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#but idk that one grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the bricks

toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

Good Morning honey, I was thinking about a request of Michael Myers x fem reader its starts with the reader walking down a dark alleyway at 11pm on Halloween and she gets pinned to the wall by the strength of Michael, thank you for blessing me with your posts❤️

Skin Alley

1.5k | Michael x Fem!Reader | 18+ NSFW

A/N: thanks for the great Michael ask, @megangovier20! 🖤 and thanks @dark-scape for encouraging me to try Michael POV some time. I thought this might be a good one for it idk.

WARNINGS: Dubcon? this is a sluttified-by-michael™️ encounter. Unsafe P in V. Brief dark fluff. Maybe knife play don't remember. (Doing these detailed warnings way later)

_____________________

It's Halloween. Michael Myers is lurking outside a bar when the clock tower strikes 11:00 PM. He’s only killed two people all night. He decides to move on. He's in the mood to stalk or chase. He doesn’t have a plan, but he has a general direction. He heads toward his childhood home. Michael cuts through Skin Alley and stops to watch a zombie couple cross the street. He almost follows them, but he hears his name behind him, echoing through the dark alley in the most attractive voice.

“Michael Myers hasn’t even been seen this year. I promise I’ll text as soon as I'm home, ok?” The sound of his name in your mouth makes Michael forget about everything else.

He ducks into a crevasse and watches you, transfixed. You're beautiful, with a quiet intensity. Your skeleton dress hugs your body in all the right places. You pull your sleeves down over your hands and look around nervously like you feel his presence. He can practically feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. Blood rushes to his loins at this thought. You rub your arms as if you’re cold and quicken your pace.

When you’re about to pass by him, he takes one large step into the middle of the alley and cuts you off. You scream. It's a short, jump-scare scream, not a scream like you fully realize who’s in front of you. Michael watches your face drain to white as the realization sets in. You take a deep breath, and just as you start to scream bloody murder, he wraps his large hand around your throat and slams you up against the brick wall.

You thrash pointlessly against his strength and try to yell. You’re stronger than you look, but still far too weak. He doesn’t even need to use both hands. His fingers tighten and you stop trying to scream.

You’re so beautiful in the moonlight with your eyes wide and your heart racing under his fingers. He exhales and you stare, unblinking, like rodent prey, searching the dark eye holes of his mask for something human. You gag and he loosens his grip. Then, when you try to scream again, he grabs you by the jaw and lifts you up off the ground. He pins you with his other arm across your chest and your breasts swell against him with every heavy, desperate breath you take. He takes out his knife.

“Please,” you say. “Please don’t kill me."

Maybe he won't.

Your eyes water and you whimper. You look even prettier crying. His massive hand dwarfs your face. The sight of his hand around your throat is getting him really hard. He presses his thigh between your legs so you’re straddling his enormous leg. Gravity forces the heat of your loins into him. You lean your head back into the wall away from his mask. With you pinned there by his body, he hikes up your dress, exposing one of your thighs to the cold air – Your spiderweb fishnets don’t do much. Your other thigh is pinned by the warm, hard length in Michael’s suit. He's only getting harder.

Michael throbs against you, and the fear in your eyes is gradually overtaken by something else. Your pupils dilate into black holes and your face flushes. He brings his face closer to yours and slightly tilts his head, acknowledging the shift behind your eyes. No, he won’t kill you, he decides. Not yet, anyway.

He’s captivated. He’ll make you his right then and there. He’ll make you unravel. The air grows warm with dark energy as he fills the black holes of your eyes with something you never knew you needed but won't be able to live without, try as you might. Your warmth throbs into his thigh. His breath deepens.

You reach for his zipper. He eases you down to your feet while you unzip his mechanic suit, down past his tight, faded navy tee. He stops your hand at his waist and your brow furrows. You grope his hardness — It’s more than a handful for you. This sends a surge of arousal through his body. His hips force more of him into your palm, flattening the back of your hand against your dress. He wedges his thigh between your legs again and feels you moisten through the fabric. He inhales deeply.

He removes his knee and replaces it with his hand. Two large fingers feel along your damp seam, then he grabs the crotch of your fishnets. His knife slices them open in one swift motion, nicking your inner thigh with the point of his blade. Neither of you react to the blood. He lets the weapon clatter to the ground.

He pulls his zipper down more and reaches in to free his monster cock. He’s rock hard for you. You gasp when you see it and a look of horror spreads across your face. This turns him on even more. He knows it’ll be too much. His veiny erection throbs angrily into his hand. He lifts you up with both hands and your legs wrap around him.

He aligns himself at your warm, moist hole, then penetrates you. You’re so fucking tight and wet. You moan, but the tip of his cock is barely inside. He growls almost imperceptibly, then his large arms adjust your weight and bounce you down on his cock, letting gravity sink you further down. You gasp and your face looks pained. He rests your upper back against the wall, then plunges his full length into you and you scream. You look like you were just stabbed - he knows the facial expression well.

He covers your mouth with his massive hand. Your heels dig into his ass. His animal instincts take over. Most of his body stays perfectly still while his ass flexes and he fucks you at an escalating place. Soon he’s pummelling you violently with all his length. You groan and whimper and your eyes water into tears, which makes him even hotter for you.

He moans softly into his mask as he fucks you. He puts his hands on the wall on either side of you and you wrap your arms around his neck. With all your limbs wrapped around him, Michael backs up slightly from the wall. Your weight is no burden for his super-strength, especially with you hanging on so tight. He uses his hands to bring you down when he thrusts into you, then up when he retreats.

You begin to twitch around his length. You moan and whimper and he only fucks you harder and faster. Your face contorts and your sounds grow louder. Your walls clench down around his cock. He wraps his arms tight around you and holds you down on his hips. You groan loudly and he doesn’t muffle you. He plunges his obscene length into you hard and slow while you come on his cock.

"Michael," you whimper.

Satisfied with what he’s seeing and hearing, he allows his own climax, letting your tight, wet cunt milk his cock. He explodes into you, extending your peak. Every two seconds, he releases what would be a full load for any other man. When you’re both finished coming, he sets you down on the ground again and pulls out.

You straighten your dress and lean against the wall, watching him zip up his jumpsuit.

Michael observes you. You're disheveled and spent with a rosy face, weak eyes, and a furrowed brow. He can tell you're already wanting more, even if you haven't realized it yet. He can sense it. He’ll let you live. You'll try desperately to fill the void he leaves, but you belong to him now and no one else will ever be enough.

He bends down and picks up his knife. As he slowly walks away, he thinks about what’s in store for you. Your life as you knew it is over. You’ll become someone else. You won’t be able to stop thinking about this night. Your transformation is already beginning. That's at least as satisfying to him as killing you would have been.

He’s going to follow you from a distance and find out where you live. But first, he'll pretend to go his own way. Before he reaches the end of the alley, he hears your footsteps racing to catch up.

“Michael!”

His gut reaction is annoyed. He stops and turns only slightly, then his irritation turns into fascination. It's all over your face - what he did to you, it's taking effect remarkably fast. What was it about you that allowed you to imprint on him immediately? You position yourself right behind him, and he lets you touch his hulking back. Your hands slide up to his shoulders.

You want.... a ride? Your audacity. . . and yet, he's so intrigued by this development. His first instinct is to throw you over his shoulder instead, until he decides what to do with you. But he considers the mutual benefit of you riding on his back, like a fish on a whale: allowing him to brazenly walk the streets, just dominating Haddonfield in plain view.

He relents and squats down. You jump up and wrap your legs around his huge trunk. He catches your thighs in his massive hands and adjusts your weight. His warm cum trickles out of you and dampens the back of his jumpsuit as he lumbers down the street with you on his back, looking for someone to kill.

michael tag list: @rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires @ethanhoewke hmu to add/remove yourself.

#toxicanonymity ☠️#michael myers smut #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #michael myers fanfic #sluttifier!michael myers #cw dubcon

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harrywavycurly · 2 years

Note

Can I request an angsty Eddie fic? I just read a few where Eddie cheats on reader with Chrissy and is an absolute ass so I’m in a mood. One where Eddie gets cheated on(IM SORRY) and he finds out/figures it out.

Hiii babes!! Ohhhhh idk if I’ve read something where you’re the one who cheats on Eddie so let’s do it!😂💖

“Whose shirt is this?” You felt your whole body freeze up as Eddie stood in your bedroom holding a yellow shirt in his hand. You watched his eyes roam over the garment, eyebrows pinched together and his mouth set in a hard line.

“Uh is it not yours?” You hated the way your voice shook, you took a few steps towards him and reached for the shirt in question but Eddie was quick to move it so it was just out of your grasp.

“We both know yellow isn’t my color sweetheart.” His tone was harsh as he took a step backwards and glared at you. “So I’ll ask again,” you swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. “Whose fucking shirt is this?” You looked away from him not having the strength to look him in the eyes.

“Steve’s.” Eddie felt like someone stabbed him in the chest as the name slipped out of your mouth. “It’s Steve’s shirt.” You looked down at your feet as Eddie let out a dark chuckle and shook his head in disbelief.

“Harrington? You’ve been screwing Harrington?” He spat as he tossed the shirt at your feet, he took one step towards you so he could put a finger under your chin forcing you to look him in the eyes. “How long?” You watched his usual warm chocolate eyes turn dark as he spoke.

“A week or so.” You mumbled trying to look away but Eddie wasn’t having that, he was going to make you look him in the eyes as you admitted your guilt.

“A week or so? Is he just so good you can’t fucking remember how long it’s been?” His words hit you like a ton of bricks as he finally let you look away from him so he could run both hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie just rolled his eyes as his hands went to his hips. “I’m so sorry Eddie.” You wanted to reach out and grab his hands but you knew he’d just back away from you if you tried.

“Did I make you so unhappy that you had to run to Harrington?” There was a part of him that didn’t want to know the answer but he asked anyway.

“No, you make me so happy Eddie.” He just shook his head and looked down at his feet. “I don’t know exactly how it happened. He was over venting about one of his failed dates and all of a sudden he kissed me.” Eddie let out a groan and held his hand up at you.

“Please stop. I don’t need the details.” You just nodded your head and bit down on your bottom lip as you watched Eddie look around your room before his eyes finally landed on you. “I hope he makes you happy.” You felt your heart drop to your stomach as Eddie made his way towards your bedroom door.

“I don’t want him Eddie.” You watched Eddie pause for a moment as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Well I don’t want you anymore.” You felt your eyes start to sting as they filled with tears as you watched Eddie leave your room and head down the stairs. You fell to your knees as soon as you heard your front door open and slam closed letting you know he was gone, and you knew it was for good.

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson boyfriend #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson request #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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emy-1895 · 2 years

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Okay so here’s this! I had the idea for a Kas! Eddie/ Vampire! Eddie fic and just wanted to get it out. I might want to do more parts but not sure so let me know! This is an OC fic, there’s definitely back story but I wanted to leave it mostly open for interpretation. Also if Kas! Eddie does become a thing please know he’s not gonna be an actual vampire lol, but this seemed more fun to write.

Warnings: Vol. 2 spoilers, Swearing, violence, drinking as coping mechanism, blood (not reaallyyy but it’s mentioned like once), idk knives?

*how things start you might think it’s going one way but do not worry there’s no SA and I wouldn’t write that in anyways*

***************

I promise I’m not stupid, but walking home alone from a bar at three in the morning? Yeah okay, that was definitely stupid.

It had been a month since the upside down. A month since the gates opened in nearly all of Hawkins. A month since Eddie died…

Things hadn’t gotten better, maybe they hadn’t gotten worse yet either. But it was like everything was holding its breath, just waiting for Vecna’s command.

I wondered every day if it was the day our small group would have to come together again. Face the monsters and nightmares. Not yet, but soon, I knew it would be soon.

Max hadn’t woken up yet, her bones were starting to slowly mend, but based on the severity of the breaks it would take months more. We still had no idea if she’d ever wake up, and if she did, if she would even be okay. Or if her death for over a minute would cause irreversible damage.

I stayed away from the group for the most part, it’s not that I didn’t want to talk to them. I just couldn’t bring my self to really interact, to let myself have fun, it felt… wrong. So I waited for them to call, let me know it was time to fight back. But until then, I spent my nights wallowing at the hideout.

They didn’t I.D. there, so I drank the anger and sadness away, listening to the bands that played. Corroded Coffin hadn’t made an appearance for a while. Every Tuesday I’d hope for a moment to see them come on stage, to see their lead guitarist walk up, pick in hand and smile on his face, but he never did. This time I’d stayed out later than I’d meant too.

It was past three, the dim street lights cast a glow on the wet asphalt. Drunks and others (probably high off of god knows what) walked the streets, not paying me much attention. It was the end of April, but the night air still bit through the leather of my jacket.

I walked quickly, zipping my jacket closed, knife open and ready in my hand just incase. Why I had decided to walk and not drive I wasn’t sure, maybe I thought fresh air would clear my head for a while.

The walk home was going okay until I heard movement to the left of me. A small dark alley way leading to the back doors of the bars and stores. My first mistake was stopping. I don’t know why I did, but my head snapped to the noise and I peered into the dark.

There was nothing there that I could see, maybe a stray cat or a rat I thought wishfully. I was about to start walking again when something grabbed my wrist. Pulling me harshly into the black of the alley.

Knife still on my hand, I slashed wildly. Feeling the blade connect with something, a groan coming from in front of me.

Suddenly I was slammed against the wall, my head hitting the bricks hard. A hand slapped the knife from my grip, hearing it skid across the damp ground.

The was a person standing over me, gripping my throat, pushing me against the wall. I couldn’t get a great look at my assailant thanks to the dark. But they were tall, short hair, I could make out a sharp jaw line, blood from a cut my knife had probably made glistened on their cheek, and what seemed to be a thin t-shirt. Which I found odd considering it wasn’t that warm out.

“What do we have here?” They sneered at me, definitely a man’s voice, low and gravely.

I couldn’t respond or give a snide comment back, his grip on my throat had tightened. All I could do was gasp and choke.

I kicked and scratched and kneed him where the sun don’t shine, but he didn’t budge. He only pushed me against the wall harder, tightening his grip.

“None of that.” He snapped. “Don’t worry too much hun, we don’t want from you what you’re thinking.” He growled, turning his head to look at someone I couldn’t see.

“Hey boys, we’ve got a good one here!” He called, turning back to me and leaning in closer. “The smell is intoxicating.” I could see his grin in the low light, making out a set of bright white teeth, sharp fangs are what really stood out to me.

I saw more figures appear behind him, like they had suddenly materialized. The man finally let go of my throat, dropping me to the ground.

I fell to my knees coughing and gagging, trying desperately to get air.

“We’ll try to make it quick.” He said, grabbing me by my arm and throwing me to the circle of men.

“You know.” I struggled out. “I’ve dealt with a lot of crazy shit. I didn’t think fucking vampires would be on that list.” I grumbled, trying to get to my feet before I was kicked back to the ground, a heavy foot resting on my chest, causing me to groan in pain.

“A month ago I would have agreed with you, but sorry sweetheart. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The first man came back over to me, pulling me to my feet harshly, grabbing a fist full of hair and yanking my head to the side. “Gotta eat somehow.” He growled.

This is it. I thought, years of fighting flesh monsters and lightning burned telekinetics and I get taken out by fucking Dracula.

I closed my eyes, just hoping he wasn’t lying when he said they’d make it quick, waiting for it. But nothing came, instead I felt his hand quickly leave my hair and arm, a grunt and the sound of skin hitting skin.

I backed up, opening my eyes quickly. Another person, or… creature, had appeared. Beating the Dracula wannabe to the ground.

The others tried to get him off of their leader (at least I assumed he was). But the new addition just shoved and kicked them away. After Mr. fangs had been taken down for the count, his attacker stood, turning slowly to the others.

I heard a collective gasp come from the little group. He walked over to them, staring them down one at a time. I couldn’t make out any defining features aside from unruly shoulder length hair and strong arms.

“You’re drawing too much attention.” He spat. “He was very clear on the rules, don’t interact until told. Get the fuck out of here!” He yelled, I froze even more than I already had been for a moment, the voice was extremely familiar…

The others nodded their heads quickly, fighting over each other to run as quickly as possible. In a split second they had all disappeared into the night.

I weighed my options, looking to the figure in front of me, glancing towards the open street.

“You can go.” He said, I looked back to him. “I won’t stop you… or hurt you.” He told me. I realized I did know that voice.

Hesitantly, I took a step to the side. Moving my back towards the light from an exit door so he would face me. He was still in the shadows, but he stepped forwards, walking into the illumination of the light.

My breath hitched in my throat, I felt like I had been sucker punched. Like I was back in the upside down, watching everything unfold all over again.

He was wearing all black now, his jacket gone, chains and rings still adorned his jeans and hands. Tattoos still littered his arms. Same dark brown eyes, same crazy curly hair.

“Eddie?” I managed to ask, my neck searing in pain from being choked for so long.

“Yeah… it’s me.” Was all he said before turning around to walk back to the street.

I ran for him, grabbing his hand like I needed to hold on for dear life.

It hurt like hell to talk, but at that point I didn’t care. “You’re not showing up like that and leaving!” I cried. “I watched you die Munson! How, how are you here?!”

“I did die!” He screamed, spinning around to face me, anger on his face. I backed up in surprise, still gripping onto his hand; His features softened.

“I did die…” he whispered. “Vecna found me, brought me back somehow, made me do his dirty work… made me… this.” gesturing to himself, showing the sharp teeth he now possessed, then hung his head.

I took his face in my hand, lifting it so he’d look at me.

“What is he making you do?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“I… I can’t talk about it. But somethings coming Alex… he- he has horrible things planned. And I can’t leave, he has control of me, of my mind. Sometimes, I’m just me, but other times…” He trailed off, averting my gaze, taking a deep breath before coming back to look at me.

“You have to go.” He warned. I shook my head.

“I am not leaving you again. No way. You’re coming back to my house, there’s no one home but me for like, the next month! I’m not letting you out of my sight, never. again.” I told him.

He sighed, shaking his head with a half hearted smile.

“Stubborn as ever… but I can’t. If he calls for me, if I have to leave… I won’t be in the right headspace. I could hurt you. No. I’m not risking it.” He said finally.

“I don’t care. I don’t care what that maniac has or is doing to you. We’ll figure this out, I will get you out of this.” I pleaded, pulling him towards the street, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Eddie, please.” I cried, trying to get him to move.

He pulled me back to him and enveloped me in a hug, I hugged him back, holding on tightly.

“I wish I could, but you’ll see me again okay? When the time comes. I’m on you’re side, I’ll do everything in my power to stay on your side.” He told me, hands coming up to cup my face.

He pulled me into a kiss, it was desperate, like everything he had went into it. Then after a long moment, he pulled away, looking at me and breathing heavily.

“I love you King.” He told me, I looked up to him, tears in my eyes as I backed out of the alley way.

“I love you too Munson.” I said, taking one last look at my apparently undead boyfriend before turning and starting the walk back to my house through the lonely, dimly lit streets. I had some calls to make.

#Eddie Munson #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson story #stranger things fanfiction #Kas!eddie fanfic #vampire!eddie fanfic

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vinniesgfff · 2 years

Text

don’t leave.

warnings; sad imagine, cuss words, idk what else. if yall see anything else, lmk and i’ll add it.

(not proofread yet!)

❝y/n!❞

the screaming, the arguing, the running away from his issues, i couldn’t handle it anymore. not only was it taking a toll on my mental health, but i could see how tired my boyfriend was.

he would stream multiple hours a day, do whatever content the hh wanted him to do, work out, work on cars, and so much more. it seemed as if he had no time for him and i anymore. he always pushed me away.

i haven’t spoken to him about it yet, because i know that he’s gonna react the same way he always does. which leads to me hurting even more. i don’t know whether to try and keep him, or let him go.

he doesn’t give me any loving kisses anymore, he doesn’t hug me, he doesn’t beg to do my hair, or makeup anymore. he doesn’t try to have sex with me. he doesn’t even cuddle me at night anymore, and when ii talk to him, it feels like im talking to a brick wall.

not wanting to piss him off too badly, i slowly creeped over to him where he was sitting, gaming. i didn’t say anything to him, or about him being on the game. i was picking up all the trash on his desk when he finally took notice.

“bro, what the fuck y/n?! could you not wait 5 fucking minutes before you came over here again?! god, you’re so fucking clingy and annoying! just go home!”, he shouted at me, i looked him in the eye, and his face didn’t show any regret.

“o-oh, i’m sorry. i’ll go.”, i responded, not feeling like fighting with him. my heart shattered when he said that to me. but i’d never let him see that he made me sad. i turned around, and started packing clothes, toiletries, and whatever else i found around the room that was mine.my lip quivered as i reached up to my neck, and took off the necklace he had made for me with his ignitals in the heart, figuring he wouldn’t want me to have it. next was my promise ring. i never took it off. even when i was showering, washing dishes, whatever, i kept it on.

that’s really when i started breaking down. i slid the ring off of my ring finger, sitting it beside the necklace on his nightstand. i held your sobs in, as tears streamed down my face.

i quickly took one last look at vinnie, before walking out of the bedroom that we had shared for the past 11 months. i quietly tip-toed down the stairs being that it was 3 in the morning.

i opened the front door, and shut it as quietly as i could, before walking to my car. i unlocked my car, and opened the door. when i got in, and shut the door, i started uncontrollably sobbing.

nasty, loud sobs came from my throat, as i hit my fists on the steering wheel before slamming my head down against the steering wheel and sobbing more. he didn’t care anymore, and it was obvious. he didn’t even look at me when i was packing, or when i was walking out.

i knew he wasn’t in love with me anymore.

❝vin!❞

why did i say that to her? why did i do what i did? she wasn’t doing anything wrong. if anything she was just trying to help me. i had distanced myself from the love of my life just because of hate comments from people who didn’t even matter, and instead of being an adult and voicing my concerns i pushed her away.

i turned off all of my stuff, and stood up from my gaming chair, i put my shoes on, and went to grab my phone off of my nightstand, when i saw the promise ring i had given her a year ago sitting on the nightstand, beside the necklace i got her for valentines day three years ago.

i started crying before turning around and punching the wall multiple times. a hole formed in the shape, and size of my fist. i didn’t even care. i hurt the person that i loved the most.

she was my other half. i don’t know why i allowed myself to call her all the rude things that i did. she probably thinks that i don’t love her anymore. she probably thinks i fell out of love with her. she probably thinks i hate her or something.

i didn’t even care who i woke up in the house when i went running down the stairs before swinging the front door open and sprinting outside. i saw a bright light in my perephrial vision, and i turned around.

her car, she was still in the driveway. i pulled myself together and walked over to the driver side before knocking on the window. she jumped slightly, and looked up.

oh my god. she was a mess. she looked worse than i probably did. her hair was fuzzy and frizzy, and her eyes swollen, with tear stained cheeks, and snot running out of her nose, her cheeks were red, and she looked exhausted.

she rolled the window down slightly, “what vinnie?”, her voice asked softly, and quietly, though you could tell that she was broken. “can we talk?”, i managed to get out. she looked as if she was contemplating for a minute, before nodding her head yes.

i walked over to the other side of the car, and opened the door, climbing in. “y/n, baby, i’m so sorry, i pushed you away, and fought with you instead of actually telling you what was wrong, and you didn’t deserve that. the hate i’ve been getting, plus all the other shit going on, made me so exhausted, and stressed, along with depressed. i don’t know why i didn’t just talk to you instead of pushing you away.” i rambled.

“vinnie, nothing hurt more than what you said earlier. when you told me that i was clingy, and told me to leave, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. you stopped giving me attention a month ago, you don’t even hug me anymore, you don’t cuddle me anymore, you don’t do any of the things that you used to do. i miss you. i know that whoever that was that told me to leave, was not you. you would never say something like that to me. yes, you should’ve came to me. i would’ve listened. it just hurt because you kept blowing up on me over and over again for no reason. “, y/n’s shaky voice managed to speak out.

“i’m sorry baby. please come back. don’t leave.”

part 2??

#vinnie imagines #vinnie.txt #vinnie fluff #vinnie icons #vinnie x y/n #vinnie smut #vinnie x reader #vinnie #vincent hacker #vinnie fanfic #vinnie vincent

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junghelioseok · 3 years

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aubade.

↳ it was supposed to be one night—no more, no less.

◇ seokjin x reader ◇ smut | one night stand!au ◇ 9.9k [1/1]

⇢ aubade (n; oh-bahd): a poem or song, usually sung at dawn.

⇢ full summary: it was supposed to be one night—no more, no less. but when your city is hit with what newscasters are calling a once-in-a-lifetime storm and the blizzard of the century, you realize that mother nature isn’t going to let you leave that easily. and neither is kim seokjin.

notes: a jinfic? couldn’t be me! 🤣 this fic is weird and wacky and idk how i feel about it yet but it’s been in the works for far too long and it’s already jin day in some places so... here it is! hope you enjoy!!!

warnings: smutty smut. minimally edited. (soft)dom!jin, bit of spanking oops, bit of choking ooPS, just a lil touch of implied exhibitionism, jin cums on u (oops again), oral (m receiving), a good bit of emotional constipation on reader’s part, some truly terrible puns and even worse poems, lots of wacky cracky humor courtesy of mr. kim himself 🤷🏻‍♀️

Winter has arrived.

There’s no longer any doubt about it—no more oddly warm days during the week, and no more stubborn leaves clinging to skeletal black tree branches. The brisk air stings your cheeks and dries out your eyes, and every breath you take feels like you’ve just swallowed ice—the cold burning down your throat before you release it again in a puff of white that quickly disappears into the velvety night sky.

But no matter how cold the weather, it’s nothing compared to the heat emanating off of the man standing before you. Strong arms cage you against the wall as his plush lips work along your neck, his kisses gentle but insistent. You can’t even find it in yourself to care that there’s poorly laid brick digging into the small of your back, or that you’re pinned against an apartment building on a very well-traveled street. The only thing that matters right now is—

“Jin!” you gasp when there’s a sudden nip at your earlobe.

Said man chuckles, soothing over the skin with his tongue. “We should go inside,” he breathes, and you shiver at the wash of hot air before nodding your agreement. His hand twines with yours, and you eagerly let him lead you through the front door of the building, following him through the lobby and into the elevator on the opposite end.

It’s easy to fall into your routine from there—easy to brush against him suggestively and trace the growing bulge in his pants. Jin’s head falls back with a groan and you take full advantage, pressing a deliberate line of kisses down the exposed column of his throat. The elevator dings before you even reach his collar, and Jin impatiently ushers you out and down the hall to his apartment, fumbling to fit his key in the door as you fumble with the buckle on his belt.

With a click, the door swings open. Jin is quick to grab your hips and wrest you inside, pressing you up against the entryway wall and kicking the door shut behind him. His hands find the curve of your rear, squeezing at the soft flesh before sliding down to the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your coat falls, forgotten, to the ground as you wrap your legs around his waist, your skirt hiking up around your hips. All the while, he mouths fervently at your clavicle, his teeth catching on the junction of your shoulder and blossoming tender purple bruises there.

“Jin—fuck,” you keen, and Jin chuckles lowly before moving down to the generous neckline of your dress, tugging it down so he can access the swell of your cleavage. Your back arches off the wall when he envelops a pebbled nipple in his mouth, and he hums appreciatively at your sharp intake of breath. Plush lips stretch into a pleased smirk against your skin, and you whimper when he reaches up to roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, sending a shudder through your entire body. “I wonder if that means you’re sensitive in other places, too.”

The last word is punctuated with a sharp snap of his hips, his rapidly hardening cock grinding against your clothed core. You gasp his name again, your fingers scrabbling for purchase along the broad expanse of his back, and he groans deeply when your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Guess that’s a yes,” he breathes, chuckling, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Jin is quick to discard your dress after that—hiking up the already-short hem so you can shimmy out and tossing it away carelessly as soon as you’re freed from the fabric. Your panties are the only thing left shielding you from Jin’s wandering eyes, and you exhale shakily when he slips a finger into the elastic waistband and snaps it teasingly against your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, running a fingertip along the silky little bow that decorates the front of the lacy material. “So pretty, wrapped up all nice for me.”

You laugh breathlessly when he descends upon your neck again, sucking a fresh bruise into your collarbone. His hips rock into yours mindlessly, the bulge of his cock grazing your clit until it becomes impossible to ignore the growing dampness there. “Jin—” you begin, injecting as much purr as you can into your voice, “—where’s your bedroom?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You squeak as he hefts you up, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, and make good use of the time it takes him to carry you down the hall by fumbling open the buttons of his shirt. By the time he kicks open the door of his bedroom and lays you atop the plush mattress, his chest is bare and heaving, the flaps of his shirt swinging loose at his sides. “Jin,” you say again, pushing the remainder of the material urgently off his shoulders. “Want you. Hurry.”

Jin huffs out something that’s halfway between a chuckle and a groan. “Someone’s eager,” he breathes as he discards his shirt and starts on his pants. They fall to the ground, his belt buckle clinking dully against the hardwood floor, and you immediately wind your arms around his neck as he joins you on the bed, caging you against the mattress with his body. His lips slant roughly across yours, exploring thoroughly before he trails downward to swirl his tongue around a pebbled nipple. One hand finds its neglected twin while his free hand slides down to the junction of your thighs, and you exhale sharply when he cups your lace-covered mound, his warm palm molding the damp material to your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he rasps. “This all for me?”

You roll your hips, grinding lazily against his open palm. “Are you expecting an answer that isn’t yes?”

Jin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Mouthy little thing,” he says, amused. “Why don’t we see if I can make you change your tune, hmm?”

In one smooth motion, he’s hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs. His grin is crooked as he descends upon you again, and you sigh as he kisses his way up your body before finding your lips, his breath intermingling with yours. You reach up, sliding your hands along the breadth of his shoulders before trailing down his back, admiring each dip and ridge of the taut, muscular expanse. Between your legs, you can feel the blunt head of Jin’s cock, hard and hot and slick. You reach down to give it a light squeeze, relishing the sharp intake of breath from your companion, and slowly begin stroking up and down his shaft as you sit up.

“Where are your condoms, Jin?” you ask sweetly, brushing your thumb across the tip of his cock.

Jin’s head falls back. “Nightstand. Top drawer,” he answers, and you smile.

“Perfect.”

It’s easy—mindless, even—to tear open the foil wrapper and roll the condom down Jin’s cock. Easy, kissing his neck before getting on your hands and knees and asking him to fuck me like this. All of the pleasure and none of the intimacy. None of the saccharine kisses that Jin seems to be so fond of bestowing, and no time for you to think about how nice his pillowy lips felt against your own. Just the slick glide of his cock and the lewd squelch that accompanies each thrust, his hips slamming against the curve of your rear as you beg him to go harder in a voice that quivers and breaks when he obliges your request.

Slippery fingers find your clit, pinching the nub before rubbing harsh circles around it. Jin picks up his pace, and you keen out a garbled curse as your back arches under the onslaught of pleasure, the coil in your tummy tightening with each thrust. Jin leans forward until his chest is flush against your back, his tight grip on your hips a stark contrast to the soft words of praise he murmurs—words that sink into your skin like ink and leave you aching and pliant.

Your breath is coming in ragged pants by this point, and Jin is faring no better. The room is beginning to feel stifling, and yet you want him closer, deeper, harder. You grind against him, presenting yourself like an offering, and know he’s accepted when the flat of his palm comes down on your ass with a resounding smack. Your body jolts, a whine escaping your lips, but when you feel his rhythm slow and stutter, you reassure him by sinking backwards onto his cock.

“You don’t have to treat me like a doll,” you tell him, pushing back until he’s seated fully inside you once more. “I can handle it rough.”

Jin chuckles hoarsely, soothing over your impacted skin. “You want me to be mean to you, baby?”

You answer him with a deliberate swivel of your hips, relishing the way his cock presses against your walls in all the right places. Jin’s chest rumbles with laughter again, and the sound sends a shiver from your crown all the way down to the end of your spine. Then he’s tugging you up, one palm splaying against your stomach while the other finds its way to the base of your throat. You gasp when he squeezes, just enough to momentarily cut off your air.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. And then he rocks forward, filling you up to the brim and setting a brutal pace that has the headboard clattering against the wall and creaks the mattress springs.

You are no longer capable of coherent speech—only a mess of whimpers and shaky gasps that sound suspiciously like Jin’s name. Every push of his hips winds you up tighter and tighter, and when his fingers drop from your throat to rub at your clit, you finally fall over the edge, arching against him as you ride out your orgasm. Jin lets you grind mindlessly against his palm, thumbing across your clit lazily in slow circles, and you clench around him as the pleasure blazes through your veins.

“That’s it,” Jin encourages, his voice deep and cavernous in a way that has electricity dancing across your skin. “That’s it, baby. Fuck. Can I cum on you?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought. “Yes,” you murmur, letting his cock slip out. Jin turns you around almost tenderly, pressing you back against the mattress, and you shiver when he discards his condom and takes up residence between your legs again. He takes his leaking cock in his hand, and with practiced strokes and the occasional flick of his thumb across the tip, he finally reaches his high. Warm stickiness splatters against your stomach and paints the swell of your breasts, and when a stray drop lands on your bottom lip, you are quick to lap it up.

“Fuck,” Jin rasps, admiring his handiwork before his dark gaze zeroes in on your mouth. “You’re a work of art.”

You flash him a grin, ignoring the uncomfortable way his cum is beginning to dry on your skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you a laugh. Jin leans down to kiss you—a short, sweet peck that has your heart skipping a beat, and leaves you breathless even as he sits back up and rakes a hand through his mussed hair. “Look,” he says, nodding at the window. “It’s snowing.”

You follow the trajectory of his gaze. Through the gap in the curtains, you can just barely make out the fat snowflakes flurrying down—white against the pale gray sky. Eager for a better look, you roll over, fishing Jin’s discarded shirt from the pile of clothing on the ground and slipping into it as you rise to your feet. You forgo the buttons, and Jin chuckles softly when you pull it closed around your body and pad over to the window. “I love snow,” you murmur, running a fingertip down the cold glass.

“Me too.” Jin rises to his feet and joins you, tugging the curtains aside so you can get a better look at the flurrying skies. “My buddies and I have a snowball tournament every winter, and my team’s never lost.”

“Oh yeah? Your teammates must be really good then.”

“They are,” he agrees easily, before the underlying insult behind your remark sinks in. “Hey!”

His indignant shout has you giggling and laying an apologetic hand on his arm. “Just kidding,” you reassure, letting your fingers drift up to the solid muscle of his bicep. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling yourself.”

Jin catches you by the wrist, stopping your hand from straying further with a playful little smirk. “You’re not wrong,” he murmurs, walking you backward until your knees hit the mattress. “But right now, I’d much rather handle you.”

///

It’s hard—near impossible, really—to leave the warmth of Jin’s bed. But dawn will be here before you know it, and you have no intentions of sleeping here. You’ve never spent the night at a guy’s place, and you aren’t about to start now. Not even for Jin, who’s currently singing a show tune in the shower, his voice pleasantly melodious even when masked by the sound of running water.

Commitment isn’t really your thing. Relationships aren’t really your thing. They weren’t during your school years, and they certainly aren’t now. You’ve spent your entire life flitting from meaningless hook-up to meaningless hook-up, never learning anything beyond their first name and never revealing anything about yourself. But here with Jin, you can already feel yourself beginning to slip, so the sooner you leave, the better.

Quietly, you slip out from beneath the comforter, tiptoeing to where your clothes have been hastily discarded. In the darkness of the bedroom, you fumble with your dress until you finally manage to put all the right limbs through the right holes, wincing when you accidentally stub your toe on the edge of the dresser midway through the process. You’re just about to grab your purse and check that your phone and wallet are still safely inside when the bathroom door opens, letting out a cloud of warm steam.

“{Name}?” Jin asks, and you curse inwardly at how good he looks with his damp hair pushed back from his forehead, a gray towel sitting low around his hips. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing!” you say quickly, trying and failing to hide your purse behind your back. The bathroom light casts a rectangle of warm golden light onto the floor of the bedroom, illuminating you and your surroundings, and you blanch when Jin narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you leaving?”

You blink, debating whether or not it would be worth it to lie, and decide against it. “Yes,” you tell him, locating your phone before shouldering your purse. “I can’t stay.”

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding,” Jin says flatly. “It’s almost two in the morning. And have you looked outside lately? I’m not letting you go home in this weather.”

You frown. “I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “And yet here I am, telling you.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Jin—” you begin, but he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Do you want to freeze to death? Because if you leave right now, they won’t find your body until spring. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You roll your eyes and make to walk away, but Jin steps forward until you can feel the warmth radiating off his chest and see every stray water droplet dripping off his hair.

“Stay,” he murmurs, and you belatedly realize that he’s wrapped his fingers around the strap of your purse. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

For one brief, insane moment, you debate the viability of making a break for it. Maybe if you twist in his grasp while tripping him up with a well-timed kick in the shins—but you quickly scrap the idea. After the events of tonight, you know for a fact that Jin’s musculature isn’t just for show. You’d be lucky to make it to the bedroom door before he inevitably caught up and hauled you back to his bed—and you hurriedly cut off that train of thought before it can progress any further than that.

“Fine,” you huff at last. “Dictator.”

“I’m a real penis potato,” he says affably, and you stare at him blankly for a second before the joke dawns and you’re forced to suppress the disbelieving giggle that threatens to escape.

“Do you have a spare towel I can use?” you ask instead.

“Hall closet,” Jin replies, already heading toward the door. “I’m done in the bathroom, so go on in. I’ll bring everything to you.”

Hesitantly, you do as he says, stepping inside the bathroom and easing the door shut. It’s surprisingly tidy inside—the toilet lid is even down, much to your shock—and you scrutinize your ruffled reflection in the mirror for a few seconds before sliding open the glass-paneled shower and turning on the water.

You’re slipping out of your dress for the second time tonight when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Room service,” Jin’s voice calls from the other side. “Mind if I pop in for a sec?”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly shy. “Don’t peek.”

“I was balls deep inside you thirty minutes ago,” Jin says bluntly. Nonetheless, he cracks the door open and passes you the promised towel. He’s included a smaller washcloth in addition to a large bath towel, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see a neatly folded t-shirt and oversized flannel pants included at the bottom of the pile.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies. The door clicks shut behind him, and you lay the clothes and towels down on the counter before stepping into the shower and letting the warm water drown out your anxieties. Jin is on the other side of the door—presumably changing and getting ready for bed—but you push that thought away as soon as it’s materialized.

It’s just one night, you tell yourself sternly, splashing some water on your face. One night won’t kill you. And you can sneak out in the morning before he even wakes up. This doesn’t mean anything. This is fine.

With a sigh, you turn off the water. Grabbing the bath towel off the counter reveals the folded pajamas underneath, and you swallow down the odd warmth in your chest as you dry off. And after several steadying breaths and a prolonged staring contest with the clothing, you finally pick up the shirt and tug it over your head, following it up with the flannel pants and pulling the drawstrings tight. Jin’s clothes smell like flowers—no doubt thanks to his laundry detergent—and something dangerously fond bubbles up in your chest at the realization.

When you exit the bathroom, Jin is lounging in bed, leaning up against the headboard with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He glances up from his phone at the sound of the door, and you smile wanly as you approach. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He gives you a quick once-over, his lips quirking when he sees the way you’ve cuffed his too-long pants at the ankles. “Sorry about the clothes. I don’t really own anything in your size.”

“It’d be weird if you did,” you tell him with a shrug.

He hums. “Very true.”

There’s a beat of silence—one that you occupy by picking at a loose thread on your oversized shirt while avoiding eye contact. Jin clears his throat after a few moments, and you glance up when he rises to his feet and grabs the pillow he’d been laying on.

“Do you want the bed?” he asks. “I can sleep on the couch, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Your jaw drops. “What? No way. I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

Jin puts the pillow back down. “Well, I didn’t want to assume that you were going to sleep with me. You were trying to sneak out on me twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks warm at the accusation. “So I like sleeping in my own bed. Sue me.”

“Neither of those are really options right now, so come on.” Jin nods at the opposite side of the bed—the side he doesn’t sleep on, if the location of his phone charger is any indication. “Hop in.”

“You really are a penis potato,” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. Nonetheless, you do as he says, lifting up the edge of the comforter and crawling underneath. Satisfied, Jin climbs in on the other side, turning to flip off the bedside lamp. “Ready for me to turn this off?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur back, staring up at the ceiling and determinedly ignoring the warmth he’s radiating beneath the covers. The room falls into darkness, and you return his murmur of goodnight with one of your own. He falls asleep long before you do, his breaths evening out, but your heart continues to race long into the night, hammering away in your chest.

You’ll get up early tomorrow, you decide. You’ll leave before Jin even notices you’re gone, because you have rules and you aren’t about to break them. Not for Jin, who sings show tunes in the shower and uses floral laundry detergent. Not for Jin, who somehow manages to look positively angelic in the darkness of the bedroom, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams.

With that decided, you roll over and get as comfortable as you can, trying to ignore the sleeping man beside you. And after what feels like an eternity, you finally fall asleep, drifting off into a dreamless, restless slumber.

///

You aren’t sure what exactly wakes you up, but you’re suddenly being dragged into wakefulness, blinking blearily at the white stucco ceiling. Clumsily, you seek out your phone on the nightstand, your fingers fumbling across the smooth screen.

7:23am.

Fuck. Much later than you’d intended, and based on the smells wafting from the direction of the kitchen, your host has already been awake for quite some time.

“Morning,” Jin greets when you stumble out of the bedroom, fully dressed in your attire from last night. “Hope you’re hungry, because I made way too many waffles.”

You glance at the impressive stack on the counter, which is piled nearly as high as he is tall. “I think you meant to say that you made an insane amount of waffles,” you correct dryly. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long, apparently,” he replies, turning off the stove and grabbing two plates. “How many do you want?”

“Oh.” You glance toward the entryway—ignoring the flare in your belly when you remember how he’d pressed you against the wall there last night—and wonder if you can make a break for it. Jin is clearly distracted with rifling through the silverware drawer, and you’re pretty sure you can manage a short sprint to the elevator if it means avoiding an awkward breakfast, and—

“Hey, are you cold? I turned the heat up yesterday, but the blizzard’s gotten worse since then. My toes were practically frozen this morning.”

Jin’s words startle you out of your thoughts, and your heart sinks when you turn toward the window and see nothing but white. You can just barely make out the charcoal gray rails of the fire escape hidden beneath a thick blanket of snow, and wonder, vaguely, how difficult it would be to climb down.

“I—I guess it’s a little chilly in here,” you mumble, rubbing your arms. Your dress is thankfully long-sleeved, the knit material snug enough to keep your upper half warm, but you’d foregone any sort of tights or pantyhose yesterday in a rather spectacular lack of foresight, and your companion seems to agree.

“There’s no way you’re not freezing in that,” Jin says, nodding at your getup. “Club appropriate, yes. Blizzard appropriate? Not so much. You sure you don’t want to put those pajamas I gave you back on?”

You think of the oversized t-shirt and flannel pants you’d left folded on the foot of his bed, still smelling so sweetly of his floral detergent even after a night of wear. “I think I’m just going to put my coat on,” you tell him, edging toward the entryway.

Jin hums in acknowledgement and busies himself with piling waffles onto a plate, and you dart down the hall and toward the front door. Your coat lies crumpled on the carpeted floor, and you shake it off before slipping into it, casting one last backward glance over your shoulder. Gingerly, you put a hand on the doorknob, wincing at the audible click as it twists in your grasp.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Fuck.

Guiltily, you turn, taking in the disbelief etched across Jin’s face. Now that he’s out of the kitchen, you can see the apron wrapped around his waist—pastel pink and printed with frolicking alpacas wearing red kerchiefs. He’s holding a plate of waffles in each hand, and your stomach rumbles at the sight of them dripping with syrup and loaded with strawberries and whipped cream that’s already beginning to melt down the sides.

“Look,” Jin sighs. “I’m not trying to keep you hostage. But no one’s shoveled around the front door of the building yet, and the landlord’s emailed everyone a warning to stay inside. You couldn’t leave even if you tried, so you may as well have some breakfast.”

You decide not to mention that you’d briefly dabbled with the idea of vacating his apartment via the fire escape, and instead take one of the plates off his hands. “Do you cook every one-night stand breakfast?” you ask.

Jin begins walking back toward the kitchen. “Only the ones I like, even if they do keep trying to run out into the snowstorm of the century. Have you even looked at the news lately?”

Reluctantly, you shake your head and pull out your dying phone, scrolling through today’s headlines. Even a quick glance is enough to confirm Jin’s statement, and you sigh as you take a seat at the dining table. “I guess I’m stuck here.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Jin says, sitting down in the chair opposite you and pushing a fork your way.

Silence falls for a few minutes as you dig into your food, broken only by the clatter of silverware. You stare intently down at the syrup-filled squares that make up your waffles, and it isn’t until Jin sucks in a deep breath that you look up again.

“Fuck, marry, kill,” he says, setting down his fork with a clink. “Kim Jong Un, Abraham Lincoln, and Vladimir Putin. Go.”

You gape at him, watching as he walks into the kitchen and returns with the coffee pot and two mugs. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me.” Jin fills up the mugs, setting one down in front of you before taking an enormous swig from his own. “Fuck, marry, or kill. Do you need me to repeat the people?”

“I am not playing fuck, marry, kill.”

Jin crosses his arms over his chest. “Should we sit in silence, then? You’re stuck here whether you like it or not, so we may as well talk.”

A laugh escapes you at that, one that’s equal parts derision and disbelief. “So you decided that we should play fuck, marry, kill? Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not an option,” Jin says breezily, waving a hand. “Try again.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. “Fine. Marry Babe-raham Lincoln, obviously—he’s the only one who’s not a supervillain. Plus, there was the whole ending slavery thing.”

“Don’t forget the cool hat,” Jin interjects. “More points in his favor.”

You nod. “True.” Putting a thoughtful finger to your chin, you debate your two remaining choices and fight the urge to cringe. “Between Kim Jong Un and Putin though… that’s tough. Kill Kim and fuck Putin, I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure political assassinations are frowned upon,” Jin muses. “Not that I gave you any other options. Good choice, by the way. Vlad seems like he could show you a pretty decent time, and all the ladies want him, apparently. You’ve heard his song, right?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Pulling out his phone, he taps a few keys before propping it up against his mug so you can see the screen. The song that filters through the tinny speakers is undoubtedly catchy—a techno-pop beat that you can’t help but bob your head to despite the bizarre lyrics.

“I’m… pretty sure this is propaganda,” you say after a few moments of listening. “Why do you even know about this?”

Jin shrugs and sits back down. “The internet is a weird place. What can I say?”

The song continues—filling the room with an entrancing techno beat and a feminine voice crooning about how much she wants a man like Putin. You quietly take a sip of your coffee, watching as Jin saws off another chunk of syrup-drenched waffle and shoves it into his mouth.

“Your turn,” he says once the song’s ended. “Three people.”

It only takes you a few seconds to come up with your choices, a slow smirk spreading across your face as you voice them aloud to your companion. “Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, and the Queen of England.”

Just as you’d expected, Jin’s eyes grow wide, bulging out comically as he huffs in indignation. “Seriously? This is cruel. At least I gave you bad options!”

“No complaining,” you tell him smugly. “Choose.”

“Fine,” he sniffs. “Fuck… Marilyn, I think.” Frowning, he scratches the back of his neck, ruffling his already tousled bedhead further. “Fuck, this is brutal. Are you really going to make me kill the Queen?”

You slap the table, and Jin nearly falls out of his seat in surprise. “You just said that political assassinations are frowned upon, you hypocrite!”

“You can’t possibly expect me to kill Audrey Hepburn,” Jin retorts. “She’s talented, gorgeous, and a humanitarian. Besides, consider this: if the Queen is gone, that means I become the new king. You should be bowing to me, peasant.”

“Wouldn’t marrying the Queen also make you a king?” you point out.

“Sure. But then I’d have to share the throne, and I don’t play nice with other monarchs.”

You snort out a surprised laugh and nearly expel coffee from your nose. “Oh my god, Jin.”

His lips twitch up at the corners. “My turn,” he declares. “Fuck, marry, kill… Timothée Chalamet, Chris Evans, and my eighty-year-old neighbor, Edgar.”

You blink, disbelief etching across your face. “Who the fuck is Edgar?”

“I just told you! He’s my neighbor!”

“Well, he’s gone,” you say flatly. “Done-zo. Six feet under. The bucket? He’s kicked it.”

“Seriously?” Jin picks up his coffee mug, his shoulders quaking with barely suppressed laughter as he shields his grin behind cream-colored ceramic. “I can’t believe you killed Edgar. He had a family.”

“Everyone has a family!” you retort, before the ludicrousness of your entire conversation becomes too much and you dissolve into giggles. Jin’s own laughter joins yours, squeaky and contagious, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. “Evans,” you finally manage to answer between breaths. “Marry Chris Evans.”

Jin nods sagely. “America’s ass. Good choice.”

“Glad you approve,” you reply with a grin.

This time, the silence that descends over the two of you is almost comfortable. Jin gets up to brew a fresh pot of coffee once you’ve both finished eating, and you gratefully accept the hot mug he hands over, the warmth seeping into your palms and warming you from the inside out. “Thanks,” you murmur, rather taken aback by his continuing hospitality. “Can I help you with anything? Clean up, maybe?”

Jin gestures at a stainless steel door beneath the counter. “No need—I’ve got a dishwasher. Besides, I kind of like doing dishes. The repetition is comforting.”

“To each his own, I guess.” You hug your mug a little closer, relishing the heat. “Personally, I think I’ll stick with the dishwasher. I can’t imagine baking without one.”

Jin tilts his head curiously. “You bake?”

You shrug. “A little bit, yeah.”

“That must be nice.” Jin opens up the dishwasher and disappears beneath the counter, and you can tell from the clattering that he’s popping your plates and utensils inside. “I wish I could bake, but waffles and pancakes are the closest I’ll ever get.”

You laugh. “Well, the waffles were delicious, if that’s any consolation.”

He straightens back up to his full height and offers you a small smile. “Thanks.”

Now that the meal is finished, you aren’t sure what to do. Jin rebuffs another offer of help, humming as he washes the waffle iron plates, so you take your coffee over to the wide windows lining the living area. The snowfall hasn’t slowed one bit—a continuous flurry of fat white flakes buffeted in every direction by the wind—and you shiver when the glass creaks under the onslaught of a particularly hard gust. Backing away, you instead meander over to the wooden bookshelf beside the television, browsing past a few familiar classic titles before alighting on something odd.

“Quickbooks?” you ask, reading the spine of what appears to be a thick manual. “Like, the accounting software?”

Jin turns off the faucet and dries his hands. “One and the same.”

“Right. And is this a boring hobby, or—?”

“Option B—it’s a boring career choice,” he replies, joining you at the bookshelf. “But the pay is good, and the hours are regular, so I can’t complain. Leaves me plenty of time for my actual hobbies.”

Turning back to the books on the shelf, you glance over the next few titles. “Let me guess. You like poetry?”

He grins. “I’m a regular sonnet-lier.” At your confused expression, he quickly clarifies. “Like sommelier? Get it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Is that not punny to you?” Jin’s grin widens. “That’s fine; I’m much better at acrostic poems, anyway. Pick a color.”

The sudden request takes you aback. “Uh, blue?”

He shakes his head. “Pick another color.”

“White?”

“White? Seriously? Pick a different color.”

“Green.”

“Nope.”

You sigh and shake your head. Clearly, he already has a specific color in mind. “Fine. How about red?”

The smile that blooms across his face is nothing short of radiant. “Red? Can you spell that out for me?”

Lips twitching, you decide to indulge him. “R—”

He interrupts before you can say the next letter. “Revolution!”

“E.”

“Evolution!”

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. “D?”

“Drop in the ocean!” he finishes, following it with an exaggerated bow. “Well?”

“I think you should stick to accounting.”

Jin pretends to wince, clutching at his chest. “Ouch.”

The laughter bubbling up in your stomach finally makes itself known, escaping past your lips in an amused huff. Turning away from the bookshelf, you take a seat on the edge of the couch that occupies the majority of the living area—a cushioned gray behemoth decorated with well-worn and mismatched throw pillows. Now that you are looking, you can see that Jin clearly favors comfort over sophistication in his decorating—though you also have no doubt that the couch you’re seated on comes with a hefty price tag. There are several plants scattered around as well—including a neatly potted orchid on the end table closest to you. Gingerly, you reach out to touch the pink petals, admiring each delicate silken bloom.

“You left your coffee.” Jin sits down beside you with your mug in hand, and you belatedly realize you’d left it on the bookshelf. “It’s probably cold by now, but there’s more in the kitchen if you want it.”

Once again, you’re floored by his hospitality. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you gesture back at the orchid, blurting, “I like your flower!”

At the same time, Jin jabs a thumb back in the direction of the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

You gawk at him. “Dinner?”

Jin blinks. “Thanks?” He glances at the pink orchid on the end table before shaking his head and chuckling. “And yeah, dinner. The snow isn’t going to let up until two or three in the morning, so I’m assuming you’re staying the night again.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a kidnapping attempt,” you tell him.

His answering grin shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat in your chest. “Maybe it is.”

For the second time today, you wonder if it’s too late to make a run for the fire escape. Slipping on the slick metal and falling to your potential death—certain injury, at least—would no doubt be better than staying here. Here, where Jin has already made you feel so much more welcome than you deserve. Here, where every single one of his terrible poems and cheesy puns constricts your chest with dangerous warmth.

“So… what were you saying about my flower?” Jin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his tone light and teasing. “Were you complimenting my green thumb?”

You glance back at the orchid on the end table, gratefully seizing upon the change in subject. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. I mean, I’m the kind of person who can barely keep a cactus alive, so this is beyond impressive.”

Jin shrugs and leans back, making himself comfortable on the couch. “It all comes down to water and soil, at the end of the day. Knowing what kind to use—whether or not they need moss or bark chips—that kind of thing. You pick it up after long enough.”

“Not me.” You chuckle ruefully. “I didn’t even know there were different types of potting mix until an entire pallet of the stuff got misdelivered to me instead of the shop across the street. And here I was, thinking it was flour. I actually opened a bag before I realized what was going on.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his tousled hair. “Were you expecting a massive flour delivery?”

You wince at your slip-up, but it’s too late to take it back. “Right. Well. Remember when I said I baked a bit? I actually meant to say that I bake a lot. In a bakery.”

Your companion perks up. “Really? Which one?”

“Stalker much?” You frown.

Jin laughs. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. But I’ll have you know that you’re on the hook for dessert now. Think you can rustle something up for us?”

You nod toward the kitchen. “You have flour, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then, yes. I absolutely can.”

///

Snow continues to fall through the afternoon and into evening. Slowly, the sky begins to darken—fading from pale gray into a deep charcoal that cuts a striking contrast with the icy blanket of white covering the city.

“It’s still coming down out there,” you murmur, breaking the silence that has fallen over you in the past couple of hours. Together, you and Jin have watched three episodes of House Hunters and two episodes of the international version, before settling into your own individual activities. You’ve borrowed Jin’s phone charger, and Jin has pulled out his laptop and set up shop at the dining table. And while the past few hours haven’t been uncomfortable, they haven’t exactly been comfortable either. It almost feels like you’ve been left alone with the friend of a friend, without the buffer that your mutual friend would normally provide, and at a complete loss as to how to maintain a conversation without veering into personal territory.

Jin hums and shuts his laptop. “Does it look like packing snow?”

You stand up from where you’ve burrowed into the couch and head for the window, groaning as your joints creak in protest. You’d changed back into your borrowed pajamas earlier in the day, and a good thing too since the temperature seems to drop a digit with each passing hour. “Looks like the fluffy stuff,” you tell Jin, peering outside.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out for sure,” he replies, shuffling over to join you. With a click, he unlocks the window and shoves it open, wincing at the blast of chilly air and the flurry of flakes that rush in to greet him.

You take a step back, watching in amusement as Jin grabs a handful of snow from the fire escape landing and successfully balls it up. He makes two more snowballs in addition—both smaller than the first—and you giggle when you realize what he’s doing. “Have any carrots?” you ask.

“Actually, yes. Check the fridge drawer,” he replies, flashing you a grin.

You oblige him, meandering into the kitchen where the stainless steel refrigerator sits. Locating the bag of carrots proves easy, and you find the smallest one you can before returning to the open window. “How’s this?”

Jin takes it, sizing it up in his palm. “Perfect.”

With the carrot and a few pebbles pulled from one of the succulent planters on the sill, the little snowman is completed. You help Jin prop it up on the fire escape, packing snow around the sides so the wind won’t blow it over, and admiring your handiwork once it’s upright. The pebble smile is a little crooked and its nose skews heavily to the right, but you still can’t help but grin.

“I haven’t built a snowman in ages,” you admit, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm them.

Jin laughs and shuts the window, his nose reddened from the cold. “If that’s the case, I wish we could’ve done a better job. I don’t even have a spare hat to put on him, since I just took a bunch of stuff to the donation bin. Next time, maybe.”

The thought of building another snowman with Jin—a real one, out in a field somewhere instead of on his fire escape in the middle of a blizzard—makes your heart and lungs feel too big for your chest. Quickly, you clear your throat to dispel the feeling and glance back toward the kitchen. “I think I saw some ribbon over there,” you murmur. “We can at least give him a bow tie.”

“A bow tie it is, then,” Jin replies, and you dart off to fetch the spool of red ribbon you’d spotted on the counter next to the fridge.

Now that the snowman is actually complete, you and Jin close the window and return the ribbon to the kitchen. Jin begins pulling produce out of the refrigerator, and you watch him for a few seconds before turning toward a narrow door you presume is the pantry. “Flour’s on the top shelf,” Jin calls, and you nod, grabbing the half-full canister.

It only takes you a few minutes to take stock of what else Jin has in his pantry. You spot the pastel pink apron from earlier hanging from a hook on the inside of the door, and giggle to yourself at the absurdity of the prancing alpaca print. Taking it off its hook reveals another apron behind it—this one plain white and emblazoned with the words Chef Kim.

“Kim—is that your last name?” you wonder aloud.

“Full name’s Kim Seokjin, yeah.” Jin appears behind you, plucking the pink apron out of your hand and pulling it over his head. “What about you?”

You offer up your full name with a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s only fair. We never did get past first names last night.”

“Nope,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. I liked what happened instead.”

Your cheeks warm, but Jin doesn’t say anything further. Instead, he reaches past you to grab the other apron, carefully looping it over your head. “Don’t want you getting flour all over yourself,” he remarks playfully, urging you to turn so he can tie the strings behind your back. “What are you thinking of making?”

You shrug. “Do you have any preferences?”

He hums thoughtfully. “I’ll eat anything once, to be honest. What’s your favorite thing to make?”

“Well, the chocolate chip cookies are always popular. Lots of kids come in to grab some after the elementary school lets out. But I’ve always liked making croissants the most.”

“Nothing better than a fresh croissant,” Jin agrees. “And pain au chocolat? Best of both worlds. Though I guess elementary schoolers probably wouldn’t have the right palate for that.”

You smile and glance back at the pantry once more. “Probably not. It looks like you don’t have any chocolate anyway, so pain au chocolat is out of the question.” Then your eyes alight on a colorful canister on the bottom shelf. “Are those rainbow sprinkles?”

Jin follows the trajectory of your gaze. “Oh, yeah. I attempted a funfetti cake for a friend’s birthday the other week. Box mix, nothing fancy. Probably nothing compared to what you could do.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a good box mix,” you reply, grabbing the sprinkles and placing them on the counter next to the flour. “Most can be improved drastically by substituting milk for the water and adding an extra egg.”

“Milk and an extra egg—got it,” Jin repeats. Turning to the cabinets, he pulls out a pot and sets it on the stovetop. “So what about dinner? Soup sound good to you?”

“Soup sounds perfect,” you tell him. “How do you feel about sugar cookies? I can whip up some frosting and we can decorate them with sprinkles.”

Jin beams. “That sounds perfect.”

///

There’s something painfully domestic about cooking dinner with someone else—a certain ebb and flow in the way you move about the kitchen. The aroma rising up from the simmering pot on the stove is already beginning to make your mouth water, and Jin inhales deeply as he passes by the oven on his way to the liquor cabinet on the other side.

“Those smell amazing,” he says, leaning down to peer at the sheet of cookies.

You nod at the soup. “That smells amazing.”

“We’re in for an amazing meal, then,” he replies, straightening up to his full height and opening the liquor cabinet. “So what do you want to drink with it? Wine okay?”

“Sure. Red, if you have it.”

Jin grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf. “Cabernet sauvignon, right? I remember.”

Cabernet sauvignon is what you’d been drinking at the bar when you first met. The fact that he remembers releases a flock of butterflies in your stomach, flurrying about like the snow outside in the wind. Accepting the glass he hands over, you offer him a grateful smile before taking a sip to quash the new residents of your belly. “You sure you’re not a stalker?” you tease once you’ve swallowed.

“Hey, this is what people do when they first meet,” Jin defends. “They get to know each other, try and see if they fit. Ever heard of such a thing?”

You take another sip of wine before bending down to check on the cookies again. “Maybe once or twice.”

Inhaling deeply, you savor the warm scent of vanilla wafting from the oven. The smell alone is enough to tell you that they’re close to being done, and when you take in the golden hue, you know it for a fact. “Not to toot my own horn,” you remark, donning an oven mitt and pulling out the tray, “but this might be the best work I’ve ever done.”

Jin peers over your shoulder, sniffing appreciatively. “I believe it,” he says. “Anything I can do to help?”

You shake your head and select a spatula from the array of implements in the decorative ceramic pitcher next to the stove. “I’m just going to lay these out on a plate to cool. Then I’ll start on the frosting.” Curiously, you glance into the simmering pot on the stove. “What about you? Do you need any help?”

“Nope.” Jin gives the pot a stir. “This is just about done, anyway, so do you want to eat now?”

You shrug. “Sure. It’ll take at least half an hour for the cookies to cool completely. I don’t want to cover your kitchen in melted frosting and rainbow sprinkles.”

“That wouldn’t be ideal,” Jin agrees with a laugh. “Go on then, take a seat. I’ll bring you a bowl.”

///

Evening fades into the velvety dark of nighttime. Dinner is done, the cookies are decorated and eaten, and you once again find yourself in Jin’s bed. He’s given you a fresh shirt to sleep in—this one bright blue with the outline of a cartoon whale—and you relax against the pillows as Jin climbs under the covers beside you and makes himself comfortable.

“Ready for me to turn off the lights?” he asks.

You nod. “Go ahead.”

In an instant, the bedroom is plunged into darkness. It takes a few long seconds for your eyes to adjust, but you don’t need your sight to enact your plan. Gently, you reach out, your searching fingers settling on Jin’s broad chest. You hear him whisper your name—his voice questioning—but you silence him with a soft murmur and a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Carefully, you shift the blankets aside, straddling his toned thighs.

From there, it’s easy to descend down the taut expanse of his abdomen. Greedily, you push his shirt up to explore each ridge and dip of muscle, trailing from his dusky nipples down to the sharp angles of his pelvic bone. You don’t miss the slow rise of his cock against your leg, and finally dip down to give it some attention when Jin groans, mouthing at the head through the soft material of his pajama pants.

“{Name},” Jin rasps. “Not—not that I’m not enjoying this, because I really, really am. But why are you doing this?”

You glance up, taking in his shadowed face. “I never did thank you for your hospitality,” you breathe. “So, why don’t you relax and let me give you a proper thank you?”

Jin groans again, his hands finding your shoulders, and you take that as acquiescence. Ever so slowly, you free his cock from the confines of his pants, suckling at the flared head and smirking when he hisses through his teeth. Determined to elicit a more vocal reaction, you sink farther down, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside and relishing the way his thighs clench.

It isn’t long before Jin is cumming down your throat, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he watches you lick your lips in satisfaction. “Your turn,” he rasps. “On your back for me, baby.”

You shake your head, pushing him away when his hand grazes your knee. “This was me saying thank you, remember? You don’t owe me a thing.”

Jin’s palm finds your cheek, cupping it gently as he presses a kiss to your mouth. “I want to, though.”

The sincerity lacing his voice makes your heart lurch dangerously against your ribcage. “In the morning, then,” you tell him. “In the morning.”

///

It’s exactly 6:47 when you clamber out of Jin’s bed, stripping out of his oversized pajamas and back into your own clothing. You cringe as you pull your dress over your hips, trying your best to forget that it’s two days old at this point.

Outside, the blizzard has finally died down. A glance out the window confirms that the snowplows have started making their rounds, and you send a mental thank you to your city’s public works department for their quick action.

Jin is still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with his breath beneath the thin white cotton of his t-shirt. His dark lashes flutter against the soft swell of his cheeks, his hair like spilled ink against the cream of his pillow, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to turn away. Quietly, you slip out of the bedroom, easing the door shut behind you. On your way to the front door, you catch a glimpse of the snowman you’d built yesterday through the window, covered in a thick layer of snow that obscures every detail of its face except the orange carrot nose.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is short, and you’re grateful to see that the snow around the door has been shoveled away. Past that, the city is nothing short of a winter wonderland, a blanket of white stretching as far as the eye can see. The sidewalks remain untouched at this early hour, so you opt to walk in the street, grateful for the durable leather and the sensible wedge heel on your boots.

The subways are up and running—you’d ensured as much when you woke up, checking the schedule on your fully charged phone. The nearest station is a mere three blocks away, and the next train in twelve minutes. You’ll make it with time to spare.

Three blocks and you can forget about all of this.

Twelve minutes, and you can leave all memory of Kim Seokjin behind.

///

As much as you love snow, you hate the aftermath. It’s snowed almost every day in the two weeks since the blizzard, and you hate how it’s all accumulated at the side of the road, exacerbated by constant plowing and blackened by grime. You hate how it seems to have brought out the worst drivers in the city in droves, stalling in the crosswalks and honking like distressed seals. You hate the excessive salt sprinkled on the sidewalks.

But most of all, you hate this—the wet, gray-black slush that customers mindlessly trail into the bakery, slicking the polished hardwood floor and soaking the cheery mat at the door that bids them to come again soon!

“More like come again never,” you grouse under your breath as the bell jingles, signaling a customer’s departure. Peering over the counter, you eye the slushy buildup that’s been left in their wake and sigh. “Jungkookie? Could you mop up in the front again, please?”

A mop of tousled black hair pops out from the back of the shop, framing wide doe eyes and a crumb-dusted mouth. “Be right there!” he calls, and you thank him before turning back to the front door with a slight pang of guilt in your chest. This is the third time he’s had to mop up since opening an hour ago, but you like to think you pay him well enough—both in wages and free donuts whenever he gets peckish. Besides, Jungkook loves this place as much as you do. His baking talent doesn’t go far beyond eating said baking, but he has an astute eye for detail and a skill with frosting that rivals your own. He’s a whiz with the cash register, too, and you have no doubt that the increased sales whenever he’s up front has everything to do with the influx of college girls that flock to the bakery when they see him there.

The morning rush seems to have settled. A few customers remain, seated at the little round tables that litter the front of the bakery, sipping on coffee and munching on their breakfast. Through the tall glass windows, you spot a few fat white flakes of snow spiraling down from the overcast sky, and glance down at your phone to check the weather when the bell over the door tinkles gently.

“Hi, welcome to Tu—” The words freeze in your throat. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Kim Seokjin grins and loosens the knot of his scarf, his head and shoulders dusted with white. “So, this is where you work? At Turbinado?”

“I own Turbinado,” you retort, the response automatic. “And you, apparently, are a stalker.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.” Jin raises his hands up innocently, his fingers sheathed in red-and-white striped wool. “Well, okay, I thought you might work here. See, I still owe you something, but you left before I could pay you back and I don’t think that’s very fair.”

Your cheeks heat up at the memory of your last night at Jin’s apartment, and the events that transpired. Still, you manage to maintain a flippant facade, huffing out a sigh. “So you resorted to stalking me? How did you even figure out I worked here, anyway?”

“Well, I knew it was a bakery,” Jin replies. “You mentioned that you get a lot of elementary schoolers coming in, and that you once received a mixed up potting soil delivery. And this—” he gestures around, “—is the only bakery in the city that’s within walking distance of both a flower shop and an elementary school. It was pretty easy to find.”

“So now you’re a detective too?” You snort. “That’s more interesting than accounting, at least.”

Jin’s grin widens. “Hey, look at that. You remembered something about me.”

You roll your eyes and glance back down at your phone where the weather app is forecasting more snow in the afternoon. “Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Jin chuckles. He steps forward until he’s directly across from you, and with only the narrow counter separating the two of you, you’re reminded just how handsome he truly is. Slowly, the hibernating butterflies in your belly begin to stir.

“Are you even going to ask for my order?” Jin asks when you hesitate a moment too long.

You sigh. “Fine. What do you want?”

“One pain au chocolat,” he replies, gesturing at the display case. “And a date, if you’re willing.”

Your jaw drops, and when you find your voice again, it’s little more than a stammer. “A date? Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Jin fishes his wallet out of his pocket. “That’s what people do, you know, when they like each other.”

“But I don’t do that. Date, I mean.”

Jin grins. “But you do like me."

“You—I mean, what makes you think—” You trail off, your protests dying on your tongue. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

Another grin—this one tinged with mischief. “Unbelievable? I can make a poem with that.” And before you can sigh or roll your eyes again, he continues. “Unlikely meeting you here? Believe it, baby. Able…” He pauses. “Am I able to kiss you now?”

Irrepressible laughter bubbles up in your chest and escapes out into the open air, mingling with the scent of warm cinnamon and vanilla that suffuses the shop. “That was terrible.”

“But you didn’t say no,” Jin replies, cocking his head to the side. Slowly, he leans over the counter, his gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek and giving you plenty of time to pull away.

But you don’t want to pull away. Jin’s lips are cold, but warm up quickly as they mold against yours, just as plush and pillowy soft as you remember them.

“So, is that a yes to the date?” he murmurs, pulling away just enough to whisper the question against your lips. And you can only nod, your fingers closing around the knitted scarf around his neck to pull him into another kiss.

///

Bonus -

You’re pulling a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, your lips still swollen from the memory of Jin’s kisses, when the man himself pipes up from the seat he’s taken at the round table nearest the counter. “Hey, {Name}?”

“Hmm?”

“My pain au chocolat is free now, right?”

“… get out of my shop.”

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villain-enthusiast · 3 years

Note

helloooooo, i don’t know if you have something like this already, but can you write a snippet where villain and hero are currently having a battle, but villain notices that hero’s attacks are weak and not very effective. hero ends up telling them that a new supervillain has been keep them preoccupied, which makes villain jealous so they end up offering to help hero defeat the villain. IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN, SMTH LIKE THAT

“Someone’s all sluggish today,” Villain teased, easily dodging Hero’s sputtering attempt at a fireball before they countered with their own powers, throwing a gust of wind at Hero and slamming them into the wall, back to brick.

Hero groaned, barely getting to their feet before Villain drew a knife from their belt and lunged at them, narrowly missing their shoulder.

“And yet, you can’t be...bothered to go any...easier?” Hero panted heavily as they scrambled for the dagger at their belt with one hand, the other trying to summon a blaze of flame and failing miserably . “I...I’m a little tired.”

Villain snorted and pounced, knocking them to the ground in a flurry of dust and dirt. They held their blade weapon to Hero’s throat and smiled as their eyes widened in fear.

“Tired, you say?” Villain said, tilting their head “All the better for me.”

Hero glared at them and attempted to throw them off, trying to bring their knees to their chest, but Villain shoved them back down with ease. “Try to get up and I’ll slit your throat.”

Hero froze, chest heaving, blood tricking down the side of their face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Mm, I think I would if I wanted to.” Villain used the tip of their knife to brush strands of hair out of Hero’s face, watching as they shivered, as their muscles clenched and unclenched. “After all, it would be the perfect opportunity considering how exhausted you are right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

Hero narrowed their eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve been doing to keep this city safe. It’s hard work picking up after every villain’s shit.”

Villain paused. “Every villain?”

Hero blinked several times and opened their mouth to say something, evidently forgot what they had in mind, and closed it.

Then it clicked. Villain grabbed Hero’s collar and yanked them forward, wind blowing around them in angry gusts as their magic rose to the surface. “It’s that new guy in town, isn’t it? Supervillain? Are they why you look like a limp fish and can’t summon anything more than a spitfire? Have you been fighting them?”

Hero winced. “I...yeah,” they muttered. “It’s not like there’s anyone else out there willing to take care of them.”

Villain, for some indiscernible reason, felt rage boil hot in their stomach. There was another villain attempting to combat their Hero. “No one,” they hissed, “no one is allowed to hurt you, fight you, chase you, except for me. Do you understand?”

Hero scowled at them. “Well unfortunately, it seems that Supervillain isn’t just going to explode into a million dust particles anytime soon.”

Villain frowned and released Hero’s shirt before standing up, sheathing the knife at their belt. They held out a hand to Hero, who looked up at them in silent confusion.

“You’re going to need help if you want to beat Supervillain,” Villain clarified, voice bitter. “And what better way would that be than to team up?”

“I’m not going to team up with you.”

“You should. Or else I’m going to beat the living shit out of you next time we fight, and I’m not going to offer this to you again.” Villain hesitated. “And Supervillain is a pain in the ass anyway.”

Hero was silent for another moment, then they grabbed their hand, allowing Villain to help them up. Only then did they see the flush of their cheeks, the hate simmering in their eyes.

“Are you...jealous?”

“No!” Villain snarled, but the tone in their voice gave it all away.

Hero had to hide their smile as they walked off together.

#hero #villain #hero and villain #villain and hero #hero/villain #villain/hero #hero x villain #villain x hero #enemies to lovers #possessive villain #superpowers #my writing #writing snippet #ask #villain-enthusiast

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renaerys · 4 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

#Blossick #PPG Reds #Blossom #Brick #Powerpuff Girls #PPG Fanfic #Powerpuff Girls Fanfiction #february fic prompts #ppg shook

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

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Omg idea. Jercy right (I am jercy trash) But focusing on dark jason. Idk if he needs help stopping or embracing it but I really love dark jason. Could go all the way with dark percy as well or nah I just really like dark jason

Hello Anon, you really know how to make me go completely batshit when it comes to these two! And I fully agree I too love Dark Jason so here you are my darling.

This is a "before" of this fic, because I felt like it needed a Jason POV.

Btdubs: karus means precious/beloved in Latin. Enjoy my friend!

Masterlist

Jason Grace woke up to a cold bed. That was the first red flag. He frowned, blinking the sleep from his eyes and fumbling for his glasses.

"Percy?" He called, voice deep and groggy, "Pers? You there, love?"

The silence that greeted him was cold, eery.

"Jackson, come on this is not funny." He stepped into the kitchen, expecting to see a head of black curls pop up behind the counter and scare him.

What he found was worse. There on the kitchen counter, glinting against the grey morning light was a silver dagger, and underneath it, a note.

His blood turned to slush, the temperature of the room plummeting. His hands trembled as he picked up the paper.

hello my hero,

my, my it has been a while. we have a boy with gorgeous green eyes and the darlingest curls. i think he belongs to you. but that can change if you don't hand over the key.

see you soon.

—C

Jason ripped the paper in half. And then flung the dagger across the room. It landed in the middle of the wall, inches from a framed picture of him and Percy. He would kill the motherfucker with that dagger. Would smile as he felt the blade go through skin and bone. He would slaughter him.

His fingers sparked, burned with the need to summon lightning, to harness electricity. He flexed them, rolling his neck, but kept the power inside. Let it simmer. The time would come to use it.

He stalked down the stairwell, slamming the door open hard enough to crack the wall. He didn't notice, didn't care.

"Where is he?"

Blue eyes dancing with fire locked onto a hooded figure standing on the opposite side of the street. With unnatural speed he moved towards them.

The figure chuckled.

But Jason was not in the mood to dance. This was not a game of tag.

He growled, grabbing the stranger by the throat and smashing them against the brick wall.

"Where the fuck is he?"

The stranger, who finally looks up, smiled, "You didn't think it'd be this easy did you?"

"Cato." He spat, "Of course. Ever the lackey aren't you?"

The demigod gurgled, throat still caught in his grip, "You always were jealous."

"Just fucking take me to him you son of a bitch."

"Make me Grace," And before he could blink Cato was slamming their elbow into his face and kicking their leg into his stomach.

Jason bowed over, gasping for breath.

"Stand up and fight Grace, these Greeks have made you weak."

He didn't bother to reply, instead pulling in lungfuls of air, feeling for the currents running through the air and under his feet.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please," Cato sniffed, "Your little lover boy was so easy to kidnap I could practically do it with my eyes closed."

"Where is he?" He yelled.

"Walk with me."

Before he could argue the demigod was slipping into the alley and jumping over a fence.

"What the fuck does Cor— he want anyway?"

"You asking me what your karus wants?"

His voice was hard, "He isn't my anything."

"Mhm yes I suppose since you have a new beaux now." Brown eyes glinted, "It was great fun this morning. He is very pretty, although he did not take kindly to us threatening you."

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, "You what?"

"Yes," Cato mused, "He looked like he wanted to tie our organs together and feed them to a hell hound when we threatened to kill you if he didn't come with us."

He bared his teeth at the casualness in their tone, "I'm going to kill all of you."

"You can try little one, but then you'll never see your lover boy again."

He had heard enough.

With a low, sadistic growl he summoned electricity from the power line above them. Watching as it crackled at his fingers, dancing from one tip to the next. He looked at his escort, smiled coldly and threw it straight into the demigod's gaping mouth.

Cato didn't have time to blink before their insides turned to ash. Jason left them burning from the within and prowled down the streets. He could hear Percy's voice like a soft caress at his ear.

I am here, my love. I am with you. They will suffer, drown, burn for ripping us apart. We will decimate them for what they have done.

He would find his boyfriend himself. And then he would make bonfires of their bodies for ever thinking they could take his love.

It didn't take long. The instincts Lupa had taught him to use, lead him to a warehouse on an abandoned street. Power thrummed under his skin, rolling through his core.

He knocked at the door, holding in a laugh when the slot opened to reveal pale blue eyes and a freckled nose.

"I'm here for collection."

The bolt clicked and he slammed into the door.

"Where is he?"

The girl, with her wine red hair and full leather outfit, pointed to the stairs with a sickly sweet smile, "He's been waiting for you."

"I should have killed you when I got the chance." He gave her a feral grin and ripped the air from her lungs.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp before she crumpled to the ground, clawing at her throat desperately enough to draw blood.

He bounded up the stairs and flung open the door. Three more demigods were waiting.

"GIVE HIM TO ME!"

"I see your time away has ruined your manners."

Oh they wanted to play. Fine. He would play. He set his sights on the one in the middle, who was swinging a sword between strong, supple fingers.

"So we meet again Grace."

Jason didn't bother to respond. Instead he grabbed hold of all the delightful currents running underneath the demigod's smooth swarthy skin— the currents that controlled every part of the body; that make the brain fire and the spine work. He grabbed ahold of those little sparks of electricity and pulled them out like a sick handkerchief party trick.

The demigod screamed, collapsing in parts as their feet then legs then arms then body stopped responding. There was only hate in their eyes when they finally stopped moving.

He turned to the other two, savagery glittering in his own eyes.

"Who's next?"

"I think you are?"

He felt a stab in his neck, and then nauseating dizziness. He screamed as he crashed to the floor. The world went dark.

#This is darker than usual #I hope it fulfilled your dark Jason needs anon #Dark Jason #Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #Jason #Grace #PJSSG asks #PJSSG fanfic #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series #Ciara's Convos #She speaks #Let him go #Fanfic continuation

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 3 years

Text

16.21, melt, chad gable

Title: melt

Theme: snow

Fandom / Character(s): Chad Gable & a random oc, Sophie.

Warnings: a very handsy makeout and cute awkward flirting, idk.

Word Count: my guesstimate is roughly around 1k. Maybe sliiightly over.

So... I wrote this on a whim. I literally just got the idea to write something cute and fluffy for a wrestler who doesn’t have many fics out there for him, (which to me, is a bit of a damn shame) and I wanted to write a snowball fight, so.. Here we fucking go, lol. Sophie is a character I made up,btw...This is my entry for the day for @champbucks 12 Days of Christmas challenge.

Again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal/repost.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif

@sassymox

@champbucks

@hungmanhorsecarriage

@wardl0w

@ryantaylorgirl

@dilfmoxley

@hotyeehawman

@gabbynorth98

@bec0m

@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

@daddyslittlevillain

[ about page | masterlist | tag list ]

I hadn’t been able to get out of the building fast enough. The second I finished my last patch up job for the night, I was shoving through the crowd and making a beeline for the door that led out of the arena, one goal in mind… To at least enjoy a little of the first snowfall of winter.

I stepped out the door and into the parking lot, stretching out my arms and throwing my head back. I didn’t care that the snow was falling heavier now and that it was cold, wet against my warm skin as it melted.

It felt so good. The world was coated in a powdery and shimmering coat of white and everything looked so damn pure. And at the moment, my tracks from the door to where I stood were the only tracks to disturb the good half inch of snow already gathered on the ground. I spun in a half circle, arms still stretched wide just taking it all in.

The snow, the chill in the air. The twinkling lights that circled a shrub nearby.

I laughed out loud at myself and took a deep breath, as if I could breathe in the scent of winter’s magic. As far as I knew, I had the lot to myself for the time being because everyone else was still inside, still filming the last hour of the show. I flopped down onto the sidewalk and leaned back against a brick half wall, staring up at the night sky.

The sound of the door being thrown open and then slammed shut, followed by nearly growled swears had me peeping around the corner of the little brick half wall I was mostly hidden behind. Chad Gable was sitting on the concrete walkway, right outside of the door, his head in his hands. I sighed to myself and shook my head because I knew things were rough for him.

It bothered me. A lot more than it should.

,, because you’ve got a monster crush on the guy, Sophie.” my brain taunted. And with that thought and my earlier conversation with Nikki and Alexa about finally acting on said crush, I stood and took a deep breath, gathering some snow in my hands, packing it lightly as a teasing and playful grin filled my face.

I crept up on him carefully, clearing my throat when I stood in front of him. Tapping my foot slightly. Chad looked up, giving me his best “i’m fine, this is fine” grin and I bit my lip, not bothering to hide the fact that I was staring at his mouth. Hard.

Shaking my head about it, I spoke up. “You gonna sit here and fume all night or..?”

“Or what, exactly?” Chad asked in a quiet tone. I sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m about to do this for yer own good, Gable. Somebody needs t’ cool y’ down.”

I raised the hand I held my haphazardly rolled snowball in and I pitched it lazily, right at him. He wiped his face and I took off at a run, giggling, stopping about halfway across the lot to call out to him, “Well? You gonna sit there all night, Gable, or are you gonna do somethin about it?”

Chad eyed me a second or two, a brow raised. I tapped my foot impatiently against crunchy snow and called out to him again, “C’mon, Gable.. Afraid you’re goin t’ melt?”

He stood, chuckling quietly as he gathered some snow in his hands and I smiled to myself, darting away at a run. Attempting to get back behind my half wall cover. Instead, I tripped and slid, settling behind it. Chad was hot on my heels, so when I landed, he tripped over my foot and landed… Right on top of me.

I giggled out in a rush, “Ya know.. Normally, I require that the guy buy me drinks first.” as I moved my hand around a little, grabbing hold of some more snow. Chad seemed to have the same idea, feeling around beside him without breaking my gaze, smirking just a little. He grabbed a handful of snow and before I could try to curl into myself to protect myself from what was about to happen, his hand slipped just beneath the hem of my favorite long sleeve shirt and my breath caught in my throat.

The icy cold snow melted against my warm skin, rolling down my abdomen, making me squirm against him a little as I raised my hand and managed to place the handful of snow I’d gathered while lying trapped beneath him right down the back of the neck of his bright blue tee shirt. The laughter died on our mouths as soon as we locked eyes again and I gulped when I realized that yes, we were still laying in the snow, Chad was still on top of me and neither one of us had bothered to actually move.

But I couldn’t stop staring, see.. It started with those damn blue eyes.. Then it wound up with me, staring intently at his lips and licking my own. He cleared his throat and went to sit up, but before I could stop myself, I was grabbing hold of the front of his shirt, pulling him back down. He chuckled quietly, a brow raised. A few seconds passed, hot and heavy and dominating the air between us to a point where I couldn’t breathe and he muttered, “Sophie?”

“Yeah?”

“If you want to do something, do it.” he mumbled, smirking when instead of just going for it, I froze for a second or two. “I thought so.” he mumbled a second or two later.

And something in me snapped.

“Do something, huh?” I mumbled as I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck, my fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck as I pressed myself against him fully and slowly, inched my mouth against his, clumsily connecting with the corner. Chad groaned quietly and just as I went to pull my mouth away, his mouth connected with mine completely, his tongue dancing over the outline of my lips, parting them and tangling with my tongue as he deepened the kiss to a point where I almost couldn’t catch my breath and I wasn’t sure if we were breathing on our own or breathing for each other.

His lips strayed from mine when the kiss broke, dancing carefully down my throat and my fingers dug into his shoulder and scalp as I whimpered quietly and my breath caught in my throat all over again and when his eyes met mine, I bit my cheek and worked on trying to pull myself together. But it was too late, the fire was lit. I reached out and gripped his jaw, pulling his mouth back down and against mine all over again, a kiss so deep and needy that I could feel his lips starting to swell a little when it broke. He chuckled, a groan coming shortly after when I rubbed against him just a little.

And from above us, a throat cleared and Baron Corbin pretended to gag, right before dumping a bucket of snow down on both of us and smirking. “Thought you two could use the cool down.”

As Baron walked off, we sat up, Chad moving to sit behind me with his arms around me. I called out to Baron with a laugh, “Awww… Somebody mad because nobody wants to kiss his greasy ass?”

Baron flipped me off over his shoulder and I glared, rolling my eyes before turning my attention back to Chad. “So...you were saying? About me, doing what I want?”

“You wanted to kiss me…”

“I mean, that’s not even half of what I wanna do, but it’s a start. C’mon, Chad. My ass is frozen and I’m pretty sure I smelled cocoa down in the catering area.” I hopped up and held out my hand. Chad took hold of it, letting me think I’d pulled him up out of the snow and he chuckled quietly, staring at me and shaking his head, almost as if he were more than a little shocked.

He should honestly try being me right now, because never… Not in a million years.. Did I once think I’d actually go for it.

#12 days of christmas #chad gable fanfiction #chad gable fanfic #chad gable imagine #chad gable imagines #my writing; chad gable #my fics; chad gable #my oneshots; chad gable #teeth rotting fluff ahead #12daysofchristmas

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angstyaches · 4 years

Text

Home in Time for Breakfast

Direct continuation of Chapter 5.

Trigger warnings: emeto mention, force feeding, saliva (idk, I feel like some people wouldn't like it), manhandling, gaslighting/emotional abuse, body horror.

If you guys want a follow-up/recovery chapter, let me know because I can’t decide whether to write one or move on to the next thing.

Swallow the World, Chapter 6

Watson retracted his bat’s wings and morphed into his human form, throwing me against the steps leading up to the front door. My hands scraped on the brick, though it was nothing compared to the punctures in my shoulders. My head was spinning from being carried so high above the town and the trees, but I didn’t have long to recover from the air sickness.

Madelyn stormed down the steps towards us. I scrambled to my feet before she could order Watson to drag me up, but as soon as I did, she slapped me across the face.

I barely blinked, though I had to lower my eyes as I focused on keeping the sting of tears out of my eyes. The rising sun spilled light across the patch of red and white roses below the front windows of the house.

“Found him at the Mulberry house,” Watson told her.

“He broke a fucking window,” I muttered.

“I knew you were ungrateful, Shayne, but I never thought you were an idiot,” Madelyn snarled. She was so angry her lips were pulling back over her teeth. They hadn’t quite elongated into fangs yet, but I could tell she was close to letting them.

“You never told me anyone had moved in,” I said.

I glanced between the pair of them. This was true; Charlie and his parents had been living in the Mulberry house for months now, but I’d never heard Madelyn or Watson utter a word about it.

“Did you know?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I be keeping an eye on them? Does that not fall under my duties or whatever?”

“Watson, get him inside before he wakes the neighbours with his whining,” Madelyn ordered.

Watson’s hand – human-shaped and sharply cold – gripped the back of my neck. “You heard the lady.”

“Making up problems isn’t a duty, Shayne,” Madelyn said, walking up the steps ahead of us. “Solving them is. Now, I asked you earlier if you would finish a job that Watson started, which, by the way, he’s under no obligation to do.”

I wanted to tell her that I was under no obligation either, but I didn’t feel like getting another slap for my collection. I let Watson guide me through the ornate arched doorway to the kitchen, where Madelyn had placed the warding jar in the centre of the sleek marble countertop.

Dread squirmed in my belly like a horrible fish.

“Wait,” I said, hating how it came out as a low whimper. “I have to go to school in a few hours –”

“Watson will call in sick for you.”

“I can’t just keep –”

I hissed through my teeth, my shoulders screaming with pain as Watson spun me around towards the countertop.

Madelyn slid the jar in front of me. I tried to hold my jaw in place before the contractions could settle in. My hands grabbed at the edge of the countertop, like I could somehow push myself away from it, but Watson’s vice-like grip held me in place by my neck and shoulder.

“No kicking up a fuss this time,” he said.

“Alright,” I growled. “If you let me keep an eye on the Mulberry house. From now on, until those humans are gone.”

“And what the hell would spark your interest in that house, after all these years?” Madelyn demanded.

A sliver of dread crawled up my spine. I couldn’t tell them about Charlie. Charlie the half-demon who’d drooled on me in his sleep. Charlie the half-demon who they would have me deal with in the quickest, most brutal way. Charlie the half-demon who’d let me sleep on his bed with him without me even asking. The warmth of the memory was already crumbling away, hurtling out of my reach.

“They’re a couple,” I said. “The same age as my parents - the age my parents should be by now. I can’t - I can’t let the same thing happen to them.”

“I see,” Madelyn chuckled. “What do you think, Watson?”

Watson pointedly tightened his grip on me. “About time the little shit started taking on some responsibility.”

“See, you’re starting to understand, aren’t you? This…” Madelyn said sweetly, clicking her sharp nails against the jar lid before wrapping her palm around it. “This is what you’re for, Shayne.”

I shook my head, a high-pitched whimper leaking out from between my teeth. The nervous feeling in my belly was shifting into something else, something primal and sickening and unnatural.

As Madelyn popped the lid off the jar, the demon instantly drank down the light in the kitchen, even blacking out the streaks of morning sun that had been dancing across the tiles. I could just about make out the edges of the jar. A demon of darkness. Would have caused a human to end their own life within weeks of possession. My hands broke free of their grip on the countertop, and didn’t shake once as they closed around the jar. Thick, unnatural fluid began to flood my cheeks.

“That’s it,” Madelyn cooed, brushing a lock of my hair back with a fingernail. “Just let it happen. Enjoy it, sweet boy.”

“What’s your name?” I hissed, saliva moving in waves down my chin.

j̶̩̰͚̣̦͐̎̏̇̓ͅy̴̰͈̙̞̟͒͊̍͒͒̽͆ğ̶̜͕́̌̈́̈́d̷̠̖͋͂͋́̏͘͝ͅȑ̷͉̟̫͓̆͒

I didn’t know the language of the demons, but I knew it wasn’t the name I wanted. I’d know it when I heard it again. I suddenly felt sick, and in trying to cover my mouth, I almost knocked the jar over. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

“– against the wall –” were the next words I heard from Madelyn.

Watson’s hands warped into claws again and he pulled at the shoulders of my jacket. My legs almost got left behind as he dragged me, slamming my back against the exposed-brick wall. Madelyn was in close pursuit, the warding jar still in her hands. My mouth started to water down my chin again, though I had a feeling some of the liquid was streaming from my eyes now too.

“Wait – I just –” The waves going through the muscles in my mouth and throat made my voice sound warped and strangled. Watson dragged me a little further up the wall, brick dragging at my back as my feet lifted slightly off the floor.

Madelyn moved the jar closer to me, and my hands closed around it. I felt my organs start to relax and reorganise themselves, acid burning in my stomach and leaping into my throat. My inner muscles pulsed, rippled, almost pulling the entire jar into my mouth until I tightened my hold on it.

The glass was so cold that it burned my lips until they went numb. My jaw cracked and dislodged from my skull on both sides, the pain dragging a strangled moan out of me. The bounced echoed hollowly inside the jar.

I drew the demon into my mouth as easily as air into my lungs, feeling it weakly unfurl the folds and tendrils of itself. As it moved from the jar into the back of my throat, I felt myself swallow and gag at the same time. My teeth clamped shut over its back as it wriggled limply, its strength completely sapped from being trapped in the jar.

I felt Madelyn put her cold hands on my neck and tilt my head back a little further to make it harder for the demon to resist the pull towards my throat. I would have screamed, if there had been anywhere for the scream to go, because it was

just so

wonderful horrible pain pain pain vengeance this is what i’m for this is what i’m for this is

#shayne #swallow the world #plot #tw abuse #tw force feeding #tw mandhandling #demonic devouring #no emeto #pain #whump #whump shayne #belly kink #emetophilia

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Note

G or H with Legend?! :D thank u!

G: a fistfight

-o-o-o-o-

WARNINGS: This drabble has some non-consentual touching. Nothing overly sexual, just chest/face stuff. If that's not your tea, then don't read, and if you do read and have any discomfort, don't get mad at me about it because I have warned ya. This took a different direction than what I was planning, but idk it was fun to write. There's also some injury/blood description but that's expected with me.

-o-o-o-o-

"Out of all the heroes in your little group," she sneers, lips curling in a horrible smirk as the air around her sparks with electricity with her evil magic, "you're the worst of them. And I know, because I've seen all of their heads."

Legend can hardly stand. His entire body aches with a bone deep pain, his sword arm is limp to his side, blood dripping down from a multitude of nasty cuts, his sword shattered at his feet. He can't listen to her words, she's been in his head and she's seen everything, and no matter how true or false her words are, he cannot fall here. He cannot. He has others to save.

The witch crackles as he painfully straightens his stance, he can barely feel his legs but he stands as tall as he can. He can fight her, even without his sword. Even without any of his weapons. Even though she knows so much about him and all of his strengths and weaknesses. His battles. His enemies. His failures. That cursed spell she hit him with showed her everything, but that doesn't mean she knows him. He can best her, bare handed if he must.

"How many people have you failed, hero?" She asks. She sounds too happy. Like she's already won, and it has him grinding his teeth. "More than you've saved, that's for sure."

"SHUT UP!" Legend snarls. His legs feel like ground meat but he rushes forward anyway as he reals back his good hand and aims right for her jaw.

His throws his punch, and she's not there. Moved out of the way like a water spider on a still pond. Before he could even look around and find her, a fist is slammed into his side, violently emptying his lungs. He chokes for air and stumbles back to find her standing besides him with a smile on her face. Her suffocating magic aura is no longer in the air; she's deemed him weak enough to not even have to use her magic any longer. It makes his toes curl in anger.

She's enjoying herself. Like a snake, she is enjoying herself. "How many people were on that island?" She asks, skipping everything else has has ever done and going for the throat.

He would be lying if he said he didn't flinch, not that he would admit it either. "You don't know anything!"

"Oh but I saw it all," she replies back in a soothing voice that could only be described as toxic. She's drunk with her own power, he doesn't need to see her blood to know she's infected. Something enhanced her power, and she used it to capture everyone. Everyone but him. She wanted to play mind games, telling him from the beginning that she feeds off pain like a parasite, and according to her he's dripping with it. "I saw that island. I saw the monsters you brought there, the people they've harmed."

"Stop it."

"The girl? What was her name? M-"

Legend cuts her off with a scream, angrily rushing forward to try and shut her up. She doesn't know. She doesn't understand. Seeing isn't the same as knowledge; you can see a word but not understand what it means. He knows this. He knows this. She doesn't know, she doesn't understand, she doesn't know him, she doesn't understand his past, she doesn't know her, she doesn't understand what he did to her.

He misses again, and this time it has more consequences than a simple jab to the side. The side of his face explodes in agony as knuckles slam into his cheek. He reals backwards and blindly swings his fist again. His head is spinning but he can feel his fist hit something. Her shoulder, perhaps? Either way, he doubles over as a hard jab slams into his stomach with a heaving gasp. Spittle flies from his mouth and his ears begin to ring.

He's been trained on so many weapons, but there's nothing quite light fighting with your own hands with someone else, nothing quite like losing to that someone else.

And he knows he's losing. He knows he's losing because hands wrap around his collar and slam him backwards against a stone pillar nearby. His back erupts in agony and his lungs shutter to try and suck in air, but he grabs at her hands that are still around his collar. Her face is right up at his.

"You're pathetic," she says. And yes, he does flinch. He feels raw, peeled away like a patient knife to the bark of a branch. "You've lied and cheated and sought for your own happiness, not caring about the people you hurt, the people you kill along the way. What would the others say, to know their veteran is so dishonorable."

"It wasn't real!" He screeches and tries to hit her face, but the air around her crackles and while he does hit her, it's like he hits a brick wall instead of her cheeks. She leers over him, her height giving her an intimidating advantage as she brings her face closer. Fear makes his heart jump as her mouth goes to his throat, stopping before contact can be made but her hot breath makes him want to puke. She's like a predator, and not for the first time in his life he feels like a cornered rabbit.

"You're in so much pain," she says softly. Raspy. "It's so good. You're a gold mine of emotions and I can hardly contain myself from..."

She brings her face away from his neck and before he could take a breath his lips are stolen. He gasps into her mouth and tries to back away, but the stone pillar is hard and unmovable behind him. She deepens her mouth onto his and moans, her hands trailing on his body, leaving poison in their wake. He's never felt so scared, and it takes him too long to remember what he has on his wrist.

But when he does remember, he uses the magic so quickly. One second, her body is pressed against his, and the next he's simply a painting on the wall and running. He doesn't stick around to see what she does next, he just runs and escapes thanks to that stupid bracelet he forgot he had.

She doesn't chase after him, and he eventually finds himself alone in the forest far away from that battle. His legs give out, his breath are nothing but short gasps and pants as he curls up on the ground. His stomach wants to rebel, but the only thing he can do is try not to cry as her touch burns like a fire on his lips and chest. His mind races because she could have chased him. She could have grabbed him and finished whatever she was trying to start, but she didn't.

She wanted him to run, and she wanted to chase, and he got the feeling that whatever happens next, he won't bring the others to freedom until every one of his walls are torn down.

#jin writes #mind the warnings #linked universe #hero of legend #drabble fic #spearrows

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transmogens · 4 years

Note

i just sent u money to write terror fic BUT. mogens returning to smeerensburg after a storm traps him on the mainland for like [insert far too long time period idk time] and jesper does not understand the concept of not sailing during storms and is an idiot about it.

how hard the winds did blow

rating: gpairing: jesper/mogensword count: 794read on ao3

buy me a coffee!

“you’ve been gone,” is the first thing jesper says when he sees mogens again, “for two weeks.”

the rush of relief is an almost heady, breathless feeling, tempered only by the flash of surprise across mogens’s face that melts into insufferable smugness. he’d heard some chattering about the ferry finally making land for the first time in half a month, and jesper’s heart had leapt to his throat even as he rushed to the dock.

he had missed mogens, though he’d never admit it. things hadn’t felt right with him gone.

“aw, princess,” mogens coos mockingly, “were you worried about little ol’ me?”

that same rush comes to as abrupt of a halt as slamming into a brick wall, and jesper stumbles over his feet for a moment with the force of it. suddenly he’s reminded of all the ways and reasons that mogens grated on him, all the times he’d wished to be free of the man, and the worry that had been nagging him disappears into smoke.

when he looks up mogens is still standing on the deck of his boat: rope looped loosely in one hand, right foot propped propped up on the side of the boat as he leaned forward, a grin taking up its usual place on his mouth. it was such a quintessentially mogens image that some strange, unidentifiable feeling bloomed and twisted in jesper’s chest and crept up to curl around his throat.

he’d never been a violent man, jesper, but now he wanted more than anything in the world than to wipe that smirk off of mogens’s face.

he realizes that he’s been quiet maybe a bit too long when some of the smugness seeps from mogens’s face, his grin shrinking and a furrow appearing between the sailor’s brows. he’d never seen mogens worried- he was always so blase, so unruffled and unaffected- it was an interesting expression on his face. “jesper?”

the edge of the dock stands a foot or so above the gunwale of the boat, so when jesper drops to his knees he is nearly eye-height with mogens. that feeling rears its head, wraps itself around his tongue and presses against the back of his teeth as he grabs for the lapels of mogens’s old wool greatcoat lighting-fast. he’s only half-sure of what he’s doing, still almost convinced that he’s out to throttle the man, and—

—all but smashes their mouths together instead.

it’s not like any kiss jesper has had before. it’s inelegant and uncomfortable, and he’s like to fall off the dock at any moment, leaning as he is, and he’s aware that at some point he has squeezed his eyes shut. mogens is still as stone against him aside from an initial sharp intake of breath, but the smirk that had twisted his mouth is gone- jesper can feel it, and wasn’t that an odd thought- and when jesper pulls back he finds mogens’s eyes closed, that furrow between his brow deeper than before.

(he keeps his fingers curled tight in mogens’s coat because he knows that if he let go he’d go dropping into the cold water or the hard deck of the ferry, and he’s dimly aware that mogens’s hands had gone to brace on the edge of the dock when jesper’d tugged him forward, and, and, and)

mogens’s eyes open, then, and they are still near, noses brushing as jesper notes the sailor’s gobsmacked expression up close. and then mogens slips on that same sly grin (was it jesper’s imagination, or did he still look off-kilter?) and past the thundering of his pulse jesper can feel mogens’s hand close around his upper arm, tugging until he’s sent tumbling down across the deck with a grunt.

“you were worried,” mogens says, sounding delighted. he’s got his hands tucked in his pockets now, bare fingers out of the cold. “missed me even, probably. say, postman, this how you greet all your friends?”

friends. that sure was a word.

jesper grumbles, rubbing his shoulder. he avoids the other man’s eyes and instead squints off into the distance, the midday sun bright on the fresh snow. “i’ll miss you less if you keep this up,” he warns, and then flushes, his stomach twisting in nervous knots. “not that i missed you in the first place.”

“if you say so.” the answer is good-natured, and jesper’s just relieved to be let off the hook- for now, at least. and then mogens makes a noise as if something just occurred to him, and the nerves come rushing back fast enough that jesper almost chokes. “y’know, this reads like a bad romance story. big city dandy rides in and falls for the handsome, dashing ferryman—”

jesper wishes, quite suddenly, that he’d strangled mogens instead.

#doomdxys #fanfic #jesper #mogens #sailmail

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okayohay · 4 years

Text

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

You can find this ongoing fanfiction on Wattpad here, but for the sake of the fandom, I wanted to share the first chapter on Tumblr, just in case you’re bored and want a fanfic to binge on. I started writing this a longggg time ago and decided to change the names and post it as a “fanfic” last fall. I’m absolutely humbled by the amount of people who have read it and reached out, and wanted to extend the story to a new audience. Please let me know your thoughts! Enjoy!

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

Status - ongoing (Eighty-Six Chapters)

Rating - IDK, R I guess.

Chapter One

Van

I sometimes forget how much I love Benji Blakeway.

I forget how deep the span of our boyhood goes, and how much of his adolescence rubbed off onto me, and vice versa. I forget that he's been at my side since we were kids, dodging punches and sharing cigarettes in parking lots. I forget that he sat through every break up and proclamation of new love I announced. He was one of the first people I ever got drunk with, one of the first people I told when I kissed a girl for the first time. For all intents and purposes, he was my brother, just as good to me as my best friend, Larry was in more ways than not.

Sometimes I forget all that, but tonight, tonight I'm reminded why I love the bloke.

His fingers pick up when he hears me slowing down on my guitar and hesitating on my words. If the crowd notices, they say nothing, but Benji can hear it, sense it even. I'm belting what's left in my lungs into a mic that shorted out a few times already. Maybe if I could stay in one place and not get tangled in the cords littering the stage, it wouldn't be a problem, but that's another story. Benji senses my lag in the chorus, and hears my breath as I plow my fingers through the strings harder. If they hold up until the end, we'll have one hell of a send off, but if they split, if any one of them breaks before it's over, we're going to call it a night early. I've had to improvise a finale before. I've played through the final bridge with an air guitar while Benji kept the beat along with Bob's drums. In those moments, everything relies upon Johnny Bond, my lead guitarist who depending on his mood, might give some or might give all.

I didn't want tonight to be one of those nights. I didn't want tonight to be an air guitar night. Tonight needs to end on a high note, which brings me back to Benji.

My mic shorts out again just as my voice cracks on the high note, and without hesitation, Benji dives in, cutting through the roar of the crowd and the deep spine of Bob's drums. His bass shrugs its shoulders off Bondy's finale, and he delivers the background vocals with such prestige, that I don't even need to sing my part. The audience is doing it for me. I raise my hands over my head and clap along to the beat Bob's conveying. Benji tosses me a knowing smile, and for a moment I lose track of it all. I'm not on a stage in America, in front of thousands of screaming people, I'm in a basement with the boy who turned out to be a rockstar a decade later. He's still a mess of curly hair and quiet jokes, and I love him for all of that. I shake my head and I'm back in the now, as Benji leads the crowd into an encore of madness. Bondy's guitar echoes off the snare drum casually, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes on me. I know that look. He's waiting to see my next move, waiting to see how this will play out, and I decide to make tonight about Benji.

I wrap my free arm around Benji's neck, my guitar hanging loosely from my side, grip his mic and sing into it with him. The uproar from the crowd ensures me it was a good move to make. Benji laughs as his elbow narrowly avoids my rib cage, and I slice my fingers through my guitar strings, pelt out the last line, and point at Benji during the send off.

I fucking love Benji Blakeway.

The lights stay low as the song ends, the boys bow after throwing out picks and drumsticks. I stay for a moment and clasp my hands over my mouth, sending kisses into the air as I drape my guitar around Larry, my best mate turned guitar tech. He tosses a black towel over my neck in return and I duck into the small room to the left of the stage.

My tour manager, Steve, tosses me a water and I finish it in one long swig, wiping my lips with the sleeve of my button down shirt. He hands everyone else a water and congratulates us on another good show. I think he uses the term well played, but I black out as he attempts to manage us. I don't need managed right now. I'm high on the euphoria that happened minutes ago, and I'm not ready to let the politics of what I do ruin that yet. I reach for another water and run the towel through my damp hair. I'm soaked in sweat like I am after every gig we play. I run the towel along my neck and take a deep breath. I turn on my heel and see my band mates doing the same. It takes a moment for us to catch our breath, and once we have, we immediately exchange screams and pats on each others backs. For a second, it feels like we're new again. It feels like 2015, when we were riding the coat tails of a newly released album and promoting it worldwide. I feel younger, bolder even. At some point during our run, I grew up. I can't tell you when it happened. Maybe it was after the second album catapulted us into extreme success. Maybe it was at the end of a relationship with a woman I thought I'd have forever. Maybe it was just age.

Tonight, it felt like it used to. An ease. Benji reaches for two bottles of beer from the fridge and hands me one on a smile. We exchange glances for a moment, the unspoken bond of boyhead tapping lightly on our shoulders. Bondy grabs a beer for himself and tosses one to Bob who fumbles with it, but eventually secures it in his grasp.

"You two going to make out now, or what?" Bondy's tone cuts through the atmosphere sharply and we all laugh and clink our bottles together.

"Well played, Blakes." I say as I bring the bottle to my mouth, the beer going down much easier than it should.

"Well sang, McCann." He replies and we laugh as Bondy imitates the screams from the door behind us.

Sometime after I'd lost count of how many beers I had, I find myself outside, leaning against the brick wall of the venue. I hit my fag like it's a joint, and I wish it was. Maybe we were in Chicago, maybe we were in Milwaukee, maybe it didn't matter. The days started bleeding together in 2016, and they never really stopped. The word on the street was that we wouldn't be home for Christmas this year, not that I had anyone to be home for, but I saw the dissatisfaction in Bob's eyes when he overheard Steve setting up holiday shows and booking interviews. I saw the concern spread across Benji's face, but he wiped it away when he caught me looking. I could sense their stress even when they were doing their best to hide it. Sometimes I wish they would just feel it, just let it live.

I blew out a lung full of smoke and pressed myself further into the wall of the building. It was cold for early fall, but it felt oddly like home and I smiled lightly at the thought. Even though I had no one there other than my Mum and Dad, it still stung knowing it would be sometime after the New Year before I really spent time with them again.

I was interrupted by the slamming sound of the metal door crushing into the wall next to me. I backed away instinctively and brought the fag to my side. The loud booming voice of our opening act echoed off the metal of the door, and he had a women draped around him that looked barely legal. I held my tongue at all the things I wanted to say to him. I was him once. I was just like he was for many months and it cost me a lot of good things in my life. I wish I could warn him about it, but him and I...we don't dig each other.

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat as he looked at me and threw shade.

"McCann...keep this between us okay? Promise?" He motioned to the girl wrapping herself around him. I knew what he was getting at. His girlfriend would be joining him on tour in a few days, and he didn't want her to know about any of this.

I nodded at him once and finished my fag.

The first thing you should know about me, is I'm terrible at keeping promises.

#Catfish and the Bottlemen #van mccann #catb #johnny bond #benji blakeway #Bob Hall #vanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #alternative #van fic

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bugaboobss · 4 years

Text

snippet from an au i’ll probably never finish

A/N: So I started this cyberpunk/fantasy/vigilante fusion au of ML a while ago and idk if I’ll ever get around to finishing it so I decided why not post a random scene of it?? hope you guys enjoy!

Feet pounding.

Heart racing.

Chest heaving.

Ladybug could only focus on these three things as she sprinted across the rooftops of Paris, trying to outrun the man chasing her.

Lasers, bright and hot with raw energy, burned holes into the wall behind her head. Red and violet and yellow and green—shattered into the concrete walls like grenades of color. Fluorescent signs surrounded her and her pursuer, bathing them in all shades of teal.

Marinette felt like she was drowning in a kaleidoscope of every color of the rainbow.

She got to the edge of the roof she was on, and knew the next roof was too far away to jump to, as it was too high up. A laser blasted right past her ear and she realized her only option was to either confront the guy, or to try and get off the roof.

Her gun was still recharging from her failed attempts at shooting the man earlier. Cursing to herself, she looked around for a way down from the roof. She spotted a fire escape attached to the building across from her, and took a deep breath. She could hear the man getting closer, and took a few steps back as she mentally prepared herself for the jump.

“HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” She heard the man shout behind her.

She got a running start. As Ladybug leapt off the edge of the roof, she felt fingers brush the back of her shirt, but the man wasn’t quick enough, and soon she was in free fall. Her arms stretched out as far as they could go, trying to reach the fire escape. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to miss it, and she braced herself for the feeling of her body meeting the hard concrete.

But then her fingers brushed against cool metal, and her hand closed around a rung of the ladder. Her arm was nearly ripped out of its socket as she slammed into the metal, and she hissed in pain as she scurried down the rest of the ladder and into the dark alley.

From the edge of the building she’d just been on, the man glared at Ladybug. She met his gaze with her own, daring him to follow her. He smiled, and her face paled when he lithely jumped down from the roof to the ground, his shoes cracking the concrete beneath him. It was only then, in the dark and shadowed alley that she realized his eyes were glowing red.

Not human.

“Surprised Hawkmoth would send an android after a little vigilante like yourself?” The man asked her as he stepped forward. She wanted to back up, but her back hit the wall and she realized she was trapped.

“Am I really pissing him off that much?” Ladybug challenged in return, not wanting to let this guy know how afraid she was. She shrunk back as the man put his arms on either side of her head. On her hip, she kept her hand on her gun, silently praying for it to recharge faster.

“A little bug like yourself can be surprisingly annoying,” the man said with a smirk, “but I’m good at squashing bugs, if I do say so myself.”

Next thing Ladybug knew, there was a hand on her throat and she couldn’t breathe as she was being pushed up the wall.

Her legs kicked as she tried to pry the man's hand off her throat, but his grip was iron strong. She couldn’t breathe, and strange choking noises escaped her as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. As seconds passed, her lungs began to feel like they were on fire. The brick behind her dug into her back, but she could barely feel it with the pain in her chest. Black dots started to appear in her vision, and she silently apologized to Alya for breaking her promise to stay safe.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The hand let go of Ladybug, and she fell to the ground in a heap, flames licking the inside of her chest as she heaved in huge gasps of air. Whipping her head up, she saw a head of blond hair standing at the mouth of the alley, and realized it was a boy. A black bandana was tied around the lower half of his face, but she knew the voice sounded familiar.

“You. Keep moving, pretend like you didn’t see anything,” the android ordered.

The boy shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t do that,” he said as he took a step into the alley.

“Look kid, the boss only ordered me to take out this girl. But if I need to take out another 20 year old with a vigilante complex, I’ll do it,” the man threatened. The boy took another step closer to the android, and he sighed. “Your funeral I guess.”

Ladybug’s head was still spinning as the android ran at the boy, and as the first punch was swung, she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the carnage that resulted.

When silence followed, she cracked open one eye. Her mouth dropped open when she saw that the boy had caught the android’s fist and was holding it in his hand, with his lips curled into a cocky grin. The android’s expression was a mirror of her own, neither of them having any clue how this boy could have blocked a punch from an android.

Then, the boy moved again.

He wrapped his fingers around the fist he was holding, and used that grip to flip the android over his head, slamming him into the concrete below. The android coughed but rolled over onto his stomach, before scrambling to his feet. Ladybug could only watch as the two went at it, the boy dodging or blocking most of the androids hits. Admittedly, he was struggling, but it was still an impressive feat given how strong most androids were in comparison to humans.

At one point though, the android got the upper hand. He grabbed the boy by the hair and slammed him into the wall. The boy yelped in pain right as Ladybug heard the quiet beep from her hip that meant her gun was done charging, and she slowly pushed herself to her feet, trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Who are you?” The android hissed at the boy.

“None of your business, asshat!” The boy shot back. The android pushed him further into the wall while Ladybug crept up behind the two of them. She met eyes with the boy, and she could see the smile in his eyes as he realized what she was going to do.

Lifting the laser gun up, she pressed it to the side of the android’s head.

“Dodge this.”

His eyes widened, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond before she pulled the trigger. In a shower of sparks and wires, the android collapsed to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Ladybug asked the boy, who was now slumped against the wall and trying to catch his breath.

“I’m gucci don’t worry,” the boy said, giving her a weak thumbs up. She took a step back to give him some space, after a few seconds of heavy breathing, he straightened up. “Thank you for taking him out by the way.”

She snorted. “I would be dead if you hadn’t showed up, so I should be the one thanking you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously, thank you.”

The boy shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to let that prick just kill Ladybug.”

“So you’ve heard of me?” Ladybug asked, raising an eyebrow.

The boy nodded. “Words been getting out, Ladybug. A lot of people in the East Sector know who you are, and I wouldn’t be surprised if soon all of Paris knows about you too. People are tired of Hawkmoth’s shit, but so far you’re the only one brave enough to do anything about it.”

Ladybug blushed, thankful the red wasn’t visible beneath her face paint. “I haven’t done that much,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “No, you have. You’ve stopped muggings and shakedowns, which is more than what can be said for the police,” he sneered as he said the word police, obviously not fond of the ‘defenders of Paris’. “So don’t feel like you have to thank me. I’m just glad I got here before he hurt you worse.”

“I… thank you,” Ladybug said, smiling at him. She heard a beep and checked her watch, before cursing. “Shit, I gotta go,” she glanced back up to meet the boy’s eyes, “so I guess I’ll see you around?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he seemed like he was going to say something, but he hesitated.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll see you around!” He said in a strange tone. Ladybug gave him a curious look, but her watch beeped again. She gave him an awkward wave and turned to leave, but before she could make it out of the alley she heard his voice again.

“Uh, actually, Ladybug?” She paused and turned to face him again. “I was thinking, like, obviously you don’t need any help but like, if you ever want some help dealing with assholes like that, uh, you could totally just hit me up and I can come help out?”

He was so awkward it was kind of adorable. Ladybug folded her arms over her chest. “Are you asking to be my sidekick?” She asked in a teasing tone of voice.

The boy laughed nervously. “Maybe?”

Ladybug opened her mouth to refuse, but she paused. This boy was obviously skilled at fighting, considering he was able to block punches from an android without the thing breaking his arm in half, and that was something she couldn’t do. Things had almost been very bad today, and if she got in a situation like that again, she probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to have random backup show up.

Alya kept telling her it was too dangerous to go out by herself. Maybe this boy was just the kind of partner she needed.

“Be sure of what you’re offering. These guys are out to kill me, and if you start helping me they’ll be out to kill you too. Are you sure you’re okay with that?” She asked him.

He nodded. “I’m tired of seeing people hurt by Hawkmoth. I know what the risks are, but I wanna help you.”

Ladybug smiled, and stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “Alright, then. Welcome to the life of a vigilante,” she told him, “what should I call you?”

The boy blinked, as if he couldn’t believe she actually said yes. Peeling himself off the wall, he placed his hand in hers. “You can call me Chat Noir,” he said quietly.

“Nice to meet you Chat Noir,” Ladybug said. His hand was cool in hers.

Her watch beeped again and she pulled away. “I really gotta go, but let’s meet on the roof of the old elementary school Friday night at 11. We can work out more stuff then,” she turned to leave, but paused again. “Also, one more thing, Chat. I recommend you do face paint like mine. Facial recognition software can’t get you that way.”

“Is that why you do the ladybug paint?” Chat asked, cocking his head to the side. She nodded and turned to the mouth of the alley.

“I’ll see you soon, Chat Noir.”

“See you soon, m’lady.”

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #cyberpunk au #ml cyberpunk au #ladynoir #ladynoir au #my writing #my fic #vigilante au

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yeaimfishboi · 5 years

Text

After the Midnight Hour | Chapter II: Just Business

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Mafia!AU, angst, a wee bit of floof, and some heated situations?

Warnings: Blood, gore, swearing, character death, and idk maybe Yuta? you’ll understand

A/N: She finally meets him I know!! I hope you like this chapter, I worked super hard on it! Masterlist in comments! Jaehyun will be my death

Summary: Y/N has always taken care of her sister. Her sister is all she has, but she can no longer afford it. She calls her old best friend for help where she is introduced to a loan shark. Will everything turn out alright for Y/N or will it go awry?

”Nothing Good Ever Happens After Midnight.” -Bo Schembechler

You felt the breeze of the crisp midnight air sweep underneath your jacket. It was one of your only jackets. An old navy blue sweatshirt that belonged to your dad. You held onto it throughout the years because you wanted something to hold that reminded you of them, and this one did, it still smelt like him: old Cuban cigars, cranberry juice, and his cologne.

Nothing good ever happens after midnight. You could hear your mother saying it to you now just like she used to, and based upon your current situation, it seemed to be accurate. You were leaning against a rough brick wall in a dimly lit alleyway waiting for a man you didn’t know so you could discuss “business.” Sounded like a perfect combination.

“Now why would a little lady like you be waiting in a cold, dark alley to meet with a loan shark? What kind of trouble are you in?” You heard a young man ask behind you, voice as smooth as honey but with a little gruffness behind it, almost like coffee. You turned your body towards the man, he was wearing a leather jacket that seemed like it was very well cared for along with some black pants. He had the face and body of an Adonis, but the smirk of a sly cunning fox. Unlike Ten, he had no visible tattoos or piercings besides two on his ear. Also unlike Ten, his hair was a light auburn brown that fell right around his eyes.

“I would think boy troubles, but you don’t seem like the type to have boy troubles,” the young man interrupted your thoughts again.

“Why does it matter to you. All your type wants is business. As long as it comes in then it doesn’t matter where it came from, am I right?” you scoffed at the man.

“Ouch,” he clutched his gut feigning pain as if you had stabbed him there, “what a jab at my chosen profession. I’ll have you know there’s more to me than meets the eye,” his smile towards you definitely held some secrets, ones that you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Uh huh, totally,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“How much do you need?” he asked obviously trying to move your transaction along a little quicker.

“20 grand,” you sighed.

“That much? Now I’m really curious as to what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into,” he chuckled wryly.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re getting business.”

“Ooh challenge accepted, beautiful,” he emphasized with a pause before the last word, “you have a month to give me half of the money including 20% interest.”

“20%?” your jaw dropped. There was no way in hell you were ever going to pay that off in time, not with your bills on top of it.

“Listen, I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. You have a month to give me twelve grand. I’ll meet you right here exactly a month from now,” he stated as he handed you the cash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

That month went by really fast. You had spent a lot of your time with Jiyeon working on her treatment. You met up with Ten a few times at the diner, but your time was usually cut short since you had to work constantly in order to save up enough. Sadly though, after about three weeks, you were laid off from your job, which meant that you were incredibly short on your dues. About 3 grand short. On top of that, today was not a good day to hold this meeting since Jiyeon went in for surgery a few hours ago.

You sat waiting at the same spot antsy and anxious, hoping to get this exchange over with as soon as possible. It was a lot colder than it was the last time, which only made to heighten your anxiety.

“Do you have my money?” you heard the man’s voice appear from behind you.

“Well, I have most of it,” you sighed as you turned to face him. He was in slightly different apparel than your prior meeting. This time he wore jeans instead of black pants, and underneath his leather jacket was a blue flannel. Hmm, he has a softer side. His outfit this time makes him look far less scary than before, you thought.

“What do you mean you have most of it,” he growled.

“I mean, I only have nine grand as I lost my job,” you snarled right back at him.

“The people above me don’t care that you lost your job. All they care about is the fact you brought me 9 grand when it should've been twelve,” he shook his head, as if he expected this to happen. You watched him signal two men over to you with his fingers. Goonies. Only there to make sure you learn to follow through on your promises.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” you simpered at them.

Both of the men approached you, one of them holding a baton. Ooh, you thought, a weapon will make this even more fun. You couldn’t see their faces due to the combination of the dull alleyway lights and the hoods they were wearing. You carefully watched each man’s movements and calculated how they would strike. One of the boys’ gait was lopsided. You could tell as he relied too heavily on his right side, so you swung your leg around and hit him in the left hip. Almost immediately, the man fell to the ground clutching his hip in pain. Seemed like he broke his ilium and it still hadn’t fully healed. You turned your head to face the man with the baton. His mouth was agape, still trying to process the scene that unfolded in front of him. You used that as an opportunity to strike him in the throat. He started to gasp out for air, and he dropped his baton. You grabbed it just before it hit the ground and struck him in his side and the groin with it. He fell to the ground attempting to make a sound due to the pain but couldn’t because of his airway trauma.

“I wouldn’t try that again,” you smirked down to the two men on the ground below you dropping the baton on the man at your feet. Your gaze then shifted up to the attractive man still standing, “all I ask is for an extra two weeks for me to cover the oth-” your sentence was cut off by your phone’s ringtone. You pulled it out of your pocket to see the caller ID, Doctor Kim. “Shit! I’ve really got to take this.” You pulled the phone up to your ear.

“Ms. Y/N?” Doctor Kim sounded solemn.

“Did you guys finish already?” you asked, hopeful even though you knew the news was most likely bad.

“No, we couldn’t. Jiyeon had a reaction to the anesthesia,”

“She WHAT?” you cried out, “that has never happened before.”

“I know, but she was dead for 2 minutes.”

“She… was… WHAT?” you screamed.

“Now, Ms. Y/N its nothing to-”

“I’m on my way right now,” you hung up the phone and sighed, “I really need to go. I’ll see you here two weeks from now,” you tossed the money to the man's feet, and ran off as fast as your legs could carry you.

Within a few minutes, you arrived at the hospital door. You burst in and ran to the desk, exclaiming, “Where is she?”

“She’s in her normal post-op room, but Ms. Y/S/N, I must ask, is that man with you?” you turned around to see the man from before directly behind you. The man you had made a deal with. Adonis, as you liked to call him… at least when you were all by yourself.

“Hmm, him? I mean, I guess,” you sighed, “thank you,” you said to the young woman before you took off running again.

You arrived at her door and slammed it open, only to see your sister sitting upright on her bed, happily eating jello and watching Riverdale.

“God mother fucking damn it, Jiyeon. You gave me a fucking heart attack. What the hell are you even doing sitting up? You had a reaction to your anesthesia, you know what that could have meant for you,” you sighed as you took the jello out of her hands and lowered her bed down.

“I’m perfectly fine, it was only a minor hiccup,” she groaned.

“Minor hiccup?” your voice raised, “you were dead for two minutes Jiyeon!”

“And look, I’m still kicking! I’m invincible and you know it!” she kicked her feet and threw her hands up in the air, Superman style. Although, she dropped them when she noticed the figure behind you, “Y/N did you get another boyfriend and not tell me again?”

“Hmm? What?” you looked behind you and noticed Adonis standing by the doorframe, “he’s not my-”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jaehyun,” he interrupted your rambling by offering your sister a handshake. Now you finally knew his name.

“What a gentleman! Now Y/N what did I tell you about hiding your boyfriends from me?” your sister smiled devilishly at you.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He was just-” you stopped yourself before you could truly say the reason as to why he was with you.

“I was just walking her home when she got a call from what I assume is your doctor?” Thank God for him covering your ass.

“Well, that was very sweet of you. Thank you for looking after my sister. She certainly has a habit of putting my needs and wants above her basic survival,” your sister smiled at the young man.

“Is that so?” he asked inquisitively as if a light bulb just struck off in his head.

“Anyways, you two should get going. I’ll be fine here,” your sister smiled again before re-claiming her jello.

“Ji, I should stay here tonight and watch over you. Make sure nothing happens,” you interjected.

“No, Y/N you need to take care of yourself. I’ll just call Ten and see if he can come, to make you feel better,” you could’ve sworn you heard Jaehyun whisper Ten in a questioning tone to himself, but you let it go.

“Fine, I’ll accept that,” you sighed.

“Now go! Leave, you lovebirds! Use protection!” your sister shouted as the two of you left the room. Both you and Jaehyun laughed to yourselves at your sister’s antics.

There was quite a long pause between you and Jaehyun as you guys left the hospital.

“Now I see what kind of trouble you are in,” he was the first one to break the silence, “I’ll give you an extra three weeks to give me that 3 grand, but that’s your last chance.”

“Thank you so much! You won’t regret it,” you couldn’t hide the smile that grew across your face.

“I better not, I’ll see you in the spot in three weeks. Good night Y/N,” he smiled at you.

“Night, Jaehyun.” Normally you wouldn’t be so loose and laid-back with someone this fast, especially with someone like him, but he just gave you extra time to pay off your debt and he had just met your sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You found yourself at home faster than normal. You were greeted by the smell of mold and mildew and the sight of rotting wallpaper and broken floors. You bought your house for only a few grand. It was all that was available and cheap enough to fit what you needed. It may not be much, but to you, it was home. You set down your bag on the floor and pulled out your phone to turn on the flashlight. You usually used it to help you cook your meals when it was late at night since turning on the actual lights cost too much to use all the time. You pulled out a small container of instant noodles and then split it in half since the food you had in your house was supposed to last you the next three weeks.

You placed your noodles in the microwave and set the timer. While it was cooking you heard a slight creak in the floorboards behind you. You were only slightly weary until you felt a hand place itself on your shoulders. You swung your leg from underneath the assailant and placed the pair of scissors in your hand against his throat.

“Well damn, Y/N, I didn’t expect you to try and kill me after that lovely interaction we just had,” you recognized that voice.

“Jaehyun? What the hell are you doing here? And how did you find me?” you asked still in shock releasing him from your grip.

“Better question, why the hell are your lights off?” he asked groaning, pushing himself upwards, examining the contents of your house.

“Hold on, intruder, follow me,” you decided to lead him to the only room with lights that didn’t cost you too much.

“Woah, are you sure this is your place?” he asked as he scanned the horror that was your bedroom. Holes in the ceiling, missing floorboards, paint chipping and rotting off. It was basically falling apart, it definitely wasn't safe for any human to live in but it was all you had.

“Yes,” you responded, “it is.”

“And I’m guessing this is your bedroom,” you nodded to his question. His brows furrowed brows; he examined your bedroom with ferocity, pausing every few seconds when he spotted something that seemed to make your habitat, well… uninhabitable. He continued scanning until he happened to fall upon your pile of goose feathers, also known as your bed. “You sleep on the floor? What the hell? That's it, you're spending the night with me.” What in the world made him come to the decision of spending the night with you? Your place really wasn’t that bad.

“I’m just fine here. I’ve lived here for years,” you disagreed.

“All you’re doing is furthering my case, you’re staying with me.”

“Why does it matter to you anyways,” you retorted.

“That's actually what I came here for. I had a proposition for you, but we’ll go over that in the morning. For now, you're coming with me and you're going to sleep in a room where the walls aren’t falling apart,” he already started dragging you by the hand. There was no use in fighting him, his brute strength was enough to keep you and your feist at bay. Lucky for you, you were able to pick up your bag on the way out, which had all your essentials: a phone charger, your notebook, some hygiene products, etc.

He carefully pulled you by the arm to his car. It was a black car that was low to the ground, fairly well kept and new in a sense, but from what you could tell about Jaehyun, he took care of his stuff. He led you inside its faux leather interior and you buckled up. He flashed you a small smile as he started the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride was very quiet. Not a single word was spoken between the two of you. At least not until you pulled into the driveway of a large building. You couldn’t exactly determine what it looked like since it was so dark outside.

“Alright, when we get in there, you are not to say anything to anyone besides me. We’re going to go straight to my room where you are going to sleep,” Jaehyun started, “I live with a bunch of boys and they can be giant dickheads sometimes. If they say anything don’t respond in any way whatsoever. That includes fighting them, got it?” Jaehyun commanded.

“Got it, but one question. Why am I staying in your room?” you asked most curious.

“I don’t trust anyone with you besides myself,” he paused and took a deep breath, “alright here we go.” He grabbed your hand and led you inside the house, and within 30 seconds of entering the building as if on cue, someone said something.

“Well damn Jaehyun brought home a girl, a damn fine one at that. What a surprise,” you heard a man catcall you from the side.

“Shove it up your ass Yuta,” Jaehyun scoffed.

“Gladly, provided she does it herself,” you could practically hear this man licking his lips and it infuriated you. You were just about to speak up when you felt Jaehyun squeeze your hand as if telling you not to do it.

Instead of responding to this Yuta man, Jaehyun just led you up the stairs and into his room. He released your hand and went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Here, put these on,” Jaehyun points to an old sofa, “I have a couch over there with some blankets and pillows on it. If you need anything I’ll be right on the bed,” and with that Jaehyun crawled into his bed. You walked into his en-suite bathroom and changed into the clothes he gave you. Afterward, you crawled onto the couch and curled up under the blankets.

You thought that with sleeping on something other than the cold wooden floor you had that you would be able to sleep well but that was far from the case. You were anxious, cold, and in an unfamiliar place. It was common sense that you couldn’t sleep. You kept trying new positions to lay in but none of them helped ease your discomfort.

“Just crawl in here with me,” Jaehyun muttered. Seems like he couldn’t sleep either.

“I’m not gonna do that you idiot,” you groaned.

“You’re not going to be able to sleep unless you do.” God, he did make a good point.

“Fine,” you groaned. You moved up from the couch and crawled into the open spot next to Jaehyun on his bed. You started to relax when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and pull you closer to him. You were never one to like any sort of physical contact, but as odd as it was, you were pretty sure it was that gesture that helped you fall asleep that night.

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