fearful first dates
younghoon x gn!reader
summary: maybe a haunted houses is not the perfect place for a first date~
tags: meet-cute, first date, fluff, slight hurt/comfort but not really, SFW, warnings: it takes place in a haunted house so there are some (very light) horror elements
wordcount: ~2k
a/n: so @blizzardfluffykpop and i watched wings of escape together and from there it's only a stone's throw to a haunted house au--and so here we are. we've also been thinking about scenarios for other members set in this universe, so perhaps more will follow (either here or and on kate's blog ☺️)
Masterlist
A haunted house would not have been your first choice for a date, not in October and even less now, in March, when spring was finally shaking off the cold hands of winter. But your date had insisted that this temporary haunted house in the abandoned youth hostel was the talk of the town and that you definitely shouldn’t miss out on it, so you’d given in. In hindsight, you should have known this would turn into a disaster—a haunted house has a few too many dark corners and lethal weapons (albeit fake) to be a good date idea. But now it was too late and you were already standing in the middle of some dark hallway, the door you’d come in through locked with a silver chain to add to the experience. So, the only way out was to go on ahead, up the stairs and further into the building. For something that was only a temporary set up, they really went all out with decorating. It reminded you of an old mansion with the patterned wallpaper and the Persian rugs. Both were bloodstained and you thought you could hear the faint sound of a liquid trickling to the floor somewhere. Drip, drip, drip… Water? Blood? Or maybe it was just the tears of your date, who’d started clinging to you the second the door had been closed behind you. You’d thought you were a scaredy cat, but he was on a whole nother level. You almost had to carry him up the stairs and you already knew right then that you would not see him again after today. Not if you could help it.
Once you reached the top of the stairs, a shadow emerged from the dark, making you flinch and the guy at your side whimper.
"Welcome to our humble établissement," the figure greeted, tall and looming. He wore a black suit and had a white cloth over his arm. He looked like a butler, albeit one that was closer to the dead than to the living with his pale gray skin and inhumanly haggard cheeks. Makeup, your common sense told you, but you still felt shivers running down your spine. He gestured for you to walk on, not the trace of a smile on his lips. "Let me show you around."
He led the both of you through the building, narrating as he showed you the rooms of what seemed to be a very murderous hotel. All the while, your date was clinging to you so much, you felt his finger nails boring into your skin through the fabric of your clothes.
When you were shown to the kitchen, the cook looking at you with a bloodthirsty grin, chopping away on whatever the gooey mess on his cutting board was, your date was finally done with this. It took him one glance at that sharp knife dripping with blood to violently shake his head. "Nope, no, not happening," he pressed out and bolted, leaving you behind with the murderous cook and half dead butler. Completely flabbergasted, you just stared after him, not knowing how to respond. The other two seemed to be feeling the same; the cook actually stopped his chopping for a second, and the butler squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.
"What a prick," he mumbled under his breath. “Your boyfriend?”
"Oh, hell no.”
The butler chuckled and for a second there you couldn’t help feeling charmed, despite the gruesome makeup.
"So then, do you wish to continue the tour? Or shall I lead you out?"
“To be really frank, I'm not really a haunted house person,” you admitted, scrunching up your nose. “It’s a really cool place though, really well done, I’m just not very scare-proof, you know?”
"I can give you the unscary tour?"
“There’s something like that?”
“Just for today,” he said with a wink before holding out his arm for you to take. You felt silly when you did, but also a bit like a fancy Victorian lady. You liked that.
“So, to start, I’m Younghoon, the butler, and this is Kevin, our cook.”
“Sometimes chainsaw guy,” Kevin added and gave you a small wave with his knife, which looked less terrifying than it could have, his friendly smile taking off the edge.
As Younghoon led you through the rest of the hotel you didn’t feel frightened. Instead of a haunted house experience it felt more like a room tour through a very odd but interesting building. Younghoon made sure to give his colleagues a small warning before they could suddenly jump out or do whatever else they were supposed to do. So, rather than scaring you they just greeted you nicely. The grim reaper—Juyeon, as Younghoon introduced him—even looked a little cute when he pulled off his mask, pouting over not being allowed to play his role.
When you turned into another hallway, Younghoon assured you that you’d almost made it out and you couldn’t help but feel a little regretful about it. It was fun to get to know him and even though it wasn’t, it felt more like a first date than whatever you'd had with that other guy. Younghoon kept making sure you were okay and the way he talked and joked around with his colleagues helped to lighten the mood. They spoke so comfortably, it was clear that all of them must've been very close to each other. A part of you wished you could be part of their bubble, maybe become a gruesome gardener or something and join them.
“That’s the last one,” Younghoon pulled you out of your thoughts and gestured to a door that promptly opened. A guy with gory make up and curly hair poked his head out curiously.
“Haknyeon,” Younghoon explained, “our—what again? Brain-eating janitor?”
Haknyeon gave him a playful frown. “I’m clearly a zombie plumber,” he said, holding up a plunger for proof.
“Right,” Younghoon nodded. “That. And also our jukebox when we're on break."
"Jukebox?" You looked between the two in confusion and as if on que, Haknyeon began belting out a song you didn’t recognize, putting in so much passion you almost flinched. You heard someone from somewhere in the building sing along, while someone else yelled for him to shut up. It only made Haknyeon giggle.
"Anyway," Younghoon interrupted the impromptu concert, though it was clear he was more amused than annoyed, "with that we've reached the end of our little tour."
He pulled aside a dark green velvet curtain to reveal an inornate glass door that surely fit the original vibes of the building but felt out of place with the fancy decor.
“I hope you enjoyed your stay with us?” He asked as he gentlemanly opened the door for you.
The weather had been rather mild today, and yet the evening air streaming in from outside seemed impossibly cold. Maybe it was just the prospect of having to leave Younghoon and his warm smile behind.
When you didn't reply immediately he tilted his head questioningly.
“Very much," you quickly assured and you meant it. "Saved my night, to be honest."
"Really?" He looked happy.
"Really, really."
"That's good then."
You looked at each other for another second, as if there was something more to say, but neither of you did. With a heavy heart you stepped outside and made your way down the pavement. It was okay, you tried to tell yourself. It was okay to leave things behind like this. Not that there was anything to leave behind in the first place.
But there could be, a small voice in the back of your mind piped up.
You turned around again. "Actually—"
"Come back soon," someone suddenly greeted, making you shriek. You hadn't even noticed he was there, standing in the flower beds with a bloody ax in his hands. It seemed even the role of the gruesome gardener had been taken already.
You pressed your hand to your chest, in hopes of calming your heartbeat, slightly embarrassed about your obvious fright.
"Well, now they probably won't," Younghoon complained with a pout. "I told you not to scare them, Youngjae."
The gardener shrugged. "Come on, I only greeted them. I didn't even put on a face."
"It's fine," you waved it aside. "It's fine, I was just lost in thought and didn't notice him there."
"See? Not my fault."
"Anyway, I guess I'll really leave then." You chuckled awkwardly. There was no way you could ask him out after this. You just wanted to disappear.
Except, Younghoon didn't seem to want to let you go so easily. He took a few steps out the building, still keeping a polite distance.
"You wanted to say something."
You swallowed. "Yeah, just—" Your gaze flickered to Youngjae who was looking on with interest but quickly turned away when your eyes met, pretending not to listen at all. It seemed to work out fine for Younghoon because he didn't even pay him any attention at all. His gaze was fixed on you and you thought you saw something hopeful in his eyes.
"Just?" He asked carefully, taking another step in your direction.
"You really saved my night," you repeated your words from before.
"Mhm," he hummed, urging you to continue.
"So, I was wondering—maybe I can make it up to you, sometime? Invite you for a coffee or something? Only if you don't mind, of course—"
"I'd love that," Younghoon smiled so wide it made crinkles form in the corners of his eyes, probably leaving creases in his makeup. "My shift is over in a bit so—"
"Sure," you nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. "I'll wait."
Younghoon didn't tax your patience for too long. Though, it took you a second to recognize him when he came to look for you in the parking lot. Somehow it hadn't occurred to you that obviously Younghoon wouldn't come out in full costume. Instead of his old fashioned suit he was wearing a beige hoodie, and his hair that was neatly parted before now fell loosely into his forehead. When he pushed it back you saw little traces of the gray makeup close to his hairline. He smiled, and if his smile was charming before in the halflight when he looked almost dead, it was completely dazzling now. You almost couldn't bear it, but you didn't want to look away.
"Hey," he raised his hand to a tiny wave as he made his way over to where you were sitting on the hood of your car. "Sorry for making you wait."
"No, don't worry," you quickly shook your head.
"Good," he smiled and there was a little moment again where you just looked at each other. You thought you felt a spark, but then Younghoon turned away, running his hand through his hair once more.
"So, I know we said coffee," he said, "but I haven't really had anything to eat since my shift started. Is dinner good with you?"
"Sure, let's make it a dinner date then." The words came out casually, without really thinking, but the moment you'd finished the sentence you felt your cheeks flush.
"Dinner date," Younghoon repeated with a grin. "I like that."
He held out his hand to help you get down. "Let's go? I know a place around here."
"Let's go." You let him steady you as you hopped down from the hood of your car. Younghoon didn't let go after that though. Instead he casually swung your intertwined hands between your bodies, his gaze focusing anywhere but you to avoid making eye contact. Maybe he was embarrassed. It was cute.
You didn't pull away as the two of you walked down the lot. His hand in yours felt warm and comfortable. Perhaps a haunted house was a good choice for a first date after all.
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back in the game
pairing : kim younghoon x gn!reader
maverick!au , angst , hurt / comfort
warnings : mentions of fire , blood , and death
word count : 0.7 k
requested ? no
a/n : maverick and tbz lore has always been so interesting to me, SO expect plenty of lore-based boyz fics
Younghoon still dreams on the brink of suffocation. With smoke twirling in the orange glow of his world burning around him. Infiltrating the makeshift inferno trapping him and filling his lungs.
Every night, for nearly two months, the memory plagues his sleep. Forced to relive every excruciating second down to the very last detail.
It always starts the same, with you lying slumped in his arms. Short, sputtering, gasps escaping your red-tinged lips as he cradles you against his chest. His left hand is warm, coated in dark red as it desperately clamps down on the gaping wound in your abdomen. But no amount of pressure can stop your blood from pooling on the dirty cement below. At this point, it's a race to see what kills you first. The rebar through your stomach or the fire spreading through the compound.
The collapsed steel around him moans as it bows from the heat. The sound akin to the weathered wood of an old house bearing its final storm. Ash flurries around like snow from above. Each flake hissing as they singe his clammy skin.
"Please!" He cries, between fits of coughs. His throat too parched for his vocal cords to produce anything but a hoarse whimper. "Someone! We're down here, please..."
But in his dreams, Eric doesn't find him. Doesn't hear his tattered screams through the rubble. Doesn't tear through the remains, piece by piece, scorching his hands on the hot metal in the process. Sangyeon doesn't pull him from his prison and rush you to Jacob for treatment just in the nick of time.
In his dreams, you go limp, and Younghoon spends his final minutes on earth alone. Left to choke on the stench of iron and smoke. Those eight neon letters burned into his brain.
MAVERICK.
A sick, twisted, game.
It's not fair.
How could any of what happened ever be justified in their eyes? The inhumanity. All that training just to treat them as expendable tools. Like–
"Younghoon," you call softly. Like anything louder would shatter what's left of him. "Younghoon, love, it's too cold to be out here at this hour."
Younghoon can't remember how long it's been since he awoke from his personal hell. All he can recall after waking were the four walls closing in on him. The sweat drenched his back and hairline. Dread flooding his veins, mind, and lungs. Panic lighting every neuron ablaze until it propelled him into the crisp night.
He thought he could escape it out here. But his chair creaks against the wooden porch as he rocks. Creaks like steel beams. The stars litter the sky like ash. The rain pipe drips and pools like your blood–
"Hey," gentle fingers tilt his chin up to your worried gaze. "You're not there." It's times like tonight, when you tether Younghoon to his reality, that he finally feels safe enough to let his emotions catch up to him.
"Was it the same nightmare?" You ask even though you already know.
His answer comes in the form of teary eyes and an outstretched hand that tugs at the hem of your shirt. A silent plea for comfort. Certainty. Confirmation you won't slip away when his eyes shut. Shaky fingers dip under the soft fabric and ghost the scarred skin beneath. You shudder, no doubt with your own memories of that night. One's you've refused to speak of since. Younghoon doesn't know just how much of it you remember, just that the nightmares find you at this hour as well.
Strained sobs break the silence of the night. You cradle his head against your stomach to muffle them. Delicate fingers comb through his hair in an attempt to soothe, though they do little to quell his tears. Younghoon clutches at any part of you he can grasp. Refusing to let death rip you from his arms once more.
"I can't..." He gasps, "–I can't breathe."
You assure him he can. "Just follow me, okay? In–" you trail a finger up his spine "– then out," and back down. You breathe with him, letting your finger be the metronome to guide him. A few more and the tension in his muscles melts away into exhaustion.
Finally, Younghoon feels the smoke clear from his lungs.
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