Price is a very private man and very few are given the privilege of knowing the 'real' him.

Is secretly funny. This man is hilarious and loves to laugh, from chuckles to full belly laughs that can be heard three doors down.

Has seen more horror than not in his life but doesn't ever forget that there is good in this world.

Is a realist in every sense of the word - has very little use for things like 'baseless hope'. He trusts things he can see, things he can have an impact in- can control to a certain extent. (If that makes sense).

He's insanely observant. He can pick up on the slightest changes in a room, the way someone shifts their weight, the way they throw shade or side eye, he can clock it all and adjust his approach accordingly.

Wicked smart. But, he likes to let Gaz and Soap both think he doesn't know how to use his phone for things beyond one-word texting and calling. Loves to make them think he can't figure out the remote on newer model televisions.

Can speak six different languages fluently.

Oddly comfortable in otherwise uncomfortable situations. It takes a lot to throw this man off his 'game'.

His confidence is born from experience and an innate ability to pivot.

While he may give off the vibe of a parent, he's about 99.9% sure he'd be a horrible father. Not for any one particular reason, just... he's sure he'd mess a kid up if it was on his shoulders to turn them into a well adjusted upstanding individual.

Now to the tragedy in his past (because of course he's got angst)- Price is a widower. He didn't lose his wife to a horrible car accident, she wasn't taken by enemies and tortured, no. It was something far worse. Cancer. Something he couldn't aim a gun at, something he couldn't go after and make pay for what it had done to his beautiful wife.

No one on the team knows about his wife. She's been gone for about ten years. He's not been with anyone since. He keeps his ring on his dog tag chain, still wears it.

So, as far as private life goes - he doesn't have one. Just buries himself in his work.

Does smoke cigars, of course - but only outside, never inside.

Has a flat of his own but rarely makes it there because he ends up crashing on his couch in his office most nights.

Drives one of those smaller Nissan trucks, because they're fuel efficient and he doesn't give a fuck about anything else, really. Practical.

I wanted to write Price showing a different side in this story- the side of a friend. Not a father figure, not a love interest- just a friend. He's not lonely because he's 'alone' - he's hardly ever alone, anyway. He's not sad all the time, he's made his peace with his life in a certain sense and he's alright with it, now. There was a time, back when he was still all full of fire that he was angry with the world. Now? Not so much. There's still this little piece of himself that he doesn't show anyone, doesn't even know how to show anyone else. But, that might change as the story evolves.

#call of duty #judgement story headcanons #judgement story #captain john price #john bravo 6 price

[emerald-emerlad]

Statement of Gertrude Robinson, regarding her childhood encounter with an Entity, given October 5th, 2007.

TMAtober Day 5: Childhood

Whumptober Day 5: Pinned Down/Debris

Word Count:

Warnings/Tags: Horror, Typical Buried content, Death, Cult-activity, Claustrophobia

[CLICK]

GERTRUDE: This was Elias's suggestion, for reference. I doubt he would be able to do anything about it if I decided not to record this, but perhaps it may help. It's been a while since I... went back.

A sigh. Paper rustles in the background.

GERTRUDE: Ah, but no need to be dramatic. I suppose this would happen eventually, and better to get it over with. Ahem, statement of Gertrude Robinson, regarding her childhood encounter with an Entity, given October 5th, 2007. Statement begins.

She clears her throat.

GERTRUDE: It may be a shock to hear I was a child once. Sometimes that surprises me as well, to think I was once as innocent as a lamb before slaughter, blissfully unaware of what was really happening in the world. Normally I don't see any point in reminiscing about the past, but what I wouldn’t give to have that same curious energy again. 

I wasn't a sheltered child- quite the opposite, in fact. My  family was... unreliable, so I spent plenty of time outside my crowded home, running through the bustling streets of my hometown and talking my way into places I wouldn't normally be allowed into. 

She chuckles, her voice thoughtful.

GERTRUDE: I used to have a lot of friends, back when I was younger. I made plenty, and earned myself a good reputation. There was a boy named George, I think. Another named Jamey. And a girl who called herself Brook. 

Her voice lifts, as if she's unsure. 

GERTRUDE: You would've thought we were inseparable, following each other around and constantly getting ourselves in trouble. We ended up in tough situations more than once, but stood up for each other no matter what. And yet... it didn't take much to pull us apart.

A pause, then another sigh. 

GERTRUDE: It was George's fault, really. I still haven't quite forgiven him. He was never the brightest type, normally requiring our help more than we needed his. Not that we didn't love having him around- he was the face of our little group. Always cracking jokes and giving us things to do on rainy days. It's... not fair that he was the first. But I should count myself lucky, shouldn’t I?

A sharp intake of breath. She clears her throat again.

GERTRUDE: It started off as the four of us. George, Jamey, Brook, and me. My hometown was quite religious and had an abundance of churches scattered about- and a handful of those had been scheduled for demolition or reconstruction. It was our little thing, to sneak our way inside and chase each other through the dusty yet beautiful halls. I was never a religious girl, yet I still found something enchanting about the concept of God. To think there was a man who could make people feel so loved and lost at the same time… it was incredible to me. 

On one of our later expeditions, the church was dark enough that it was hard to navigate without a light, and George suggested we play hide and seek. We said yes, obviously, and I was given the role of  ‘IT’. We thought it was only us playing.

I counted for 60 seconds. Then, I turned, and ran down the hall. I caused quite a racket, throwing each door open, raising my flashlight across the room, then slamming it shut and continuing forward.

I couldn’t find any of them within the first few minutes. That should’ve warned me that something was wrong, because I had become adept at this sort of thing. You see, the more you get to know someone, the more slight details you learn about them. Jamey enjoyed spaces that were clean and dust-free. Brook liked smaller spaces she could squeeze into and cover it up. George… he needed space. A lot of it. Compact areas terrified him, and more then once I’ve seen him panic and get himself stuck. Looking back… it was obvious. So, so obvious.

A long pause. She sniffs, then clears her throat.

GERTRUDE: Around 5 minutes later, I grew frustrated. Young Gertrude was used to being ahead of everyone, and giving up was never a strong suit of mine. It was nearly midnight.  At the 10 minute mark, I was ready to forfeit. Perhaps I should’ve. 

I was at the organ on the second floor when I heard the noise. A soft, quiet chanting, almost enthralling with its rhythm. I had brushed it off as a trick of the mind earlier, but up there it was impossible to ignore. But I wasn’t scared, not at all. I was always eager, ready to jump headfirst into danger or adventure. A fatal flaw, nowadays.

So I followed the noise. I followed it to the balcony, where a dim light was filling the room. I hid near the benches, and peeked down. Unfortunately I… I will never forget what I saw.

The pews were filled with people, the source of the noise. They were wearing casual clothes, looking extremely out of place in the church, like they had just been going on a regular day before coming here late at night. They were all facing the front, where a pit was dug where the pedestal would normally be. The hole was pitch black, with the soil crumbling away at the edges and a hissing noise from below it.

A note from the Archivist: This was quite obviously a failed attempt at a ritual of the Buried. Now, I’ve already tried follow-ups and don’t see any point in delving deeper, because I’ve reached my fair share of dead ends. What’s in the past stays in the past. End note.

GERTRUDE: George was standing above it, his head raised and his eyes half-closed. He looked… calm, despite the people watching him with uncanny intensity. He looked around, seemingly unsure of what he should do but content with whatever might happen.

I managed to get his eye contact, trying to gesture for him to leave or fight back. But his eyes seared into my brain, and my chest tightened, unable to pull my gaze away.

I didn’t know what to do, frozen with fear and curiosity at the same time. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but then he nodded - thoughtfully, almost. The other… observers turned their heads all at once, looking up at me. They didn’t move, didn’t try to stop me. George nodded at me, his mouth pulled into a bittersweet smile. I… I should’ve stopped him. Because then he jumped. 

Her voice cracks, which she quickly tries to cover up with a cough.

GERTRUDE: But there was no chance. I stood up in shock, watching his body fall into the pit like prey being thrown to an animal. I didn’t stick around to hear the thump of his body hitting the ground- perhaps there wasn’t even a bottom in it. I tried to flee, and that’s when the church began to crumble around me.

I hid under the organ bench, trying to stop myself from screaming. I watched as the people in the pews welcomed the debris with open arms, even as it crushed them into a bloody mess. Looking back, whatever ‘ascension’ I’m sure they were planning, it was obvious that they would never find it in the state they were left in.

The ceiling had crumbled around, trapping me and pinning me down. I remember the… well, helplessness I felt, unable to even flex my fingers or twitch a limb. Though I wasn’t severely injured, it was nearly impossible to get out of. It was pitch black, and I knew there was a chance I could run out of oxygen if there was that much debris.

A lesson I’ve learned many times is that panic never helps a situation. Either it goes your way, or it doesn’t. And when it’s the latter, you make it work for you no matter what. Everything must be bent in your favor, so you’re the one who comes out alive. I apologize in advance, Elias.

So that’s what I did. It required a quite painful dislocation of my shoulder to roll back under the organ bench, then painstakingly pulling the debris with my broken nails under the bench until I could see a glimmer of light, then bruising as I pushed myself through the small exit.

I spent too long searching for George. Brook and Jamey were nowhere to be found, and their bodies would not be pulled out of the wreckage for some time.

A stifled cough. She takes a deep breath.

GERTRUDE: As for the cultists, I would assume they were attempting a draft of the ‘Sunken Sky’. Obviously it failed. As for why, I’m not quite sure, but I do not wish to visit that town again. I left for a reason, and there is no chance I will be returning. 

She sighs loudly. 

GERTRUDE: If it wasn’t obvious, afterwards I managed to get away and move to London a few years later. When I learned of a research center that could possibly explain what had happened when I was younger, I went there immediately. I mean no offense, but we were extremely unorganized and weren’t much help. It was very easy to get hired and sort this place out.

Papers shuffle.

GERTRUDE: Elias, I hope you’re happy. Statement ends.

[CLICK]

#tmatober #tmatober 2023 #magtober #magtober 2023 #whumptober 2023 #no.5 #debris #pinned down #themagnusarchives #fic #whumptober #gertrude robinson #tma statement #statement fic #i need to do more ahhhh #ao3 #emerald's stuff

[debbiechanclub]

Murky Waters, Part 2

A Bullet Club horror AU

Pairings: David Finlay x OFC; Jay White x OFC; past Matt Jackson x OFC Word Count: 2,656 Warnings: Only alcohol use and language in this part

The group arrives at the cabin, and an unwelcome guest turns up.

Read it on AO3 | Masterlist

Tag squad: @aussiearrow @statdaddy @knifepervert @sldghmmr @rusevday @missbrownstone @meteora-fc @bec0m @thatgirlforever5 @rocca09

The sun had just kissed the horizon when they arrived at the lake, and it cast everything in a soft golden glow. The water sat still and sparkling and deep, and tall pines trees reached up toward a clear blue late summer sky. Even the cabin looked surprisingly quaint and inviting, and it almost felt like they’d stumbled into a fairytale after a long journey.

But Chloe hoped it was the watered-down Disney version and not the horrifying original.   

“Haunted or not, this place is sick,” Riley decided as they entered the cabin. It looked like a mountain lake house Pinterest board come to life, cozy and rustic with pine-knotted walls and themed décor. Large picture windows flooded the two-story living room with natural light, and French doors led out to a deck with a fire pit table and a large hot tub. The kitchen was small but fully equipped, with a live-edge wood bar top and forest green cabinets. A narrow staircase to the right of the entrance led to an open loft with both an air hockey table and a full-size arcade cabinet. They might be in the middle of nowhere, but they’d have absolutely no problem entertaining themselves for the weekend.

“Alright, there’re two bedrooms down here and two upstairs,” Nick explained as they all gathered in the living room.

“So we’re short a bed, then,” Riley figured.

“Chloe and David can share,” Jay smirked.

“Subtle,” David returned. Chloe just laughed to herself.

“Well, the couch is a pull-out, so not really,” Nick informed them with a point at the couch. “But you guys can work that out yourselves; I automatically get a bed because I drove.”

With that, Nick disappeared upstairs to stake his claim, and the rest of them looked hesitantly around at each other. It seemed obvious that either Riley or David would end up on the pull-out; as the only couple, Jay and Alyssa were entitled to a bed, too, and no one was so cruel as to make Chloe sleep on the couch.

“I’ll take the couch,” David finally offered.

“Works for me!” Riley proclaimed, and he grabbed his bag and bounded upstairs; he’d obviously been hoping David would volunteer. Alyssa rolled her eyes as he ran off.

“I guess that means we’re choosing from the two rooms down here,” she stated.

“I’ll take whichever’s smaller. Which is probably this one,” Chloe said with a nudge of her chin at a room just off the kitchen.

“Where’s the other one?” Jay wondered, and he and Alyssa went in search of the second bedroom while Chloe went to inspect the first. Like the rest of the cabin, it was charming and snug. A full-sized bed took up most of the space, and a window on the far wall offered a view of the lake through the trees, still glittering in the late afternoon sun. The water was a lot closer than she’d realized, just a stone’s throw from the house, and a small pier led out from the sloped backyard into it, an old canoe pulled up onto the rocky shore. It painted a peaceful, serene picture. It was beautiful. But the longer Chloe looked out at the lake, the more a niggling feeling grew in the pit of her stomach that something dark lurked just beneath the surface.

Knock, knock.

Someone knocked lightly on the open door. She turned around and saw David in the doorway, two beers in hand.

“I figured you could use one of these,” he said.

Chloe breathed out in appreciation. “You figured right.” She took one of the bottles and twisted open the cap. It was lukewarm from the drive, but the familiar rich, malty taste helped settle her nerves, if only a bit.

“Unlike Jay, I didn’t want to just assume you’d be okay with sharing a bed,” David said.

Chloe coyly tucked her hair behind her ear. “I appreciate that,” she nodded. “But, you know… we’ll see how the night goes.”

She smirked at him, and David returned it, an unspoken sentiment between them. They both knew damn well he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch.

Smack!

“Jesus!” Chloe jumped and put a hand to her chest at an unexpected sound from inside the room. Her heart hammered under her palm. “What the fuck was that?”

“It sounded like something fell in the closet,” David said. He pivoted toward the closet and slid open the pocket door. “Oh, shit.”

Chloe didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

David bent down and picked something up off the closet floor. A long, flat box—and Chloe froze when she saw the word printed on the side of it. Ouija.

“Our creepy friend at the gas station wouldn’t be happy to see this,” David quipped.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Chloe breathed. Her heart was practically thrumming out of her chest now. “It just fell? From where?”

David peered into the closet. “The shelf, I guess.”

Chloe crossed the room to get a look inside herself. The closet was small and simple, with a single shelf and rod. Unless the box had already been teetering on the edge, she wasn’t sure how it could have fallen, much less with as much force as it had. It had sounded like someone had shoved it. Like something had wanted them to find it.

“It looks like it’s been in there a while,” David noticed. He wasn’t wrong; the box was old and covered in a thin layer of dust, one of the corners ripped and flimsy. It could’ve been sitting there decades, for all they knew. The sour taste of warm beer crept back up Chloe’s throat.

“Well, it’s not gonna be in there anymore.”

She took the box and walked back out into the living room, looking for somewhere to quickly stash it out of sight. Her eyes landed on the entertainment center; that was good enough. She opened one of the cabinets, pushed the Ouija board inside, and firmly shut the door. No one else needed to know it was there.

“Feel better?” David asked.

“A little,” she said, wiping the dust from her hands on her jeans. “But you might as well just go ahead and put your stuff in the room now. I’m not sleeping in there alone.”

* * * *

The temperature dropped with the sun, and once they’d all settled in, everyone gathered around the fire pit on the deck, drinks in hand, music streaming from a portable Bluetooth speaker Riley had brought; and between the alcohol and the atmosphere, the White Lady wasn’t a thought in anyone’s mind.

“Whose turn is it?” Jay asked.

“Mine,” Nick answered. He leaned forward and drew a card from a stack on the table—a drinking game that Alyssa had purchased just for the occasion. “The person who most recently used the bathroom drinks,” he read. He looked over at Alyssa. “Bottoms up.”

She rolled her eyes and took a drink. “Shouldn’t have broken the seal!” Jay proclaimed.

It was Alyssa’s turn next. She drew a card—and her expression went flat. “Everyone who is shorter than you drinks.”

Riley laughed. “So no one then.”

She just flipped him off.

“Draw another one,” Chloe said, but Alyssa was already on it.

“Flip a coin. If it’s heads, you drink. If it’s tails, everyone else drinks,” she read.

Riley groaned. “These are boring. Where’re all the sexy cards?” he complained, but Alyssa paid him no mind.

“Does anyone even have a coin?” she asked.

“Here,” David grabbed a discarded bottle cap and tossed it to her. “Top is heads, bottom is tails.”

She balanced the bottle cap atop her thumb and flicked it into the air. It landed on the deck top-down. “Drink up, bitches!” she proclaimed, and everyone else took a drink; some larger than others.

Riley was up next. “Alright, give me something good,” he willed as he drew a card. He flipped it over with a flourish—and a mischievous grin spread over his lips. “Okay. The person after you can ask you any question. You can either answer truthfully or refuse to answer and drink.” He looked at Chloe; that meant her. “Don’t disappoint me, Chlo.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him, thinking. Knowing Riley, he wanted her to ask him a certain kind of question; and luckily for him, she had enough of a buzz going that she was willing to oblige.

“Alright. Tell me, Riley: do you have a daddy kink?”

“HA!” Jay laughed out loud. “Come on, you can’t just tell he does? It’s practically stamped on his sleazy, mulleted forehead.”

“Well, he needs to answer or drink,” she said. Riley smirked at her.

“I don’t know, Chlo. I could answer now… or you could find out later.”

David and Alyssa both scoffed. But Chloe didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re even good enough to get me to call you that.”

At that, everyone loudly oooed and winced and laughed at Riley's expense. “Jesus, where the hell has this Chloe been?” Jay asked.

“For real. Matt was hiding her, apparently,” Riley remarked.

“Alright, if you’re not gonna actually answer, you might as well drink,” Nick said, and the mood notably shifted. Riley shot him a sidelong glance and took a drinked of his beer. Chloe shifted awkwardly in her seat and pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands.

“It’s your turn, Chlo,” Alyssa urged to get the game back on track. Eager to do the same, Chloe drew a card and cleared her throat.

“Everyone who is single drinks,” she read.

“Cheers,” David said to her, and they clinked their beer bottles together and drank. On the other side of the circle, Nick and Riley drank, too.

David was up next. He picked a card, and a slow grin pulled at his lips as he read it to himself before reading aloud.

“Pick someone and guess the color of their underwear. If you guess correctly, they drink. Otherwise, you drink.”

“Chloe,” Jay coughed. Chloe bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat again, fighting back the blush creeping its way into her cheeks. But she lost the battle when she noticed David studying her.

“I’m gonna say… gray,” he guessed.

There was a pause as everyone waited to see if he’d guessed correctly—and then Chloe drank.

“Nice,” Jay smirked.

“They’re gray with black flowers on them,” she revealed.

David just grinned at her. Her blush deepened.

“My turn!” Jay announced, and he eagerly pulled a card from the deck. His eyes lit up in the firelight when he saw what it said. “Oh, here we go. Pick someone to dare. They can either perform the dare or refuse to and drink.”

“Just drink?” Nick questioned. “That makes it way too easy to get out of the dare. You should have to shotgun a beer, or something.”

“True, but I’m daring Riley, and we all know he’ll do anything.”

Riley nonchalantly beckoned Jay with a hand. “Bring it, then.”

Jay watched him for a minute, drawing it out. And then he said, “Why don’t you go for a little dip in the lake?”

There was a pause as the legend of the White Lady was suddenly brought back to the forefront, the danger of going for a swim after dark.

But Riley wasn’t nervous about it. “Fine. I’ve never cheated on anyone, so I don’t have anything to worry about.” He stood up and removed his beanie and hoodie and toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks.

“Okay, White Lady or not, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Alyssa said. “It’s pitch black out there and you’ve been drinking.”

“So come supervise, then,” Riley said, and before Alyssa could point out that she’d been drinking, too, he started down the steps off the deck that lead to the water.

“Actually, we probably should make sure he doesn’t die,” Jay said, and he got up and went after him. Alyssa followed, and Nick went, too, leaving Chloe and David alone by the dwindling fire.

“You don’t want to go?” David asked her.

She quickly shook her head. “No. I’d rather go get in the hot tub.” She stood up and sent him a look over her shoulder. “Want to join me?”

A corner of David’s mouth quirked up. “Absolutely.”

* * * *

David changed in the bathroom so that Chloe could change in the room. When she returned to the deck, he was climbing into the hot tub.

“Did you have any trouble getting it going?” she asked as she walked over.

He shook his head. “Nah,” he returned, and he did a double take when he saw her in her bikini. It boosted Chloe’s confidence. That was the reaction she’d been hoping for.

She climbed up onto the edge of the hot tub, and David offered her his hand as she slid into the bubbling, illuminated water next to him. They sat close, his arm resting behind her, their knees touching under the water, and Chloe couldn’t help but notice that she’d never felt as comfortable in her own skin with Matt as she did with David right now.

“Are they still out there?” she curiously asked. She’d thought the others would have returned by now from Jay’s dare. But they weren’t, and the only thing Chloe could hear other than Riley’s playlist still streaming through the portable speaker was the distant song of crickets and frogs in the night.

David turned and looked behind them into the dark, in the direction of the water. “I guess so,” he said. “They can take their time, as far as I’m concerned.”

Chloe bit back a grin. Part of her wanted to just throw caution to the wind and kiss David right then and there. But he spoke again before she could.

“So… I know things didn’t end well between you and Matt, and I know it hasn’t been long since all that happened, so I completely understand if you don’t want to get into anything right now. But… I’m just letting you know that I’m interested, because I’d kick myself if I didn’t.”

Chloe looked bashfully down into the water. “Oh, so you’re interested?”

“I’m very interested,” he confirmed with a grin.

She looked back up at him. “I am, too.”

His smile widened. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “What happened with Matt is over and done with; I’ve processed it and moved on. And if I’m being honest… I don’t think he and I would have ever gotten together if you hadn’t gone to Germany, anyway.”

David didn’t hesitate. “I know you wouldn’t have.”

There were the tingles again, all over, a warmth spreading out from Chloe’s core, and then David was leaning in. She closed her eyes and tilted her mouth toward his—

“Is anyone out here?”

Chloe reopened her eyes and whipped her head around in shock. It couldn’t be—but it was. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. “Matt?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” David breathed.

Matt walked out onto the deck, a delighted smirk on his face at finding Chloe in the hot tub. But it visibly faltered when he realized she wasn’t alone. “Hey, Chlo. David.”

David didn’t respond. Chloe wasn’t much more welcoming.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Matt’s eyebrows arched. “It’s nice to see you, too.” He eyed them, David’s arm still around her. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Little bit,” David muttered just loud enough for him to hear. Chloe tried not to laugh and put her hand on his thigh under the water. She wanted him to know that Matt’s sudden appearance didn’t change anything of what she’d said.

“Okay,” Matt breathed, deliberately ignoring the remark, “well, where’s everyone else? I didn’t see any—”

“AHHHHHH!”

He didn’t get to finish his question. A blood-curdling scream ripped through the night—and it came from the direction of the lake.

#david finlay fanfiction #jay white fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #el phantasmo fanfiction #bullet club fanfiction #horror au

[yoyok-era]

Look at us, you and I (back at it again) - chapter one

Elliot Stabler x Olivia Benson ♡ Law and Order: SVU ♡ 1.6k ♡ Ao3

[Series Masterlist]

 It's cold. It's so cold. The snow bites into her skin, turning her bones into aching icicles. 

She shouldn't complain. That's the whole reason she's out here, after all. Because she'd complained. Good girls don't complain. Good girls do as they're told.

She'd been bad.

He'd given her specific instructions to stay on the couch, no matter the circumstances, and she'd disobeyed. Her throat had been aching, phantom hands scratching the insides of her esophagus and crawling their way up to her mouth.

She'd moved slowly, legs trembling as she clutched onto tables and closets on her way to the kitchen. She wasn't allowed here, she was breaking the rules, but the punishment for puking on his floor was worse than the punishment for sneaking into the kitchen.

She'd managed to grab one of the cups on the counter, broken fingers screaming in agony as they curled around the glass. Her hands shook as she filled it with water, eyes glued to the liquid as it streamed from the faucet and into the cup, like it was a drug and she was an addict.

He'd come back just as she'd lifted the glass to her lips. The slam of his fist against the door rattled her, and she watched, horror stricken, as the glass slipped from her hand and landed on the floor, shattered.

"I thought I told you to stay put?"  His voice was low and growling, and it vibrated through her body. "I suppose I'm used to you breaking my rules, but breaking my things? That's new, Olivia."

Her heart raced and her head swam, nausea rising in her stomach as fear flooded her veins. She whimpered quietly, trying her hardest not to throw up.

"I was thirsty, I-"

There's a scoff, and she cuts herself off. "You know when you're allowed water, don't you Olivia?" He's standing in front of her now, staring down at her, waiting impatiently for an answer as she flounders for something coherent. There's a scowl etched on his face, and his expression makes her feel even smaller than she already does.

"When you let me."

"Exactly," He steps closer, if that's even possible, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath. "So why, pray tell, are you being an ungrateful bitch and disobeying me?" The word stings, like fire and acid. She knows what she did was wrong. Knows it was a mistake to break the rules, but that doesn't make the sting any less painful.

She licks her lips and says nothing.

His brows crease in frustration, confusion. Then he breaks into a smile. "I know exactly what your punishment will be for this little stunt of yours."

That's how she ended up here, tied to the tree in the garden, the bark digging into the skin of her back through the thin material of her shirt. He'd left her out overnight, wrists bound and mouth gagged as she sat through the blizzard that the news had been warning about for the last week. 

She looks up as the door to the house opens with a slam, blinking the snow out of her eyelashes. 

Lewis doesn't step outside. He stays in the doorway, smiling at her as he nurses a steaming mug between his hands.  "How's the weather out there, Livvie?." 

Olivia doesn't – can't – respond, humming weakly around the gag.

"The blizzard broke one of the window frames last night. I'll have to go to the store." He smiles, watching as her eyes fill with fear. "I can't take you with me, of course. But, to move you inside only to tie you up again is a bit of a hassle, don't you think?"

Her heart drops. The closest town is hours away, and she feels like she might freeze to death if she spends any more time outside. Of all the ways she thought she'd die, all the possibilities that had run through her head over the last few years, freezing hadn't been one of them. 

She watches helplessly as he closes the door, walks through to the front of the house, steps into his car, and drives away.  Her eyes follow him until the car fades from view, and then her gaze settles on her bound wrists, on the rope that digs into her skin, leaving red streaks in its wake.

If it wasn't so cold, if she wasn't gagged, she would scream. But there'd be no point to it; the cabin he's kept her in is isolated from the rest of society. No one comes here, and if they do, they don't leave alive.

There was a couple once, two hikers that had taken the wrong turn. Olivia had screamed, begged them to help her, to call the police, to do anything. Lewis shot them both, and she can still see the bodies as they crumpled and fell in front of her.

She's pulled out of the memory when something stabs into her leg, drawing crimson droplets to fall onto the snow. She maneuvers as well as she can, moving her hands to  the injury. There's a sharp pain in her thigh and she yanks, gasping as she tugs something out of the wound.

It hurts. God, it hurts so much. She stares at the bloodied shard of glass in her palm, tears burning as fresh blood drips from the open slice of skin. Must've blown over during the storm, she thinks.

She cries then, a sob wracking her body as her vision darkens slightly, threatening her with the darkness that's always lurked beneath her skin. She tries desperately to hold the bloody piece of glass between her shaking hands, moving it back and forth until the rope binding her wrists together breaks.

Her arms are stiff, frozen, as she moves them, the ropes around her chest biting deeply into her flesh as she tries to cut them off. She grits her teeth, harder and harder until it hurts. 

Blood. So much blood. It drips down her legs as she stands up, the ropes pooling beneath her feet. The only barrier between her and freedom, the only thing keeping her bound here, severed and laying at her ankles.

The realization almost makes her collapse. She can go. She can leave this place. She can get out and leave and go back to her family. Fin, Amanda, Noah. 

Elliot.

She moves as fast as she can, stumbling and staggering as the cold seeps deep into her bones and numbs them, slowing her down more than she already is. Her blood is trailing in the snow behind her, but she can't be bothered to care. 

It feels like hours until the lights from the town come into view. They shine bright enough that she knows where to go, knows which path to take and the quickest route to get there. She's free. She's escaping, and she's free.

She ducks into the first store she sees as she struggles for breath, each inhale painful against the ice in her lungs. She ignores everything around her and grabs at the nearest rack of clothes, clutching whatever item she can find. Anything to stop the numbness creeping up her limbs, the dizziness threatening to drag her down under the weight of it all. 

"Miss, you okay? We've had someone call an ambulance for you. Would you like to sit down?" There's an employee that's started approaching her, his hands stretched out in front of him, like he's trying not to scare her.

The world around her moves in a blur, her head spinning. She barely registers a voice shouting about a missing police captain, and another voice calling 911, and then there's nothing, only a darkness and a dull pain in the side of her head.

o0o0o0o0o

Saturday night means movie night in the Stabler household. It used to be Sunday, but then Noah moved in, and Elliot didn't want him going to bed late when he had school the next day.

Noah's recounting the story to Vincent as the two attempt to make a batch of cookies, though they're doing a better job of messing up the kitchen then they are of actually baking.

Elliot's watching from the couch as they do, Jet tucked against his side as she scrolls through their movie list. 

"We could do a Disney movie?" She suggests, raising an eyebrow at the rest of them.

Noah and Vincent break out into a fit of giggles. "After Dad cried during Frozen 2? No way." Noah laughs, throwing a handful of flour at his boyfriend in the process.

"It was a nice moment!" Elliot defends himself against his adopted son, glaring at Jet as she snickers beside him.

"Why don't you do something classic? Titanic or something?" The attention shifts to Joe, who's sitting on the other side of the couch with his arm draped around Kathleen's shoulders.

There's a series of boos around him as he finishes the suggestion, and he throws his hands up in surrender. 

Lizzie grabs the remote from her spot next to the coffee table, switching the TV onto her netflix account. "Since all of you are so indecisive, I'll pick."

They end up settling on the 2nd Hunger Games, a sequel to the film they watched last week, eating cookies and popcorn as one of them cracks a joke every few minutes.

Elliot's phone starts ringing an hour into the movie, and when the caller ID reads "Fin," his heart drops. Fin has no reason to be calling him at 9pm on a Saturday night; they haven't worked any cases together recently, and Fin's not known for initiating small talk this late into the evening.

He presses the green button, standing up and moving away from the laughter of the group. He freezes as the news leaves his speaker, tears springing into his eyes.

He's slow when he turns back to his kids, who've gone silent. 

It's Kathleen who speaks first. "Dad, you okay?"

"That was Fin." He pauses, his eyes searching for Noah's amongst the group of people. 

"They found her."

#svu #elliot stabler #olivia benson #bensler #law and order oc #jet slootmaekers #law and order svu #fin tutuola #noah benson #kathleen stabler #lizzie stabler #joe velasco #svu fic #svu fanfiction #special victims unit #l&o svu #eo #eo fanfiction #bensler fanfiction #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #whump scenario #whump story #whump novel #whump fanfiction #whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #whump tropes

[quindolyn]

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive. 

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins. 

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life. 

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into. 

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage. 

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension.  As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed. 

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you. 

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it. 

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting. 

���Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted. 

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that  James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

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[the-broken-truth]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do the Dimitrescus and Donna with a 👨 reader that likes to spoil them.

Broken Truth: Oh - A man who loves to spoil his woman. This will be interesting. *STATIC*, any ideas?

*STATIC*: Wine for Alcina, Rare Books for Bela, A Collection of Torment Devices for Cassandra, New Weapons for Daniela, and Fine Silks & Doll Parts for Donna.

Broken Truth: Thanks. Now, let the words weave together!

[Alcina Dimitrescu - Why One When You Can Have All?]

Delivery Woman: Here's your shipment, Mr. Dimitrescu-[L/N]. If I could just get your signature right here. (Holds out a clipboard with a signature paper on it)

[Y/N] (Takes the clipboard with a smile): Of course. (Places his signature in person cursive writing before handing the clipboard back) Here you go.

Delivery Woman (Takes the clipboard, looks at it, and smiles with a nod): Thank you. (Places her hand on the earpiece to speak to the pilot in the helicopter above her) Set it down gently and unhook the attachment.

[The Delivery Woman & Lord of the Castle watched as the helicopter above them slowly lowered the large crate that was attached by a strong cable to the ground before the castle doors. Once the crate hit the ground, the pilot pushed a button, and the cable detached from the crate. The woman gave the man a handshake before she walked over to the ladder to climb back up and the helicopter flew away as the Lord of the Castle looked at the large crate for a while before he heard the castle door open and his wife, plus his 3 daughters, walked out.]

[Y/N] (Looks at them): There you are, I was just about to come looking for you, Alcina.

Alcina (Walks down the stairs and looked at the large crate - that was taller than her): Darling, what is this large crate.

[Y/N] (Smiles): I'm glad you asked! (Opens the padlock on the side with the key the woman gave him, pushes the large crate door open to see the large crate is filled with smaller packing crates - he takes one & uses a crowbar to open it, revealing...numerous bottles of wine?!)

Alcina (Her eyes lit up as she gasps and reached down to pick up one of the bottles of wine): Darling, is all of this wine?

[Y/N] (Smirks): But of course! Remember that room I was working on? It's your new personal wine room and what's a wine room without wine? Thus, I brought one of each wine in the world!

Alcina (Looks at all the wine then back at her husband): Darling, you didn't need to spend so much. 10 bottles would have been enough.

[Y/N]: Why one when you can have all?

[Bela Dimitrescu - Wise Words For The Wise]

[Y/N] (Talking to a delivery man outside the main door of Castle Dimtirescu - who's pushing a rather large box to the Lover of the Proxy of House Dimitrescu): Thank you.

Delivery Man (Looks at the signed clipboard and tilts his hat to the noble): No problem, Lord [L/N]-Dimitrescu. Thanks for doing business with us.

[The Delivery Man turned on his heel and began to walk down the castle stairs as the Lover of Bela Dimitrescu closed the door and looked at the massive box before him with a smile - his next task: Getting the box up the stairs and to the special room.]

[Elsewhere in the castle: The Blonde-Haired Heiress of House Dimitrescu was looking up and down the castle halls for the man that stole her heart but she was having a hard time finding him. She happened to run into her youngest sister and asked if she had seen the [H/C]-Haired man, the red-haired woman informed her sister that he could be found in the room he bought from Alcina. Raising her eyebrow, Bela dispelled into a cluster of flies and headed in that direction, completely missing the snicker on her youngest sister's face.]

[Upon reaching the floor the room was located on - Bela reformed from the flies that made her and began to glide down the hallway; the closer she got to the room, the sounds of grunting and things being moved around could be heard. She reached for the knob of the room and turned it before pushing it open and her eye widened at the sight - the room was beautiful. The 4 walls that made up the room were replaced with bookshelves and each of those shelves was filled with books. There was a single lounging chair with a footstool and a large reading lamp that was overhead of the chair. On the right of the chair was a small stand with a crystal jar filled with wine and a single glass. The sound of her name being called made her snap from her trance.]

[Y/N] (Sliding the last book in place): Oh, Bela! I wasn't expecting you to find this place so soon. Dani must have spilled the beans.

Bela (Confused): What? Dani knew what you were doing in here? Why did you tell her but not me?

[Y/N] (Raises his eyebrow): It wouldn't have been a surprise if I told you about what I was planning.

Bela: Surprise? (Eyes widen) Wait, this is for me?

[Y/N] (Smiles): Of course it is. I've noticed how much you love to read but you're always interrupted by Cassandra and Daniela's Roughhousing, so I decided to make you your own little space to enjoy your books and filled it with bestsellers from my world!

Bela (Looks around the room with stars in her eyes): All this...for me?

[Y/N] (Walks over to her and places his hands on her shoulders): Wise words for the wise, My Beloved Knowledge Seeker.

[Cassandra Dimitrescu - Which Do You Want To Try First?]

[He knew that his beloved was getting bored with the same methods of torment for the trespassers and tainted maidens of Castle Dimitrescu - A Bored Cassandra made a Pissed-Off [Y/N] & he was going to fix that. How? By giving his lover some new toys to play with and punish people with. He went to the Duke - who seemed to have anything and everything you needed right there in his carriage - and asked the fat man if he had any blueprints for torment devices. Chuckling, the Duke told the man that he came across a man who made blueprints of the torture devices another man made to test the will to live of unworthy people and managed to convince him to part with them for a fair sum of coin. [Y/N] smiled like the Cheshire Cat at this news and offered to buy those plans from Duke right then and there, the fat man smiled and gave the plans to [Y/N] for a discounted price and told him that if he needs metal or tools, he could get those for him if he had the coin - he had the coin and paid it right then and there.]

[For the last 3 months - Alcina told the girls not to go in the cellar because there was 'construction' going on down there. Cassandra was curious because her lover had been working in the cellar for long hours and returned to her covered in oil and rush. On the last week of the 3rd month - [Y/N] treated his girl to a movie marathon of the famous horror-thriller genre 'SAW'. Cassandra was in love with the traps and that just made the man's smile get wider and wider the larger his wife's eyes got.]

[The next morning during breakfast - [Y/N] announced that he was done with the project he was taking care of in the basement and asked Cassandra to come with him to see it; a smirk slithered on Alcina's face as she asked if she and her other 2 daughters could see as well, he said yes. The Dimitrescu Family walked down to the cellar and their eyes lit up as new torment devices laid before them - it was like seeing new presents for Christmas.]

[Y/N] (Looks at Cassandra with a smile on his face): Darling, I've noticed you were getting bored with your constant methods of torment, so I decided you needed some new toys to play with and - yes - these are the same models from the SAW Movies we watched the night before.

Cassandra (Throws her arms around her lover and kisses him): Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This is going to be perfect!

[Y/N] (Smiles at Cassandra): Anything and everything for my fire-spark. Now, a question: Which do you want to try first?

[Daniela Dimitrescu - Blade Or Bullet?]

[If there was one thing [Y/N] knew about this red-haired wife it was that she loved weapons; all kinds of weapons. From the shortest of blades to the loudest of guns, any kind of weapon would bring a smile to her face; thus, bring a smile to his face.]

[He was going through this phone one day when he noticed a large collection of weapons was going for auction from the heard of Romania, he signed up and risked every Lei he had for the woman he loved more than life itself. When he ended up winning, he gave the address of the castle - most people knew it as the High Preistess' Village - and was told to wait for 3 to 4 weeks for the collection to be procured and delivered.]

[On the fourth week - Daniela was snuggling with her lover in front of the fire when there was a knock at the castle doors, one of the nearby maids bowed to excuse herself and walked to the door to open it - coming face to face with a man in a strange suit.]

Maid: May I help you?

Strange Man: Yes. Is there are Lady Daniela Dimitrescu & Lord [Y/N]-Dimitrescu here?

Maid (Raises her eyebrow): Yes but what do you want with the Lord and Lady?

Strange Man: I have a package for Lady Daniela Dimitrescu and the package requires Lord [Y/N] [L/N]-Dimitrescu's Signature.

[The Maid raised her eyebrow again before asking the man to wait a moment before closing the door and relaying the message to Daniela and [Y/N] - The former of whom looked confused while the latter had a large smile across his face. The two of them walked out of the castle to meet the man - due to the cold weather, [Y/N] got Dani a very warm coat to keep her safe from the ice. He handed [Y/N] a clipboard and pen for the man to sign the papers and once they were signed, he handed the Lord a stack of papers.]

Stange Man: These are the Proof of Authenticity for each and every one of your purchases, My Lord. (Reaches into his pocket and pulled out a golden key) And here is the key to unlocking your purchases, My Lord.

[Y/N] (Takes the key with a smile): Thank you, Kind Soldier. You are dismissed.

[The Soldier gave the Lord, Lady, and Maid a salute before turning on his heel and walking back to his vehicle where his comrades were waiting for him and drove away.]

Daniela (Looking at the large box that towered over her): Love, what the hell is this box?

[Y/N] (Smirking): Good question. (Hands Dani the key) Why don't you open it and find out?

[Raising her eyebrow - the Youngest of the Dimitrescu Daughters walked over to the large lock and inserted the key to open it, removed it from the loop, and pushed to box open. Her jaw began to fall as they laid upon the most amount of weapons she has ever seen in her life.]

[Y/N]: A Question, Darling: Blade or Bullet? Answer: You never have to choose again because you now own them all.

[Donna Beneviento - More Refined Than The Finest Silks]

Donna (Walking down the stairs - without her veil - looking for her husband but finds her Doll Companion - Angie - fiddling with her 'Father's' phone): Angie, do you know where [Y/N] is?

Angie (Looks up from the phone): He said he had to head into the village to get something from the Duke; he left in a hurry so it must have been important.

Donna (Raised her eyebrow): The Duke?

Angie: Yeah, he got a letter from the Duke saying that the 'package' he ordered had arrived and he dropped his phone and ran out of the house to pick it up.

[Donna was concerned for a moment - not because she thought her husband was up to something, she always knew that she could rely on him to remain faithful to her and only her - but she noticed that he didn't take his short blade for protection. Karl already informed the Lycans to leave him alone but ever since [Y/N] killed the Alpha, the Lycans loved to attack him to see if one of them could take him down to see how would be the next alpha of the pack. Donna's worries melted away when the door opened and her husband walked in with 2 small - enough to fit under his arms - but big - large enough to make it hard for him to carry - boxes under both his arms. He smiled at Donna and he waddled to the table in the dining room and placed the large wooden boxes on the table.]

[Y/N] (Panting): Sorry for not telling you where I was going, when Duke wrote to me to inform me that he had the package, I was too excited.

Donna (Walks over him and places her hand on his chest): That's understandable, My Love, but what was so important about these packages?

[The mad said nothing - only smiled as he became to open the boxes on the right then the box on the left before throwing the lids off and Donna's eyes widened at the contents of the boxes. The first box was filled to the brim with fine rolls of silk in various colors while the 2nd box contained the parts of dolls but made from a very lovely & pale but smooth wood.]

Donna (Looks at her husband): Darling... what is this?

[Y/N]: When I went into town, Duke told me that you were asking him when he would be able to get some new wood to make your doll parts but he didn't have an answer. So I purchased fine silks and parts from another place and asked Duke to pick them up for me.

Donna: But...Why would you do this for me?

[Y/N] (Places his hand on Donna's chin to make her look into his eyes): Because, My Love, you are more refined than the finest silks and there is nothing I won't do for you.

[End]

#resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x male reader #bela dimitrescu x male reader #cassandra dimitrescu x male reader #daniela dimitrescu x male reader #donna beneviento x male reader

[tomhollandnet]

Tom Holland in the Wild and Woeful Cherry: Exclusive First Look

Cherry is a movie that dares you to try and describe it in a few lines. It’s the first film that Anthony and Joe Russo have directed following their Avengers finales, Infinity War and Endgame, and it reunites them with Spider-Man star Tom Holland. It also compresses their penchant for large-scale action and cataclysm into the core of a single person.

Holland’s title character is both volatile and vulnerable, a hard-knock nobody from Cleveland who’s just scraping by but doesn’t even have any big dreams to guide him. Every solution to his problems only deepens the trouble: College isn’t working out, so Cherry joins the Army to serve in Iraq as a medic. He returns home haunted and damaged, and starts abusing opioids to blunt his PTSD. To pay for the drugs, he resorts to bank robbery. The more desperate he gets, the more banks he has to rob.

It’s tempting to call this film, which hits theaters first on February 26 and then premieres globally on Apple TV+ on March 12, a smaller, more intimate project from the brothers who made some of Marvel’s most grandiose films. It’s definitely a passion project for them. But Cherry is also a sprawling tale that ventures around the world, albeit locked within the mind of Holland’s sweet-natured, grimly addicted bandit.

“We do think about it as an epic film, and it is very much a person’s life journey,” said Anthony Russo. “But it does have a little bit of a split personality between being this character study and an epic life cycle.”

They described Cherry as six movies in one, spanning from the mid 2000s to the present. “He travels a great distance over a 15-year period,” Joe Russo said. “The movie’s broken up into six chapters that reflect those different periods, and each one has a different tone. It’s shot with different lenses, different production design. One’s got magical realism. Another chapter is absurdism. Another is horror…There’s a bit of gonzo in it. It’s raw in its tone. He’s a character in existential crisis.”

Based on the 2018 novel by Nico Walker, the screenplay was written by the filmmakers’ sister,  Angela Russo-Otstot (V, The Shield), and Jessica Goldberg (The Path). “The book was very, very self-aware, self-deprecating, and self-loathing,” Joe said.

They felt a strong connection, even if the story doesn’t necessarily mirror their own. It’s close enough: “We’re from Cleveland and Nico’s from Cleveland. Interestingly enough, we know a lot of people that are implied in the book,” Joe added. “I think he’s fictionalized names and personalities. But I worked at the same restaurant that Nico worked at, 10 years apart. So he had a very similar upbringing to us. He just had a very different journey than we did.”

The Russos also wanted to tell a story about the people back home who are hurting. “Ohio is unfortunately at ground zero in the fight against the opioid crisis. And we’ve got a lot of people in our family that have either passed on or died from the crisis, or are struggling with their current addiction. So, this is a very, very personal movie for us.”

The one bright spot in Cherry’s life is Emily (Ciara Bravo, A Teacher), whose devotion to the love of her life may reveal her own self-destructive tendencies. While she’s the stabilizing thing he clings to, the only pure thing in his life, Cherry’s reckless actions threaten to destroy her too.

“The love story is the central spine of the film,” Anthony said. “Without that relationship in the movie, it all falls apart for him. We knew that we needed to make her presence and her character glow in the moments that we did have with her.”

“We really wanted someone that embodied that sense of innocence for him. It was a dream girl, the girl next door,” Joe said.

That’s a quality Holland also brings to the screen, from his breakthrough as a resilient kid trying to survive a tsunami in 2012’s The Impossible to his “aw, shucks” approach to Peter Parker in the Marvel films. With Cherry, the 24-year-old weaponizes that boyishness, allowing it to be battered and bruised and blasted off of him by the harshest things life can throw at a person.

The Russo brothers know this might sound like a turnoff. That’s why they wanted the role to go to Holland, whom they had successfully lobbied to get the part of Spider-Man in 2016’s Civil War.

“When Tom walked into the room…what, six years ago? He was younger, raw. His charisma just blew us away. There was an effortless charm to him,” Anthony said. “As an actor, that is very difficult to replicate. He’s just so likable. We knew for this part we were going to need someone of Tom’s charisma to keep the audience from shutting down during the darker parts of the film.”

“This is a movie that’s supposed to define the experience of having PTSD, the experience of being addicted to opioids,” Joe added. “And the mission of the film is to generate empathy, not to generate disdain, not to indict. It was critical that you empathize with his struggle and his journey because a lot of people are going through this, and they’re having a very human experience. I think empathy is in incredibly short supply right now in the world. And it’s a tragedy.”

As it traversed a decade and a half, Cherry also gave Holland a chance to show a more somber screen presence. “Tom is a nice person. He is, but he doesn’t let himself get trapped by that. He’s a seeker, he’s an artist, he’s always looking, running after complicated things in life,” Anthony said. “He’s a young actor, right? We haven’t seen him do that much up to this point. This is definitely something he’s had within him the whole time. We just haven’t been able to see it yet.“

Joe and I were surprised ourselves to see how thoroughly committed he was to every facet of that character,” he added. “The darkest, most difficult sides of that character, he really embraced them and ran at them and tried to give them life within himself in a way that not a lot of people could pull off.”

#cherry #articles #tom holland #long post

[harrywritingsbyme]

Do you think you could write a piece about Harry and y/n having sex but she’s like really short and Harry is like throwing her around and just manhandling her and fucking destroying her guts but also make kinda fluffy pls😔👉👈

Welcome Home

Anonymous Said: Hi I’ve discovered this blog recently and can I please just take a moment to say Wow... you’re writing is amazing and your ideas and concepts are brilliant. I’m not sure if your taking requests or concepts but here’s an idea. SNL pilot Harry like with the grey hair and all coming home to his wife who misses him dearly after awhile followed by you know what. And if you could include size kink (I really liked that concept)

A/N: I’m so sorry it’s so late guys! Since I’ve been writing for a year now, I figured that I’d give an ‘Au’ a try. When I got this request, I was completely floored. Like holy shit, sexy ass older pilot!Harry, and small!Y/n. All of this is perfection and I love this so much! Enjoy🙃

4.7k words

Harry loved his job. He considered himself to be pretty lucky to have the ability to travel the world and see places he’d only dreamt of growing up. Even though he wasn’t in those places for an extended amount of time, simply being there was more than enough for Harry and it made him want to go back and explore. If he was lucky, he’d have multiple flights to the same place or longer layover in these But what Harry loved most about his job was the fact that he got to do it all with the love of his life. 

When you two first met, Harry’d been a pilot for some years and you were just hired for your job as a flight attendant. You knew that it wasn’t the most glamorous profession int the world, but you wanted to dip your toes into the pool of world travel, and this was the route you were taking to start. Before your first flight you’d asked around about the pilots for your flight and you were met with the same response each time. Everyone said that Harry was one of the nicest people in the world and was pretty good looking too, but his copilot was the person you were advised to try your best to avoid. Luckily, you only had to interact with Harry. Both you and Harry hated to say it and be all cliché, but from the moment you two laid eyes on and interacted with each other you both were hooked. Even though the both of you could’ve really used the entirety of your breaks to get some sleep, you and Harry couldn’t stop talking to each other. From that point on, the two of you became inseparable. During layovers that were more than just a couple hours and Harry had some spare time outside of his duties as pilot, the two of you would spend time together. You two were so caught up in each other and being together that you’d swap flights and breaks with the other flight attendants so that you and Harry could be together. And Harry did the same. He’d always put in a word with the people who made the schedules to ensure that he was flying the flights you were on or he’d try to get you on his flights. 

After constantly being on flights together and even running into each other during your times off, you and Harry were pretty convinced that you two should give a relationship a try. Even though there was a significant risk involved with starting a relationship with someone who was pretty much your boss and/or employee, you and Harry were willing to take that risk. And you two never looked back. In fact, disclosing you guys’ relationship made things way easier for you and Harry; you two were almost always on the same flights together. Now, you two are happily married and traveling the world together about 99% of the time. You both absolutely hated when the 1% times came around. You two became so used to being on the same flights that when you weren’t, you and Harry were a bit sad and even a little homesick believe it or not. This time unfortunately was Harry’s turn to fly without you. There wasn’t a moment on his trip that Harry didn’t miss you. He was focused on his job but he was still thinking about you. He was constantly wondering about what you were doing at home. When he took his break he just laid there and the cuddles and kisses he’d get if you were there with him. He also missed listening to your passenger horror stories and pushing you to just keep going. And on top of all that, Harry missed all the times you two would try to quietly go at it in the bathroom or crew resting area depending on whether or not you two were the only ones on break. Even though he was able to talk to you during his layover, he was counting the days and eventually hours until he came back home to you. As soon as he landed on the tarmac at the airport, Harry was on a mission to get home. After following all the necessary after flight procedure and filling out all of the necessary paperwork, Harry threw his bag into his car and sped home to you.

Surprisingly, Harry was able to get home and not get a ticket. He quickly pulls into the driveway and carries himself and his bag into the house. When he walks through the front door, Harry could immediately feel your presence. He could feel your warmth radiating through the entire house. All he had to do now as find you. Before checking upstairs, he makes his way around the main level of the house to look for you. As he exits the kitchen and makes his way down the hall, Harry could hear your soft hums getting louder and louder. When he reaches the laundry room, he sees you standing at the folding in the corner. Simply seeing you bought a big smile to his face. He then wastes no time coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller body. 

“Honey I’m home.” Harry happily coos in your ear before pressing a soft kiss below it. When he does this, you turn around in his arms to get a better look at him. 

“Welcome home.” You whisper back to him, lifting yourself up onto your tips of your toes to bring your lips to his. As soon as your lips connect, the both of you release sighs of content. You two were back together. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s arms to tighten around your body and hoist you up onto the table behind you. The kiss lasts a little longer before you pull away from his lips. 

“How was your long haul without me?” You hum, sliding your hands up the lapels of his jacket.

“It was hell.” Harry says pointedly. 

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Was thinking about you the whole time.” Harry frowns a little at you to emphasize his point. 

“I missed you too baby.” You coo softly to him. You then reach up and pull the captains hat off of his head, sitting it down next to you before pushing your hands through his greying curls. When you two first met, he had some grey hairs here and there. But now they had taken over just about all of his head; and you were very into it. “Any annoying kids or weird old ladies?” You ask him. 

 “For the kids, I wouldn’t know. I like to stay in the front of the plane or the crew area.” Harry begins truthfully. “But as for the old ladies, they always want to break off a piece of this.” He continues smugly.

“Why would they want you? Do they wanna swap arthritis creams or something?” You joke with a laugh, watching his face fall in the process. 

“I will have you know that I’m considered a silver fox. And you know it.” Harry defends, slightly tilting his head up away from you. When he says this all you could do was pucker your lips and bite the inside of them because what he said was in fact true. You just couldn’t let him know that. “Now what’d you get into while I was gone?” Harry asks curiously with a smirk from his previous victory. 

“Did some stuff around the house and I did a little missing you retail therapy.” You reply happily. 

“So I take it that the credit card bill this month is gonna be a little higher than normal?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

“Just a little.” You whisper trying to undermine your shopping spree. 

“A little?” Harry asks you again, already knowing that you’re undermining how much you actually spent. 

“Mhm.” You mumble, nodding your head sweetly in the process. 

“You’re too cute and pretty for your own good.” Harry chuckles and shakes his head down at you. 

“You love it though.” You hum happily up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I do.” Harry sighs contently. This is what he missed. He missed being in your arms and just loving on you. He loved seeing your smile and feeing your small arms wrap around him. “I actually bought you a couple things.” Harry whispers, tightening his grip around your back. 

“Is it more skimpy lingerie?” You question him, making sure to spread a wide smirk across your face. Instead of readily replying to you, Harry simply unwraps one of his arms from around your back and he brings it up to the front of your dress. Since the front of your dress was loosely wrapped around your body to keep it closed, Harry as able to simply pluck back the top a little to get a good look at your body beneath the fabric. 

“Well I guess this is my cue to stop buying the lingerie, since you’re not even wearing it.” Harry points out, looking down into your dress to find your bare, supple breasts resting on your chest. It took a lot of self control for Harry in that moment to not stick his hand down your dress to take your plushy flesh into his hand.

“Well I thought it was for our sexy times or when I send you pictures while you’re on a trip and on your break or stuck in a hotel room without me.” You explain to him. You even throw in a little pout; you wanted to keep your fancy and very pretty lingerie flow going. “But I am wearing one of the pairs of  panties you picked up in Italy if you wanna see how some of your purchases look on me.” You whisper lowly to him. You then use your arms that are hooked around his neck to pull his head down closer to yours. Harry was already a bit hard from finally being home with you. Now he was getting even harder from your words. 

“Is it bad that I’ve only been home for 20 minuets and I’m already thinking about completely ravishing you?” Harry mumbles against your pillow soft lips. “Just so pretty baby.” Harry grumbles frustratedly before bringing his mouth the rest of the way to yours while pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He couldn’t believe that he, a man who turned 40 a couple months prior, was getting all riled up and turned on the same way he did 20 plus years ago. That was just the age defying effect you had on him. 

“No, not at all.” You begin as you pull away from the short lived yet beyond passionate kiss, slowly bringing your left hand up the back of his neck to his hair. “In fact, every time I see you in your head to toe pilots get up, I’m always fighting the strong urge to fall to my knees and take your cock down my throat.” You bluntly continue, your voice filled with a very nonchalant and teasing tone. 

When this statement left your mouth, Harry was a little bit taken aback. But at the same time he wasn’t. After slowly building up your friendship that in no time blossomed into a more romantic relationship together, Harry was able to slowly show you the ropes so to speak and teach you just about everything you knew when it came to the bedroom and a happy and healthy relationship. When you two progressed to the more intimate stage of your budding relationship, you were pretty inexperienced. You didn’t know your way around the bedroom at all. You we’re still a virgin and you didn’t even know the ins and outs of making out with someone. All you knew was that this smart, extremely kind, absolutely gorgeous, and just overall stunning human being, older man who just so happened to be the pilot on your flight had taken a strong interest in you. And luckily for you, your lack of experience was the least of his concerns. It was like you hit the jackpot with him. Fast forward to now when you two are a married couple, you’ve taken all of the tips and tricks he’s taught over time and you’re running with it. Harry wasn’t the only who had the ability to do things to your body that would make your toes to curl, your entire body to go numb, and cause your mind to deem it all indescribable. You also had the ability to turn Harry into a pleasured, borderline incoherent, and moaning mess; something that most women in his past who were his age or slightly older weren’t even able to do. So it wasn’t a complete surprise that those words came from your mouth.

“Who knew that my pretty little wife had such a filthy mouth.” Harry gasps with a condescending tone.

“Well I’m not a prudish old man like you.” You simply reply. This was the button in Harry that you loved to push. 

“I don’t know where you’re getting that from but I’m far from prudish and I’m definitely not an old man.” Harry says matter of factly. “If I remember it correctly, I made you wear vibrating panties for the entirety of an 18 hour flight.” Harry recalls, making his point against being called prudish. 

“Everyone uses those. Especially older men.” You smugly whisper back, pushing even harder on this button of his. 

Harry knew exactly what you were doing. He knew that you were pushing his button so that he’d unleash everything he had built up over the course of his trip into you. It didn’t take much for him to realize that you wanted him to really make up for not being with you for almost a week. The both of you were itching to feel and be around each other again. After you and Harry made it past the learning and teaching phase of you guys’ sex life, the two of you acquired a constant hunger for one another. When you and Harry had some time off, the sex would be nonstop. Whether it was cockwarming or full on sex where you’re riding his cock or he was slamming himself deep into your pussy, you and Harry were always looking for ways to be around each other like this. And it was exactly the same when you two were on the job. Even though you two didn’t have the freedom to go at it whenever you wanted, you and Harry still found ways to be with each other. For some reason, seeing each other dressed in your uniforms was a bit of a turn on. It didn’t help that the both of you were borderline thrill seekers and loved the rush that came along with trying to be quiet as you both were experiencing some of the best pleasure you’d ever felt.

“Well do all older men pound and shove their cocks into their girlfriends, and now wives tight little cunts over and over again until she’s begging and crying for him to slow down and let them cum? Because if not, I’ve got countless stories about me doing that to you in the cramped bathroom on a flight, in restaurant bathrooms, dressing rooms, upstairs, on the couch, the kitchen counter, right here on this table, and many other places.” Even though you acted confident and enjoyed battling Harry for dominance, you were able to easily fall into a more submissive role. The way he’s calmly able to say the filthiest things made your body quake and your panties become even more soaked than they already were. You were never going to be able to forget about all of those times. How and why would you ever forget the times where he’s hoisted you up against a door or a wall, or pushed you down against the counter, tightly wrapped a hand around your mouth to keep you quiet, and deliciously slammed his cock up into you? If you focused in on those memories, you could remember and almost feel him inside you.

That’s what you wanted right now. You wanted him to pound into you so hard that you’d a sore, moaning mess and you wanted to make up for the time you two weren’t together. This was the first time in a good while that you weren’t scheduled for a flight with Harry and you really missed him. And his cock. So if you had to push one of his buttons to really get what you both wanted, you were going to do it. 

“Well I think you guys can do that,” You begin, pausing to run your hands down from his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders. “I just think that you may need a little help if you know what I mean.” You finish. When you say this, Harry knows exactly what you were implying and he wasn’t having any of it. 

“You and this pretty little body of yours is gonna get it.” Harry growls before yanking you up from the table and pulling you into his body. He quietly marches you both up the stairs and to your shared bedroom. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he releases his once tight grip on your body and drops you down onto the bed. He continues to go about everything silently, shoving his jacket off of his shoulders and working on his tie and shirt.

“You look really hot in that uniform just so you know.” You admire from the bed below him. You watch him chuckle at your statement as he shrugs his shirt and undone tie off his body. You were really turned on right now. Like the sight of his bare, toned and tattooed chest and arms was a sight you could stare at forever. Add onto that the fact that he was mad and taking control over you and you were setup to be a complete mess. And your panties could definitely attest to that. You were completely drenched and dying to feel him against and inside you. 

“You don’t have to butter me up baby.” Harry begins as he undoes his shoes. “M’still gonna take care of you and that smart mouth of yours.” Harry guarantees, shoving his shoes and socks off his feet and standing back up to work on his pants. “Gonna make sure you know what I can do to you.” Harry finishes, finally undoing his belt and shoving his pants along with his boxers down his legs. When you see his thick and very hard cock, you couldn’t stop a moan or two from escaping your mouth. “I take it someone needs my cock.” Harry chuckles at your desperation for his cock. He planned on showing you just how much you needed him. He then comes closer to the edge of the bed and in one swift motion, Harry pulls you up from your lying position and flips you onto your front. He masterfully undoes the tie on the back of your dress and he flips you back onto your back. He tugs at the fabric, opening your dress and exposing your partially naked body to him. He takes a moment to admire your body and all he could do is bite his lip. He couldn’t believe that he managed to be away from this for nearly an entire week. 

Harry quickly snaps out of his trance when he feels his cock twitch slightly and he leans down to scoop you up into his arms. When he does this, Harry keeps you low in his grip so that you’d be right against his cock. He keeps one arm securely around your body and pulls your arms from the dress. Once it’s completely off of you, he drops it into the pile of his clothes and drops you back onto the bed. Before crawling up and on top of you, Harry uses your claves to push you a little higher up onto the bed and to flip you back onto your stomach. When he does this, you really know you’re in for it. Whenever you were in this position Harry really made sure to slam into you and make you scream. When he crawls up and is on top of you from behind, he wastes no time in ripping the barely there panties off your body. For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry didn’t snap the delicate undergarment in half. Once they’re out of the way, Harry has complete access to your body.

“Gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?” Harry asks, squeezing the flesh of your ass before raising it up just to crash it back down.

“Mhm.” You whimper, really feeling the sting from the sudden slap.

“Use your words.” Harry demands, raising his hand back up to deliver another slap to your backside. 

“Yes daddy.” You cry out to him, this time feeling not only the sting of his slaps but also feeling of your juices dripping onto the sheets.

“Good girl.” Harry hums at your response. He then straddles your thighs, wanting to keep you in place when he pushes into you. He lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you, and he grips onto his cock to give himself a good squeeze, resulting in him letting out a loud grumble behind you (that went straight to your clit). He tightly grips onto the flesh of one of your cheeks and he pulls your ass apart to get a better view of you. When he sees your puckered hole, Harry gets a little idea. In the process of lining himself up with your entrance, Harry uses his cock to put a little pressure on your tighter hole. When he does this, words begin to pour out of your mouth. 

“M’too tight daddy.” You rush out to him, trying to stop his actions. Harry knew that you were too tight for him at the moment, but he just liked to work you up a little and hear you beg.

“Don’t worry baby. When were done, daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready for his cock.” He promises, lowering his cock from your second hole down to the first. When you feel his thick head nudging at your entrance, your moans got louder. You needed him to be inside you already. 

“Want your big cock daddy.” You beg. You try to move back against him but he’s practically sitting on your thighs, which is pinning you to the bed. 

“Whats the magic word?” Harry teases.

“Please daddy?” And with that, Harry is finally sinking his cock into you. When you feel his cock stretching you to fit all of him, your mind goes blank. All you could come up with was strings of loud moans and feeling good. You felt full agains which was all you really wanted. As he continues to sheath his cock with your walls, Harry’s hand leaves his shaft and goes right to your other cheek. He pulls your ass completely apart and watches as his cock disappears into you.

“That’s it, take this cock sweetheart.” Harry pants in amazement. He was still in awe at how a small woman like you was able to take every last inch of his manhood. Once he’s fully inside, Harry’s eyes trail up your body to find you resting your cheek against the sheets with your mouth wide open. Thats what he wanted to see. Keeping his hands on your ass, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you and goes straight into slamming in and out of your tight and very wet pussy. As he does this, your entire body quakes at the amazing sensation of him fucking you. Feeling him pound into your stomach as he called you his sweet girl and his pretty little wife was beyond extraordinary. You could feel the familiar tight and warm knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach already.

As Harry fucks into you, he’s beyond turned on. The way you’re pinned below him as he shoves his cock deep into you along with you pitifully whimpering, moaning, and crying at how good he felt was really doing things to Harry. He never wanted to be away from you ever again. He wanted to feel you every single day.

After fucking into you from behind for a good while and feeling the tight burning sensation forming in the pit of his stomach as well, Harry figures that he’s going to cum soon and he wants to watch your face twist as he does. He then proceeds to stop thrusting all together and pull out of you, which causes you to grumble, resulting in you receiving a hard “shut up” slap to your ass. He then gets lifts himself off of you and flips tugs you onto your back. He knocks your legs apart and gets in between them before slamming his cock back into you.

“Like this baby. Like it when daddy takes control of this tight little cunt of yours?” He pants, continuing to slam his his cock into you. You were too caught up in how good he was making you feel that you couldn’t even form a worded response. All you could do was thrash your head against the bed in agreement. When he sees this, a very wide smirk rises to his face. This is exactly what he missed and wanted to see. You taking all of his cock while you’re quivering and barely holding on. As he continues, Harry can feel the warmth from the pit of his stomach spreading to his entire body, signifying to him that his release was getting extremely close. Judging by the way your once tight grip on the sheets has gone loose, your pitiful whimpers, and the way you’re tightening up around him you’re feeling the exact same way. To make you cum around his cock, with him following right behind you Harry only has to do two things. First, he brings his palm to your lower stomach and presses it into you; putting pressure on the warm knot that was about to explode and allowing him to feel his cock moving inside you. He then comes down, bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper one thing into your ear. “Not too bad for an old man right?” Harry hums patronizingly into your ear. He wanted you to eat your words. And you were. His words, the pressure from his hand, and his cock causes you to burst at the seams around him. You let out a mixture of gasps and whimpers as you completely let go around Harry’s cock. When he feels your walls contracting around him, Harry lets go as well. He releases every last drop of the sexual frustration he’d been carrying around all week; and it felt so good. He loved painting your walls with his cum.

Once the both of you are done and it’s safe to pull out, Harry’s slowly pulls his sopping wet cock from your cunt and collapses onto the bed next to you. 

“Harry, I can’t feel my legs.” You whimper after a couple minuets of silence. 

“M’surprised you’re not used to it by now.” Harry hums smugly. Once he says this, a temporary lull fell over you two. You and Harry were very anxious to go at it again, but you two were holding off to see who would initiate round two. 

“Did you take something before you came in the house?” You whisper over to him, deciding that you needed to be the one to initiate round two.

“Do I need to come over there and shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours for you to get the point?” Harry chuckles at your persistence. 

“Only if you want to.” You whisper sweetly. 

“Oh I want to, and don’t you doubt that.” Harry says matter of factly. 

“Well can we cuddle first? Haven’t cuddled since the night before you left.”

“Anything you want.” Harry coos before moving closer to your limp body. 

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #my harry writing #older!harry #pilot!harry #husband!harry #concepts of h #Harrywritingsbyme

[karmasuna]

— 𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱, 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘁 

+ todoroki shoto. fluff, w/c: 1k  

synopsis: your hands are cold and todoroki offers to help. that’s it that’s the fic

note: italics abuse do be warned, and thank you to todoroki wife @datecho​ for beta-ing!

“why is it so cold,” you cry, rubbing your hands vigorously together to no avail. “i wish i had like, socks for my hands or something.”

“there are socks for your hand, dumbass. they’re called gloves,” bakugo snorts, taking delight in how you're currently staring at your hands like they’ve betrayed you in a past life. 

“you’re right. i can’t believe you’re right for once, bakugo,” you sigh, sticking your hands under your thighs and the chair. “it’s not fair that you never get cold.” 

“hah. you wish you were me. go ask lover boy to warm you up or something, your whining’s fuckin’ annoying.” 

the blonde doesn’t even have to utter a name to turn you in a squirming mess, trying (and failing miserably) to suppress the smile that creeps onto your face just from thinking about him. 

“gross,” bakugo groans. “look, i’ll even help you. just get the fuck outta my face.” 

before you can protest he plucks an eraser off your table and hurls it in todoroki’s direction at a terrifying velocity. there’s nothing you can do but watch in horror as the eraser buries itself into the back of midoriya’s head, sending him stumbling into iida’s arms in front of him. 

you stand there in silence and pure regret as midoriya stumbles back up, iida already having shoved the poor boy into todoroki’s care and wasting no time in storming over to reprimand your explosive friend. 

“why the hell did you throw it at midoriya,” you hiss, feeling guilty that he was so viciously attacked for no reason. 

“gee, i thought you wouldn’t want icy hot to have a dent in his head,” bakugo retorts, not sounding the least bit guilty as iida proceeds to chew him out. 

when you’re sure iida’s not looking you make your way over to the other side of the classroom where midoriya currently sits with an ice pack pressed to the point of impact, courtesy of todoroki. 

“hey, midoriya. sorry about that,” you say sheepishly as you pull out a chair to sit down next to him, giving todoroki a small wave. 

nice and easy, you remind yourself, trying to calm the hurricane in your stomach, you’ll be fine. 

midoriya’s laugh is cut midway when he winces, the throbbing in his head presumably not a welcome sensation. 

“it’s fine, kacchan’s always like this. it’s not your fault,” he replies with the most painful looking smile you’d ever seen, though he seems to relax a bit when todoroki starts to apply more pressure to the spot.

“actually, it kind of is my fault,” you sigh, trying your best to keep yourself focused on midoriya right in front of you and not todoroki looking all attractive just standing there.

“bakugo got annoyed at me and that’s why this happened. so i’m sorry, really.” gesturing lamely at him, hoping you’d suddenly develop some kind of telepathy power to spare yourself from revealing the more embarrassing parts of the conversation.

“for what? i’ll talk to him for you if he did anything.” todoroki speaks up, and it takes all of your willpower not to swoon as you look up to meet his eyes. 

“ah, it’s really nothing,” you assure him. “my hands were just, um, cold and bakugo said i was being annoying. nothing serious.”

todoroki frowns a little at that, lips forming a small pout. you wish you could kiss it away. suddenly you’re grateful for the chair you’re in, since you have no idea whether you’d be able to stand how cute he’s acting right now.

“you could’ve asked me. i have a heat-regulating quirk,” he points out, as if you hadn’t spent hours on end thinking about how perfect of a cuddle buddy he would be any season of the year.

“right. yeah. i knew that,” you say dumbly, eyes darting to midoriya for help. said boy isn’t being of much assistance having stiffened up awkwardly, crushed under the knowledge of being stick as the third wheel.

“i’d just end up annoying you though. my hands are cold all the time so i’m used to it, really.”

todoroki’s about to respond when midoriya abruptly stands up, grabbing the ice from his friend and all but breaking into a sprint towards the classroom door. “i’m gonna go see recovery girl! you two have fun talking, alright?” 

“wait-“ todoroki’s words go by unnoticed as midoriya swiftly makes his escape, drawing out a long sigh from the boy. “he’s going to get detention for injuring himself again.” 

you chuckle lightly, rubbing your hands together as subtly as you can to get some warmth. 

your stealth efforts are in vain though, and when todoroki notices he wastes no time in taking one of your hands in his, wrapping his fingers around your smaller ones to trap in the warmth.

it feels like the ice on your fingertips is thawing away as you visibly slump in relief, sighing happily about your newfound warmth. 

you’re so distracted by the sensation that you barely notice the warmth pooling in todoroki’s cheeks as he watches you relax more than he’s ever seen you.

“next time just ask, okay? i’ll keep you warm whenever.”

todoroki’s soft, nervous words snap you out of your warmth-filled haze, and you become acutely aware of the situation you’re in. 

todoroki shoto, most eligible bachelor of all of ua, hell, maybe even japan, is holding your hand and he’s being shy about it. 

thank god you’re sitting, you think again. because your legs are shaking and your face is burning so much that you’re sure he can feel it, or hear the racing of your heartbeat banging against your insides. 

with all the blood pumping louder and louder in your veins all you can do is nod dumbly. the way the worry collapses from his face into a small, relieved smile helps you steady your own mind too.

“do you want to go to the cafeteria? we should go buy lunch before they run out,” you suggest lightly, keeping your tone as calm as possible. the boy’s eyes light up, and you have to stifle a laugh at the look of quiet determination in his eyes. he tugs on your hand gently to pull you up and towards his beloved soba. 

“you’re right, they might run out of soba soon. we should go now.” 

he never lets go of your hand once.

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki headcanons #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto fluff

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au kun it’s late ...... but happy birthday leader kun ~ find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle

there’s a sharp knock on the glass of your window 

you stare up at the ceiling and don’t move an inch from the comfort of your bed until the knock comes again. and again.

with a groan you roll off your sheets and compose yourself before walking over and pushing your curtains aside

on the other side of the window is kun

standing god knows how on the side of the second story of your house and you cross your arms

he motions for you to open the window and you shake your head

he rolls his eyes and somehow the little gesture ticks you off to no end

who does he think he is? always being so rude, even when he needs me to do something for him!

he motions again and you try not to look at the strong line of his arms - he’s wearing a sleeveless tank and jeans which really? how athletic is he climbing in those thing-

you sneer but you give in, undoing the latch and pushing open the window

stepping back, kun climbs through without a hitch and once he’s standing on the carpet of your bedroom you look up and start

“i was about to go to sleep what are you doing her-”

“where’s your cousin?”

he doesn’t even look at you.

in fact, he looks over your shoulder at your door that’s closed

“he said to meet him before we both sneak out, but that dumbass could have just met me at the party himself.”

you uncross your arms and instead curl your fingers into fists at your side

“so why didn’t you sneak through the guestroom window asshole -”

“don’t know which window is the guest room. i just knew this one was yours because of the childish curtains.”

he gets under your nerves. he really does. he has since you meet him as the naïve new kid at your towns middle school

and he - he was the ever so perfect at everything upperclassman. 

that hadn’t changed much now - as you got older you came to understand that kun could do no wrong in the eyes of everyone BUT you

your parents thought he was the shining example of a young man, your friends all wanted to date him, and now even your cousin who was staying with you for the summer was impressed with him.

they’d met at the party you had thrown to welcome your cousin and how kun even got there - you don’t know - but he’d shown up with sicheng and ten 

and then was talking to your cousin and everyone and making you irritated the entire night ....... and yet ............ here he was now 

sneaking out with YOUR cousin to go to another party. who’s party? you didn’t know - your own damn cousin had invited KUN and not YOU

you don’t want to bite your tongue anymore - you want to start mouthing off on him just like he thinks he has the right to do with you 

but if you raise your voice, you’ll wake your parents and you have the sinking feeling that if they walked in on this scene 

they might not be as angry about it as other parents would be......you cringe, thinking about how your mother had once inquired you if kun and you were considering being more than friends.

you look up at him now. more than friends? he’s going to be my enemy till i die.

you think your worry comes to life when your door opens and you turn so fast in fear of seeing your parents actually standing there, but it is just your cousin

who grins at kun and pushes past you like you’re a ghost in your own room

“ready to go dude?” he asks and kun suddenly takes this moment of all to look at you 

he makes a noise of agreement, but he keeps his line of vision on you. it makes something crawl up your skin. creep, don’t look at me like that! 

it only lasts a split second, before both boys are using your window to sneak out into the sticky summer night and you’re rushing over to shut it. 

before you do - you watch them disappear out of the backyard - two figures in the moon. 

you huff, reaching for your curtains and you don’t notice kun look back.

this keeps happening. 

sometimes kun does come sneaking back through your window (he says he can’t get the guest room one where your cousin is - there’s nothing for him to climb up on that side of the house) but rather than just that

kun just keeps appearing around you

he’s at the same parties, he’s at the same park, he’s at the same beach. the town has never felt smaller and your cousin is the reason for it all. he drags kun everywhere - like they’re the bestest of friends.

they’ve known each other for like two or something weeks.....can’t they find other people to hangout with! maybe i should just stay in my room from now on-

you turn off the shower and try to erase the thought from your head. you wrap a towel around yourself and scurry down the hall back to your room where you shut the door and sigh.

he annoys me so much that my brain can’t help thinking about him when it should just be trying to throw him out of my he-

your shoulders tense when you hear a familiar sound at the window. 

no fucking way

the curtains are drawn back now and through the glass you see the familiar outline of kun’s figure

you stomp over - you’ve been boiling over his constant presence and you think fine, he wants to come into your room, you wont let him until he hears what you really think

so you yank the window up, but not enough for him to climb through

“hey i can-”

“kun, i know everyone thinks your gods gift to this earth but what would they think of you trying to sneak into my room through the goddamn window at midnight? huh? can’t spend your summer doing something better than bothering me? that’s what the prince of this little town does - peep through wind-”

in the heat of the moment you throw your hands up to the glass of the window and the towel ....... drops

you probably wouldn’t have even noticed - how wound up you’ve gotten - but kun 

kun nearly falls straight off the side of your house and you can see the panic reflected in his eyes flash so you yank the window up and instead of letting him fall backwards

you pull him in and ontop of you

the two of you topple over onto your carpet - the thudding sound resounds and kun catches himself on his arms so his weight doesn’t crush you

you stare up - that flash of panic is still in kun’s eyes and for a second you try to figure out why when you feel the summer air gust through and all over your exposed skin

you scream, because what else can you do, and kun pushes himself off you

you reach for the towel pooled beside you and wrap yourself back up - getting to your feet with wobbly horror and staring at kun who is sitting back with that expression stil on his face

it doesn’t last long though because you hear someone pull at your doorknob - your mothers voice coming from the otherside

kun falls back and rolls himself under your bedframe - just in time for the door to open and your mother to rush in with worry laced in her voice

“what happened?”

qian kun just saw me naked!

“i- i though-i thought i saw something in the window im fine, really!”

your mother pries but you push her back toward the door gently, assuring her that it was probably an owl or a racoon in a tree. really. 

she touches your shoulder and says to call her if you need anything. you close the door again and listen to her footsteps down the stairs.

you breath in and turn around - kun has gotten out from under the bed and is now standing at the corner of your bed looking more lost than you’ve ever seen him in your life

no snarky remarks, no stupid smug look on his face 

you feel angry. you still feel all pissed off from before, but now there’s something else coursing through you. 

shame.

“get out”

you grit your teeth. 

“i - i would never-”

“get out kun, seriously.”

he stumbles, no confidence and no superiority, just an almost wounded like stride as he reaches for the window again.

he looks over his shoulder and you brace yourself - with him, he could look sad all he wants but you know deep down he could say something so cruel right about now-

“im sorry.”

you clutch the towel 

sorry for what? for being better than me at everything? for having to see me at my most vulnerable when all i ever see you at is your best?

you think - or at least you assume you think this - you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud

kun stops and swallows, “im not the best at anything. im a horrible liar you know.”

“what?”

the towel should be soft, but it feels heavy, like a lifeline you’re gripping but that just gets harder and harder to keep close

kun pushes his lower body through the window and then looks at you one final time

“im a horrible liar. the reasons i even- the reason im always around you isn’t because of your cousin. it’s because i want to be near-”

you don’t hear the last word because he disappears right after that, you stand in the corner of your room, he wants to be near what? 

you look at the shut door, the mirror hanging on the back of it, and your reflection

did he say he wants to be near me?

you don’t really go anywhere for a couple of days after that. 

your cousin is always out, but you don’t even want to go see your friends. you just know that that will risk seeing-

something knocks against your window and you look over, a new feeling swelling in your chest that isn’t like that dread you’ve felt before

but instead of kun’s figure - you just see the raindrops that are accumulating on the glass

a heavy summer storm brews up outside and you think it’s ironic. your brain feels like it is going through a tornado of its own. 

you walk toward it and think it would be nice to feel the rain though - to touch something outside of room and when you open it you do see something

you see someone in the backyard

“kun?”

you’re rushing out on the grass - barefoot and wrapping your arms around yourself in the wind of the rain

“kun why are you here - my cou-”

“im here to see you.”

you don’t understand - and then a strong chill that doesn’t come from the storm runs up your spine - he’s here to make fun of me isn’t he? mock me?

“listen, i don’t want to hear it from you of all people - you saw me naked for a second and you have no right-”

“its you. im always here to see you. do you understand?”

he’s talking over me - like usual - but why is his tone-

“excuse me? understand wh-”

the rain gets heavier and you cannot believe you’re about to do this but you’re getting soaked and so is kun and so you point to your window

“meet me up there.”

you don’t know why you invite him. you expect the worst and you expect to get hurt and made fun of it. but you do it anyway. 

part of you is saying it’s because you want to pick a fight - but another part, quieter and that’s been dormant for a while says no, it’s because you might think you hate kun but you aren’t going to let him stand out in the rain any longer.

you wish you could tell this part to shut up and go away, but you give into it every time. especially, it seems, when it comes to him of all people.

kun looks displaced again in your room - he usually sneaks through and acts like he owns the place - but this time he’s back to this awkward atmosphere

you feel sick thinking about how you kind of wish you had the other side of him back

“so why are you here kun, really. it’s embarrassing enough for me that you saw me-”

“im sick of lying.” 

you blink, looking at him more seriously

“lying?”

“your cousin is fun and all, but cmon - you said it yourself. everyone expects the best of me, why would i spend my summer partying around the town. do you think i like it?”

speechless you don’t say anything in response and kun continues

“it’s just, finally i had an excuse good enough to be around you. to sneak up through your window, to hangout with the people you are friends with, to see you. otherwise - i never get a chance to-”

he looks different tonight, maybe because he’s drenched with rain, but he looks more like the kun you’ve known for years

put together, serious, he even has his glasses on tonight which shocks you more than anything because ever since the summer started - ever since he’s been around your cousin - he seems to have ditched them

you think slowly the pieces are coming together in your head about what point kun is making

it creeps in and you think shock is going to overcome you when kun confesses - with none of that bravado he seems to have adapted - 

“i just know you hate me and without a good reason you would never let me near you so i - i just did the one thing that meant i could be close to you, because i dont hate you, i really like-”

you take a couple of steps toward him, closing your fingers around his face and you hear kun’s breath hitch up 

you pull him down and toward you and just as you’re about to brush your lips against his - you instead pull him into a tight hug

you bury your face in his chest. his hands stuck stiff at his sides

“im not going to kiss you until you promise me one thing kun”

you can feel his heartbeat and yours, both rushing - louder than the thunder outside

“wh-what?”

“if we do this - whatever this will be - you have to promise you’ll still hangout with my cousin. he really thinks you guys are best friends.”

after a bit of a pause you feel his chest rumble with laughter

which you take offense to as you pull out of his arms - “hey don’t laugh! im being seri-”

“this is why i want to be near you by the way.”

he looks at you and for the first time it isn’t cold or accompanied by a sneer, the warmth in the deep browns almost makes you coy

“the guy you’re enemies with tells you they like you and you go ‘whatever, just keep being nice to my cousin’.”

you cross your arms, “family before boyfriends.”

kun cocks an eyebrow, “boyfriend? you move fast.”

“qian kun you’ve seen me naked. you better be ready for commitment.”

he loops his hands around your waist and you yelp a little at the sound contact - hugging and all is one but now he is pushing you up and against him

“im ready for anything if it means i can see you naked again.”

after that - everything shifts

naturally it does, you do start dating the guy you swore you’d hate till you died but that’s not the only thing

you are also dating the most sought after guy in your town and while most of the other people your age go green with envy - your parents and cousin (surprisingly) are over the moon

your parents you get, but you thought your cousin would hate the idea - when infact he confesses that he’s happy you like kun now - you all three can hangout easier for the rest of his summer here!

you’re all having dinner one time and your mother asks what made you finally realize you liked kun

you fluster, and kun quips that he just had to sneak through your window a couple of times to end up sneaking into your heart

your parents laugh - oh qian kun would never sneak through a window, only bad boys do that!

you almost choke on your peas

you won’t lie - you have insecurities and worries in the beginning, kun could still be pulling a fast one on you. or maybe you two just will never get over the competition between each other.

but that all proves null, you and him can be sarcastic and joke around all you want it doesn’t stop the feelings that grow tenfold through the summer 

that feeling that when you are with him, there isn’t anyone else around 

and kun really is the best at everything (you don’t say it out loud though)

but he does have the looks, the brains, the popularity and boy does he know what he’s doing with those hands of his 

safe to say that he might have seen you naked first but you definitely saw him as well

you joke about it and your cousin is like ok. nevermind. this relationship between yall is GROSS jkjk

and then - like all things, summer ends, and your cousin is back off to his hometown 

and when you’re saying goodbye - he goes up to you and leans in to whisper something so no one else hears

“that’s not going to happen!”

you exclaim when he leans out, but he just shrugs and says “just promise you will.”

so you do promise. 

when you comeback to join kun he asks what the promise was about and you roll your eyes, muttering that it’s unrealistic so it doesn’t matter.

the only issue is - it is very realistic

because ten years later you are sending out invitations to you and kun’s wedding

he’s sitting at the dinner table beside you and watching you handwrite the notes, cutely testing out your cursive 

he teases your mistakes and you swat at him, he leans down to kiss the side of your cheek when he looks at the invitation in your hand

it’s addressed to your cousin and kun reads it out loud: 

“hey cousin, im keeping my promise from the past - the promise that id invite you to me and kun’s wedding.”

kun looks at you and you can’t believe the look makes you blush - even as a damn adult

kun keeps reading;

“and the other promise - that ill dance with you right after i dance with kun.”

kun chuckles, “you might not keep that one - because im not letting anyone else dance with after me. you’ll be mine that night.”

you scrunch up your nose, “dummy - ill be yours forever.” 

#kun scenarios #kun au #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #nct au #nct scenarios #nostolgic au #kun #sfw #nudity/ #wayv #nct

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 10)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Ten: The Echo

Greeting your companions the next morning was just as awkward as bidding them goodnight after the debacle last night. You’re stiff, bruised, and the dirtiest you’ve ever been in your whole life. Lightly retying the corset to support yourself, you collect Gonk from where she’s curled in the Hammock and brace yourself before heading out onto the deck of the ship. It’s already very bright out, and the crew is as rambunctious as ever. With the Captain throwing orders around here and there, Tech and Wrecker working the sails, and Crosshair shouting back down to Hunter. It’s marvellous how they work together when they're not disagreeing about something.

You feel Gonk leap off your shoulder with a curious noise before bounding away, her speckled wings bouncing behind her. She looks clumsy for a lizard, but then again, how many lizards did you know that have feathers?

“Good Morning!” Wrecker shouts to you when he notices your figure. You give him a smile and a small wave. Tech returns your smile and watches you as you glance around. Appreciating the sea and the vessel you’ve found yourself on.

The water of the Corillian run is a rich blue with just enough green to look magical. And the waves the churn underneath you look more powerful than any carriage or speeder you’ve seen before. Just as you’re wondering how deep it is, there's a commotion behind you. Hunter is glaring deadly at Gonk, who’s held by her neck feathers in front of his face. And from the way her wings are flapping and her front claws grab at him, it's no mystery where she was, or where she’s trying to go.

“I’m sorry!” You say, gathering your skirts and rushing over. The Captain glares at you as he shoves her into your arms, her grey feathers bunching up as he does so. His tunic is rolled up again, and in the morning light you can see the symbols on his forearm more clearly. Traitor.

When the wooden ruler collided with your desk you yelped in fear and surprise. Was it the first time this had happened? Absolutely not, and if these lessons continued this way, it certainly wouldn't be the last.

“Pay. Attention.” The Pantoran woman growled at you, she was very smart. You could just tell, and the fact she was instructed to dumb down your education infruiated the both of you. “As I was saying…” She eyed you - a dare to look out the window and start daydreaming again.

“Teach me about the war.” You blurted out the statue of the emperor they were erecting, catching your eye again.

“This is a language class.” She said with a sigh, before placing the ruler down. “I’m guessing you want to know about the Clones.”

“How did you kn-”

“It’s all anyone ever talks about.” She interrupted you, which was shocking in itself, but not unwelcome. Perching herself on the birch coloured desk, you found her staring out the window as well.“It’s well known that there was scarcely a better soldier than a Kaminoan Clone. And so when the war came to its end, and the Jedi went rouge, well they hardly stood a chance. Those who sided with them were caught and killed or branded traitors. Why they let any of them survive is beyond me, but those clones were so fiercely loyal. Some of them just couldn't shake that. No matter how hard the Kaminoans or the Emperor tried, there were millions of them, and some…” She paused for a moment, glancing back at the door as if someone was watching you through it.

“Well even if an inhibitor chip is 99.99% effective, out of one million, there will still be one hundred defects.”

You try to stop staring, you really do. But by then Hunter has caught your eye, and is glaring even harder than he was before. Cautiously you take a step back, finding yourself in the company of clones is one thing, those willing to defy Nython, another. But enemies of the Galactic Empire was a different kind of dangerous.

“Courtesy of your betrothed.” The Captain grits out, and whatever softness was there from the night before is gone. Scared, you clutch Gonk to your chest like a child would a blanket. “What did you do?” You ask, looking him up and down. Even with the scars on his knuckles of cuts and burns, He didn't look like the horror stories you’d been told as a kid, in fact, he didn't look dangerous at all. But the symbols were there, scared into his skin some time ago. Something flashes in his brown sugar eyes, like the ping of a blaster bounces off of his iries in the heat of battle. Like he relives combat right in front of you.

“What we did was rescue a prisoner of war.” He spits, walking towards you and backing you into the banister that overlooks the pain part of the deck. “That hammock you’re sleeping in belongs to someone.”

“I’m sorry.” You say trembling. Looking to the side to see Wrecker place a firm hand on his sergeant's shoulder and pull him firmly away from you.

“Echo’s was in the hands of the Techno Union for some time.” Wrecker explains defusing the situation. “He’s waiting for us on Alderaan, after some much needed rest.” Hunter, who’s now swatting Tech - and whatever device he’s trying to scan him with - away, seems to be ignoring you.

“I-I didn’- I didn’t mean…” You tell Wrecker shakily.

“I know, and it’s okay.” He says with a smile, but Hunter's words resonate with you. Haunting you of acts you have had nothing to do with.

In his cabin Hunter throws his hat as hard as he can against the wall. He hates you, he hates the Empire and most of all he hates Nython. And what’s even more infuriating is how innocent you are, how your morales are driving you away from your betrothed, and how you saved the shit disturbing reptile that seems to like himself and yourself too much. And no matter how much Hunter wants to despise the empire, if it’s still filled with people like you, it means there’s still something to fight for. But if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t know how much fight he's got left.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

“What did he mean, courtesy of my betrothed?” You have to walk quickly behind Crosshair in an effort to keep up, his long legs easily outpace you and even though you’re both still injured he moves quickly. You follow him into the storage area that you’re all too familiar with, nearly bumping into him when he stops to look for a specific crate.

“Why don’t you bother Tech with your questions?” Crosshair says pushing boxes around.

“Because you’ll tell me the truth, no sugar coating.” You tell him, nudging him aside with your boot as you lean over to grab what he couldn’t reach. Perhaps being smaller wasn’t a disadvantage after all. Proudly you hand him the strange looking fruit.

“I need the whole crate.” Crosshair tells you unimpressed, before giving you the singular Meiloorun fruit and leaning over the stack of crates again. “And to answer your question, he was talking about the scars on his hand.” You lean against the tower so you can try to read his face as he yanks the crate forward.

“The burns or the wounds?” You ask, mulling over the fruit in your hands.

“Same thing.” Crosshair explains. “From a mission on Kashyyyk, Nython had the whole forest alight, and Hunter got trapped behind a blast door.” He watches as you cover your mouth with one hand as you remember the boasts, the gloat, the pride Nython had when he recounted the battle.

“You should’ve seen it,” There’s awe in Crosshair's voice now. “The Regs wanted to label him MIA, but that's not Hunter, not the Sergeant of ‘Force 99. When the squad hoisted him into that medical bay, he was barely alive.”

“No wonder he hates me.” You breathe, looking at the clone in front of you who shrugs.

“Don’t take it personally, he hates mostly everyone. We all do, it’s…” Crosshair stops and composes himself, like being honest or genuine with you is a weakness. “Nython decimated everything in his path. There’s what? A handful of Wookies left, half of those are thanks to him and all he can think about is how many he didn’t save.” You gently place your fruit on the box Crosshair is standing before you with. “It’s all a bit narcissistic if you ask me.” You smile at Crosshairs sass.

“You’d know.” You counter, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Thank you, for being honest.” You tell him, catching a smirk as he starts up the stairs.

“It’s one of my many endearing qualities.” He says, before shouting to his brothers about something that you don't even bother trying to understand.

With a look back at the hiding spot that you had chosen when you boarded the ship, you start up the stars and get back into the daylight. The captain is still gone, but Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker are each peeling a Meilroon fruit. You smile at them, they look so picturesque right now. The sea in the background and the three of them scraping the tough skin off of the fruits with knives. You’re reminded of children's picture books of pirates mulling over gold.

“Hey! What’s so funny?” Wrecker calls when he sees your big smile. Walking over, You plant yourself on the floor leaning against the banister.

“I half expected you all to break out into a sea shanty.” You tease reaching up to pick up a fruit.

“Ha ha.” Crosshair said dryly, giving you the handle of the knife to take from him to peel your own fruit. “Try not to chuck it at Tech again will ya?” you nod and very carefully start running the blade along the fruit.

“So no sea shanties then?” You ask, popping a piece into your mouth.

“We don’t sing.” Tech states.

“Yeah we do!” Wrecker argues, jamming his knife into the lid of the crate, “we know that one from-”

“Ferrik if you start singing that again.” Crosshair grumbles.

“THERE ONCE WAS A SHIP THAT PUT TO SEA” You all cringe when Wrecker starts shouting rather than singing, both of his brothers shout back simultaneously for him to stop, while you giggle from your spot on the floor. You could almost get used to their company, that and the fresh salty sea air, you are already beginning to enjoy the life of sailing. On the second floor, emerging from the captain's quarters, Hunter generally steps. Even someone without enhanced senses would have heard Wreckers incessant shouting and he has every intent on giving the three of them a lecture when he hears something else entirely.

“There was once a soldier who carried a mighty sword, and he had saved the village, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.” Your voice accompanies soft taps to the wooden boards to create some kind of beat. The sound stops as soon as it starts.

“Don’t stop on our account.” He hears Tech's voice, and a stealthy Hunter moves to try and get a better view, he wants to know what you’re up to, and if you’re still trying to manipulate his crew.

“I’ve been told I have an atrocious singing voice.”

“It’s better than Wreckers.” Both Crosshair and Tech comment simultaneously. And Hunter hears you let out a half laugh. Some kind of reserved dainty thing that has him rolling his eyes.

“There was once a sailor, he had travelled the globe, his love he was chasing. oh lei, oh lai, oh lord.” You continue tapping again, “And there will come a captain who’s heart is completely pure, he will find those who are lost, oh lei,...” He hears you stop. As something catches your attention. And Hunter takes the opportunity to make an appearance.

You hear the captain’s footsteps before you turn your gaze away from the birds flying alongside the ship. “Who let the Aaray get a’ hold of a knife again?” He says looking down at you, the fruit and the blade. Hesitantly, and with only half of the Meilroon fruit peeled you give the knife back to Crosshair the same way he had originally given it to you. Pointing the handle towards him whilst gently holding the blade.

“I wasn’t going to…” You start.

“Going to what? Try and kill one of my crew again?” Hunter raises an eyebrow as if he’s daring you to disagree. You take a deep breath in, and hoist yourself onto shaky feet. Wrecker gives you a hand when your legs shake still in pain. Letting out your breath you lock eyes with the captain.

“I understand your hatred for that man,” You begin softly.

“No.” He snaps, “you don’t” You plead with his unforgiving eyes, and the way his half tattooed face scrunches in annoyance.

“You can’t be reasoned with.” You say hopelessly, knowing that whatever you say, it won't be enough.

“I should not have to reason with the likes of you.” Hunter bites. And at this point even Wrecker has given up trying to reason with him. Behind you, Tech’s Holopad beeps.

“I am not my Fiance!” You exclaim. “And yet you attribute all of his crimes to me, even the crime of trying to rid myself of Ny-”

Before you can react, Hunter moves fast as lightning, a hand on your throat, his own vibroblade dangerously close to you, bending you against the banister that stops you falling into the abyss alone. The three others brace themselves and when they move to help you, stop at the growl of anger from their sergeant.

“You do not. Say that name. On. My. Ship.” He tells the trembling woman beneath him.

“What happened to you Sergeant?” You breathe out, searching for the man that his brothers seem to think he is. Everything they tell you about him, every ‘he’s not like this.’ All of his actions point to the fact that he is like this. Something changes in his face, like he remembers where and who he is. And like Hunter is on fire, he steps away from you. The second there's room, Wrecker forces you behind him protectively.

“Sarge.” Tech says, his voice echoing like blaster fire in the mountains. “I think you should come with me.”

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor

#tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb sergeant hunter #sergreant hunter x you #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch series #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #hunter clone #hunter x you #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #jessiebanethedragon #white sands warm the cold sea

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 2 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Present day

Miruko’s agency was large, much larger than you had expected.

From the street, it had looked unobtrusive enough, a moderately-sized office building with a modern-looking glass front. You could see into a large reception area on the ground floor, and open workspaces on the next few floors, conjoined desks piled high with paperwork and slightly wilted-looking office plants. If not for Miruko’s name emblazoned over the entry in bold, metallic letters, you could have taken it for just another office building.

Once inside, however, the building became much more than that. After checking in at reception, you were led deep into the building, and gestured into an elevator that took you tens of floors down. When the doors opened, they let out into a cavernous space, stretching under what must have been the entire block. The floor was equipped with a gym, several reinforced training spaces the size of office buildings themselves, and what appeared to be a surveillance room where footage from the training spaces could be replayed.

Your mouth dropped open. Did all hero agencies hide deep underground like this? How many other underground floors were there? How big was Miruko Agency, really?

Your guide had enough tact to ignore your inelegant expression, instead leading you towards a training room. A huge, clear window tens of meters across looked into the space, but you would bet anything that it was made of some material much stronger than glass, which was especially evidenced by what you could see going on beyond the window.

Rubble littered the room, scattered in towering piles that gave the appearance of a post-doomsday cityscape. You didn’t know if the room had been set up this way, or if the rubble was the result of the battle going on within; there were two heroes that you could see darting around the space, both appearing to be causing maximum chaos.

Closest to you, a woman with wild pink curls was emitting a powerful stream of some cement-colored substance that ate away at anything it touched, causing it to smoke and hiss and crumble. She melted a huge hole in a pile of rubble, and a man with a shock of golden-yellow hair leapt away from what had probably been his hiding place, backpedaling wildly.

You perked up when you realized who they were--Ashido Mina, the number twenty-nine hero Pinky, and Kaminari Denki, the number thirty-three hero Chargebolt.

Kaminari threw out a hand, and a crackling wave of lightning struck out at Ashido. The lights flickered out briefly, and even behind the window, you could feel your hair stand on end. You blinked past the powerful flash that had temporarily blinded you, casting about for Ashido who had surely been struck down, only to choke on a laugh when you caught sight of her flashing Kaminari the middle finger, sliding away from a huge chunk of rubble she’d dislodged with her acid to use as a shield.

“They’re idiots,” a voice intoned from your side.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning to find Miruko herself standing next to you, powerful arms crossed over her chest. Despite her words, a little fond-looking smile flickered at the edges of her mouth.

You schooled your slack jawed expression into a smile. “I don’t know--their personalities are mostly why they’re so popular, so they must be doing something right. I did a little digging into everyone’s results before I got here, and they stood out among a lot of the rest.”

Miruko’s gaze flicked over you. She was short, maybe even shorter than you, but her keen red eyes and very lethal-looking biceps more than made up for her stature. She was intimidating in person, an air about her that told you she could snap and turn on you at any second. Despite the fact that she had asked you here herself, you felt like she might seize you and bodily throw you out of her agency.

“And that’s why they’re idiots. Their results are buoyed by their personalities,” Miruko sniffed. “They need work.”

You prickled a little, feeling like you should say something in their defense, but the truth of it was, you were here to help them work on things.

Some weeks ago, Miruko had contacted the Public Safety Hero Commission with interest in the ranking model. Your version had been in production for close to a year, and you had recently been making scholarly noises about feedback loops, asking for permission to provide pro heroes with individual results breakdowns. Miruko had caught wind of this and demanded on site assessments for her “team of frigging clowns” as she had so eloquently put it. And so you had been loaned out, with the idea of helping to direct the training for the heroes at Miruko Agency, providing them a real time comparison of their training footage to the generic hero ranking model results.

If this trial run was successful, if you could help any of the heroes measurably jump ranks, then the Commission had committed to providing individualized results for the thousands of heroes employed today. The Commission had also expressed interest in your idea of creating and packaging smaller models that took less technical skill to operate, for heroes to use to direct their own training. They had even seemed receptive to giving you a small team of research scientists and software engineers to build such a product, so you would be looking at a pretty sick promotion, not to mention.

Miruko made her way over to the surveillance room, beckoning you after her, and you watched as she leaned over a desk, pressing down a button with one gloved finger.

A crackling sound echoed overhead and her voice followed. “Alright, brats, recess is over. Anyone not heading out on patrol, meet in the surveillance room now.”

The flickering light from Kaminari’s lightning fizzled out, and the door to the training room opened not long after, Kaminari and Ashido spilling out in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and petty squabbling. They were the first to arrive at the surveillance room, and Kaminari visibility perked up when he saw you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself on a gasp when Ashido’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “What the fuck, Mina--! Why are your elbows so sharp? Can you just not--?” He grabbed her elbow. “Stop, look, it’s stats girl! From the Awards!”

You startled a little, shocked that he had remembered you. That had been almost a year ago, and you’d only exchanged a couple quick comments in the stairwell.

Ashido looked up from where she appeared to be attempting to crack one of his ribs, her expression shifting into something altogether too interested. You flushed when a sharp grin broke out over her pretty features.

“Oh my god, you’re stats girl? I have been waiting forever. It’s an absolute honor to meet you.” She held out a palm, waggling her rosy fingers expectantly.

A rising sense of horror grew within you. Did...did Kaminari remember you so clearly because he’d told people about the incident? What exactly had he mentioned to her? Who else had he spread the tale to?

“Um, yeah that’s me,” you managed, trying to tamp down your embarrassment.

Ashido grinned wider, leaning forward. “I was totally convinced Denki and Eijirou made you up, except that Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. You’re, like, a legend. Do you do autographs?”

You gaped at her, your mind sticking on the phrase Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. A nervous, hunted energy crept over you. Revenge...for months.

Miruko’s rabbit ears twitched and she turned to you, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you’d already met some of my circus monkeys. Is this going to be a problem?”

You dithered nervously, not actually sure if it would be. You’d known Bakugou worked at her agency, considering you had done a fair amount of pre-work collecting everyone's results. But you’d honestly put off thinking about this. Bakugou had been in quite the rage at the Hero Awards, but that had been almost a year ago. And Ashido had phrased his revenge plans in the past tense… Surely he didn’t still hold as much of a grudge now?

Miruko eyed you suspiciously for a moment, but she was distracted when the scuffle of boots indicated the approach of other heroes, and a pair of burly men with curling satyr horns rounded the corner, one of them leaning forward to speak to her. Ashido sent you a wink when Miruko turned her back, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like later.

In the next few minutes, a small group of heroes assembled, ranging from relatively well-known heroes like Ashido and Kaminari, to a couple of heroes who ranked deep in the hundreds--you only knew some of their faces because Miruko had provided you with a list of her employees for preparatory research purposes. They formed a small crescent around the surveillance area, chattering lowly to themselves and eyeing you with speculative curiosity.

To your eternal relief, her most famously explosive employee was conspicuously absent, and you felt yourself relax when it seemed like everyone had turned up who was going to.

When it seemed like the crowd size was finally large enough to please her, Miruko barked a loud “SHUT UP” at them. The din of low voices instantly died down.

“Alright brats. Over the next few months, Y/N will be working here at the agency with us. She has been invited on behalf of the commission, and will be analyzing your quirks, your methods, and your recent work,” Miruko said. “She has individualized results pulled from the current hero rankings that can inform you how to improve. I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity.”

She gestured to you, giving you a meaningful look as if she expected you to introduce yourself. You gave a little wave, glancing at the heroes around you.

“Um, hi,” you said. “As Miruko-san said, I can give you a little advice based on your current results breakdown. I also plan to analyze video of your training in the coming weeks, and build parallel models to simulate future results given your performance. We can compare those to the current rankings for an idea of how much work you will have to put into particular skills for you to move up in the ranks.”

A small murmur went through the crowd at the prospect of moving up in the ranks. Some gazes sharpened in interest.

You continued, “This is also a good chance to work on specific growth areas -- I can train smaller models on subsets of videos so you can compare your skills more directly with each other or with other heroes from other agencies. Please let me know if there is anything special any of you would like to focus on.”

Miruko stepped back in front of you. “Y/N is going to set up in the surveillance room for the next few weeks. I’ve already established checkpoints for all of you to meet with her, but I encourage you to meet with her more often if you can.”

There were a couple of nods, and a few interested whispers from somewhere at the back of the crowd. Miruko took a breath like she was going to say more, but then--

“Hard pass,” a voice growled from your left. Your hackles instantly raised, and it took your brain a couple seconds to catch up with your instincts. You whipped around wildly when you realized you knew that voice, and you almost jumped a full foot in the air when you caught sight of those familiar blonde spikes over another hero’s shoulder.

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but Bakugou had clearly returned from a fight only minutes ago. His hair drooped a little with sweat, there was dirt streaking the points of his high cheekbones, and his costume was shredded by a thousand tiny tears, like he’d been thrown through a glass window. And...was that blood on his gauntlets? Was it his?

You were torn between immediate annoyance and something like concern at the sight of him so obviously roughed up.

“The meetings are not optional,” Miruko’s voice took on a hard edge.

“I already know what this fucking nerd has to say,” Bakugou drawled dismissively. “And I don’t give a shit. I don’t need assists if I’m the one busy saving the fucking day.”

Your mood edged cleanly into annoyance. It seemed he hadn’t changed any, then.

Miruko’s face darkened. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Bakugou bared his teeth. They gleamed almost blindingly white against the dark dirt on his face. “No.”

A wild look entered Miruko’s eye at the challenge. “Everyone is dismissed. Except Katsuki,” she uttered in a low, dangerous tone.

There was a small pause. The heroes around you looked at her askance, and her features darkened even further. “I said scram. NOW!”

The effect was immediate. It felt like no sooner had you blinked than the hall was suddenly clear. The sight of Kaminari and Ashido wheeling around the corner was all the proof you had that the team hadn’t suddenly vanished from existence.

Bakugou snorted and propped himself lazily against a column, affecting a slouch, one pale eyebrow raised over his insouciant expression. It looked almost too perfectly arrogant, and you wondered if he practiced it in the mirror sometimes.

“I said the meetings are not optional, Katsuki,” Miruko hissed, taking a step closer to him. “You can ignore her suggestions all you want, but you will attend them.”

Close as they were, you could see she was almost a full head shorter than him, but the force of her anger seemed to make her larger somehow--she wasn’t towering over him, but she was certainly terrifying. Towering under, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Bakugou, for his part, held his ground. His mouth curled disdainfully. “What’s the fucking point? The nerd’s just gonna tell me stupid shit. And I’m not going to listen.”

Your fingers twitched in irritation. Data wasn’t stupid shit -- it was mathmatical fact, almost as divorced from human bias as it was possible to be. How was it humanly possible that he hadn’t learned anything or grown even the littlest bit? How was it possible that he was just as infuriating as he was a year ago?

But fine. He could have things his way if that’s what he wanted.

Miruko’s face twisted in a scowl, and she took a deep breath like she was ready to start yelling. But you got there first.

“He has a point,” you said, giving him a hard look over the top of Miruko’s head. “I would hate to waste my time on someone who’s been stalled in the rankings for a year now. He wouldn’t know how to implement my advice even if I were to give it.”

You paused, letting an uncharacteristic smirk curl your mouth, trying your best to channel his disdainful energy. “Isn’t that right, Number Eight?”

Bakugou’s gaze sharpened over Miruko’s silver hair, twin pinpricks of red narrowing in on you. He abandoned his slouch, his body tensing like a hound that smelled blood. “What did you just say?”

You pushed down the petty satisfaction that rose within you at his reaction. He was so fucking prideful, so easy to bait.

“Hmm, cognitive delays,” you said, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Very worrying. Further evidence he wouldn’t be able to process the information, though. No, I think it’s best if we don’t meet.”

Bakugou pushed himself off the column, edging around Miruko as his mouth drew into a snarl. You were immediately reminded of the Hero Awards, that same overwhelming prickle of power edging over you as he stalked closer, the same scent like caramel and gunpowder.

Miruko’s eyes flicked between the two of you curiously, an eyebrow raised in interest. You hoped it meant she was interested enough in your data analysis to intervene if Bakugou tried to sauté you like an onion.

“If you melt through this blazer I really will sabotage the hero rankings and dip you all the way to number five hundred,” you threatened, edging away from Bakugou as he drew closer. “And also you owe me money for that dress.”

“I’m not gonna fucking give you shit,” he announced, looming over you when he’d decided he was close enough to intimidate. He was near enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he hadn’t put his hands to you yet. It seemed Miruko was enough of a deterrent to curb his bad behavior. “And I’m not gonna meet with you.”

“Good, then we agree,” you said, tipping your head back to look him in the eye. “You’re not good enough to do better anyways.”

Bakugou growled, the phrase clearly still enough to tick him off a year later. “Fuck you, I’m the best.”

“That’s not what your ranking tells me,” you clicked your tongue, feigning disinterest. With the dirt and scratches all over him he looked wilder than ever and you would be a fool to ignore it, but Miruko’s presence made you bold. And something else, some latent streak of frustration and pettiness told you to keep going, to keep pressing the buttons that were getting this reaction from him.

“Your ranking tells me you haven’t even improved the tiniest bit in an entire year. At this rate, you’ll never even hit the top three, never mind be the best. I don’t think you could improve even if you wanted to,” you said.

Bakugou looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear your head off with his teeth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

You opened your mouth to reply but there was a sudden motion at the edge of your vision, something pink and blurry and wild. You glanced past Bakugou’s shoulder to find Ashido leaning around the wall, waving a hand frantically and mouthing something at you. You squinted, watching her lips shape themselves carefully: make a bet.

What? Make a bet?

She wanted you to make a bet?

You looked back up at Bakugou, taking in the oppositional expression, the angry curl of his mouth, the straight slope of his nose, and those keen, blood red eyes glaring down at you. This was certainly the face of a man who wouldn’t be told what to do, who couldn’t be told what to do.

But despite your words and your inherent distaste, there was no denying he was actually your best shot, the cleanest pathway to your promotion. Bakugou was smart, driven, and absolutely lethal. If anyone could turn around a rank at top speed it was him.

But he couldn’t be made to do it. He had to want to do it.

Ashido waved in the corner of your vision again, enunciating with exaggerated facial expressions. Make a bet.

Things clicked into place.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you looked away from Ashido, inspecting your nails casually, like your focus would rather be anywhere than on this conversation. “In fact, I would bet almost anything that you wouldn’t know how to implement my suggestions, even if you tried.”

Bakugou froze, red eyes passing over you curiously. For one heart stopping moment, you thought he was on to you, but he just leaned down instead, putting his face close to yours.

“I’ll fucking take that bet.”

You tried to push down your sudden swell of excitement, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he thought you were happy about this.

“Fine. You have two months to jump a rank,” you said. “Or I win. And you’ll pay me what you owe me for the dress.”

Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. This had the effect of emphasizing both the tears in his shirt and the swell of his biceps.You quickly attached your eyes firmly to his face--that was so not what you needed to be focused on right now.

“I’ll do it in one,” he said. “And then I win, you smug fucking nerd.”

You gazed at him steadily. “Agreed. Miruko’s number seven--you think you can beat your own boss with just a month of work? You’ll never.”

“You haven’t heard what I win yet,” he said.

You stared at him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You go up in rank. That’s what you win.”

Bakugou’s handsome face shifted into an uneven smirk. “Oh no. This is twice now you’ve opened your little know-it-all mouth and acted like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. When I win, you’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You suppressed an eye roll. If he moved up a rank, the point would very obviously be that you were right all along. Was he really so unreasonably competitive and spiteful that he needed to be told he was right?

Then you remembered he’d quite literally dragged you into a stairwell and implied he'd fry you to a crisp when he found out he was number eight. Of course he was.

Well, a few throwaway words were worth nothing compared to the promotion you’d be getting. He could have his sense of self satisfaction when you were knee deep in software engineers and fat stacks of money.

You took a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Okay. If you win, which is a very big if, then I’ll admit it. Deal?”

Bakugou considered you for a long moment, red eyes watching you closely, before a calloused hand engulfed yours. “Deal," he growled, a crooked grin flickering at the edge of his mouth. "Get ready to eat shit, nerd.”

You suppressed another eye roll, hoping to god this was going to be worth it.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

[blueberrypossum]

Oh! Sorry! I just thought you did write imagines...but I will tell you my idea...I was wondering how the mud dogs would feel having a kindhearted girl in the group that is a nurse and and each of them (separately) have a crush on her? (can this be a headcannon?) but it’s ok if you don’t do it. I also like your blog and your drawings of ocs! They’re very cute!

Rottmnt Mud Dogz! Headcanons!

If you were the kindhearted nurse of the team and if the Mud Dogz started to develop feelings for you!

( I decided to do this gender-neutral so everyone can get their love from the Mud Dogz! Hope that’s okay!)

Also, anyone can make requests or asks! The reason I don’t really have it placed in my blog is because there are some requests where I just stare and I’m like: I don’t have enough creativity to come up with anything oh heck I don’t want to let someone down. So, don’t be afraid to send anything!

Hope you guys enjoy it!

Loathsome Leonard 

-He didn’t pay no mind to you at first, his group was okay with you joining in seeing that they were going to hurt on most heists so he respects you.

-It takes a long and hard time to get close to Leonard, he’s the leader after all, and he doesn’t want to continue adding people to his group and then see them either leave, die, or backstab them. 

-Of course, he isn’t rude to you, he just doesn’t talk much about plans and heists when you’re around at first and there is barely any small talk between the two of you in the beginning. 

-Until one night he goes off on his own without the other guys knowing and stumbles back terribly wounded and can’t make it back to their apartment, but your place is closer. 

-You were asleep when you heard the strangled yet urgent knock on your door and you quickened your pace when it started to repeat in more rapid strings. 

-You can’t help but gasp at the sight of Leonard, beaten and bloody as if he had just starred in a horror movie and you rush him in, setting him in the chair in your kitchen before gathering your medical supplies you had in your home. 

- In silence you help him take off his shirt and put yourself to work, cleaning and dressing his cuts and gashes, all while handing him water to drink and a towel to play with when the pain gets unbearable. 

“Where are Danny and Mickey? Are they wounded as well?”

“No, it’s only me.”

“Did you...did you go out on your own Leonard?”

“...”

-Your once nice outlook is now casted with anger as you stand and throw the damp cloth you had used to clean his shoulder wound into the trash with such force that it almost startled him.

Almost. 

“You know, for someone who works so hard to make sure his teammates don’t do stupid stunts, you suck at taking your own advice.”

-That causes a surge to burst through him; he had never heard you speak like that before, never spoken your mind with such raw rage. And when he goes to fire something back, your hand is under his chin and shushing him, taking a new wet rag and cleaning a cut that sliced down his cheek. 

-”Next time, just tell them, and me. Trust has to go both ways, and since I trust you -” You tilt his head until he is looking up at you, the first prickle of tension bubbling his skin. 

“You should trust me.”

-And oh he’s hooked now and nothing can smother it. 

-He’s sudden embarrassed and possibly even scared to be around you alone, afraid that his words will slip up or he'll do something stupid in front of you. 

-You’re just so smart and kind, but that more dominant and stronger side of you has caused his heart to beat faster when you enter the room and he despises it. He can’t let his emotions get caught up in the missions and...you deserved better, someone who just wasn’t a lowlife thief. 

-But, he’s warmer around you,  and will actually create a conversation with you about yourself and how you are doing instead of just talking about the next heist. 

Dastardly Danny

-For once, the rat yokai doesn’t have to play doctor in the group once you join the band of thieves. It’s a great change of pace because for one he never went to medical school and only learned to clean wounds just by experience. 

-He would be super intrigued by your understanding of the yokai and/or human body and how to treat and dress each different type of wound. He would probably ask to be placed under your wing in case you were injured or couldn’t make it in time (also to spend time with you). 

-He’s a huge talker with you and would possibly be the one in the group who would fully understand the scientific words you spit out sometimes. 

-Danny knows and understands his feelings pretty well, and once he realizes he has developed an infatuation with you, he falls head first into it. 

-He’ll go to you and make the cheesiest and gooiest jokes that play in with you and your job profession and boy does it make Leonard and Mickey gag.

“I don’t think you can diagnose me because there’s no treatment for being madly in love, dollface.”

“Danny, sit still, you keep reopening the cut!”

-Instead of getting you flowers and chocolates, he understands the expense of medical supplies and you come by to find new needles, clean cloths, and antibiotics all wrapped up and presented nicely with your name on it. 

-After hours of sewing cuts and bending arms back into their sockets, Danny would still crawl over to the kitchen and make you your favorite drink, even if he broke both his legs. 

-Of course, he loves to make you a flustered and stuttering mess, especially during dire moments such as him with a bullet wound and you’re desperately trying to seal the blistering hole. He’ll look right at you and horsley state, “Bleeding out like this doesn’t seem too bad if you keep touching me like dat’.”

-Would def. Give you the nickname doc, nothing will change that. 

Malicious Mickey

-Honestly, you can impress this sweet guy with anything, from knowing what ointment to apply on certain cuts and then easily telling him facts about his internal organs, you make the guy have that astounded look of a child. 

-He probably wouldn’t understand a single word if you explained to him how the body works or why certain medicines only work for certain illnesses and infections, but he will certainly show his wonderment in the information. 

-He would probably start falling for you since you are kind, you place care in his wounds. Not saying Danny didn’t, but you placed colorful stickers on his cuts and then started to bring pieces of candy only for him (for a second, he believed you only saw him as a brother and it worried him).

-Mickey would be the only one in the group to remember the most random facts you have told that shocks everyone, even you. It shows that he listens, just doesn’t understand.

-He would try to make jokes like Danny does when he’s wounded but he’s just so baffled at how fast and calm you work on him that he will just state how pretty you are or how your nose will ruffle up when you’re concentrating on something. 

-Will probably come and visit you at your workplace and you will have to hide him because he’s a literal criminal like jeez Mickey someone can recognize you. 

-When hanging out, he’ll ask certain questions about his specific internal workings and then about Leonard and Danny, and then what were your favorite things to learn from medical school. It feels great for someone to be interested in what you know, and even though you will go into a huge rank about certain things and he just stares at you, you know that he cares. 

-The poor sweet boy would die inside once you two started to date because you got to kiss his bruises and smaller cuts before continuing on to the bigger wounds and he would play with your hair and curl around you after a hard day at work. 

#rottmnt #rottmnt mud dogs #tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt mud dogz #rottmnt loathsome leonard #rottmnt mud dogz x reader #rottmnt malicious mickey