#and far enough without cars passing by (lighting) and do it without looking weird

[staryarn]

That face looks familiar but you can't put a name to her.

Her voice fills your head.

" If only I could go back. Back to the way things used to be. The world full of noise and colors "

- Call out her name

- Cover your ears and listen to the silence

#shiko speaks #audio #video #cathygalia #limbus company #project moon #catherine limbus company #argalia library of ruina #thats as many tags as she'll get #I dont want to explain to my parent to drive me into the desert just so I can take a funny picture of a cardboard cutout #I might do it in the future if its funny enough but also id have to actively like. travel far enough outta town into the desert #and far enough without cars passing by (lighting) and do it without looking weird #I could technically walk across my neighborhood to a tiny ass park but. hard to explain and also weird

[luveline]

so! we were talking about hockey!sirius a couple days ago soooooooo

i would love to request hockey!sirius flirting with a reader who is not yet his girlfriend. (bonus points if he does the lighting her cigarettes for her like i would die actually)

thank you for requesting! —hockey player!sirius asks you on a date. 1k

"Hey, you." 

You squeeze your box of cigarettes but manage to keep your flinch to yourself. "Sirius, you're like a ghost," you complain, letting your bag fall back behind you. 

"A fit one, at least?" he asks. "I've caught you, haven't I?" 

You fish your box of cigarettes from your bag guiltily. "Don't tell my coach and I'll give you one." 

"Give me two and I'll let you borrow my clipper."

"A clipper," you drawl, drawing two cigarettes from the box to pass him. "I didn't think you were rich." 

"You know, my parents are loaded." 

You put a cigarette between your lips and shove the box down the depths of your bag, your dirty little secret hidden once again. Sirius knows because he's the only other idiot sportsman at your rink stupid enough to smoke at practice. "Weird brag." 

"Well," —he bobs his head from left to right gently, inhaling sharply as he lights the end of his cigarette, breathing through it, "it would be if I spoke to them." 

"Oh, shit. Sorry." 

"Don't be sorry," he says, his cigarette held carelessly between his lips as he ushers you forward. He's much more careful about you, holding your arm in a gentle hand as he lights the end of your cigarette, and nodding encouragingly when you inhale, his eyes a stony grey where they meet yours. "I brought it up." His hand coasts briefly up to your shoulder before he takes a step back. "I like telling you things." 

You lean against the wall and Sirius leans beside you. The outside of the rink is boring, a huge parking lot full of cars going in and out. Sirius' car, a dark cherry red oldsmobile with more scratches than paint, is parked not too far from where you're standing, a dent the size of a sledgehammer head in the driver's side that wasn't there before. "What happened to the vampmobile?" you ask. 

"James. I bet you never would've guessed," he says sarcastically.  

"I wouldn't have. He's a sweetheart. I'd be much more tempted to think you did it doing doughnuts on the industrial–" 

Sirius cuts you off, flicking the tip of his cigarette with a put upon attitude, "I don't do doughnuts. You think so little of me, sweetpea." 

He says sweetpea like you're the cutest thing on earth. You nudge him mildly and stub your cigarette out on top of the square black bin, half-smoked. "I better go home."

"Working tonight?" 

"No, I finally have a night off. Got a ton of stuff I need to do, but it shouldn't take long." You lift your arms into the air and stretch your sore shoulders, angled away from him to avoid giving him a show of the world's ugliest yawn.  

"Wanna get something to eat?" 

You hurt your jaw trying to stop your yawn midway through, arms falling flat to your thighs. Sirius isn't looking at you, gaze on the vamp mobile, smoke curling like a ribbon between his fingers. He has nicely shaped hands, very boney in the sharp way but still rather inviting, when you think about it. 

"Now?" you ask. 

"Tonight. If you want to, I'll take you out." He takes another drag, eyes flaring in time with the ash. "Don't act like you don't know," he says through the exhale. 

"Know what, Black?" you ask. 

"That I'm mad for you." 

You're suddenly and deeply aware of how you look, a mess after practice, hair straggled from its styling, face without any make up. There's nothing wrong with the way you look, but when you picture someone on Sirius' arm, it's never you. You fiddle with your jacket zipper, voice low, "I didn't know that." 

"I don't believe you." He's not accusatory, simply stating a fact. Sirius stubs his cigarette out next to yours, black hair ruffled in the wind, the scent of him adrift. He smells like smoke, of course, but there's a nicer woodiness beneath it. "I'll take the way you're looking at me as a solid maybe. You can text me." 

"No, I mean. Yeah. I mean–" You stammer as Sirius laughs warmly. "I'll text you. If you really are mad for me." 

"Want me to prove it?" he asks. 

Your lips part of their own accord. You look like a deer-in-the-headlights for sure, completely stopped by the implication. Even the thought of a kiss from his has your pulse capering hard. His hands cold from the rink pressed gently to the warmer stretch of your collar, slipping into the hemline, curling behind your neck as he steps close. You can't summon the kiss itself, too close to bursting, because what would you do? Where would you put your hands? Is there a specific place? 

"Don't look so nervous," he murmurs, his eyebrows pinching ever so slightly together. "I'm not gonna jump you." 

"It's not like that, I just don't know…" 

"About us?" he asks. "That's why I'm trying to ask you on a date. You can make your mind up about us and I'll help you bulk for sectionals."

"I don't need bulking," you say. 

He laughs. "No, you're perfect. Beside your bad habit, that is. We have that in common." Sirius steps forward, pauses. "Can I kiss your cheek?" 

His asking is the last straw. You're melted like a slush curl. 

"Yeah," you say weakly. 

Sirius kisses your cheek gently, and then he tucks his face against the side of your head and gives you a hug. "Text me, yeah? If you want." He peels back to grin at you. "I have to go back in. Elite league won't win itself. Talk to you later, doll."

You watch him retreat back into the centre, not sure what you want to do first; text him, or smoke another cigarette. In the end, you decide against the cigarette. If he's really going to prove how mad he is for you, you don't want to taste like smoke. 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

[wooahaes]

beyond the veil

pairing: non-idol!ghost!jun x gn!reader

genre: horror, but light horror

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: mentions of a murder that went unsolved. reader falls through rotten floorboards, but they're fine. very minor injury depictions.

daisy's notes: ... google how do i kiss a ghost (again)

No matter how much you had begged your friends to let you out of the deal, they wouldn’t budge. This was why you ended up in that house that day with everything you probably needed to survive the night. Or… Well, four hours: your friends had given you that. Four hours alone in the house at the end of the street that was said to be haunted by everyone who had ever tried to live in it. Eventually, the people selling it gave up. If they knocked it down, it might anger whatever spirits were inside of it. There was a reason the equipment continued to malfunction whenever they got too close.

Of course, this meant you would… probably be fine. The house seemed structurally sound enough, and all you needed to do was last from ten at night to two in the morning. Four hours in total, and your friends would be right up the road, waiting for you (Seungcheol refused to just leave you there, even though Mingyu refused to come and it was just Wonwoo and Vernon in the car to keep him company). The first two hours passed by without much happening aside from the occasional creak of a floorboard that you contributed to the house settling. You’d bundled up enough to keep warm, and kept yourself moving in the meantime. You had alarms set for every hour and tried not to touch your phone any more than you needed to. If something happened, you would call Seungcheol, and he would come in to get you. That was the other part of why he was outside.

You’d walked through maybe every room by this point. The kitchen was bare, all equipment taken from it and likely trashed or resold if it was of any use. The pantry only had canned goods left inside of it that expired years ago. The living room was mostly untouched except by dust and what you assumed had to be mold in some corners (nothing dangerous: a quick Google search proved that for you and set those thoughts at ease). The basement was mostly empty, as were the higher floors of the house except for a few bed frames and whatnot. The bare bones of a house that was once lived in.

It was after another sweep of the house that you heard a cat meowing. That was weird: you hadn’t seen a cat so far, but that didn’t mean anything. Some cats were very good at hiding, and it could have just been avoiding you the entire time—or maybe it climbed in through a hole somewhere. Most of the windows had been broken over the years. Your phone buzzed with another alarm, signaling to you that it was the halfway mark of this endeavor. Tugging your jacket closer to yourself, you made your way to the back half of the house, following the meows. You pushed the door open, looking around.

“Kitty?” You called out, clicking your tongue to try and get it to come out. “It’s okay… I’m not gonna hurt you.”

In the furthest corner of the room, you saw a little white cat curled up. It lifted its head, turning to you and meowing one more time, but didn’t move. Maybe it was hurt? You took a step forward, moving slowly as you clutched the flashlight that Seungcheol had given you.

You took a few more slow, steady steps, and the floorboards groaned underneath each one. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna—”

All at once, the floorboards gave away underneath you, the rest of your statement lost as you let out a scream. Everything went black, just for what felt like a few seconds. But you roused easily enough, watching the way the dust in the air puffed up and dissipated. Your body ached, but maybe the thick layers you wore helped cushion your fall. Then again, maybe it was all luck: a fall like that could have killed you. The pain in your body was proof enough that it didn’t. 

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Fuck, that shit hurt. Yet when you opened your eyes, you had peered into the curious one of a man who had suddenly stood over you.

With another yelp, you scrambled away, groping the floor to find your fallen flashlight as you began to apologize for trespassing. “I didn’t know anyone lived here—Everyone said it’s haunted, and my friends made this stupid bet, and I lost, and—”

When you looked at him again,  you realized something. This man wasn’t… there. You could see him, sure, but the rays of moonlight that stretched down seemed to filter through him. 

His eyes widened after a moment. “You… You can see me?”

Then you realized something. You knew this man. You’d seen his face in the papers a few years ago, back when the police were investigating this place. Wen Junhui. Twenty-something. Found murdered in the basement. Killer never found.

Oh fuck. You were seeing a ghost.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fall23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #junhui x reader #junhui x you #jun x reader #jun x you #wen junhui x reader #wen junhui x you

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (16)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

*****

If Jack were here, he’d be pissed at Mac for committing the cardinal sin of stakeouts: forgetting the chips. 

Mac rests his elbow in the driver’s side window and holds up his head with his hand, angling it so his face is in the shade. On the passenger’s side, Riley has the seat pushed back and her feet propped up on the dash. Jack would yell at her for that too. Then he’d complain about their “utter disrespect for the time-honored traditions of espionage.” 

He turns the air conditioner down a few notches. 

They tracked Charlotte Deacon to a strip-mall nail salon where, coincidentally, her acquaintance Genevieve Turner also has an appointment. Riley couldn’t get one at the same time as Charlotte, so instead Riley will walk in right as she’s leaving. Conrad’s wife is enough of a social butterfly that she’ll no doubt want to chit-chat with Riley in the middle of the sidewalk. 

After the fundraiser, they realized the key to finding the cracks in the Patriots isn’t just in the tension between Conrad and Ethan, but also in what they can learn about the men through their wives. Or in Ethan’s case, his ex-wife. 

Ethan himself revealed that his ex and Charlotte were close friends. Little did he know that was just the sort of information Mac and Riley needed to further their investigation. 

They can use Charlotte to get to the ex-wife, then use the ex-wife to help them find cracks in the organization. But since that’s not information the women are likely to give up easily, Riley has some work to do to become friends with them. 

Hence the nail appointment. 

“How long is this going to take?” Stomach grumbling, Mac checks his watch. They’ve been there for thirty minutes already. 

“Longer than you think.” 

Mac sighs, knowing he’ll have to wait through Riley’s whole appointment too. 

With a pointed look, she says, “You could come in, you know. You can get a manicure without the nail polish.” 

He’s weird about random people touching his hands. Sue him. “I’m good.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

Classic rock blasts through the radio, probably louder than it should. It’s not either of their first choices of music, but a stakeout without Jack’s (second choice) music just feels wrong. 

Another fifteen minutes pass before Charlotte approaches the salon’s front counter to pay. “That’s my cue,” Riley says, and then she’s out of the car and casually strolling across the street. 

WIth only Van Halen to keep him company now, Mac can only wait and watch as Riley steps onto the sidewalk at the same time Charlotte walks out the door. He’s too far away to really tell what’s going on, but even from his poor vantage point he sees Charlotte’s face light up in that kind of plastic excitement only a Southern woman can pull off. 

They talk for a few minutes before parting ways—Riley into the salon, Charlotte into a white sedan parked at the curb. 

Mac’s phone buzzes, notifying him of a text from Riley. 

Secured an invite to brunch this weekend. 

Who else is going? 

All the wives. Including Ethan’s ex.

At least one of them is making positive progress, Mac thinks.

*****

Building a bomb is much easier than disarming one. Mac has been steadily gathering supplies—some from under the kitchen sink, some with an assist from Matty—to build a whole chain of explosions, since that’s what it’ll take the level the state capitol. Some of the planned bombs are little more than explosive liquid in a trashcan, which will need to be mixed together on site. Others, bigger ones, he can partially build in advance, leaving out a few wires and a detonator so there’s no chance of setting it off inside the apartment or in the car on the drive over. 

While he works, Mac thinks about the conversation he had with Riley during breakfast this morning, before she left the house for a few hours. He asked for space while building the bombs, and while she didn’t argue, she poked and prodded at his carefully constructed exterior trying to get him to talk about feelings he couldn’t afford to talk about, or even think about, yet. 

Pouring a second cup of coffee, Riley had asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Mac answered, feigning confusion. There were plenty of reasons for him not to be okay, starting with the fact that he’s spending the week building bombs for terrorists from inside a safe house. The very same safe house he’s sharing with the woman he loves but cannot tell for some godforsaken reason. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“For the last three nights, as soon as I get in bed you reach for me in your sleep, and you grab me so tight it feels like you’re trying to crawl into my skin. And this morning you slept through my alarm.” 

Mac vaguely remembered hearing it go off, feeling her pull away from him. There’s another memory, too, of her brushing his hair off his forehead, but that’s probably just a dream. 

“I’m fine, Riles,” he lied.  

Mac twists two wires together with more force than necessary. He iced Riley out this morning, plain and simple. She understands, though. At least he hopes she does. 

Still, in hindsight it was a shitty thing to do. He could have been honest and said he isn’t ready to share yet. 

It’s decided. When she inevitably asks again, that’s what he’ll say. 

He finishes building the first detonator and begins working on the next.

*****

“Damnit,” Mac mutters, cursing his laptop and its inability to stay connected to their apartment’s WiFi. This is why he never uses it. “Why do you hate me so much?” He clicks the connect button, and the spinning circle of doom appears. Impatiently tapping his fingers on the kitchen table, Mac waits. 

And waits. 

Another error message pops up, and it feels like receiving the middle finger. 

This is a waste of time. Time he doesn’t exactly have. 

The pieces and parts of half-built bombs scattered across the kitchen table (and part of the floor) seem to laugh at him. 

Mac rubs his face in frustration, then drags his fingers through his hair. It’s standing up in all directions, but he doesn’t even care at this point. It’s just one more thing in a long line of shit that’s slowly wearing him down. 

He’s nearing his breaking point. He knows this. No matter how much he’s trying to hold it together, for the sake of the op. For Riley’s sake. For himself. 

But fighting a machine isn’t helping matters. 

Mac slams the laptop shut loudly and with enough force for Riley to audibly wince in the background. “Let me help you,” she says, coming closer. A reassuring hand lands on his shoulder. Standing behind his chair, she reaches around him to open the laptop with far more care than he would give it. “What’s your password?” she asks.

Mac almost laughs. Not knowing a password has never stopped Riley Davis. 

And then it dawns on him. 

She’s not asking for his password. She’s asking for his consent. 

He enters the password. 

Riley leans closer, and Mac automatically leans into her too before catching himself. He’s painfully aware of her face beside his, her arm brushing his as she troubleshoots the problem, her warm, steady presence enveloping him. His skin heats beneath her touch. In his peripheral view, Mac spots the wrinkle that forms between Riley’s brows when she’s concentrating. When there aren’t lives on the line, the expression is actually pretty cute. 

“Fixed it,” Riley says, and Mac almost doesn’t hear her over the voice in his head screaming how easy it would be to kiss her. She frowns when he doesn’t respond. “Earth to Mac,” she says. “Anyone there?” The hand on his shoulder slides up the back of his neck and into his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and Mac’s awareness tunnels to that sensation and nothing else. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, choking on the words. “Thank you.” 

But Riley pulls away, pushing the laptop aside and sitting on the table. His back is suddenly cold without her pressed against it. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

And there it is—the inevitable attempt to get him to talk about his feelings. 

Not sure he wants to have this conversation, Mac plays dumb. “About what?” 

Riley sees right through him, of course, though she doesn’t call him out on it. Her expression is soft and reassuring, and the longer she looks at him like that, the more Mac’s defenses fall. 

“I was looking at old reports and specs from the Ghost’s bombs,” he explains, even though RIley already knows that from looking at his screen. “He was a master at linking multiple bombs together. Figured I could borrow some techniques.” 

“And let me guess, reading those reports opened a much bigger can of worms than you expected, right?” 

Mac nods. “Something like that.” 

He’s still not ready to share his feelings, but acknowledging that he’s not okay is a step in the right direction. And he trusts Riley not to keep pushing for more than he’s ready to give. She may offer to listen a thousand times, but she’ll never force him to speak. 

“Hey, Riles,” he starts, “I know I’m not the best at sharing, but thank you for always being willing to listen.” She smiles softly. 

Pulling the computer onto her lap, Riley offers, “I’ll read. You build.” 

Mac can’t say no to that. 

*****

The weird thing about a long-term undercover op is that it could end at any moment, and yet they still have to stock the fridge. Fridays are for grocery shopping, a task that Mac makes sure he and Riley do together. 

Partially to get out of the house. Partially to spend quality time together where they can pretend they’re not constantly on the clock. 

And partially because it’s an easy opportunity to annoy the shit out of her. 

He starts with little things, like standing on one side of her and lightly tapping her opposite shoulder. No matter how many times he’s done it, she always falls for it, her head snapping in the wrong direction. Mac shrugs innocently; she rolls her eyes. 

He pretends to get lost in the store, and when she finds him again, he thanks her for the rescue. 

He puts extra snacks in the cart when she’s not looking, and when she catches him, he cites their lack of stakeout snacks. She leaves them in the cart. The Phoenix is paying anyway. 

When Riley picks up a second bag of chips, Mac takes advantage of the role reversal and complains, “Now who’s getting snacks we don’t need?” 

“They’re a different flavor.” 

“But I don’t like that flavor.” 

“I know.” She smirks. “First rule of successful cohabitation: never live with someone who likes the same snacks as you.” Having gotten everything they need from this aisle, she continues walking. 

Trailing behind her, Mac protests, “I’m good at sharing!” 

“Are you, though?” Her tone makes it obvious she disagrees. 

“Yes,” Mac defends, crossing his arms. He knows he looks like a kid but he doesn’t care. 

She turns down the next aisle. “Whatever you say, only child.” 

Mac splutters. “You’re one too!” 

“That’s beside the point.” 

“You’re just pointing fingers to avoid acknowledging that you’re also bad at sharing, only child.” 

She stops, looking over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, flashing him a saccharine smile. 

Now it’s Mac’s turn to roll his eyes. 

Even though she’s the one pushing the cart (this time), Mac puts a hand on Riley’s lower back to guide her through the more crowded aisles. She smiles at him over her shoulder. 

In the produce aisle, Mac snatches a few twist ties to play with while they shop. When Riley gives him a look, he says, “What? It’s not like anyone uses them.” 

They pick up vegetables and chicken, and they sort through the shelves of Gatorade to find a mutually tolerable flavor (lemon-lime). They pick up eggs and bagels for breakfast, and argue whether there is cream cheese left in the fridge. They get a container just in case. 

They have plenty of dog food at home, but they pick up another bag of treats. 

“So did you hear that Desi and Bozer bought a fish for the war room?” Mac asks. 

Riley stares at him in disbelief. “What kind?” 

“A betta. More specifically a male red crowntail betta, whatever that means. They got a fancy tank and set up an office-wide feeding schedule and everything.” 

“That’s. . . wow.” 

“How does it feel to be an aunt?” he teases. 

Riley counters, “How does it feel to be an uncle?” 

Neither of them have an answer. 

“What’s our nephew’s name?” 

Mac sighs. There’s a reason why he never let Bozer get a pet. Not because their lifestyles are completely incompatible with pet ownership (though that is a big reason), but because Bozer is terrible at naming things. Grimacing, he answers, “Pizza. Because they were eating pizza when they got the idea.” 

Riley blinks at him several times before responding. “Man, did I dodge a bullet by friendzoning him. Can you imagine trying to name children with him?” In a bad impression of Bozer, she continues, “Like, ‘Hi, these are my three sons Hotel Shower, Kitchen Table, and Childhood Bedroom.’” 

Mac laughs. “I’ll tell him you said that.” 

“Good.” 

They’ve almost completed their lap of the grocery store when they reach the alcohol aisle. When Riley reaches for a six-pack of beer, Mac stops her. “Don’t need it,” he says. 

Her hand falls away slowly as they lock eyes, and Mac can only hope she sees that he listened, that he heard her, and that he’s taking the first step to making good on his promise to quit. 

She didn’t ask him to quit completely—she drinks too, after all; Mac is consciously making this choice to show her he was serious. By not letting alcohol in their house when tensions are high, he’s not letting her father into their house. He won’t aggravate the scar on her heart. 

A weight visibly lifts from Riley’s shoulders—one that Mac never truly realized she carried before all of this. 

Standing in the checkout line, Mac rests his chin on Riley’s shoulder. It’s a little awkward bending down that far, but the move puts a smile on her face. He reaches around to put his hands beside hers on the cart, and he’s struck by the sight of their wedding rings side by side. While those are fake, this thing between them is real. 

“You’re my favorite person,” he tells her. 

Riley hums. “I thought I lost that honor to our new nephew, Pizza.” 

“Never.” 

In a lot of ways, she’s filled the hole in his life that other people (including Jack) left behind. But she’s also carved out a space in his heart that’s wholly her own, filling it with a kind of love he hasn’t felt in a long time. A kind of love he wouldn’t mind feeling for the rest of his life, as long as she’s still willing to give it. 

.

~ Tag List ~  Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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@whatsabex

#beth writes #macriley #macgyver #angus macgyver #riley davis #macgyver fanfiction #looking through a window au

[the-silent-windchime]

Midwest/Southwest Gothic

Here’s a list of things I associate with my particular brand gothic horror

My dad took us out to Oklahoma once to visit the house he grew up in. When we got there, we found a cracked concrete slab supporting the skeleton of a few crumbling walls and a nearly intact red brick chimney. There was the hollowed-out shell of an old VW Bug sitting on cinderblocks in the overgrown yard, and a barn that swayed every time a strong breeze picked up. The house, like a concerning amount of the childhood houses in my family, had burned to the ground years ago, and the title to the land was lost in the system. It’s unclear who now owns the land, and by extension, the house, or what they intend to do with it, but someone had zip tied a piece of cardboard to the fence that said “do not trespass”. There was a horse standing in what used to be my dad’s room.

One time I was riding my bike to work and happened to go past one of the town’s most notorious meth houses. They had a dog, and I’m not good with dog breeds but this one looked like it had been bred to be mean. It pulled its lead from the ground as I biked past and chased me all the way down the street, managing to bite me in the leg. Every time I tried to speed up to outrun it it got more agitated, so I just stopped. The dog stopped too, and just watched me from across the street, refusing to come any closer or let me approach. After a little while it wandered right back to the meth house and curled up under the saggy front porch. That dog was gone the next day.

Corn fields are spooky, but nothing is scarier than being in the woods by yourself at night.

Animals just wander into your space all the time. They have no concept of civilization vs wilderness. We would get deer, turkeys, coyotes, moles, groundhogs, and even once an entire family of black bears. There was a stray cat in the neighborhood that we never once saw, and only knew existed because it left dead mice on our back patio when we started leaving the door to the shed open at night.

Nothing, and I cannot stress this enough, NOTHING is more terrifying than turning on your brights when driving at night and suddenly seeing a crowd of deer standing on the side of the road, watching you as you drive past.

Cars coming on the opposite side of the road will sometimes flash their headlights at you as a warning about something, usually a cop. One time I was driving up the side of a mountain and a car coming down flashed their lights so frantically that I just found a place to turn around and went right back down. I passed someone else going up and gave them the same warning without knowing for sure what I was even warning them about.

My blog name is actually based on an item I pulled from the detritus of an old hoarder’s house I was helping clean out. The guy must not have liked the sound of the windchime, because he’d glued cut up bits of pool noodles to it to silence it. This one is less Midwest gothic and more what the fuck went on in your head dude

My grandparents have lived in the same trailer park for all my life. It’s a nice little place out in the middle of nowhere in Kansas, all the neighbors keep their places clean and quiet and they were all polite on the few occasions I interacted with them. It is Kansas, though, so the only way to get to the park is on the one cracked up old road that goes out of town and cuts through miles of nothing as far as the eye can see. And as someone who grew up mostly in urban areas, it’s a bit strange to see the plumes of smoke that go up every couple couple of days when people burn their trash (my grandpa is big into recycling, so for the longest time my grandparents used the inside of an old washing machine as a burn barrel)

Flea markets.

Pawn shops (bad and evil, full of weird taxidermy, walls of scratched up DVDs, and guys who are way too obsessed with guns)

Casinos were The Backrooms before The Backrooms were cool, and it’s completely by design. Manufactured fucking liminal space, baby

The weather changes on a dime. Sometimes after a few days of really warm weather the clouds will just close up like a trapdoor and turn the sky white instead of blue. And sometimes after a storm the clouds will blow away and the sky will be so blue it almost hurts to look at.

These were all the ones I could think of off the top of my head. I mostly did this because the search results for “Midwest gothic” were a lot of abandoned houses in the country and weird, decaying religious signs. And yeah, there’s a shit ton of that stuff in the midwest, don’t get me wrong! But that’s not all there is.

#midwest gothic #little bit of southwest gothic sprinkled in there #there’s not a clear cut distinction between them sometimes #horror #writing inspiration #if anyone else has any stories they want to add on I’d love to hear them!

[reallytiredartstudent]

“There was no reason to start so early.”

Shoto squinted against the bright sun reaching over the horizon. The light illuminated the (probably) beautiful scenery around them, mountains throwing shadows over the rocks they had climbed and green as far as the eye could see.

Shoto (probably) could’ve seen all the trees and plants clinging to the stone walls and he (probably) could’ve seen the flowers blooming in places that were actively hostile to them, he (probably) could’ve admired the beauty of a mountain in early midday, where nature was awake and greeted the day, birds bustling around them with the occasional goat showing up in improbable places like a game designer had forgotten how gravity worked and needed some more background items.

He (probably) could’ve – if he hadn’t been busy blearily squinting at the sun, silently wishing for the merciful relief of death, hoping it would free him of the torture that was walking up a mountain at a time no reasonable human being should be awake.

Katsuki turned around to him. “Stop whining and get your ass up here.”

Shoto had the sneaking suspicion that Katsuki enjoyed seeing him struggle. The way Katsuki grinned at his words only solidified that belief.

“I can do both.”

Katsuki had already turned back to climb higher on the path he had chosen for them, but not without throwing a comment over his shoulder, strange amusement attached to it.

“Yeah I know that you can multitask. Move faster.”

Shoto huffed, adjusted the straps of the borrowed backpack and followed him. Why did he agree, again? He was too tired to remember. He would kill for coffee. And a break. Shoto said neither of those things and marched on.

As he later watched the wild grin on Katsuki’s face as he looked down the way they had come, he remembered why. Shoto could remember only a handful of times where he had seen Katsuki as happy and as calm as he looked here, in the middle of the wilderness, climbing over rocks and yelling instructions at Shoto from above.

Some hours later they arrived at what Katsuki had determined their final destination of the day and started to put up the tent.

Or, Katsuki started to put up the tent after Shoto had been banned from handling it. It had started after Shoto had suggested a piece of what looked to him like random wild grass as their camping ground and Katsuki had nearly hit him over the head for the suggestion. Shoto had then gotten an impromptu lecture from Katsuki about what was considered a durable surface and what not, all while Katsuki ranted about how Shoto was something like a ‘spoiled nightmare of rich city brat’. As soon as that had finished, Katsuki had taken one look at Shoto with a stake in his hand and told him to sit around and look pretty. Shoto had a weird sense of Deja-vu.

They sat around the small fire Katsuki had built up for them (“That’s grass you idiot and here’s one clearly been made before, do you use your fucking brain?”) and that Shoto had started (“Why the fuck won’t this motherfucking stupid shit show of a – “ “Can I?” “…” “….” “How the fuck did you do that on your first try?!” “Talent.”). The day slowly started to give way to the night and Shoto was glad that the first day of their three-day-trip was over. Not that he didn’t enjoy himself, but he was also tired enough to collapse and never move again.

It was strangely…comfortable. Crackling fire in front of them, slowly cooling air around them, Katsuki next to him.

They didn’t talk much for a long while. They simply enjoyed being here. Nature around them, no lights in sight, no people, no cars rumbling somewhere in the distance. The ever-present music of the city that Shoto was so used to had been replaced with the music of the forest. Instead of sirens there were birds singing, the rushing they heard in the distance wasn’t a highway but the waterfall they had passed earlier in the day and wind in the trees replaced the constant murmuring of people.

The stars started to show and Shoto stared up at the sky. He hadn’t seen the sky so clearly before. When his neck started to hurt, he laid on his back. Katsuki scoffed and laid down next to him.

“I didn’t know you liked hiking and climbing.”

Katsuki grunted as an answer. “Started when I was a teen.”

“Oh?”

“Kyo dragged me up my first mountain.”

Shoto laid with his back on the dirt and the stars above him and tried frantically to remember which member of Bakugou’s extended family had been ‘Kyo’.

“Your aunt?”

Katsuki snorted. “Fuck no. Cousin.” A short beat of silence. “Did you seriously already forget who the fuck Kyo was?”

Shoto felt weirdly defensive. “You have a big family.”

“Kyo. My cousin. The fucking woman who sent us both on that trip."

Shoto needed another heartbeat to get the right picture in his mind but then it felt like a lightbulb had finally lit up in his head.

“Ah. Female-you with less anger-issues.”

Katsuki elbowed him in the side. “Who the fuck has anger issues here!”

Shoto grabbed the offending elbow and traced his hand along the familiar arm until he could grab Katsuki’s hand and intertwine their fingers.

“You.”

It came out a lot more affectionate and less factual than he had it intended as he lifted their hands up to press a light kiss on Katsuki’s knuckles. What should’ve been a mocking gesture turned honest. Shoto found himself accidently doing that a lot. Katsuki next to him went rigid for a moment, then he smacked Shoto with his other hand, astonishingly accurate given the tactical less than ideal visibility conditions, on the face.

“Fucking asshole.”

Chapter 21 of i thought this would be simple is up!

#i thought this would simple fanfic #chapter 21 #fanfic #yes i finally made it #just took me like #five months #sry #Bakugou Katsuki #Todoroki Shoto #todobaku #bnha fanfiction

[idle-alena]

Ch 4. Lovely Rita

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.9 k Summary: It's been a while since you got together with all your friends. What could go wrong? A bar, a drink or two... anda surprise guest.

Full Work // Previous // Next // Read it on AO3

“Hurry please.” Eren shouted from the driver's seat, voice so loud and deep it could be heard from the inside of the building. His hand hanging out the window, a cigarette –mostly done– dangling, his fingers tapping the ashes as he exhaled dramatically while letting the rest of the smoke out the window that couldn’t escape his lips as he called you. Charming, as usual. A gentleman. 

You started walking just a bit faster, but you weren’t going to let a moody boy boss you around to actually start running. While going around the black sedan, you could see the boy had been dressed by Mikasa, both with matching silver necklaces, and the same everyday rings, one of a crow and one with a black sapphire with the hand still posed over the wheel. She scolded him by hitting his arm, which Eren visibly got hurt, but was trying his best to conceal it.

“I’m hurrying.” As you jumped on the back seat, Annie greeted you, closed her lip gloss, and smiled at you. She looked kind of over it, but hey, she looked like that every day. You covered your chest with one hand, careful of the tiny amount of silver sequin fabric that was barely covering you in a loose dress paired with black heels and matching purse, while the other hand closed the car door, barely not ripping apart as Eren stepped on the gas before you could even say anything else.

Annie scooted closer to you. “Does my lipstick match my outfit?” She pouted her lips in a playful manner, as you knew she didn’t care so much about her appearance or anybody’s –including yours– opinion. Every time you guys went out, she looked the most stylist out of everybody. Her gray pant suit paired with a white top and silver hoop earrings was simple, elegant, and adequate for this party, the matching blazer may be lying on the trunk.

“Perfect. Do you think I paired the heels well?” You opted for only simple eyeliner and lip balm, as the dress was shiny and distracting enough, always testing to the limits how promiscuous one can be.

“I love it, I think it's my favorite dress so far.” Annie smiled at you and touched the fabric, comforting you, she took out her phone and took a photo, you looked away. “Look at you.” Annie smirked, really proud of the picture, and how could she not be? It looked really good. 

“Could you not? Or at least not with flash, it’s distracting.” Eren scolded with an aggressive tone as the car made its first stop on a red light.

“Someone’s cranky.” Annie teased him, while pulling out her tongue, so that Eren could see her from the rear view mirror. Eren didn’t respond, just inhaled harder from his cigarette. “I’m posting this on my story, someone’s got to answer this for sure.” You smiled in response, letting her do whatever was quicker than asking her not to and endure the self love speech once again.

“I like this, guys. Our little tradition.” Mikasa turned around, car still. She leaned back to grab yours and Annie’s hands, her face was inexplicably cheery, her voice was higher and her eyes were sparkling.

“And someone’s sprightly.” Annie made a face, freaked out about the contrast between her and Eren, letting go of Mikasa.

“Oh come on guys! Since when have we been all together?” Mikasa squeezed your hand and you squeezed back to comfort her. You remembered the last time it was this easy, but you weren’t going to say anything, especially with cranky boy at the wheel. The last time was first semester, right before Eren dropped out, and Armin sided with him and Annie and Mikasa on the other end, giving everyone a weird pause in between relationships, and I was caught in the middle, yet again. Eren sighted in discomfort, making sure that Mikasa heard it, so she turned around in silence. The next half hour passed without a sound but the radio blasting Mikasa’s playlist. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the bar and situated yourselves at the little booth reserved beforehand. Little stop before the party, as Annie suggested and planned.

“SHOOOOOOOOT!” Annie screamed when the first round of shot glasses arrived in a wood tray with clear liquid, she grabbed two, giving you one. I really do not want to get wasted on the first Friday night. But you picked it anyway, this would be your first shot of the night, if you were lucky you could last only tipsy till the actual party.

“Take it easy, Annie.” Armin’s worried voice interrupted your celebration, he was still walking on eggshells given the fiasco and the latest fight they two had. To sum it up, Annie blacked out and Armin’s concern that she was getting wasted way too frequently untied the biggest and nastiest public argument… yet. You were almost sure she did it specifically to spite him, if he wasn’t careful with his words, she may do it again.

For the second round, you ordered a Mango Margarita to make yourself look busy, while Annie kept ordering more and more shots, Armin was content with his unfinished beer while Mikasa and Eren shared some fries and the most bland and boring chat

You could cut the tension with a butter knife from how dense it was.

Marco surelly was your best friend, but he didn’t get along in the “couples” dynamic Mikasa and Annie had, even though you were still single, they all made space for you, you’ve never felt like the odd one out, the outkast, the different one, it was always more about their troubles being masked with you as the excuse. But with Marco they all had to make special effort, since you were the only one close enough to him, so the chats would always become spiteful coments.

“Shit!” Mikasa quickly stood up as the shot from Annie’s clumsy hands traveled through the other side of the table towards her. Mikasa was quick, but the liquid was quicker. “My fucking cargo pants.” Mikasa looked visibly pissed while Armin rushed to get napkins to aid a helpless Eren wiping the table with his own striped sleeves. Nasty.

“Come with me.” You stepped down the tall stool carefully not to flash anyone in that mini dress, still debating in your mind why you wore what you did. “It dries faster in the hand dryer.” You grabbed Mikasa’s hand, and she dragged you to the bathroom. You looked back at an unapologetic Annie, laughing and arguing with Eren, while Armin still tried to improve the situation, pretending nothing happened.

Once in the empty bathroom, the music that drowned the solitude that clouded your friend group quieted down. Mikasa stood over the dryer and turned it on so that her left leg could dry. You kept wondering if this was going to end in yet another discussion and another siding of the group. It wasn’t that big of a deal, accidents happen, but Mikasa’s response was different, and the atmosphere in the car felt heavy, you wondered what happened before you arrived.

“She wasn’t even tipsy, we just got here.” Mikasa finally said, once the dryer went off. “I don’t know what is it with her, sometimes she’s so aggressive and careless that it drives me mad.” Mikasa looked at you, she looked expectantly for an answer, as if you were going to side with her. Instead you looked petrified, unsure of what to say, you wouldn’t want to side with anyone, yet again. “You think I over reacted, don’t you?” You shrugged, Annie to you was a meticulous planner, she did things for a much bigger reason, there was little possibility she wasn’t purposely getting on Mikasa’s nerves, and Mikasa knew it. 

“Why? Because you cursed?” Mikasa laughed and turned on the dryer again, drowning the silence in noise. She was foul-mouthed, but the mad reaction of a drink getting spilled over her was unusual, this was the first time she cared for whatever happened to her clothes.

The dryer died down.

You both stared at each other, unsure of what else to say. Was there anything else to say? Mikasa’s mouth moved, trying to say something before regretting it and pressing on the dryer again. She eventually spoke, looking up with sparkling eyes and determination.

“I need to speak to her.” Mikasa went out of the bathroom as soon as the second round of drying her cargo pants finished, not even letting it completely dry . But before you could even say anything or follow her, she was off. 

It was humid here. It smelled weird and it was very poorly lit. While debating what to do next, you stood in front of the mirror and adjusted the few strands of your hair that left its place. The water was cold against your hot palms, you washed your hands, reluctant to come out and face the scene outside but unsure on what to do inside here, you contemplated just staying here for half an hour, only to appear in the aftermath of the discussion, but someone entered and interrupted the peaceful ambient. Whoever she was, she was just giggling before entering a stall, then a retching noise took you by surprise. Nope, I’m not staying here to smell that crap, whatever the girls may be facing is better than this. You flew out of there, unaware of the strand of sequin on the side of your dress that got caught up on the door knob on your way out, pulling you back once you got too far the now closed door behind you. The sudden movement forced you to hit the door with your back, making enough noise for the man currently leaving the man’s bathroom to look at you.

“You alright?” The man came closer, as you turned your back to him, still unaware of how close he was, and how you got caught up. You cursed at the door for having the knob on the inside and being those types that opened to the inside, you weren’t about to do a little dance and embarrass yourself any further, you just wanted out of that.

“Yeah, I’m just…” You pulled yourself, taking a quick big step back, snapping off the thread, miscalculating the force, and before you knew it, you were crashing with all your weight on the poor man, who huffed in discomfort as you hit his chest, hands already catching you as you slid down. “Oh.” It took you a moment to realize what happened, as you felt the two strong hands that held you by the wrists, hugging you with your own arms, preventing you to fall ass first to the concrete, as you looked at them, an expensive looking watch and the faint smell of sandalwood welcomed you.

“You alright?” He pulled you up, facing him, a pair of familiar blue eyes looked down, pretty worried, as he let go. “Oh, it’s you.” He laughed a bit, fixing his black shirt and stepping back. You couldn’t tell by the lack of lighting, but he was eyeing you up and down, the same way you looked at the ironed tan pants and white sneakers trying to find clues as to who the blonde was.

“Erwin.” You said in disbelief, immediately regretting being so informal. “I mean... Mr Smith, I am so sorry.” Your cheeks flushed red, instinctively pulling down on your dress, suddenly aware of how exposed you felt.

“Erwin is fine.” He made no intention to step further, his presence was not blocking your way out, you could have easily squeezed out of the bathroom's entrance, but something about him was inviting you to stay. “But you didn’t answer, are you okay?”

“Yeah fine.” You touched your ass, making sure it was still covered, if anything seriously ripped and exposed your tits, you could at least feel the air conditioning perking them up. “What… what are you doing… here?” You mumbled and stumbled your arms around.

“Just... out for some drinks.” His cerulean orbs shining under the badly lightened corridor peaked with interest and posibilities. “Actually… care to join me in the bar?” His whole body moved to the side, inviting yet again. He signaled with his hands towards the bar section where the bartender was making the drinks, on the opposite side of the tables section, where Mikasa and everyone probably were. You were tempted, because not in a million years would you thought to be in this situation.

“Dunno, I should probably get back with my friends.” Smart, he thinks you’re not alone. Like yeah, he may not look like the creepy type but you never know. Am I being overly cautious? I have known the man for a couple months… but never outside campus. Is this legal? Your mind circled multiple scenarios and possibilities, like the possibility of finding him in this specific bar, outside the bathrooms, while you were exiting them.

“It’s ok.” He opened an exit by taking a step to the left while scratching his neck. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t… yeah, I’ll meet you on Monday.” He looked speechless for the first time. The man you thought to have all the words in his life already planned out was speechless before you outside of the bathroom of a seedy bar pretty far away from campus.

“No, wait.” He looked at you, surprised, perking immediately at the sound of your voice. You looked at each other for a second, trying to decipher the other’s intentions. “One drink.” Your newfound confidence suddenly struck you. It was not an everyday thing to be invited for a drink by your hot teacher, maybe it was just a harmless chat with an unusual scenario, you thought it wasn’t uncommon the forging of a colleagues relationship. But was it? At this point of your grown ass life?

He made a gesture for you to pass, and so you headed first for the bar, you couldn’t see it, yet again, but Erwin was still eyeing you in your unusual attire, it was really eye-catching, or at least for his eyes. You found two seats on the furthest corner of the bar, since it was still pretty early, not many people were around, so the bartender came quickly and took your order, another margarita for you and a glass of water for Erwin.

“Put it in my tab, I’m at that table.” Erwin signaled somewhere on the table section, since he was still standing, he blocked the view, the bartender nodded and started preparing your drinks. “So, are you out tonight?” He finally sat down, his whole body was facing you, leaning one arm and looking so effortlessly relaxed.

“Yeah, we were just passing anyway, there is this party…” You tried to look as relaxed as him, facing him not to seem disrespectful or cold. I mean, you were already accepting to meet him. “What brings you here? Who’s on the table? Why didn’t we join them-”

“Hey, hey, wait a second.” he laughed and smiled after, you felt your cheeks flushed red. I overstepped right?  “I don’t know, joining my colleagues from work with a student didn’t seem like the most appropriate way to come back from the bathroom.” But being here all alone is? “We were in a meeting and decided to head out early, it is barely the first week, I don’t know why the department makes us do this. How about you? I could ask you the same thing. Why didn’t you tell me to come over to your table?”

“It would be kind of weird to introduce my teacher to my friends, especially because they have no idea who you are, they don’t even go to the same school.” Ah yeah, you now remembered the trouble that may be happening with them, how long has it been? You took out your phone, with all the madness you didn’t even leave your purse when you arrived, it was still on you. Your screen lit up, revealing several missed calls and messages in the group chat.

We are at the parking lot, where are you? - Armin.

Mikasa and Annie are fighting. -Eren.

Call me. - Armin.

We need to get going. - Eren.

We are literally in the car, just come out. -Eren.

The last one was just about a couple seconds ago, you answered.

I’m fine, go without me, I found someone.

“Everything ok?” Erwin sipped his water, you didn’t know anything about beers, but if he was out for drinks didn’t he have to… drink?

“Yeah, my friends just left… I may have to Uber to the party.” It wasn’t far, that’s why you felt comfortable telling them to go, you didn’t want to seem rude to Erwin. It was odd, especially for you, staying back and accommodating Erwin, making trouble for you in the future being car and money-less.

“Stay a little longer, I’ll drive you there.”

“Aren’t you literally drinking?” You signaled the bar, with a sassy remark. Erwin laughed and drank a little bit more.“I haven’t drank anything with alcohol, but we can wait if it bothers you. It’s the least I can do after stealing you from your friends.” You hesitated, shaking your leg and looking over at the door. “Come on, you can arrive an hour late.”

Navigation / Index / Prev: Ch3 / Next: Ch5

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot #snk #snk erwin #aot erwin #fem reader #reader insert #afab reader #college au #f!reader #eventual smut #we are getting there #next ch

[mrmonster459]

Werewolf in the Desert

By mrmonster

Location: Southern California

“Forty bucks worth of gas at pump twelve.” I said to the teller.

“That all?” The teller asked.

I thought for a moment and said “And a pack of Marlboro, if you promise not to tell my wife.”

“I don’t make many promises.” The teller said. “But that one, I can keep.”

I should clarify where we were and what I was doing. My family and I (aka my wife Jade, our thirteen-year-old son Ricky, and our eight-year-old daughter Deven) were driving towards Anaheim to take the kids to Disneyland. Even though the sun was starting to set, we were nowhere near any places to crash that wouldn’t be roach motels, so we decided to just power through for another hour to get into Los Angeles County. We could’ve already been there, but Jade wanted to go through a more remote route to pass a “hidden gem” natural site out in the desert she heard about. Anyway, our last stop that night was a Native American reservation to get enough gas to make it all the way.

“You know, it’s a full moon tonight.” The cashier commented as he got me my cigarettes.

“Yeah, I heard.” I replied.

“Things get weird around here whenever there’s a full moon.” He said. “There are myths of an old curse, a supernatural disease that white settlers passed onto our people generations ago. They say it manifests every full moon, and that our land isn’t safe until the sun rises. If I were you, I’d drive far tonight; if the myths are true, you may regret being here once it gets dark”

He then scanned the cigarette pack and said “Your total is $48.56. Paying with cash or card?”

______

When I went back to the car and started filling up, my wife immediately noticed something was up.

“You okay?” She asked from inside the SUV.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I said. “The teller was really weird, that’s all. Said there was some kinda curse around here on full moons.”

“Calm down, tourist traps love to tell ghost stories to travelers.” Jade said. “It brings in money. Back in New Orleans, my sister and I couldn’t go to a single bar without being told about all the ghosts that were haunting the place.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” I said as I waited for the car to fill.

____

After getting gas, we hit the road again. Unfortunately, about ten minutes or so after leaving the gas station, we got a flat tire and I had to pull over.

“Aw fu…” I started to say, before remembering my kids were in the car. “Fudge. Aw, fudge.” I then said.

The kids looked worried, but I said “Relax, we have a spare. It’ll be a bumpy ride, but it’ll get us into town.”

As I started changing the tire, I heard some kind of growl, almost like a dog’s howl but much louder.

I reached into the trunk, and rummaged through it to find something I was desperately hoping I never unpacked after our most recent family camping trip. “Oh thank God.” I said to myself after I found my bear spray. It wasn’t much, but I figured it would stop whatever animal was out there. I continued trying to repair the tire until I heard it again, but much closer.

I got in the car, locked the doors, and rolled up the windows. “Jade, check to see if the 9MM is still in the glove box?”

She opened it and said “It is.”

“Good, keep it close.” I saw that the kids were scared, and said “Don’t worry. It sounds like there’s some kinda animal loose, but that’s all. If we just stay in the car and…”

Moments later, we felt something crash into the side. Then, there was a horrible sound of metal being scratched.

And then, it jumped onto the hood. I shined my phone flashlight at it, and what I saw horrified me.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting the monster I made eye contact with. It had a human-like torso but had the face and paws of a wolf. It roared when I shined a light on it, and then used one of its paws to smash through the window.

Before it could enter the car, I shot it with bear spray. It retreated in pain, and Jade fired a shot that grazed its shoulder. The monster then fell off the hood, and ran off.

“What the Hell was that?” Jade asked.

“Shit, I don’t know.” I said. “But we’re getting out of here.”

I got out of the car, lowered the car jack, and quickly tried to reattach the new tire. However, when I heard the monster growl again, I simply got back in the car, and decided to take a chance on a car with only three functional tires. I turned the car around, and slammed on the pedal to get us back to the reservation. Sure their hotels would be shit, but at least we’d be safe from that thing.

“Jade, we gotta call the police.” I said.

“I’ve been trying.” She said. “But I’m not getting any signal.”

Just as I thought we were getting away, the car stalled.

“Oh no.” I said. I popped the hood, and used my phone as a flashlight.

“The battery terminals are damaged.” I said. “That thing must have ruined them when he jumped onto the car.”

“What are we gonna do?” Jade asked.

“I don’t know, I really don’t.” I said.

I thought for a moment and said “We’ll continue on foot. Hopefully someone will spot us.”

_______

We walked for over an hour in the dark, sticking close to the road in case anyone was there to see us. Unfortunately, there were none, it appears we were alone that night.

And then, we heard a familiar noise.

“Shit.” I muttered when I heard the monster’s roar.

“KIDS, GET BEHIND YOUR MOTHER AND ME!” I ordered.

Jade had the gun, and I had the bear spray. We were both out of our depth, but never underestimate two parents trying to keep their kids safe.

“IT’S COMING!” I shouted when I heard the beast running towards us. Jade fired two shots, but both missed.

I then shined my flashlight at it, and saw that the light alone was enough to keep it at bay.

“JADE, IT HATES LIGHT!” I shouted. Once we had it on the run, Jade fired another shot (one that grazed its stomach), and I hit it with another round of pepper spray to the face.

Jade tried one last time to shoot it, but missed again. I then grabbed the gun, ran up to the beast, and hit it in the face. Unfortunately, the beast retaliated by slashing my chest.

At first, it seemed like all hope may have been lost, until a car came approaching with its high beams on. The monster was so frightened by the light that it just ran off. When the car got closer, I could see that it was a Tribal Police cruiser.

“You folks alright?” He asked.

“We need help.” I said. “We were attacked by…a bear.”

"A bear? Okay." The officer said, but I get the sense that he knew I was lying. "I'll radio for help, once we get you to the rez we can get you to the urgent care."

______

We spent the night in a shitty motel across the street from a casino. First thing in the morning, we called for a ride to bring us into the city.

As we were waiting for our driver, I realized that I lost the pack of cigarettes I bought the day before, so I went back to the gas station to buy another. Believe me, I needed a smoke break more than ever.

I walked right into the gas station and said “Another pack of Marlboro please.”

“Welcome back.” the cashier said as he turned to grab a pack. “You look like you had a rough night.”

“You do too.” I said, as a joke at first. But as I approached the counter, I could see that he looked worse than I did.

He had a black eye, almost like he was hit in the face. And I could see some kind of bandage underneath his shirt, around his shoulder, right in the area where Jade shot the beast. At first I couldn’t believe it, but I also could see what looked like blood underneath his fingernails.

He clearly caught onto what I was thinking, and said “Like I said, strange things happen in these parts when there’s a full moon. Don't say I didn't warn you. Your total is $8.56. Cash or card?”

#short #short story #short fiction #werewolf #horror #horror fiction #desert #california #short horror story

[strwberri-milk]

Love is in Aisle Four

(AO3 Link) || Modern!AU || Thoma x Reader || Fluff || 1,878 words

Shopping is a little more intriguing when there's a pretty blond you're trying to avoid - shit he found you, didn't he?

[edit] (a/n - i wanted to mention that this fic was born out of me going shopping by myself, finding lemonade i wanted to buy, being unable to buy said lemonade despite wearing 3. 5 inch heels because it was too high up + too far back in the fridge

Maybe it wasn’t good that you had too much time on your hands. 

You duck behind another section of shelves, trying your best to be stealthy with the shopping cart in your hands. When you walk into the new aisle you spot the mop of hair that you’ve been trying to avoid, running into a different one and trying to catch your breath. 

You see, maybe, just maybe you were caught staring at some blond when you parked your car here. It wasn’t your fault though, honest. It was just weird to see such an attractive guy toting around an even more adorable dog in the grocery store you’d come to associate with young families and old geezers. One of the perks of living in an older neighbourhood you supposed. 

That’s why when you saw an attractive guy who didn’t look old enough to be your father it made you do a double-take. The way his shirt clung to his body, the light gleaming off his hair, the affectionate smile he wore when he ruffled his dog’s fur before leaving the trunk of his car open for his dog to hang out in. You’re a little shocked at how much trust he has in the neighbourhood but a curious glance lets you know that not only was he hot, he was smart. It looked practically impossible to get into his car without getting past the Shiba, and even if you managed to he had some sort of divider set up that was locked in place and would take too much time to dismantle without the keys. 

He was just about finished setting up, checking the leash he tied to his car to make sure his dog couldn’t run off when he happened to turn around and face you. You were so shocked you slammed your head against the headrest sharply, shooting pain through your head you were still nursing. It was made better by the friendly wave he gave you but the minute he started heading over to your car to presumably start a conversation you jumped out, pulling out a loonie for your cart and running to the closest corral to run into the store. 

That’s what ended you up here, in the instant foods aisle hiding out from the man. You saw him head toward the pet food aisle without even a basket after your initial sighting of him in store so you prayed that he was just here to quickly grab some dog food and head on his merry way home. 

As time passes you grow more and more reassured that he’s gone. You don’t see him near you and finally let your guard down enough to enjoy the shopping trip as much as you can enjoy a shopping trip. Which is a lot you find when you realise that almost everything you’re buying is on sale. You hum happily at the array of groceries, stopping in front of a drinks fridge.

Unfortunately for you, you were short. Not tall enough to reach into the fridge, and certainly not tall enough to reach into the very back to get one of the pitchers of lemonade. You stand there for a second and debate if you want to ask somebody for help, try to get it yourself, or just give up when an arm reaches into the fridge from behind you and hands it to you. 

“I’m guessing you couldn’t reach it, huh?” he says kindly, making you turn to face the exact stranger you’ve been trying to avoid. 

Up close you can see he’s just as, no, much more attractive than you thought. His green eyes crinkle with his kind smile, a laugh still sitting on the edges of his mouth. The drink sat in his hand still, you almost a little shocked at how easily he managed to get the bottle. He brings it up to your face a little more shaking it a bit to remind you he was still holding it. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah.” 

You take it out of his hands, dropping it when your fingers touch. Bracing yourself for impact, you didn’t expect to see it land in his other hand. You’re mentally berating yourself when he just laughs again, shaking his head good-naturedly. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing I saw you struggling. If I wasn’t here maybe you’d be dropping your juice all over the floor.” 

You refrain from making a joke and take the juice out of his hands carefully. 

“I saw you earlier right, in the parking lot?” he asks just as you’re about to try and escape to die of embarrassment in a much less public space. 

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, laughing to try and alleviate his own nerves. 

“I know it looks a little weird, but I didn’t want to risk people thinking Taroumaru was in any sort of danger. Besides, he looks soft but he’s really quite fierce when he wants to be so I don’t have to worry about someone trying to steal things from my car.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to explain yourself to me!” you say quickly, waving away his words. 

“If anything, I shouldn’t have been staring at you. It’s pretty rude after all. You were just trying to go about your life, living the way you normally do. I just didn’t expect to see someone around my age in the area is all.” 

"Oh really? I just thought you were avoiding me because you were scared of me or something because of what I was doing in the parking lot, he laughs awkwardly, you mirroring the action. 

"No! I just realise how creepy it looks to be caught staring at someone and I didn't want some sort of confrontation when we got into the store so yes, I was totally avoiding you but no, not because I thought you were doing something supicious in the back of your car."

"I'm glad, really. I never knew how weird it looks, setting up all the stuff in my car before I go until one of my friends sent me a video of me almost falling out of my trunk this one time when I was getting ready. I just wanted to clarify that I'm not trying to be weird, just trying to keep my dog safe," he says sheepishly. 

Now you’re both trying to explain away the reason for your actions, the two of you caught in some weird polite off in the middle of the grocery store. 

“I just moved into the area after all. I didn't want to scare off my neighbours after being here just a handful of weeks. I'm sort of like a caretaker for some of the elderly in the area," he tells you. You nod, mildly impressed. 

“Really? That sounds pretty interesting! I guess you get to hear lots of interesting stories when you visit them, huh?”

You know absolutely nothing about the man in front of you, and yet that makes perfect sense. His kindness radiates off him in waves, reflecting off his smile and aura. 

“Yeah! A lot of them just want company. Just yesterday I was talking to this one man.” 

It seems the man’s nervousness is making him act a little illogically. He begins rambling quite earnestly, telling you this and that. At some point, he took your cart from you and started shopping with you, the bag of dog food finding its home amongst your other things. 

Your cheeks feel like they’re going to hurt with how much you’re smiling but you can’t bring yourself to stop, nodding along and adding in your two cents whenever you could find room for them. It’s not until you’re at the cash register and the clerk is ringing up your things together that you realise what’s happening, trying to stop the stranger before he pulls out his card and pays for it with a cheeky grin, shaking his head. 

“What was that for?” you ask him as you both walk out, thankful but also flustered at the kind gesture. 

“You’ve been listening to me talk your ear off for the last hour! At least let me do this for you!” He sounds so earnest again, making your resolve crack so quickly. 

“You really shouldn’t have though. Really,” you reiterate. 

“I don’t even know your name!” 

“Is that what’s bothering you?” he laughs lightly. “Thoma. My name’s Thoma.” 

“Thoma?” He nods when you pronounce it right, leading you both out to your cars as you tell him your name. 

Taroumaru yips at Thoma when he appears, pulling on his leash a little to get a pat from his owner’s hand. 

“Oh, you were a good boy weren’t you?” Thoma praises the shiba, running his hands all over the happily bouncing animal and letting it lick him all over his face. 

You feel a little out of place, clearing your throat to draw both of their attention to you. 

“I’m going to go now. This was fun, really! But I really should be getting home.” 

“Really? So soon?” Thoma genuinely seems a little disappointed and you fall over yourself to correct that. 

“Do you want my number? We can hang out some time so I can pay you back for the groceries!” you blurt out, rushing so hard to fish your phone out of your pockets that you end up throwing it at him. 

“Well you certainly are eager about it aren’t you?” he teases playfully, unable to contain his laughter. 

“Considering that you’re just throwing yourself at me I can’t imagine it’d be right of me to say no. You should add yourself to my phone too.” 

Thoma gives you his phone in a much more graceful manner, giving you the ability to leave him your number. When you get your phone back you stare at it almost in shock, not believing that that actually happened. Your phone starts buzzing promptly, his name showing up on your screen as he directs your attention back to him by waving his own phone. 

“Just in case you thought I gave you a fake number. I wanted to make sure I put it in your phone right as well and it looks like I did.” 

“Yeah, yeah you did,” you say, still miffed. 

“Well, I really do need to get going now. I have to meet someone soon, but we really should meet up some time soon. How does that sound?” he asks, leaning against his car. You nod a little dumbly, still stuck in processing. 

“Great! Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just, text me when you’re free?” you respond, beginning to head to your car. 

“Of course! I’ll text you as soon as I can. Have a good day!” 

“You too!” 

You hurry back to your car as inconspicuously as possible, replaying the events over and over in your head. Somehow, you just got the number of one of the cutest guys you’ve ever seen, and he seemed just as happy to get yours. The grin on your face returns in full force and unbeknownst to you your new friend was struggling with the exact same problem, driving home with only thoughts of you in his head. 

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fic #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #thoma fluff #genshin impact fanfic

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of. 

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies.  This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri.  You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."  

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee.  "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”  

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

#slasher au #mha x reader #bnha yandere #mha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere x reader

[rodr1cks]

Hi! I don't know if your request are open, but I'd like to know if you could write a rodrick x reader where the reader is Rowley's sister and discovers her talking on the phone with a friend saying she's in love with Rodrick and tells Greg and he tells her that Rodrick has been in love with her for a long time and they try to put them together?

cw: none it’s pure fluff

word count: 1.8k

“I know! And he didn’t even apologize!” Greg ranted into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” Rowley frowned, sympathetic nature as present as always. “Anyways, mom says dinner is ready, see you tonight?” Rowley’s tone lifted at the end of his sentence, excitement brewing as he thought about the sleepover he was meant to have with Greg later that evening.

You slid into the kitchen on your socks, just as Rowley was concluding his conversation with Greg.

Rowley sat anxiously through dinner, quickly consuming everything on his plate, including the vegetables. You observed him from across the table, cocking your head as your younger brother inhaled his peas like he hadn’t eaten in days.

He took his last bite before exclaiming, “I’m going to pack my stuff for Greg’s!”

Not without clearing his dishes first, of course.

You rolled your eyes at his charisma and headed into the living room. You slumped over on the couch, limbs splayed every which way as you called your friend, Marissa. You had been needing to gush to somebody about your newest crush, Rodrick Heffley.

You had only interacted with the messy haired boy in passing: family dinners, picking up Greg, dropping off Rowley, etc.

“I don’t know what it is, he’s just so- so- captivating. God, Mar, I swear I could watch him play drums for hours on end!”

Unbeknownst to you, Rowley had entered the room and was about to speak. You were too caught up in drooling over Rodrick to notice. “Hey, y/n-” He cut himself off quickly, curiosity getting the best of him.

“And did you see what he was wearing at Matt’s party? Those jeans? And that eyeliner? God I could just tear them-”

Rowley cleared his throat, unwilling to hear the rest. “Y/n can you take me to Greg’s, please?” He stood awkwardly with his lips pursed.

Your head whipped around faster than the speed of light. “Marissa, I gotta go.”

“Rowley, how much of that did you hear?”

He lied, something he wasn’t really good at, “Not much! I promise!”

“Rowley Jefferson you had better keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll-”

You stopped yourself, closing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “Just get in the car.” You breathed out in a scarily calm tone. Your red headed sibling nodded frantically out of fear and darted to the garage.

Usually, you would make him walk, but ever since your infatuation with Rodrick began, you were more eager to give him rides over there. The mere prospect of getting the slightest glance sending excitement throughout your entire being.

When you pulled up to the Heffley home, you gave him a final glare. “Say nothing.” He gave you the same shaky nod he gave you only moments ago. With that, he was bounding towards the front door. You made sure he got inside safely and drove off.

“Rowley? Everything okay?” Greg asked his friend, concerned with his behavior. Rowley couldn’t handle keeping secrets. His hands grew clammy and a slight sweat broke out on his forehead. Rowley had an uncomfortably fake smile plastered on his face as he tried to assure Greg that everything was just peachy.

All it took was one knowing look from Greg and Rowley broke.

“Alright, fine! I heard my sister talking to her friend about how hot Rodrick is and how she wants to-”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture!”

Greg took a moment to proceed, his brows furrowed as he brought a contemplative fist up to support his chin.

“Lemme get this straight. Your sister likes my brother?”

Rowley nodded slowly.

“Y/n likes Rodrick?”

Rowley nodded again, confirming Greg’s exclamations.

“But y/n is smart a-and hot!”

“Greg! Don’t say that!” Rowley groaned, rolling his head back in disgust. Greg threw both of his hands up in defense, “I’m just stating facts.”

“Wait, I have an idea.” A pit of dread grew in Rowley’s stomach, Greg’s ideas never turned out well.

“What if we set up y/n with Rodrick? Just hear me out, this could be good for him.”

Rowley mulled the idea over in his head, thinking that maybe dating you could make Rodrick more… agreeable? Maybe you could be a good influence on the intimidating teenager. A happier Rodrick would make sleepovers at Greg’s a lot more pleasant.

“I think that could work,” Rowley said apprehensively. “But how do we do it?”

Greg shrugged, “Simple, we just tell Rodrick there’s a really hot Girl interested in him.”

The boys proceeded to draw up a plan.

Phase one: The approach. Greg and Rowley nervously ascended the wooden steps that led to Rodrick’s room. Rodrick was laying on his back, spinning a drumstick between his nimble fingers.

He shot up immediately when he noticed the boys’ presence. “What are your dweebs doing up here?”

Phase two: Delivery. “Calm down Rodrick, we have some information you might wanna know,” Greg reasoned cooly, easing Rodrick’s anger from a roaring ten to a mild six.

Greg nodded over at Rowley, signaling him to start talking.

“W-well,” Rowley stuttered, “I uhm- heard my sister talking about you and she- she likes you and she was talking about your jeans?”

Rodrick blinked in confusion, processing this intel.

“Your sister likes me? Are you sure she meant me?”

“That’s what I said!” Greg exclaimed and Rodrick shot him a terrifying glare, silently telling Greg to can it.

Rodrick was honestly shocked. He always observed you from afar, deciding himself that a chick as cool as you would never go for him. This news was absolutely world shattering for the boy, he completely admired you.

Phase three: Action. “We have a plan.” Greg said, a conniving grin creeping onto his face. “Rowley calls y/n, tells her that he’s feeling sick and blames it on Mom’s pot roast or something. Then when she rushes over all worried, you greet her at the door. And then you work your Rodrick magic!” Greg smiled, abundant pride for his plan evident in his stature.

“It’s a go.” Rodrick declared, scrambling around his room to put on deodorant, a new t-shirt, and cologne before pointing at Rowley. “Make the call.”

“Hey, y/n,” Rowley groaned into the phone, sounding as sick as he possibly could. “I- I think I ate something bad and I really need you ro come get me.”

You sighed, telling him you’d be there in ten minutes and to have his things ready to go. You departed for the Heffley house for the second time that night.

When Rowley didn’t come out to your car, you trudged up to the red door to go retrieve the sickly boy.

You gave the door three lazy knocks, expecting Rowley’s face to be the one behind it when it swung open. “Hey kid, are you feeling okay?” You asked, not yet making eye contact with the figure leering in the doorframe.

Your eyes widened as you came to realize who it was.

“Funny seeing you here,” Rodrick drawled out, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your cheeks burned with the heat of one thousand suns, you were not expecting this tonight.

“Y-yeah,” you smiled awkwardly, staring at your feet. “Rowley called, he uhm, he’s not feeling well. So if you could just get him for me I can leave. Immediately.” You cursed yourself for your blubbering idiocy as you twiddled your fingers.

“Actually, Rowley is feeling much, much better.” Suspicion grew as you studied Rodrick’s devious expression. “What’s going on?” You asked, genuinely puzzled as nothing was making any sense.

“I don’t know, y/n. Why don’t you come in and tell me?” Rodrick was surprisingly smooth in this situation, despite his nerves being at an all time high.

“Rowley is just up here,” Rodrick said while guiding you up the stairs to his room. In the meantime, Greg and Rowley peered out from the hallway, watching you follow Rodrick upstairs and giggling to themselves.

The overhead lights in Rodrick’s room were turned on, the glow from his string lights illuminating the area instead. “Mood lighting,” as he had called it. Rodrick had already instructed the boys to stay far away once you had arrived.

You were still lost, Rowley nowhere in sight. “So? Where is he?” You asked expectantly.

“Here’s the thing y/n. You know Rowley can’t keep secrets, right? I mean you have to know that, he is your brother”

Shit.

“That little shit stain! I’ll get him, I swear to god!” You turned to bound down the stairs, ready to tear the entire house apart in hunting for him. Rodrick grabbed your wrist before your foot could even reach the first step.

“Y/n, relax, relax!” His grip on your flesh made your breath hitch and stomach churn. “It’s okay, I feel the same way.” Rodrick’s cocky facade dissipated into nothing as he revealed his feelings.

You got a glimpse of a more vulnerable side of Rodrick that you were sure he didn’t typically share. “But girls like you don’t usually like stupid guys like me,” Rodrick was staring at the ground now, grasp on your arm softening.

You were too unsure of your words so you opted to move your free hand to hold his bicep, closing a considerable amount of distance between the two of you in the process.

“Rodrick, I’ve never liked anybody as much as I like you. And I don’t mean that in a weird or creepy way it’s just that-”

Now it was time for Rodrick’s own addition to the plan. Phase four: The kiss.

Your rambling was cut short by a pair of warm lips pressing against your own. He kissed you with just enough force to cause you to stumble back a bit, causing you to brace yourself against his torso.

He carded a gentle hand through your hair and tugged back on your soft locks. You moaned at the vibrations tendrilling at your scalp and kissed him with even more ferocity.

Somehow, you ended up on his bed, straddling him. The blankets strewn across his mattress melded against your knees and the fronts of your calves as you stabilized yourself on his lap.

He placed apprehensive hands on your hip bones, unsure of what was okay and what wasn’t. You placed your hand on top of his larger one, assuring him that you were comfortable. You even allowed a small whimper to leave your throat as he tightened his hold on you.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, looking into his eyes for the first time that night. You smiled warmly at him as you cupped his cheek. Suddenly, Rodrick’s signature smirk returned to his face.

“Now tell me what you were saying about my jeans.”

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #devon bostick

[sunonyoreface]

Anton Chigurh Imagine pt. 10

Tw: Violence, needles

“Why?”

His eyes narrow, “You need to work on your patience, one day you might meet someone who does not tolerate your interruptions as well as I do.”

“Sorry,” I swallow thickly.

“You are going to drive down that ally,” he motions across the street, “and park behind the pharmacy. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t say another word before exiting the car. His limp is prominent no matter how hard he tries to hide it. I don’t wait to see what he does with the soaked fabric. I have a good enough idea.

I place the phonebook on top of the bloodstain as a seat cover. It feels weird being behind the wheel. Being trusted by Anton. I let the car quietly idle down the dirt ally, before I can shift into park, a loud explosion booms through the streets. Sounds of human panic can be heard from the other side of the building.

Moments later, Chigurh pushes through the emergency exit door. He hobbles towards the car with a handful of vials and bottles. It’s almost humorous.

I don’t ask if he wants his spot back. Something about being the driver is empowering.

“Drive to Hondo,” his breaths sound laboured.

“Hondo?” my brows furrow, “On the map, Hondo is something over sixty miles away.”

“Just drive.”

We get as far as Uvalde before I take the gravel exit off the highway into a motel parking lot. Maybe Chigurh should have driven. At least he’d have something to focus on because now his head nods off every so often and the other side of the seat is also soaked through with blood.

“Keep driving.”

“We can’t keep going. You can’t keep going,” he glares at me.

I expect him to grab me and try to stop me when I take the keys into the office, but he doesn’t. That itself is concerning enough.

“Can I get a room with a king bed please?”

The lady behind the counter sits with her toddler on her lap. They both have wispy blond hair and blue eyes that simultaneously look up.

“Checkout ain’t until eleven ma’am you’ll have to wait.”

“Can I pay for two nights then?” she ponders for a moment.

“That’ll do,” the child gurgles an odd sound. “Just a king?”

“Yes please, on the first floor if possible.”

“Seventy dollars please,” I pass her four twenties.

“Here you go now,” slim, pale hands pass me a key labelled Room 17.

“Thank you, keep the change.”

I move the car. Chigurh’s eyes don’t leave my face. For once, I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.

The room is at the west corner of the hotel, close to the neighbouring diner. The smell of fried food drifts outside.

“Let me help you inside.”

“No.”

I settle for grabbing the bag of supplies and his duffle bag. Inside, he is already in the washroom. I can hear the tap running from the entrance. Light escapes out the open door. I pause before going in.

Chigurh leans against the countertop trying to push the boot off his foot of the injured leg. His eyes are intently trained on the task at hand. Under the fluorescent lights, he looks even paler.

“Can I”-

“No,” he mumbles.

“Please, Anton,” he grunts in response, still making no progress with the boot. I kneel in front of him, “Let me help,” I don’t feel it, but my voice is calm and soothing.

His eyes finally meet mine and it is apparent just how exhausted he is. Chigurh stops pushing the boot and I take that as an invitation to slip it off. Blood spills out of his jeans and coats my hands. A lot of blood. I should have known I wouldn’t escape this without blood on my hands.

I fish for the scissors in the plastic bag. They’re small but sharp. I kneel back down in front of him and bring the blade to the hem of the jeans. It slices through the fabric seamlessly, however as soon as I reach his knee, blood has glued the cotton to his skin.

Large, bloody hands pass me a white towel. I soak it in warm water and wring the water onto his jeans to loosen the fabric from his skin.

After switching back and forth between cutting and soaking, I finally get to his waistband. I push the awkward feelings of seeing him like this to the back of my head.

“Do you need the other side cut too or can you step out?” he responds by shifting his weight onto the counter to fully remove his jeans. Blood soaks the left side of his underwear but, thankfully he leaves them on.  

“Now what?” a certain part of me feels separated from my hands, as though I am just an observer of my actions. I’m thankful for it, for my composure.

“Wipe the tub down with an antiseptic wipe and fill it.”

I help him step into the lukewarm water. It immediately turns pink. Blood streams from the entrance wound the size of a large coin into the water. The skin around it is bruised with deep blues and purples that look closer to black. Chigurh’s head presses back against the wall, his jaw clenches and unclenches. When he swallows, his adam’s apple shifts. I realize he hasn’t drunk anything since he was shot. He should be dead right now, and while he is far from functional, the fact that he is still conscious is astonishing.

“Do you want some water?”

“I’m fine,” he swallows again. I slip out the bathroom door and return with the half-empty bottle of Coke. It’s warm and probably flat, but the sugar and caffeine will be helpful.

“Drink,” my hand lightly brushes down his cheek before I bring the bottle to his lips. His wet hand wraps around mine holding the bottle. Dark eyes intently scan my face for any sign of deceit. Finding none, he drinks.

“Thank you,” a small smile tugs at my lips.

“Now what?”

“It needs to be rinsed out with the betadine.”

“Ok,” I pull the plug, letting the pink water disappear down the drain. He doesn’t argue when I help him up and wrap a towel around his waist. It feels slightly domestic until more blood seeps from his leg.

I fill the bulb syringe with the betadine and use it to rinse out any smaller debris in the opening. Then Chigurh takes a seat on the toilet lid with the towel still wrapped around him. My fingers twist the tweezers nervously.

I kneel in front of him again and brush the towel to the side to access his thigh. Our positions are suggestive, but there’s nothing sexual in the air.

Steady hands remove the tiny, metal splinters from his thigh. I lightly lean against him for support, so as to not cause any additional pain. Chigurh stays quiet. Eyes follow my movements, but satisfied, he doesn’t add any critique. His composure is daunting, but at the same time if he panicked so would I.

“Pass me the tetracycline and a syringe,” a course voice breaks the silence. I rifle through the bag. The tetracycline is in a clear, glass vial and the syringe is part of a multi-pack he grabbed from the pharmacy.

He inserts the syringe and tips the vial upside down to extract the liquid. His hands are large and steady, making the vial look smaller than it is. After extracting several milliliters, he sets the vial back down on the countertop. Gingerly grasping the syringe, he flicks it several times to get any air bubbles out, then presses down gently on the plunger until several beads of the antibiotic escape. I busy myself with the gauze and tape when he pushes it into his leg. Something about needles has never sat right with me.

After wiping the area down again with an antiseptic wipe, I wrap it with gauze. My hands lightly trace around his thick thigh, making sure the gauze is tight enough that it doesn’t move, yet isn’t uncomfortable. Once I wrap it several times, my hands reach for the scissors and snip the roll.

“Hold this,” Chigurh places his hand on top of the bandage as I reach for the medical tape. I cut four pieces and stick them to the edge of the counter. Our hands brush as I press the tape down to hold the gauze in place.

Then, his same hand traces up my neck and cups the side of my face. His thumb massages up and down my cheek, coaxing me to look up. When I meet his eyes, the message is clear. He doesn’t need to verbalize it.

“You should sleep,” my voice is tired.

 Chigurh lies on the bed in just a towel as I bring in the rest of our things from the truck. I don’t let myself sit down. If I do, I’ll fall asleep still covered in his blood.

I drag myself to the shower. My hair smells like the tiny vanilla samples provided by the motel. It’s a small comfort. I slip on a camisole and pair of soft shorts, not bothering with a bra. I want to sleep peacefully without it digging into my back and shoulders.

I had asked the woman at the desk for a king bed so I wouldn’t have to sleep so close to him, but now, on the opposite side of the bed, I wish I had an excuse to be closer.

Chigurh sleeps laying on his back. His chest rises and falls slowly with deep breaths. It is the most peaceful I have seen him since we’ve met. Before I overthink my actions, I find myself on his side of the bed, curled up beside his strong frame.

Unsure hands lightly brush the hair off his face. They linger, then lightly trace across his brows down past his cheekbone and along his jaw. Chigurh doesn’t stir. He may be an unstoppable force, but he still needs rest. Anton may be more human than I thought.

It’s not long before I fall asleep with my head on his chest. His heart beats strong like a drum, more powerful than ever.

#Anton Chigurh #anton chigurh x reader #anton chigurh fanfic #No Country for Old Men #no country for old men imagine #no country for old men fanfic

[koishua]

, , , .. 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: goo gunil x gn!reader. 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, established relationship!au. 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 0.884k words. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: no matter how silly you look, you'll always be the apple of his eye and the light of his life, the love he cherishes the most.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: no one is a good dancer in this house lmao /j.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @kdyism @beombon @yourlocalhotgf @jensrose @yyxy27 @woo-minhee02 @sunfics @neo-shitty (click here to be added to my taglist!)

𝐚𝐧. : ty anon for requesting! this just makes me feel so <//3

reblogs/feedbacks are very very loved and appreciated here <3 thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!

admittedly, none of you were awfully great at the art of dancing, lacking the bodily coordination and finesse of a trained and talented dancer. moving your arm from position one to position two, then to three, and so on and so forth should have been relatively easy, but combining each step did not give you the results that the woman on your phone screen had guaranteed you achieving.

— but you liked to think you were good enough for beginners anyway.

“are you sure that we’re doing this right?”, asks a struggling gunil as he contorts his limbs into an awkward still, looking oddly charming with the sheen of sweat just above his forehead and an adorably confused smile.

you restart the youtube video on the small screen with a chuckle, “you're looking at me as if i know anything about this.”

he flops on the floor of the living room, your surrounding space emptied out to a little to let you comfortably move around while learning the choreography to stayc’s asap. none of your attempts at the downward punching bit proved to be successful so far in your hour long endeavour, sadly enough.

you still looked like a wooden doll, not to mention the oddity that gunil displayed each time he tried to move his hips to the beat— it’d be for the best if we don’t start speaking about the fashionably weird method to your boyfriend’s dancing, really.

“look,” you pause the tutorial. “you just have to bend your knees a little when doing the thing.” you stand in front of him to demonstrate it to the best of your ability. unbeknownst to you however, gunil isn’t even concentrating on your very determined lecture. oh, no— gunil is simply living in the moment, a warmth spread in his heart by the way your brows furrowed and cheeks huffed while trying to get him to understand something he was too distracted to even listen to, focused solely on how much he is in love with you.

it’s the way you look at him, the way you say his name, the way you smile at his jokes and shenanigans— gunil wants to experience a love with you for the rest of his life.

he snaps out of his stupor when you snap your fingers at his face, raising a single brow in displeasure, “are you even listening?”

“no,” he wears a stupified smile on his face and continues without a single thought filtered, “i was staring at you. you’re so beautiful, did you know that?”

it’s your turn to fall silent, blinking as you feel the flutters of butterflies in your stomach, feeling shy all of a sudden. you laugh, clearing your throat and hoping it wouldn’t fail you, “yes, but still not as much as you are.”

it’s quiet for a short while, just the soft breeze passing through the open windows, the clouds floating lazily in the blue sky and the sounds of a few cars passing by to fill the moment in. the sun filters through one of the glass panes, a vague pattern of light on the floor between the spot he is sitting at and your feet, creating a soft divide between the two of you.

gunil blinks up at you, tilting his head in a slight angle and reaching out his hand for you to take. you abide, of course, but instead of you pulling him up, it’s him dragging you down to fall right on top of his body. you yelp at the impact, though not harsh, but still surprising.

“you’re going to have to stay like this until you admit that you’re the most breathtaking being in this whole wide world.” you feel his lips brushing against the crook of your neck as he hugs your body tight to his, arms caging your body in to trap you in an embrace. despite being on the hard wooden surface, you feel comfortable, the close proximity with the one you’d call the love of your life bringing you comfort.

you try to wiggle out of his grasp, claiming that his back would hurt if he stayed in that position for long, but he shakes his head, “not until you admit that you are the most gorgeous being in this entire world.”

you sigh, going limp against his body, “you know, if you want to have some cuddles, you could have just asked so.”

poking the side of where his rib cage resides, you watch with satisfaction as he squirms around, struggling to keep a monotonous face, “let’s just get somewhere more comfortable and then you can continue whatever you’re trying to do right now.”

“promise you’ll admit it?” he asks in a tone indicating his growing skepticism, still fighting against the urge to break into uncontrollable laughter as you continue to assault him with incessant tickles. you hum in agreement, “i swear, let’s just get to the bed first.”

you hear him ooh under his breath, ready to tease you because of your choice of words, “a little excited to get there, are we?” you roll your eyes at him— an action he cannot see, but rather feel in his gut from the years spent getting to know you.

“yeah, yeah. whatever floats your boat, gunil.”

#xdinary heroes scenarios #xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes #gunil x reader #gunil fluff #xdinary heroes gunil #goo gunil #xdh imagines #xdh scenarios #xdh fluff #xdinary heroes fluff

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Sexual tension & Penetration. ➔Word count: 2,470

➔Summary: You haven't called your ex-boyfriend in two years, but he's the first person you call when you're in a bit of trouble. He comes when you call, thus sparking a night neither of you will be able to move on from.

Anon request #1: can I request an ex to lovers scenario with jeno where his ex and him decided to stay as friends and since always they had a huge tension and after 2 years they got really flirty or smth, thanks💖

Anon request #2: hi, I want to request a drabble about sex with jeno, thank you!!

Jeno looked at his buzzing cell phone and blinked lazily. He hadn't seen your number come up since you broke up with him, which had to have been two years ago. He had managed to stay friends with you over those two years, but you were never friendly enough to call each other at three in the morning. Still, Jeno picked up the call to hear static at the other end of the line, wondering if he would still feel the same when he heard the sound of your voice.

"Hello?"

There was more static. When he thought you might have pocket dialed him, and he was getting ready to hang up, he heard your voice. Time seemed to slow down in those moments.

"Jeno?" you said. "I don't have good service out here. I'm scared, Jeno."

Feeling his heart race, Jeno asked, "Where are you? What is going on?"

"Off the highway. My car broke down." you said. "Can you come get me?"

Jeno sprang out of bed immediately, tearing the covers from his naked body. He got dressed while keeping you on the phone with him, so that you weren't scared. He drove to where you were, pulling over to the side of the road. When you saw him, you got out of your car and stood awkwardly, wringing your hands together.

"I know I shouldn't have called you first," you started to say. "But i-"

"-It's okay." he said, meaning it.

Jeno was bone tired, but being in front of you made him more alert. Though you broke his heart, he was still so careful with yours. Jeno came over to your car to look at it, pulling up the hood like he had any idea what he was truly doing. You watched his muscles as he fiddled around with stuff, your eyes slightly glazing over.

"I don't know much about cars." he said, shutting the hood. "I'll call someone to come pick this up. Until then, I will drive you back home. It's too late for us to be waiting out here."

You nodded and followed him back to his car. He made the call quickly before setting his cell phone down in the cup holder. There was so much gratitude for him in the silence, but you couldn't seem to get any of your thoughts out. You were still thinking about his muscles, about how handsome he looked at nearly four in the morning.

"It's done," he said. "They'll pick your car up soon. You can figure out what to do about it tomorrow."

"Thank you." you said.

It had started to rain. A few droplets hit the front of his windshield before a whole sheet of rain came down, hitting the top of his roof as hard as rocks. He could barely see out of the windshield, so he decided to wait for the storm to pass. It was awkward inside of the car, and too quiet.

You cleared your throat. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jeno looked over at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Seeing his expression, you realized what an invasive question it was. You tried backtracking, but you were sputtering your words enough to make Jeno laugh.

"Relax," he said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

You didn't know what you were thinking. Maybe you were too tired to think straight. Maybe it was the sound of the rain. Maybe it was the way he looked at you in the darkness of the car. You reached over and touched the hand that rested on the steering wheel until he looked you in your eyes.

"You got Lasik eye surgery." you said. "You used to look so cute in your glasses."

For Jeno, it was easy. There has always been sexual tension between you. Touching the top of your hand felt natural. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and kissed you. You made out, completely unaware that the rain had stopped. When everything slowed down, you were straddling Jeno in his seat, and his hands were on your ass. You parted, your eyes staying on his lips until he spoke.

"I should get you home." he said.

"You should come home with me." you said, surprising yourself more than him.

Jeno laughed and eased your body off of his. "I want that more than you know, but I don't think it's a good idea. I could never control myself around you. "

Jeno drove you home, the only sound in the car coming from the windshield wipers noisily wiping away droplets of rain. You followed the blades swiping left to right, your brain in a funk.

Breaking up with Jeno was one of your top ten mistakes. You weren't as wise as you are now. You didn't know what you had when you let it go. You had carried his hurt with you everywhere you went for two years. Though you remained as friends, there was always weird tension whenever you met up with each other. His group of friends didn't trust you, and your group of friends always took your side, even though each of them was in love with Jeno. Your shared friends didn't get into the middle of it, and you and Jeno spent 24 months skating around unspoken apologies.

"We never had a chance to talk alone." you said, finally getting the bravery to speak out. “There are a lot of things left unsaid.”

Jeno pulled up in front of your house. You weren't surprised he knew where you had moved to, because you had been dropping hints for months. You had always hoped Jeno would roll up one day and give you another chance you didn't quite think you deserved.

"We don't have to talk about it now. "It's early in the morning and we both could use some sleep," he said.

You hummed in agreement, looking out of the rain soaked window at your lonely, dark house. You looked up at the sky and wanted the sun to come up, to cast a pretty glow over you and soften the experience of sitting with your ex in his car.

"You're like my knight in shining armor." you said. "I owe you a lot."

You had your hand on the door handle. You wanted to lean over and kiss him the way he kissed you, but your bravery only went so far. Jeno seemed to be thinking a similar thing. His eyes fell to your lips. Before either of you could act, he unlocked his doors.

"Get some sleep." he said, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. "I'll check in tomorrow to see how you're doing. I don't want them overcharging you for their services. If you want, I can go with you to make sure they don't."

"Okay." was all you could say. You got out of the car, tapped on his window as a way to say thank you and walked up the pathway to your house. You touched your fingers to your lips and remembered the way he tasted.

Jeno stayed there idling while you put your lock into the door and turned the handle. Once you were safely inside, you didn't wait to see if he had driven away.

You walked into your home, not caring enough to flick lights on. You weren’t as tired as before. Making out with Jeno had felt like an IV of caffeine had slipped into your bloodstream. Your body felt swollen in places, your heart most of all. You walked through the rooms, taking off your bra underneath your t-shirt and flinging it across the back of your couch. Your foot was on the first step of your stairs when you heard a soft rapping sound on your front door. Backtracking, you walked back to the door and flung it open, crossing one of your arms against your chest to hide yourself.

“Hi,” Jeno said.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes darting frantically around your face. You had no time to greet him back before he stepped over the threshold and took your lips against his. You moved your arm and let him smash his hard chest against your free breasts. Your nipples were aroused and you knew he could feel them against the thin material of his t-shirt. You threw your arms around his neck and clung to him, savoring the taste and feel of him.

“I know I said no but....” he said, between kisses. “It was very hard to watch you walk away from me just now.”

You kissed him and bit down on his lip, pulling it lightly with your teeth before letting go. “Take me to bed.” you said. “Or the floor...the couch..i don’t care, Jeno, just take me.”

Jeno picked you up into his arms. He shut your front door and locked it behind him without ever taking himself away from your lips. He was strong enough to carry you upstairs without struggling, which made you even more aroused than you already felt.

“To the left.” you whispered against his mouth.

It was strange having him in your new bedroom, yet, there was something familiar about seeing him amongst your possessions. He felt like he belonged. Jeno set you down on your bed and let out a groan of approval when you wouldn’t let go of his neck. You tried to trap him with your thighs, but he had pinned your arms above your head, which made you release him. Your body relaxed, half hanging off of your bed. Your stomach was bare where your shirt had ridden up, so Jeno leaned down to kiss it. He pushed it all the way up to expose your bare breasts and take them in your mouth one at a time. He was really going at it, feeling them and teasing them, when you put a stop to things and slipped out from underneath him.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked, your face growing hot. “ I just need a second.”

Jeno sighed but agreed. He sat on the edge of your bed and watched you slink into your bathroom. You tried your best to freshen up, to get the 5 a.m stink off of you. Your mind was frantic and thinking of a million things that could go wrong. You realized that you were extremely nervous. The door to the bathroom slowly opened to reveal Jeno standing there with his hands in his pockets, and all of those thoughts faded like ghosts into the foreground.

“What are you doing?” he asked, crooking his finger. “Get over here.”

It was much easier than you thought it would be. It was like two friends getting together after a long time, friends that knew each other’s bodies inside and out. You tore off your shirt, not caring whether your armpits were sweating anymore. He met your breasts and moaned in appreciation as his mouth got back to business. On the bed, he rolled on top of you, laying kisses all down your body. You lifted your head up and let him nip at your neck. You took your hands and placed them underneath his t-shirt to touch his abs.

“Well,” you breathed. “This has changed.”

Jeno could only laugh. He took off his shirt and let you admire his body, which had definitely changed since the last time you took him to bed. You touched the hardness of his chest, down to the smoothness of tummy leading down to his cock, which you remembered in every detail. You sidled underneath him and let your tongue taste the salt on his skin. You bit down on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

Your body had changed, too. You were softer in a lot of places, which Jeno loved. He wanted to touch and savor all of you. There was an overeagerness to him that stifled any remaining awkwardness there could have been. He bit down on your shoulder in response, scraping his teeth against your skin before he met your mouth. His tongue wound its way around yours for a few seconds, just relishing the feeling of them together.

Once all the clothes were removed, a desperation started to change the atmosphere. Things were no longer silly. He didn’t laugh. You didn’t go anywhere but in his arms. The rain on the window was quiet but present. The sun was seeping into your skin where you lay underneath him. There was a moment where he grabbed your face between his hands and held you there, his thumb brushing across your cheek. He kissed you sweetly, his lips full.

When Jeno entered you, it was like all the memories of your sex life came flooding back. You would always miss him inside of you when he wasn’t there, miss the full feeling that came when he penetrated you for the very first time. You had missed the sounds his throat made whenever he concentrated on pleasuring you. You hadn’t forgotten how skilled his fingers were at fondling you, or how each stroke never failed to make you lose all thought. He fucked your body like it meant something in the morning glow. He didn’t slow down for anything, not even when he felt your fingernails digging into his back.

He had let you take control. You moved on top of him and sank down onto his cock, holding onto his arms as you did. With your hands pressed against his chest, you moved. You rode Jeno wildly, bucking against his pelvis with abandon. He tugged on your hair when you tilted your chin towards the ceiling. He gripped your waist. He smacked your ass. He did everything in his power to bring you back to him every time you slipped away. Your eyes eventually found him again. You moved lower and rode him, your sweaty body gliding against his. He held you, his thick arm around your neck as he felt your walls contract, as you came around his cock.

You wanted to cry out, wanted to bring the room down around you. You kept fucking him, wanting to coax the cum from his cock, to feel the warmth moving downwards with gravity. You wanted to keep it going forever, but it wasn’t meant to be. It had been a long time since you two had made love, and your bodies were too excited to hold back.

You knew there would be a talk somewhere in the future, when he was ready. As Jeno screwed up his face in orgasm, as you felt the warmth of his cum, you were a little too happy to prolong that conversation. You wanted him in your life for a long time but, for now, you would take him any way you could get him.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno smut #nct smut #lee jeno smut #jeno fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream smut #lee jeno fanfic #hope you don't mind me combining these #i liked where the first one was going #and i was not originally going to add sex but I know some people out there would love it #so it felt right to answer both

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish blurb #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

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