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dameronology · 3 years

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welcome to the jungle {frankie morales}

summary: after taking a job with the delta guys, you cross paths with frankie morales. even though you’re at each other’s throats at first, it proves to be the start of something beautiful. (for @what-the--curtains - i hope you enjoy!!) - 7k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of ptsd

this is kinda ambiguous in terms of the timeline of the film but i sort of hint to the first half being before the events of t.f and the second half being after -- with that said, you can take it as you would like :D

- jazz

Your brother had dog sat for a few days.

In exchange, you were flying out to Colombia in the middle of your work week.

You believed in favours, but these two did not feel like they were equal.

Still, you were a person of your word - and getting to fly to South America was exciting. The job itself was exciting, if not a little...eyebrow raising. His friend, an ex-Delta soldier, needed somebody to ID a body. That part didn’t bother you - you were a forensic archaeologist after all and it was quite literally your job description. The suspicious bit was the circumstances under which you were doing it; Santiago Garcia hadn’t been entirely clear on the phone, but he’d said something about witnesses and getting the government off of our backs. You’d met Santiago a few times and you knew what kind of work he did - military stuff. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was probably an under-the-radar kind of affair. But, you’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

So, here you were on a warm Colombian Tuesday afternoon, suitcase trailing behind you as you trekked towards a dusty old air base. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on your back in a way that had initially been comforting, but was now just plain annoying. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but packing three jackets now felt like a stupid idea. The one one you’d worn on the plane over had been long discarded and tied around your waist, which only added to the struggle of dragging your case up the steep, sandy hill. In the distance, you could see an ATC tower glinting under the sun - the streams of light bounced right back off of it, causing you to shield your eyes with your forearm. The taxi you’d gotten from the international airport - not like this sandy little place - had only taken you so far. At least, of all things, the boots you’d opted to wear were built for this kind of thing.

A few hundred meters up the road, you finally saw another sign of human life. A 4x4 was parked outside the abandoned terminal entrance, three men leaning against the side of it. You spotted Santiago standing a few metres away on his phone, thumbs tapping away. He didn’t look any different to the last time you saw him; dark and curly hair, a semi-friendly smile and stubble littering his chin. You hadn’t seen him since your brother’s birthday party a few months ago.

‘Hey!’ The former soldier offered you a grin when he saw you, holding his arms open. ‘Long time, no see!’

‘Hey, Santi!’ You replied, giving him a pat on the back as he pulled you into a hug. ‘And yeah, it’s been a while. Then again, when was the last time you were in the country for more than five minutes?’

‘I’m in high demand.’ He shot back.

Pulling back from the embrace, Santi pointed to his colleagues. There was Will and Benny, two blonde boys, both in military gear. It didn’t take much to figure out that they were brothers; same smirk, same stance, same eyes. Even if Santi hadn’t pointed it out, you would have figured as much. You were naturally deductive - came with the job. After the brothers, there was Frankie. He had dark eyes and hair, the latter of which was covered by his hat. Unlike the other three, he was wearing more casual clothes, just with a tac vest over the top. You kind of got the vibe that he didn’t want to be there - that was...comforting.

‘What’s all this?’ Frankie asked, gesturing to the heavy metal suitcase behind you.

‘Just...stuff. Tools.’ You replied. ‘Things I need to do my job, I guess.’

‘How heavy is it?’

‘Light enough that I was able to get them onto a commercial flight?’ You offered.

‘The plane is already at max weight.’ He replied, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours.

‘God, give ‘em a break, Fish!’ Santi slapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Remember last time you said it would be fine-’

‘- hey.’ He cut him off with a harsh look. ‘We don’t talk about that.’

‘So I can bring them?’ You raised your eyebrows. ‘Because I can’t do whatever it is you need to do unless I have them.’

‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’ Santiago gave you a comforting smile. ‘Let’s head to the jet and we’ll talk about the job.’

Swinging your duffle bag back over your shoulder, you picked up your suitcase and began to follow the guys further up the hill. There wasn’t anybody else around -- just sand, sun and rusting old jets. There was one in particular that they seemed to be headed towards. It was only mildly less eroded than the damaged ones around you, but the engines were running and the cargo doors were open. Santiago took your bag from your hands as you approached it, tossing it in with the other luggage.

‘Do not throw that one, Garcia!’ You demanded, flinching slightly as he took your suitcase.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He shot back.

‘Sure thing.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘You brought a medkit right?’

‘No. Why?’

‘There’s one in my duffle bag.’ You replied. ‘Side pocket. Can you grab it?’

‘We don’t need one, we’ll be fine-’

‘- Santiago Garcia, do you want me to report back to my brother that you took his baby sibling on a jungle-wide expedition without the correct medical supplies?’ You challenged.

Santi swallowed, mind briefly flashing back to the time he’d almost been decked by said brother for letting you walk home alone. ‘Fine.’

Your triumphant smile only lasted a split second; as soon as your eyes fell on the plane, you realised you still had to get on it. Fuck.

The engines seemed to be working fine, but it was just...old. And eroding. And making a funny sound. You were by no means an engineer, but even just binging a few episodes of Air Crash Investigations made you feel qualified enough to know that this was not where it was at in terms of air safety. You could have taken it up with Frankie, but he didn’t seem entirely approachable.

You did trust Santi, however - though sometimes that seemed a little against your better judgement. Every crazy story that your brother had relayed back to you from their time in the military involved him making questionable decisions. Hopefully, opting to fly this hunk of metal wouldn’t be one of them. Here’s to hoping it was aerodynamic.

‘Are you getting in or…’ Frankie peered down at you from the stairs, eyebrows raised.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘This thing is safe, right?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘What is it to me?’ You snorted. ‘Just, y’know, that I’m about to fly a few hundred thousand feet in the air and if it falls out of the sky I’ll die.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ Frankie shut the door behind you as you climbed aboard, twisting the handle shut. ‘I’ve been flying for years.’

‘I’m not saying it’s you.’ You brushed past him, shoulders bumping as you did. ‘Captain fucking Sully couldn’t fly this thing.’

‘The guy from Monster’s Inc?’

‘No, the guy who landed the plane on the Hudson? They made a movie about it, with Tom Hanks-’

‘- you should sit down now.’ Frankie turned away from you. ‘We’re about to take off.’

Your mouth fell open in slight disbelief. What an asshole.

Santi called your name, signalling for you to sit with him in the cockpit. The seats on the plane hardly looked comfortable, and your brain was mentally working out if it was safer to sit over the wing in a crash, or by the tail. You’d definitely seen it in a documentary once, but you couldn’t remember exactly what they said. Perhaps the best option was to just be less dramatic.

Taking a seat between Frankie and Santi, you pulled your seatbelt on and shuffled awkwardly. This was fine. Absolutely fine. Frankie was a trained pilot (and a dickhead, but that didn’t take away from his flying skills) and you were going to be fine. Fiiiiine. Maybe if you said it once more, you’d believe yourself. You were going to be fine. Yeah, there we go.

A few deep breaths and you were certain. Or, at least you’d convinced yourself to be certain.

‘So.’ Your eyes momentarily flicked over to where Frankie was adjusting some controls. ‘What exactly am I doing here?’

‘A few months ago, the boys and I were involved in the shoot-out.’ Santi began. ‘Pretty standard for the type of operation we were on.’

‘Right. Standard office work.’ You muttered. ‘Do go on.’

‘We thought everyone who had witnessed it had been recorded.’ He continued. ‘And everyone who we spoke to verified that it was a justified shootout. No dirty work, no ulterior motive. All valid, from a legal perspective.’

You thinned your eyes. ‘I don’t think I like where this is going.’

‘We ID’d all the bodies at the time.’ He said. ‘Including a Ricky Martinez. Except now, a guy claiming to also be Ricky Martinez has come forward, claiming that his version of events is a little different. Like, different enough to incriminate us.’

��He’s lying, right? You guys were the good ones?’ You urged. Santiago’s silence was anything but comforting. ‘Right?’

‘Morals are all a matter of perspective.’ He replied. ‘Our labs ID’d Martinez’ body twice but we need a third party opinion before we can completely dispel the guy pretending to be him.’

‘Guess that’s where I come in?’ You asked, leaning further back into the seat as the jet began to move.

‘Exactamente.’ Santi nodded.

That didn’t sound too bad. Between excavating the grave, running tests and returning the body, it would take a few days tops. You could manage that.

The jet began to pick up speed, making its ascent towards the runway. Frankie did look like he knew what he was doing -- heck, the man looked bored, even. He barely even had to look at the dash controls as it moved forward, hands moving freely and easily to manoeuvre the plane down the runway.

‘What are you staring at?’ Frankie glanced over at you.

‘N-nothing.’ You replied. ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on the road-’

‘- that’s a runway.’ He cut you off.

‘Whatever.’

You were thrown backwards in your chair from the momentum of the take off. The plane angled upwards as it went up in the air, tilting sideways as it balanced out. You felt your stomach drop as the ground disappeared from beneath you, the push of the engines pulling you up higher into the sky. There was a clunk, signalling that the landing gear had retracted.

Well, the plane had fulfilled its first purpose: taking off. That was a good sign.

‘So,’ Benny peered over at you. ‘What’s your callsign gonna be?’

‘My name, presumably.’ You quirked a brow at him.

‘We have Ironhead, Catfish and Pope.’ He continued. ‘But Will and I were talking, and we thought Barbie was gonna fit well.’

‘Oh, really?’ You sniffed. ‘And why might that be?’

‘Because you’re young, and pretty hot-’

‘- so your call sign is Benny, right?’ You cut him off. ‘Short for Benjamin? That’s really clever. Did you come up with it yourself?’

‘Maybe Eye Candy will be beter-’

Benny was cut off when you reached across, leaning over Santi to smack him in the chest with your balled up fist. All four of them jumped in surprise at your action - clearly, you weren’t somebody to be fucked with. You hadn’t worked your ass for years to get your degree to get discredited like that.

‘Make a comment like that again and I’ll drop kick your ass out of this plane.’ You jabbed your finger towards him.

Benny thinned his eyes at you. ‘Frankie wouldn’t let you do that. Right, Cat?’

‘You heard ‘em.’ Frankie’s eyes didn’t move from the clouds ahead.

To give credit where credit was due, Frankie was good at landing planes.

Specifically, he was good at landing planes in places where planes should not have been landed. Not that he’d had much of a choice when the engines gave in half way through the journey, a couple hundred miles over the thick Colombian jungle.

In short, you’d been right the entire time. The damn thing wasn’t safe. Of course, you weren’t going to say I told you so right then, since it felt like a little bit of a sensitive subject.

Now, the five of you were standing next to a pile of what-used-to-be-a-plane, defeat plastered over every one of your individual faces. You were lucky to all have made it out okay - just about. Santiago had taken a hit to the head, Benny had bitten his tongue pretty hard when you’d collided with the ground (fitting) and Frankie had split his head open. You and Will were the only ones who hadn’t sustained any injuries. He had proven to be much more tolerable than his brother.

‘Okay, we just gotta…’ you looked around, eyes taking in the debris around you. ‘We just gotta stay calm-’

‘- stay calm?’ Frankie cut you off. ‘You’re the reason the fucking thing went down! If you hadn’t taken all that extra weight-’

‘- do you ever shut up, Morales?’ You snapped. ‘And I’m no genius but I don’t think the engines catching fire was anything to do with me bringing an extra bag onto the plane!’

‘I’m the pilot.’ He reminded you. ‘I know what I’m talking about.’

‘Maybe it was the weight of your ego that made it go down.’ You chided.

‘Hey - Patrick, Spongebob!’ Will finally yelled. Both your heads snapped in his direction, eyes wide. ‘Can you keep it in your pants for two minutes so we can work out how to make it through the night?’

‘Right, sorry.’ You nodded.

You glanced around the crash site, brain calculating for a minute as you took in what little was left. The plan had landed on its belly and skidded for a few hundred metres; consequently, most of the luggage had come out on the way. That left you with the one remaining bag, the medkit you’d scared Santi into bringing and the strewn camping kit that had been ditched in the back of the fuselage.

Pulling your phone out your pocket, you sighed when you realised that you had no signal. What had you expected? Four bars in the middle of the jungle? Probably not realistic. You did, however, have a compass app. That was something. You thought for a moment, glancing between the app and the sun’s position in the sky. It was splintering through the trees, washing heat over you like a bucket of cold water. There was a small stream a few metres away, which was a source of water at least.

‘It’s just gone four, maybe five in the afternoon.’ You announced. ‘So we have about three hours till the sun starts to set. The water in the stream runs that way so if we follow it, we’ll find the source. People are more likely to set up civilization around a source of water.’

All four of them looked at you like kids who had lost their parents in Walmart. Were they really ex-military?

‘So, what?’ Benny frowned. ‘We...set up a new civilisation?’

‘Oh my days.’ You muttered under your breath. ‘I am spoon-feeding this to you! It means that there will be a town with people.’

‘That’s smart.’ Santi nodded.

‘But before we do that, we gotta sort this out. Will, d’you know how to check for concussion?’ You asked, to which he nodded. ‘Okay, you check Santi and I’ll clean up Frankie’s head. Then we gotta gather those camping supplies and head east. Best case scenario, we find a town before sundown. Worst case scenario, we camp out for the night.’

‘Who put you in charge?’ Frankie asked.

‘Me.’ You replied.

Taking the medkit from Santi’s hands, you quietly thanked him and led Frankie over to some rocks. He didn’t seem all that pleased when you forced him to sit on one - and he was even less pleased when you pulled his hat off. It revealed a tangle of dark curls, some of which you had to push back to get to the mark on his head. Some may have debated the importance of mentioning such a detail, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his hair was.

You knelt down in front of him, pulling the supplies out of the little medical kit. There weren't many, but there was enough to give him something temporary till you got to a proper hospital. If you got a proper hospital.

‘It’s not too deep.’ You observed, running your thumb over the creases of his forehead. ‘Just a couple stitches at worst.’

‘Don’t you normally stitch up bodies?’ Frankie asked. His brown eyes were glued to the floor, following the outlines of the boot-prints that you’d left.

‘Yeah, it’s the same kinda principle though.’ You laughed slightly. ‘Despite your attitude, I’m not gonna give you Y-incision stitches.’

‘Thanks.’

‘At least not in a place people can see them.’

Frankie snorted, but it translated to a hiss of pain as you dabbed an alcohol wipe at his forehead. Despite everything, you had a slight admiration for him. He’d managed to land the plane safely as the situation allowed and despite a few minor injuries, things could have been much worse. You didn’t quite feel like vocalising that to him when you were still stranded in the middle of the jungle, but if you ever got out? You might get Santi to pass the message on.

‘D’ you think it’ll scar?’ Frankie quietly asked.

‘Maybe.’ You admitted. ‘Just take a deep breath.’

‘Where did you even learn to do this stuff?’ He asked, letting out another small grunt of discomfort. ‘The stitches and the compass shit.’

You shrugged. ‘I’ve been around the block a few times. You kinda learn to be prepared.’

‘Really? As a morgue worker?’

‘Not a morgue worker.’ You grumbled. ‘Then again, I am stabbing a needle through your skin so I suppose I’ll allow the discrepancy.’

‘What is it you do then?’

‘I’m a forensic archaeologist.’ You explained. ‘So it’s my job to retrospectively work out how people died, whether it be because their body was found a long time after they died or because they had to be exhumed from their original resting place.’

Gently pulling the needle back from Frankie’s forehead, you cut the thread and dabbed it again with an alcohol wipe. You brushed his hair back down and placed his hat back on his head, offering him a smile. For the first time since you’d met him, he returned the gesture.

You dusted off your knees and took a place on the rock beside Frankie, examining your handy work. Considering you’d been in a plane crash not quite an hour ago, it wasn’t too bad. At least if it did scar, it was in a place his hair covered up. And in your defense, scarring wasn’t usually something you had to worry about with your other...patients. They usually went back in the ground not long after you dealt with them.

‘You’ll wanna sit down for a minute.’ You replied. ‘D’you feel dizzy at all? Sick?’

‘I was just in a plane crash.’

‘Me too, funnily enough.’ You rolled your eyes at him. ‘I s’pose it’s the most interesting job I’ve worked in a while.’

‘Same here.’ Frankie said. ‘I normally work for a flight school, so this is...something else.’

‘It’ll make me grateful when I get back to the office.’ You agreed. ‘Because it has four walls, air conditioner and co-workers who don’t give me ridiculous nicknames.’

‘Right.’ He snorted. ‘Benny can be...Benny. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.’

‘Benny wasn’t the asshole.’ You quipped, nudging him with your elbow.

At least Frankie had proven now that he could talk to you without being insufferable. You couldn’t work out if you’d warmed to him or if he’d warmed to you, but doing somebody’s stitches was unarguably one hell of an icebreaker. He was just a little closed off; quiet and reserved, you figured. You didn’t know what him and the Delta guys had been through, but Santi had mentioned a few things in passing that pointed to a heavy past. That was something you could relate to - your job was no walk in the park either

‘It’s not...personal.’ Frankie glanced off into the distance.

Will had managed to salvage the remaining bag from the jet, meaning that Santiago could use it as a seat. Benny was sitting with them, talking amongst themselves. You would have to move soon, in order to find a suitable place to camp before sundown, but taking a minute to recover from the last hour was also important. You’d barely stopped to sit down since the plane had gone down, and now you had, the shock had hit you. Your suspicions about safety had actually been correct. Not that it mattered now, but at least you had a plan to get everyone back to civilization as soon as possible.

‘So you being an ice cold bitch isn’t to do with me? That’s a relief.’ You joked. Frankie smiled in response; his first genuine one since you’d met.

‘The witness that you were going to ID was from the last job we all worked together.’ He explained ‘It went bad. Really bad.’

‘From what Santi said, it sure did sound like it.’ You replied.

‘I hadn’t seen anything as bad as we did then since I was stationed out in the war zones.’ He continued. ‘So being back here, and being with the guys, has just put me on edge. I’m sorry if I was an asshole.’

‘You don’t have to say sorry.’ You shook your head. ‘I mean...actually, yeah, you were an asshole but I get it.’

‘You do?’

‘Forensic archeology is no walk in the park either.’ You replied. ‘It’s my job to work out how people have died. Most of my work is on crime scenes or in war zones so I’ve seen some...dark stuff.’

‘It sticks with you.’ Frankie quietly murmured.

‘Yeah, it does.’ You said. ‘I know you might not think it on the surface, because it’s the usual sort of job that leaves stuff weighing on your shoulders-’

‘- doesn’t matter.’ He cut you off. ‘Trauma is trauma. Regardless of how you got it or where it came from, it’s valid.’

You gave him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

---

Later that night -- and after a few hours of walking -- you and the guys had settled down into a makeshift campsite. It was just at the edge of a clearing, not too far from what looked to be a small town glinting in the distance. You did offer to keep going, but between the injuries the group had sustained, it was easier to stop for the night. You had enough of a combined skillset to find some fruit growing to snack on and to start a fire.

Santiago, Will and Benny had long passed out. It wasn’t until after they had done so that you realised there was absolutely no room left in the tent. It was only built for two people, let alone five. Where that left you in terms of sleeping arrangements, you didn’t know, but the chances of even getting to rest felt low. Your brain was on full overdrive, tired eyes darting constantly around the distance. How safe was this place? You’d managed to convince yourself that the plane was secure, and that had gone down like...well, like the fucking plane.

You were sitting on a log, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. It was just something to keep your brain occupied as you fought off the tiredness. The jet-lag from your flight to Colombia had hit in full force and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed -- the bed that wasn’t there.

‘So, are you keeping a look-out?’

You jumped at the sound of Frankie’s voice, twisting around to face him. ‘Something like that.’

‘I can take over if you want.’ He offered. ‘You should get some rest. You’ve saved our asses like three times today.’

‘Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fit into that tent.’ You replied. ‘I can hear them snoring from here.’

‘Is it worse than the alternative of me keeping you company?’ He softly smiled, taking a seat beside you. ‘I’ll promise not to be an asshole anymore.’

‘We spoke about this.’ You reminded him. ‘I get it. It’s okay.’

‘I still feel bad.’ He sighed. ‘Especially after you stitched me up and led us through the jungle. We woulda eaten something poisonous and died if you hadn’t stopped Benny going near those mushrooms.’

You chuckled. ‘Don’t feel bad, okay? You’ve had bad experiences before and it’s natural to be anxious.’

‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you-’

‘- Frankie!’ You cut him off with a groan. ‘I’m about to be an asshole if you don’t stop saying sorry.’

‘So we’re good?’

‘We’re good.’ You smiled. ‘Thanks for keeping me company.’

‘Santiago, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that he would come for our kneecaps if we left you alone in the dark.’ Frankie admitted. ‘I think he likes you.’

You chuckled, shaking your head. ‘I think you have the wrong idea. Santi is only so protective of me because he’s one of my brother’s best friends, and I guess by extension, that kind of makes him my brother too. They go right back to high school, and then they did the academy together.’

‘That’s a long time.’ Frankie nodded. ‘So you and Santi, that’s...nothing, right?’

‘Absolutely not.’ You snorted derivatively. ‘And if it was, my brother would probably end him.’

‘So,’ He took a stick from the floor, joining in with random doodles you were carving into the ground. ‘Be honest: if these stitches scar, d’you think I’ll look rugged and handsome?’

You peered over at him, eyes creasing as your smile grew wider. ‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Ouch.’ He dramatically grabbed his heart, shaking his head. ‘The correct answer was no Frankie, you already look rugged and handsome.’

‘Okay, it would make you look more rugged and handsome.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ He grinned triumphantly. ‘When was the last time you stitched up a living, breathing human?’

‘College, I think.’ You replied. ‘My roommate got into a fight and didn’t have insurance, so I did some makeshift stitches with a cheap sewing kit we found at a 24/7 corner shop.’

‘We’ve all done it.’ He laughed. ‘I’m glad the stitches you gave me were actual, professional ones...right?’

‘Obviously!’ You exclaimed. ‘You’ll probably want to get them redone when we get back to...y’know, civilisation.’

‘Naturally.’ He nodded. ‘I appreciate you stitching me up. The others would not have been able to do that if it had been just us.’

You shrugged. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

‘What if - and feel free to blatantly reject me for my earlier actions - I took you out for a drink when we got back? Y’know, if we ever get back to civilisation.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ You smiled.

Normally, Frankie wouldn’t have been that bold -- and you would have absolutely rejected someone who had made such a terrible first impression. But, said impression had changed. He’d been an asshole but you could see why; you could reason with it, even. God knew that you also had a tendency to become withdrawn and irritable when you were retracting back to the darker corners of your mind. Bad days on the job were hard to shake. They stuck with you for a long time.

The conversation continued, though you couldn’t recall exactly what it was about. Nothing and everything. Growing up and going to college - or for Frankie, the military. You compared stories of Santiago; Frankie’s were better, but yours were pretty good. He told you about how he’d got his piloting license back, and you in return offered a tale of the time that your brother had gotten a DUI.

Between the warmth of Frankie beside you and the crackling fire in front of you, it became harder and harder to fight off your exhaustion. You would have been tired enough if you were from this timezone, but your body clock was hours out of whack. With your eyelids getting heavier and the dark sky above you, it wasn’t long before you’d flopped into the pilot’s side with defeat.

‘’M sorry.’ You murmured.

‘It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.’ Frankie replied. He moved his arm around your shoulders to support your weight from falling off the log - also to give a sign that he was more than okay with it.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. Now that his cold facade had slipped away, you could admire him a little bit more. Warm chocolate eyes, a strong jawline, and a face that just felt kind, even despite initial impressions. The warm glow of the fire illuminated his face with a soft hue, making the lighter tones of his eyes a little more visible.

You were both still lingering from the adrenaline of the plane crash, hearts pounding in your chests and brains wrestling with the idea that you’d both made it out with minor injuries. Was that what had made you bold? The sudden reminder of your mortality? Because you never would have kissed him if it had been a normal night.

He met you halfway, lips gently capturing yours in a soft kiss. They were a little chapped from the humidity of the jungle air, but intoxicating and enchanting all the same. He tasted very, very faintly of tobacco and a little bit of mint -- had the bastard had chewing gum this whole time? Not that it was relevant. Not that anything else in the world was relevant. Not when Frankie Morales was kissing you.

Neither of you said anything after; he simply pulled you into his chest, resting his head on top of yours. Between the mental exhaustion and emotional ping-pong game that you were partaking in, you wanted to sleep.

And sleep, you did; tangled together on the dirt of the jungle floor, not a worry in the world.

---

Time passed.

It passed quickly and slowly all at once.

Once you’d found a little town and got on a coach to Medellin, you did what you came to do: identified the body, cleared their names and closed the case. Your duties at your actual job called you back home and less than a day later, you were on a plane home.

After that, everything was a blur. You tried to keep in contact with everyone, but life was demanding as ever. Thanks to a promotion at work, you were being kept busy 24/7. Santiago finally retired from active duty and moved back to your hometown, near to his parents and to the guys. Even with the group chat he’d made - affectionately titled Plane Pals - it was hard to constantly keep up with everyone.

You and Frankie had texted for a while, but it sort of faded out. Whenever you were able to make it back home to see him and everyone else, he was busy. You’d both tried to make plans a few times but they’d never come to fruition. You still texted each other happy birthday every year, but that was it. Like that night in the jungle, he quickly became a thing of the past. A distant memory that sometimes felt like a dream.

It made a good dinner table story, especially for first dates. You told it on many actually, actually -- only one ever went well. So well, in fact, that you’d ended up in a four-year-relationship. A marine biologist called Simon; not boring, but not necessarily exciting either. He was nice...enough. Nice enough that you didn’t find a reason to leave.

Looking back, you probably had a million reasons to leave. He was an asshole, for one. The last time he’d treated you right had been your first anniversary - and for some reason, you’d stuck around to celebrate your second and third and fourth. Everyone around you was settling down, and you felt that pressure too.

Even Santiago fucking Garcia, the biggest flirt and bachelor you knew, was getting married. You’d RSVP’d a plus one - Simon, obviously - but the week before you were due to fly home for the wedding, things had finally reached a bitter end. You weren’t sad about him; more sad that you’d wasted four years of your life on the Walmart equivalent to Ned Flanders.

On the brightside, your brother’s respective relationship had also gone through a shitty demise, meaning you could move your seats at the reception next to one another. Like Santiago, he had also retired from the military and was living his best life - even though it had taken six months for him to start speaking to his friend again. He hadn’t taken well to the idea of Santiago taking you on a job that left you in the middle of the jungle.

‘People are gonna ask where Simon is, aren’t they?’ You muttered.

‘Cheer up.’ Your brother nudged you. ‘I know what’ll help - let’s make a bet.’

‘What?’ You groaned.

You were standing outside the church, waiting to be called inside. You’d waved at Benny and Will as they came in. The latter had kids of his own now, but Benny was focusing on his boxing career. He hadn’t called you Barbie again though, so that was something.

‘I bet you twenty bucks that Santiago is divorced by the end of the year.’ Your brother grinned.

‘No! That’s horrible.’ You slapped his arm.

‘Whatever. That’s $20 you’re missing out on.’

‘I hate that we’re related.’

‘Me too.’

‘Shut up!’

‘You said it first!’

The two of you were cut off by someone clearing their throats.

You almost did a double take when you saw Frankie Morales stood in front of you. He didn’t look that different to his six-year-old Whatsapp profile picture; he wasn’t wearing his hat, instead wearing his hair pushed back, and rather than his old tac vest, he had a suit and tie on. You had a sort of vision of him in your head from that night, but it didn’t do him justice. He was even better in person.

‘Catfish!’ Your brother jeered. ‘Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!’

‘Says you!’ Frankie gave him a slap on the back. His eyes then fell to you, and his demeanour changed a little. ‘Hey.’

‘Frankie fucking Morales.’ You murmured. ‘How’re you?’

‘Thriving.’ He replied. ‘You?’

‘Also thriving.’ You smiled.

‘I was sorry to hear about the divorce, man.’ Your brother, as clueless as ever, didn’t sense the sudden onset of tension.

‘Divorce?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘Is that really something you should bring up-’

‘- you brought up your break up at dinner last week-’

‘- only because you brought up yours first-’

‘- guys!’ Frankie cut you off. ‘It’s fine, really. I appreciate you looking out for me but it was a while ago now. Besides, I’ve got Leya. She takes up all my time.’

‘Leya?’ your eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that your girl-’

You were interrupted by a bell ringing, signalling that it was time for the guests to enter the church. Did the universe hate you? What kind of fucking dreadful timing was that?

‘I’ll see you guys at the reception, right?’ Frankie asked.

‘Sure thing, dude.’ Your brother waved him off.

The pilot turned on his heel, giving you a smile as he headed for the church. He was the best man after all, and his presence probably was needed.

‘You asshole!’ You have his shoulder another whack. ‘I was talking to him!’

‘Jesus, calm down! And why do you hit so hard?’ He huffed. ‘What’s so important?’

‘Who’s Leya?’

‘I dunno! Do I look like Gossip Girl?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re mean.’ He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you towards the church entrance. ‘And mum made me promise to make sure you wouldn’t play Doodle Jump during the vows.’

‘That was one time!’ You snapped.

Thankfully, the actual ceremony passed quicker than you thought. Santiago’s new wife was beautiful -- you hadn’t met Yovanna before, but both her and Santi had greeted you with a bright smile as you entered the reception. It was in a large hotel room, decorated with strings of fairy lights and a large dance floor. A lot of thought had clearly got into it.

It made you a little sad to think about. How many weddings had you been to in the last five years? How many times had people looked at you and your former boyfriend and said you’ll be next. You weren’t even sad about him. If anything, you were mad that you’d let yourself think about marrying him. You could do better. You were going to do better.

‘Is that girl over there eying me up?’ Your brother’s voice pulled you back to reality. ‘I swear she’s been giving me heart eyes since they brought dessert out.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one in the cute dress! Brown hair, dark eyes-’

‘- that’s Santi’s cousin.’ You rolled your eyes.

‘And?’

‘Santi’s cousin who is a lesbian?’ You tried to suppress a laugh. ‘Who has been with her wife for 11 years and has three children?’

He groaned. ‘Why must you find such joy in my pain?’

‘It’s what siblings are for.’ You grinned. ‘I’m gonna get a drink. D’you want anything?’

He only let out another groan in response - you took that as a no, simply giving him a pat on the head as you stood up.

You’d tried to ask around with a few mutual friends if they knew who Leya was -- either they hadn’t seen Frankie in a while, or they pushed to know why you were asking. You couldn’t exactly play that one as suave. Nobody took a casual interest in the personal life of somebody they barely knew -- even though you did know Frankie. Quite well, actually. He’d practically recounted his entire life story to you that night. Told you things that not even Santi knew.

‘What can I get for you?’ The bartender asked.

‘Uhhh…’ you glanced up at the menu. ‘Is it an open bar?’

‘If I had enough money for every time someone asked me that tonight, I’d be able to pay for all the drinks.’ She shot back. ‘So, no.’

‘Jeez.’ You muttered. ‘How much for a double rum?’

‘Fifteen bucks.’

‘Fifteen?!’ You spluttered. ‘How much is tap water?’

‘Y’know, I still owe you a drink.’

Like earlier, Frankie had suddenly appeared unannounced. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw him leaning against the bar beside you, a goofy smile plastered across his face and his undone tie wrapped around his left hand. Your eyes flickered up to his forehead, examining it for a minute.

‘So the stitches didn’t scar?’ You asked.

He pulled back his hair, shaking his head. ‘Nope.’

‘You lucky duck.’ You quipped. ‘So. About that drink?’

‘This shit is insanely overpriced.’ Frankie said. ‘I can steal us a bottle of wine if you’re willing to hide and drink it?

You glanced over at your brother, who was now crying to one of Santiago’s great aunts, piling cake into his mouth.

‘Yeah. I’m down for that.’

Five minutes later, you and Frankie were out in the gardens of the hotel. It had been raining all day, but there was an undercover patio not too far from the main reception; the walls were made out of white wood, with red roses trailing up the side. The fairly lights tangled beside them illuminated the place in a gentle glow, blue evening sky providing a beautiful contrast. Even though the showers had stopped, you could still smell the rain in the fresh evening air.

‘Wine?’ Frankie led you to a seat by the edge of the patio. ‘I stole it from the head table so it's the expensive shit.’

He tore the cork off, handing you the bottle. Neither of you had brought glasses, but you didn’t mind drinking from the same bottle. You’d kissed already - what was the point in formalities?

‘I hate it to break it to you.’ You paused to wipe your mouth, recovering from the bitter taste. ‘But that’s champagne.’

‘Still alcohol, right?’ He took it from your hands, taking a swig. ‘And it’s free!’

‘You’re right.’ You chuckled. ‘So...I believe we have four years worth of catching up to do.’

‘D’you wanna go first?’ Frankie offered. ‘I heard you got a promotion.’

‘I did, yeah.’ You grinned. ‘It’s a thousand times more work but I get more control over what jobs I take, so that’s good.’

‘Anyone special in your life?’ He asked.

‘Cut the shit, Frankie.’ You groaned. ‘I know that Santi updates you on every second of my life as it happens.’

‘You got me there. He mentioned a...Steven?’

‘A Simon.’ You corrected. ‘But Dickhead or Asshole works just as well.’

‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ Frankie gave your leg a light squeeze. ‘What happened?’

‘He didn’t deserve me and I stayed with him too long.’ You shrugged. ‘I didn’t think I had a reason to leave.’

‘Not having a reason to leave isn’t a reason to stay.’ He murmured.

You didn’t know whether to bring up the D-Word. D-i-v-o-r-c-e. He hadn’t seemed that phase when your sibling had so eloquently and gently brought it up earlier, but you knew Frankie was good at putting on a front. It was why you’d clashed when you first met.

‘Am I allowed to ask?’ You quietly said.

‘It’s nothing bad.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean it is bad, terrible actually, but it was two years ago now. We only got married because she got pregnant and then left the minute our daughter was born.’

‘Leya.’ You didn’t mean to say the name out loud, but it made sense now. ‘Leya is your daughter.’

‘Yeah.’ Frankie warmly smiled. ‘I hate what happened but I’d do it all over again ten times if it meant having her in my life.’

He spent the next few minutes telling you about her. She was named Leya after a certain space princess, though Frankie had changed the spelling to make it less obvious (to which you had argued it was still quite obvious, but a cool name nonetheless). She was currently three years old, often got confused between Spanish and English words, and enjoyed Power Rangers. All in all, she sounded like a great kid. Above all, it was obvious how much she meant to Frankie. His whole face lit up when he spoke about her. Her mum was entirely out the picture, meaning he was doing the whole thing by himself.

‘She sounds amazing.’ You beamed, peering down at the picture on his phone. ‘She looks so much like you.’

‘Thank God.’ Frankie murmured. ‘I dunno if it being a dad has made me more introspective, but I think about that night a lot.’

‘Me too.’ You replied. ‘Not the thing about being a dad. The other part.’

He laughed. ‘I got that.’

‘What do you think about?’

‘You, mostly.’ He admitted. ‘The fact I was an asshole. The fact you basically saved us all. The fact I never got to take you out for that drink.’

You took a swig of champagne, poking his arm. ‘We’re doing it now!’

‘I know.’ He grinned. ‘I just...I know it was only one night but we might not have been around to tell the story if you hadn't been there.’

‘You were the one who landed the plane safely.’

‘Which wouldn’t have mattered if you didn’t do all the stuff after.’ He reminded you. ‘The thing I think about most, though, is that kiss.’

You froze slightly, head slowly turning to look at him. He was peering down at you now, brown eyes intently gazing at you, not unlike they had the first time you’d been in this position. Now, you weren’t both beyond exhausted, or stuck in the middle of the jungle. You were safe and sound, right here with one another.

‘It was a pretty good kiss.’ You edged slightly closer towards him.

‘A very good kiss.’

‘Maybe we should do it-’

Frankie cut you off, meeting your demand before you could even finish it. He was just as you remembered; chapped-but-soft lips with a hint of mint. No tobacco this time. He gently placed a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you further up towards him. It was like you were both reliving the memory of that night in a dream - something you’d done many times. Your memory of it had faded over time but this? This was vivid and giddy and entirely consuming all at once.

‘You know,’ Frankie pulled back for a moment, keeping his hand on the back of your neck and forehead pressed to yours. ‘I asked Santi about you a few years ago, pretty much the minute I realised I was ready to move on from...her.’

‘You did?’ You murmured.

‘That’s when he said you’d been seeing Simon for a few weeks.’ He admitted. ‘I was gutted. Kept wishing I’d got there first.’

‘I wish you had got to me first.’ You lightly chuckled. ‘It would have saved me a lot of pain.’

‘If I were to ask out now, what would you say?’

‘Fuck yes, obviously.’

‘Good.’ He pressed a brief peck to your lips. ‘I admire the enthusiasm.’

That night - well, actually it had probably been the night in Colombia, depending on who you asked - marked the start of a fresh start for you both. What had initially started out as an attempt to seek solace in one another during a difficult time had led you to something more: something whole, something fulfilling.

If someone had told you the first time you’d met Frankie Morales that the unfriendly pilot was going to become the best thing that ever happened to you, you probably would have slapped them. Or laughed, or cried, or all three. That night you met, you thought the emotions you were feeling were from the plane crash -- adrenaline and warmth and panic.

As it would turn out, it was simply the feeling of knowing -- knowing that Frankie Morales was it.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales angst #triple frontier imagines #pedro pascal character headcanons

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staysaneathome · 3 years

Text

The Lonely Boy

(A second part to the Entity-swap WIP, where the swap is the places the Entities hold in the world rather than the people who serve them) Jon is cold, and tired, and hungry.

But he’d rather be all of those things than back in The Collection.

He stays away from libraries, from universities and schools, from police stations and research institutes, from everywhere that has learning and investigating and knowing. They call to him, sing to his mind with the promise of knowledge and answers, and that’s how he knows they’ll betray him.

That’s where the man found him the first time, after all.

He compromises with large bookstores and cafes, places of learning that have become diluted over the years with the need to turn a profit, making them safer for him while still making the pouding, watching thing in his head go quieter. Plus the staff usually derive more satisfaction from letting him sleep outside of their places of work and sneaking him food and water on the sly than in turning him over to the management that treats them so poorly.

He learns quickly that he’s in London, capital city of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

It’s something of a blessing to be left in a city this size.

That when he gives in and guiltily Asks someone the Right Question to satisfy his cravings for stories, he can disappear back into the crowd much more easily than he could back in Bournemouth, or in some of the tiny villages down south or up north The Collection passed through.

Nobody really looks twice at another kid left alone and homeless in this place.

He learns quickly that he’s not alone here.

He goes into the house because it’s pouring and he’s soaked to the skin. It takes him far longer than it should to realize that the wet schlurp schlurp schlurp noise is coming from the inside rather than outside.

The Hive wears a red dress and smiles at him when he screams at the sight of her. But she stops smiling very quickly once he Asks, “Where did you first hear the Song?”

She tells him, each word torn from her lips, exposing her essence to him, filling in a way none of his other meals have been before. He’s so transfixed, he doesn’t notice her attempt to bring him down with her. He’s lucky, really, that the silver worms could only get to his leg before she collapsed, unmoving and pale, and that there were so many sharp things left around the discarded house.

He’s more careful after that, limping on the leg that the Watcher told him how to bandage properly.

Not long after his first ill-fated encounter with servants of other fears, he finds another one.

Jon’s looking for a place to spend the day so nosy people like irritable old people and police officers won’t ask him why he’s not in school. It’s most difficult to do now it’s late autumn, when most other children are safely sequestered away in various schools. Luckily London has a tendency to attract school field trips, so if Jon just hovers around the edges, most people assume he’s part of that other, larger group of screaming children even if he isn’t in uniform and are more likely to overlook him that way. He’s just found one such group in a large park that he can use as protective coloration, content to much on the contents of an unopened packet of prawn cocktail crisps someone threw away as the kids on this school trip gorge themselves from colorful lunchboxes and chase each other around the playground they’re too old for.

It’s then that he spots him.

There’s a boy in the playground. He’s round and soft-looking and see-through, wearing the same uniform as the others. He’s picking at the splinters on the balance beams he’s sitting on. Thin fog wisps around his ankles.

His eyes are very large and liquid as his head suddenly whips around and he stares up at Jon, blink-blink-blinking like he’s gazing at the sun.

He’s obviously a servant of the Forsaken, but unlike the Hive he doesn’t seem like he’s about to hurt Jon for seeing him. He’s still feeling full from the stories he pulled from a man who stank of alcohol last night, so he’ll hold off on Asking anything for now. He tentatively nods his head to the soft-looking boy. “Hello,” He mutters through a mouthful of crisps.

“You’re very pretty.” The boy tells Jon, almost absent-mindedly. Then his mouth snaps shut and he goes ridged like he’s stuck his finger in a power socket. He’s got a bit more color to him now, like he’s been brought into focus.

Jon stares at him. Stares down at his mismash of clothing pulled from bins. Then back at the boy. “No I’m not. Are your eyes working?”

The boy sputters, high-pitched. “Wh-I-um, um? I-I, I think so?”

Jon shoves another handful of crisps into his mouth. “What’s the best animal?”

”U-uh,” The boy stutters, twisting his fingers together. “I-I don’t know? I, I like fluffy ones, like there was a nice spaniel I met earlier that made friends with me, and, and some kinds of spiders can be very cute and fluffy, did you know, like tarantulas?”

Jon doesn’t disguise his shudder. Obviously this boy has something wrong with his tastes if he thinks things like spiderscan be cute and things like Jon can be pretty. “Cats are the best animal, obviously.”

”O-oh.” The boy says timidly. “W-well, I like cats. Too. Um. Sorry. Who are you? Are you here with your parents?”

He curls in around his crisps, feeling uncomfortably small. “No. They died when I was small. I’m on my own now.”

“I-I’m sorry.” The boy gets up from the balance beam and drifts closer, fog faintly eddying around his heels. “My dad left, a while ago now. So it’s just me and my mum. But she’s not well, and I dunno what I’d do if she—if she—” He takes in a deep breath, shakes his head like a dog shaking off water, and sticks a hand out. “A-anyway. My name’s Martin. Martin Blackwood. Nice to meet you.”

Jon eyes the hand, then wipes off one of his own on his too-big, stained trousers. Martin Blackwood is warmer than he expected, but cooler than a normal human should be. Maybe the Forsaken doesn’t have as tight a grip on him yet?

”Jonathan Sims.” He recites mechanically, a little rusty with introductions. Then, desperate to break the awkward silence and cover up his discomfort, Jon does the worst possible thing he could do. He Asks a Question.

“Why is the Forsaken attached to you?”

And he stares in horror as Martin’s large, liquid eyes go soft and unfocused. “There were all these adults in for this careers day thing, at my school, like firemen and lawyers and things. And one of them was this tall ship captain, like out of a storybook. And he kept talking about his ship and how even if his crew had nobody on land, they could enjoy hard work alone out on the waves, and it felt like he kept looking at me while he said it, and—”

”Stop.” Jon clamps his hands over Martin’s mouth, pretending he doesn’t feel the Watcher’s flare of anger as Martin’s eyes come back into focus and he tenses up. “I-I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean to, I—”

”Di-did you do that?” Martin breathes. “H-How did you do that? That was amazing, it, it was like I was right there…” He’s fully solid now, like someone has turned the colors on him all the way up. He has very nice colors.

“It’s not.” Jon mutters, sourly. “The Watcher lets me pull stories out of people, to, to feed it. Like how the Forsaken makes you go invisible—“

”I can go invisible?!” Martin all but yells, covering his mouth when several other kids look over and snicker.

”Yeah?” Jon raises an eyebrow. “It’s the entity of the fear of being alone. Didn’t you notice the fog and people ignoring you?” ”Lots of people ignore me anyway.” Martin says, far too matter-of-fact for comfort, and gaze fixated on the fog around his feet. He leans down and drags his hands through it, giggling as it swirls away from him. “It’s kinda tickly?”

Jon opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted as his stomach growls loudly.

Jon looks down at where his prawn crisps fell in his rush to stop Martin and mourns. He’d been looking forward to finishing those… ”U-um. You can have half of my sandwich, if, if you want it.” Martin says, pulling a squashed, cling-wrapped object that the Watcher tells him contains cheese and bread within. “And you can tell me more about these fear things?”

They end up talking so long, Martin’s teacher has to come over to shout at him that it’s time for the school trip to leave. She looks suspiciously at Jon, so he quickly makes himself scarce as Martin scrambles over to where all of his classmates are lines up in disorderly rows.

Jon hides behind a tree and watches Martin’s school trip leave the park.

Martin Blackwood sticks near the back of the class, even as some other kids keep pushing him every time he slows. When he spots Jon, he smiles widely, and waves his hand. Like Jon’s a friend of his, or something.

Against all logic, Jon tentatively waves back.

Martin can’t come into London often, of course. He lives too far away, up north, and he and his mum aren’t the richest people in the world, from what Jon will later gather. Train rides are a luxury that it’s pushing it to afford, and he’s got to take care of his mum into the bargain. And it’s not like he can send Jon emails or text messages or letters, given that Jon has very limited access to electronics and no address to send post to.

But somehow, against all odds (and likely using the Forsaken more than is probably healthy), Martin does make the trip down to see Jon, always waiting for him in that playground where they first met.

And Jon gets used to dropping by the park several times a week, just in case Martin’s there.

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

Heyo can I get an Armin x fem reader where he’s currently dating Annie and reader is a new student and Armin and reader start to get to know each other more and start to gain feelings for each other and reader doesn’t know he’s dating Annie and shes on pretty good terms with her since Annie sort of envies her cuz she’s sweet and outgoing, so reader asks him out he says yes and things are great for them until Annie starts to realize Armins been distancing himself from her and hanging out with reader a lot and she confronts him about it and he admits that he just fell out of love and started gaining heavy feelings for reader and they break up even though Annie’s hurt she tries to stay happy and accepts reader and armins new found relationship:3 (can it be a modern AU and can it be in 1st POV from either reader or Armin please and thank you)

hiii!! :D omg yes!! i hope you like it! sorry if i took long to write it :’) and i think it’s a little messed up sorry

i hope it is what you’ve asked for! i didn’t want to make it longer, so this is it!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ Private lessons

❁ Armin x female reader

❁ !! : cheating

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

"So this is your new classmate, I hope you get along well."

Everybody smiles, specially a blue-eyed girl on the first row. The professor tells me to sit next to her.

"Hi, I'm Historia." She smiles sweetly. I smile back at her. Professor Keith starts his class, and I do my best to follow his explanations.

I used to study in a south zone institute, but my dad was posted north which made me move and switch to this institute. Near to Historia, and looking at her, is a tall girl with brown eyes and a low ponytail. On my other side, there’s a brown-haired boy with freckles, looking nice and smiling. Behind him, a boy with an undercut looks bored. The professor starts talking about history, and Historia passes me a paper.

“I can give you my notes for you to copy” I smile at her and nod. An hour after, the class is finished.

“Okay, I’ll introduce you to all. This girl here is Ymir.” she points to the tall girl, that is walking towards us. She hugs Historia while talking.

“I hate history classes, oh, my sweet and beloved Historia, if you...”

“I’ll help you to study this afternoon.” Ymir smiles at her and kisses her cheek in signal of thanks. “Oh, the new one.” I smile at Ymir and she does the same.

Historia points a huge blonde boy, that was sitting behind me. He’s talking with a black-haired tall guy. “Those two are Reiner and Bertholdt. And the blonde girl coming is Annie” A girl with a bun goes to the door, followed by a boy. “And that’s Armin. He’s always with Eren and Eren is always with Mikasa.” They are following Armin. The boy with freckles comes and smiles at me.

“Hi, I’m Marco! I hope we can became friends! He’s Jean, my best friend.” The boy with the undercut waves his hand at me.

“Oh, and the two fighting for cup of ramen are Connie and Sasha. Now, should we eat together?” I nod to Marco and Historia. They pull their tables together and star eating. They tell me how was the first semester and try to know if my institute on the south was giving the same subjects than here, and told me to join their study group.

“Armin gives us classes. He’s really smart and catches up all the subjects, and he also likes to explain.” They tell me that the next session is going to be tomorrow afternoon on Reiner’s. “We take turns studying at each other's house, so it's not always the same host” Actually that’s a good plan, so I guess someday I’ll have to be a host too. My face darkens as I remember that my house is too small to accommodate more than three people in the same room. Mom and Dad live in a flat that dad's company gave them, but the distance between that apartment and the institute made them decide to rent a one-man flat for me. We keep eating and attending the next classes.

Faster than I thought, the afternoon of the study group arrived. I took all the books before leaving home, and walked towards the entrance, where Marco, that lives literally next door, was waiting to help me arrive to Reiner’s home. He was dressing casually, not a huge difference between seeing him on the school uniform.

“Good morning!” Marco says when I left the entrance. I wave my hand at him. “Ready for a studying session?”

“I think so, but everybody raves about how well Armin explains, so I’m impatient to see it! I think I need a lot of help to pass this course.”

“That’s normal, you arrived in the middle of it! But I’m sure you’ll be okay, your grades on the other institute were pretty high!” Marco, as the class delegate, had to pass my expedient to the new institute, and he looked at my grades to do it. We walk in silence while he explains me some streets or where our classmates lived.

“Reiner’s house is the one furthest from the institute, the rest of us live near it.”

Once were in Reiner’s house, a lot of classmates were waiting outside. Jean walked towards Marco.

“I knew you could guide the new girl here without problem!” Jean smiles at me and Historia comes, followed by Ymir.

“Oh, you arrived!” Historia says. Then, Reiner makes us enter his house. We all sit when Armin arrives. He has his blonde hair messy, and his hands are occupied with some papers.

The studio group is outgoing and nice to me, but when Armin starts to explain history of the north, I’m totally lost. He looks at me with curiosity.

Armin’s eyes were so beautiful, and every time he looks at me my heart flutters.

“Do you understand it?” I shake my head. The north history is totally new for me, I never studied it. “Don’t worry, are you free tomorrow?”

“Hm, yes, I am” He smiles before writing something on a paper. “There’s were I live. Come at four and I’ll explain everything to you, with detail.”

He was so sweet I couldn’t say no, so I nod and smile at him.

Walking back home, Marco explains me where Armin lives.

“Up that street, the last house. He lives in front of Eren and Mikasa.”

Marco invited me to have dinner with him and Jean in a near bar, where, surprisingly, also Connie was having dinner. When I asked him why he was there alone, he told me.

“I took some dinner with me but Sasha ate it, and now I have to have some dinner because I’m about to pass out of hunger.”

“Can we sit here, Conn?” Marco asks and Connie nods. We have dinner between laughs and stories. and everybody leaves once we’re finished.

The next day, I'm in front of Armin's house, waiting for him. He makes me go into his house.

"Sorry if my room is messed up, I just woke up." He says, with his hand on his neck. I laugh.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure your room is more organized than mine.” He lets me pass in front of him to a clear and enormous room. It has a lot of books and a shelf full of seashells. He tells me to take off my jacket and put it on a near chair. We sit on the floor, near to the coffee table he has in the middle of the room. He takes some books with him.

“Okay, so North History.” I nod. He starts to explain me with calm and quiet voice, making sure I understand everything, and looking me in the eyes.

I can’t concentrate if his ocean eyes are fixed on mine. Once Armin ends explaining me the unit, we agreed in having a little break. He passes me a cup of coffee and a couple cookies.

“So, do you like the city?” he asks. I nod while swallowing the coffee.

“Yes, it’s pretty cool. In the south we don’t have this big cities like in the north, Is more like a rural place. So at first it was complicated for me to move.” Armin nods, telling me without words that he understands me.

“Well, I can show you the city. I’m not a talkative person but I know a lot about the history of the place, so I can tell you about some of the famous buildings.”

“That would be amazing...” Thanks to my parents, I was born without the gift of shame. Armin had caught my eye, so why not give it a try? “Something like a date?”

Armin laughs, kinda blushing.

“Yes, something like a date.” he answers.

A couple weeks later, after passing a lot of time with Armin, we decided to go and explore the city. I choose a yellow dress my mum bought me for our date. He was there when I arrived.

“Hi!” He looks at me when I talk to him. He smiles a bit.

“Hi” answers. We start walking. Where do you want to start?”

“What about the park?” He nods. We walk, and he tells me a lot of curious things about the city. “Did you know this was a prison?”

The, he invites me, buying me an ice cream. We sit on a cool park, and we eat the ice creams in silence. His phone starts to sound. He looks the name of the person who’s calling, but he puts his phone again on his pocket.

“Sorry, you know how many times a day do telephone companies call.” I nod, totally clueless. He was kinda nervous after that, and it made me think he maybe wasn’t talking with telephone companies.

After the long day out, my feet hurt. Armin laughs and accompanies me home. Once we’re at my door, Armin smiles sweetly.

“Do you want to enter?” I ask. Armin’s face blushes. “N-No! I wasn’t asking like that?!”

“I know, I know.” he laughs, “Anyway, I should go home. It’s kinda late.” he looks the hour on his phone. I can glimpse a blonde girl on his wallpaper, smiling at the camera.

“Well, thanks for today...” I say, in low voice, He smiles and lends closer to me. His gaze fixed on my mouth.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask. He hums before leaning even closer and he kisses me.

I kiss him back. I was literally hoping for this to happen. His arms are around my waist. When we part, I’m kinda dizzy. He’s an awesome kisser, not gonna lie.

“Bye, then.”

He’s about to leave, but what kind of boy leaves a girl right after kissing her? I took his hand.

“Does this mean that now we are dating?” I ask. He smiles wide.

“Probably. I’ll wait for you tomorrow.” He kisses me again, lightly, and then he leaves.

Our relationship grew really fast, but he didn’t want to look that closer at school.

“You know, professors might think we’re not fixed on our studies.”

And he also was really close to Annie. I wasn’t jealous, he spends a lot of time at my house, my mum loves him and we are so in love...

Annie looks at me with anger while we’re in music class. She’s fixed on me. When she comes to talk with me, Armin intercepts her.

“Annie! can we talk outside a bit?” He says. She looks at me, but then nods. I stand up and follow them. They’re talking in the corridor. I tell myself to sit and mind my own business, but her tone makes me stay there, listening,

“You’re really close to her now.” she says. Armin asks her to be quiet.

“Annie, I only love you...”

“You’ve been lying for a fucking month. Stop it already, Armin. Tell me the truth, or I’ll ask her.”

“I...” I can hear Annie’s steps, but it’s late to go back to my seat. Fortunately, Armin calls her. “Wait, Annie! See... I... I don’t love you. It was fast, but I fell in love with her. She’s really sweet and I couldn’t handle it. She studied so close to me... Her lips so close... And admit it, our relationship was about to die.” He says. Annie doesn’t make a sound.

Were Annie and Armin dating?

Did I break a couple?

Oh, no.

“Well, we...”

“We were sinking, And because of you.” he says. “You wasted a lot of time with Reiner and Bert. You were the one always occupied to see me. The one that never came to our dates. I need someone to be with, Annie, and you weren’t filling that desire, so I started to feel less and less for you. And she loves me. She always asks me to do something with her, either watch a movie or just lay down together. She counts me on her plans. I deserve something like what I give. So, I hope you can be happy with another one.”

“But why you waited so long to break up with me?”

“I thought you knew I was cheating on you. I was kinda obvious.”

Annie keeps being quiet.

“Hope you two be happy then.” she says, before walking to the opposite direction.

Maybe their relationship was made to sink. Armin enters again, and I look interested to the books on the shelf.

“You’re so cute...” he says. I smile a bit.

The doubt about asking him or not about what just happened dissapears when I feel his lips on mine.

“We don’t have to hide now?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“No more.”

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draganasimpsforjeff · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I please have a creepypasta romantic match-up with some nsfw if your comfortable with it? Tysm in advance and I'm in love with your writing, like how is it so good?! Anyways I hope you have a great day/night and tysm once again!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting. Sometimes in the middle of the night you can find me just staring at a wall or something because I can't go to sleep.....I have trouble sleeping.....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

So for the nsfw part (Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write for it!)....I'm very shy and i'd like it if someone guided me. But i'm 100% a Bottom and I love praise and maybe a tiny bit of degradation. I also have a big ownership kink like if someone tells me that i'm their's....then I might die. I'm also a sucker for marking like lovebites and hickies? Yes please. But please tease me and edge me because I prefer not having control so someone else being in control is just...lovely. Also pet names! Like Sunshine, Babygirl, Doll....AHHhh I might melt.

-From 🎇Sparkle Anon🎇

Ah thank you so much! LOL I feel like we would be good friends bc of so much similarities, hope.you like this!

But anyways I match you up with-

🥁🥁🥁

Hoodie/Brian

SFW

This man ain't gonna lie you sometimes remind him a female version of his best friend Tim/ Masky but like in a good way (bc of your style and music choice)

Your foolishness is the ultimate thing he loves about you

He is scared to leave you by yourself sometimes since you are a klutz

But luckily he knows just enough about first aid so if you have a deep enough cut or something to that measure he's got you 😉😊

At first he would be scared to initiate conversation bc of your very beautiful but deadly looking "resting bitch face"

But once you started talking to him more he would feel a lot more comfortable coming around and just knew that's your cover around new people

Definitely teases you about your height 🤭 (he's 5'11 in my hc)

Is that type of cliche dude to rest his arm on you or would purchase a step ladder for you

Something could be an inch off your reach and he'll feel the need to tease you about it (all in good fun tho)

Hunny, he definitely gets the whole having difficulties talking about whats bothering as he does it too, he'll just try to figure out other ways to make you express what you're feeling. (Through healthy ways ofc)

He has anxiety too so yeah babe he gets it 😌

Sorry love but he kind of likes spiders soooo he would be that asshole that would pick one up and put it in your hair or shoulder without you noticing. (And now I have to do this don't kill me)

NSFW

Oooo darling ♥

He would love to mark you up

He love to be called his? Good cuz he was going to call you that either way even if you were friends or friends with benefits

What you got between your legs belongs to him

He loves how small you are since he's kind of toned and tall and you're like this little petite thing he can just throw around 😊

He understands if you're shy or don't feel comfortable being in control, he'll take over

Will say though, he'll probably suggest taking some sort of drug or anything to influence your senses so you feel more comfortable in your skin at some point or another

Especially since it's a very rare thing for him to see but he won't push too much

WILL 👏 FUCKING 👏 CALL 👏 YOU 👏 PET NAMES IN FRONT OF ANYONE

He doesn't care who hears or sees it since he would love to be caught ngl.

"I don't know why you're all dressed, doll, those clothes are gonna be in shreds and uses as gags or restraints"

Will take pics of you with his phone and has no shame having a very naked you in some angle displayed as his lock screen

Cockwarms you a lot especially when he's cleaning his guns

You just seem him there all busy taking care of something else and not you while his big ol dick stretches you

🥴🥴🥴 this man would choose to be suffocated between your thighs babe

Often squeezes them and ohohoh if you wear skirts or something showing them be prepared to be teased anywhere anytime

Hell even do it in front of others fuuuck he'd even eat you out while others are in the room.

"You're so tasty babygirl, I could eat you out all day and night"

#creepypasta #creepypasta matchup #proxies x reader #creepypasta x reader

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engagemachine · 3 years

Note

How would J react if Taylor swore infront/at him?

May 22nd: New update

Anon, I’ve been thinking about this ask for daaaaays. Had to write a fic. This is just part one (turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be--wrote it in one sitting) and I’ll post part two as soon as it’s done!

FYI: This takes place early on in Burn, probably sometime around chapter two, so Taylor is back in high school.

---

It’s still snowing outside when Taylor slides into her seat for third period English. She loves the overlarge windows in here, stretching along almost the entire wall of the left-hand side of the classroom. Black windowpanes showcase the little fountain in the courtyard, the stone benches seated around it, and the long, winding sidewalk where each senior from the class of 2002 got to lay down a single handprint in the cement to commemorate their pending graduation. Taylor thinks she would’ve liked that, to immortalize a piece of herself in that way, inscribing her name inside her handprint. Taylor B. It intrigued her, the thought of someone walking over her handprint years later, wondering who Taylor B was, what she was like, where she was now.

The fountain is frozen over, and the courtyard is blanketed in a thick layer of snow, still untouched. She wonders what it says about her that she often fantasizes about being the first one to run out and ruin it, leave her footprints behind, crunch through snow that is knee-deep, that no one else has sullied yet. There’s something about being the first person to disrupt the beauty of nature. Like stepping on a fallen dead leaf, the satisfaction of hearing it crackle beneath your feet. Or jumping into a still lake, watching the ripples that fan out across the water as you break through to the surface. Like leaving footprints in the sand at the beach, only to have them rinsed away by the incoming tide moments later. It’s a temporary disruption—and perhaps that’s the appeal.

Taylor settles into her seat and takes out her books. The classroom is unusually bright, the sky outside milky and pale as the snow piles up, falling softly in great big clumps. Mrs. Herndan leaves the lights off because they don’t need them.

Everyone is a little more animated than usual. If it keeps snowing like this, they might call it a half day and get to go home early. Taylor hopes that happens, that way she can order take-out and hang out with Mr. J. Maybe they can watch a movie together—something scary, so she has an excuse to cuddle up next to him, if he’ll let her. She’s been testing the boundaries of affection he’s willing to allow her to bestow, and recently she’s been surprised by how much she’s been able to get away with. Just last week she fell asleep next to him on the couch with her head on his shoulder—totally by accident—and he didn’t even move her. Just let her sleep there like that until she woke up, his hand heavy on her thigh, right above her knee, at which point she jumped up, all groggy and still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She swore up and down that she was sorry, she’d never do it again. She was so afraid he’d be mad, but he just looked at her kind of funny, like he was trying not to laugh, and she blushed furiously and hurried off to her room.

Class is kind of boring, and it’s hard to focus when everyone seems just as distracted as she is. Mrs. Herndan has to stop her lesson twice just to tell everyone to be quiet and put their phones away. Taylor is snapped to attention each time she does. She didn’t even realize she had been staring at the window.

When the bell rings, Mrs. Herndan shouts out their homework assignment for the weekend, but it’s mostly lost to the din of jostling bodies and excited chatter of weekend plans as everyone fights to get through the door at once. Whatever. She’ll just have check the syllabus when she gets home. They’re reading Romeo and Juliet and it’s really hard to understand. Maybe she can find a way to rent a movie of it from the library—there’s supposed to be a version with Leonardo DiCaprio, she thinks. Maybe that’ll help. Sometimes she wants to ask Mr. J for help—and in the past she has, like when she had to make that volcano for science class, and he knew exactly what to do—but Romeo and Juliet is way too embarrassing. All those thees and thous, the declarations of love. Like she could ever ask Mr. J to interpret that for her, not without dying from embarrassment first.

She gets twenty minutes into her next class before they finally call it on the overhead speakers—school is closed. She smiles to herself as she packs up her books, already imagining herself curled up on the couch with her sketchbook and a cup of hot cocoa. She should still have some marshmallows left over—as long as Mr. J hasn’t eaten them all. He’s always eating her snacks. Sometimes, in a moment of pure frustration upon stumbling onto an empty bag or box of secret snacks she had stashed away specifically for herself, she tells him to buy his own snacks, but he always counters with, I did buy these, giving her a pointed look, and, yeah, he kinda did. It’s his money, after all. Not like she could buy any of this stuff without him.

She’s pulling the rest of her books from her locker and shoving them into her backpack when she feels a tap on her shoulder from behind. She turns around to face Jennifer Bartlett—from her geometry class—who is holds out a pink envelope decked in glitter and little metallic hearts.

“You’re inviiiiited,” she sings, thrusting the card into Taylor’s hands. Taylor blinks at her.

“Me?” she asks. Clearly this is some kind of mistake. Maybe a joke.

“It’s a sleepover, so bring a sleeping bag, okay? And like, don’t tell your mom or whatever, but my parents won’t be there, so make sure you just get dropped off in the driveway and none of your parents try to come inside.”

“Oh,” she says, her mind still swirling from the invite. A sleepover. “Okay.” She forces her gaping mouth shut, quickly nods, tries not to look too overeager. “Okay,” she says again, a little cooler, smiling a little. “I’ll totally be there.”

“Great!”

Jennifer bounds off down the hallway, joining a group of giggling girls waiting for her at the end, and Taylor looks down at the envelope in her hand, her name on it and everything. Taylor B.

She bites her lip and smiles.

Taylor can’t get home fast enough.

The bus takes forever, and they have to divert into South Side because of an accident near Paramount Park.

When she finally hops off the school bus and bounds for home, perhaps she takes off a little faster than she should. One moment her backpack is bouncing behind her as she races down the sidewalk, and the next, she’s spread-eagled and lying flat on her back, staring up at the gray sky as snow drifts down in soft little clumps around her. Oof. That hurt. She didn’t hit her head—thankfully—but she managed to scrape her cheek on the icy pile of snow packed into a miniature wall along the edges of the sidewalk. She thinks her cheek might be bleeding.

She doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing: the fact that she fell, or that the bus driver didn’t stop to help.

She winces as she gets up, wipes the blood from her cheek, brushes the ice and snow from her hands, wipes her palms on her jeans. The bus hisses as it pulls away, and Taylor’s cheeks burn. Maybe no one saw?

Her right leg kind of hurts, and she hobbles the rest of the way home, her excitement not dampened as she crashes through the front door, making it halfway through the kitchen before she remembers to shimmy out of her wet boots. Her socks are wet—there was a lot of slush on the sidewalks the closer she got to home—and her feet leave little wet prints on the kitchen floor before she gets to the carpet.

“Mr. J!”

He’s not in the living room, and he’s not in his bedroom, either, when she throws open the door and scans the bed, his empty desk. She frowns, pokes her head around the doorframe to her own bedroom. Not there, either.

“Mr. J?” She goes back to the beginning of the hallway, knocks eagerly on the closed bathroom door. She can see yellow light bleeding out from the crack beneath the door, doesn’t know how she missed that before. “Mr. J, you’ll never guess what happened at school today!” She waits a beat for him to say something—a grunt, even, some form of acknowledgement that he hears her, she’d take anything—but when she’s met with silence, she barrels on. “I got invited to a slumber party!” she gushes. She has both palms pressed flat against the door, is bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I ran all the way home to tell you, I can’t believe it!” she squeals. “It’s this Friday so we have to go to the store A-S-A-P so I can get a sleeping bag, okay? I mean—if it’s okay with you that I can go. But I’m sure it will be because I really want to go and I’ve never been to a sleepover before.” She sighs, taking a breath. He still hasn’t said anything, so she turns her back to the door and leans against it. He has to come out eventually. “And you won’t even have to worry about dropping me off because I can just take the bus, okay? I looked up Jennifer’s address at the library at school and I already wrote down how to get there, so I won’t get lost! Oh, and maybe I should get new PJs, too? And do you think that—”

The door is jerked open so suddenly she doesn’t have time to react, and she’s falling backwards before she can catch herself, straight into Mr. J’s chest.

He’s holding her underneath her arms, and she tilts her head back to look up at him—upside down—as he looks down at her. His greasepaint’s bright. Fresh-applied. She can smell its gummy texture.

She smiles up at him, a little unsure. A little frightened. His eyes are so dark. “Jeeze,” she says, lightly, trying to dissolve the tension. “You have to give me a warning, Mr. J.” She tries to laugh a little, but it comes out stilted, and the look he pins her with makes the smile slip right off her face.

“Maybe I would if I could get a word in,” he replies. He gets his arms behind her and pushes her off him. Taylor’s cheeks burn as she stumbles a few feet into the kitchen. She knows she talks a lot when she’s excited. She’s like a faucet that won’t turn off.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. She keeps her head low, a little afraid to meet his eyes. He’s in a bad mood—but she’s determined to go to this party either way, and she won’t stop prodding until he says yes. She glances up for just a second to catch the narrowing of his eyes, and then his hand is reaching out, closing around her jaw in a way that makes her flinch, pulling her towards him.

“What’s this?” he says. His eyes on her skin burn, and it makes the cut on her cheek throb in memory.

“It’s nothing,” she says, annoyed, maybe a little embarrassed. She doesn’t want to have to tell him that she slipped and fell. Also, can they please get back to talking about her slumber party? She impatiently reaches up and pries his hand off her—he lets her. She ventures a few steps back, watching him, and her back hits the counter with a thud. “But about the party—it’s okay if I go, right?”

He ignores her question in favor of taking a few lumbering steps closer—towering over her—and his fingers around her jaw are much softer this time when he takes it in his hand, tilts her head to the side so the cut on her cheek winks at him in the light that streaks out from the bathroom.

He sounds almost curious when he asks, “Did someone hit you?”

His question feels like a gut-punch. She looks up at him, eyes widening in surprise for a moment, and then her gaze narrows, and she’s a little more forceful this time when she pries his hand off her jaw.

“No,” she snaps. She can’t believe he thinks she got bullied. “I’m not a loser. I know how to fight back if I have to,” she scowls.

He looks at her for a long moment, his eyes hard and calculating, but she makes a point to meet his stare head on. She’s not going to flinch away. After a beat, he grins a little—some secret smile, like he’s in on some joke she’s not privy to.

“Of course you do,” he says.

“So can I go to the slumber party or not?”

Mr. J raises his eyebrows as he thinks about it. “Dunno,” he says, “I seem to recall your last little, uh, party, didn’t end so hot. Maybe you remember,” he muses, leaning down low, so their faces are level, “—or maybe you don’t, since you were high as a fucking kite.”

Taylor balks at him—he never curses, at least not around her—and she can’t help the way her mouth parts in shock. She can feel the threads of hope she’d been clinging to rapidly slipping out of her hands.

Truthfully, there’s not a lot she remembers from that night. Just a bonfire and a stranger’s half-remembered bedroom. The weight of a body she hadn’t wanted, a frisson of fear, electric as it sizzled down her spine, and then fumbling down the stairs, out the front door. Nobody had even cared. And then the frigid moon, the icy bite of wind on her cheeks. She remembers Mr. J, at some point, and waking up in that old airplane hangar, where she’d promptly puked her guts out over the side of the couch. The rest of that night is a blur. It’s probably better that way.

“It’s not—” she stops. Tries to find her footing around the right set of words. She just wants this so badly. It’s her one opportunity to fit in. To make friends. To be somebody. She wants so desperately to try and explain it to him, make him understand how badly she needs this—but somehow she knows he won’t get it. He doesn’t care about fitting in, or being liked—he’s the most unliked person in all of Gotham. Maybe even the whole world.

“It won’t be like that this time,” she assures. “There won’t be any boys there. I promise. It’s just a girl party. And I promise I’ll be really, really good and come straight home after.”

Mr. J’s eyes are dark as he watches her plead her case, and she takes the opportunity to stick out her bottom lip and put on an exaggerated pout. “Pretty please?” she says. “With lots of sugar on top?”

The corner of his mouth curls into a grin. “Okay, baby doll. Since you asked so nicely.”

“Eeep!” She squeals in excitement, immediately perking up, diving forward to throw her arms around his waist. She gives him a squeeze and he surprises her by patting her back. Once. Twice. His display of affection makes her cheeks warm, and she squeezes him a little tighter, happy to bask in the moment. “Thank you, Mr. J.”

Taylor buys a new set of jammies and a sleeping bag. She even spends the whole day prior reading about sleepovers, Googling at the library, getting more and more excited. She wonders if they’ll do face masks, or have a pillow fight, or watch a romantic movie, or paint each other’s nails?

She goes to Mr. J to model her new PJs for him, a yellow top with tiny blue flowers, with little matching shorts and a scalloped hem. She is bouncing around his bedroom—she had a Red Bull earlier for the first time ever, and whoa—and she does a cartwheel on the bed once she has his attention, collapsing into a heap on the floor because she misjudged the distance. She giggles, and then uses the bed to pull herself up while she prances around the room and chatters about her slumber party. She has a little notepad she found in a drawer in the kitchen, and after a few minutes, she flops back on his bed, holding the notepad above her face. She’s making a list of all the stuff she might need to bring. She read online that sometimes you should bring snacks.

“Hey Mr. J, cookies or chips?” she asks.

She turns to lay on her side, facing him, where he’s seated in his desk chair and has spun around to watch her, his fingers drumming against the armrests. His eyes are dark—but he doesn’t give her an answer.

She scowls at his lack of participation, and redirects her attention back to her list, tapping her pencil against her lips.

“Hmm… sometimes cookies have peanut butter, even if they say don’t, and I know lots of people have peanut allergies, sooooo… I’ll go with chips,” she decides, resolute. Her tongue pokes out when she makes a careful, neat checkmark next to the word chips.

She crawls off the bed and skips around the room for a little while longer, clutching her notepad, chattering to herself, mostly. She plays with the books on the bookshelf, all the little knickknacks left behind by the previous owner, rearranging them while she talks, musing about how cool this party’s gonna be, how many friends she’s gonna make. It’s gonna be great.

She lays down on the floor to make some snow-angels on the carpet, flapping her arms and legs slowly, staring up at the ceiling, feeling her energy start to wane. She asks Mr. J if he thinks she should wear her regular clothes to the party, or if she should come dressed in her PJs? And doesn’t he think they’re really pretty? And her sleeping bag comes with a built-in pillow, and isn’t that super cool?

She jolts awake when a pair of arms slip underneath her, hoisting her up, off the floor. She must have fallen asleep.

She frantically blinks the sleep back from her eyes. It’s dark, and she can’t see. “What day is it?” she asks, panicked, her voice cracking. “Is it tomorrow yet? Did I miss the party?”

“Shhh.” Mr. J carries her the short distance to his bed, lowers her to the mattress even as she wraps her arms around his neck, refusing to be put down. She doesn’t even have the forethought to marvel over the fact that he’s just put her in his bed, that she’s lying down on his pillow, or that the covers smell like him.

“But did I miss it? Is it over?”

She thinks she can hear a smirk in his voice when he says, “No, baby doll, you didn’t miss it. Time to sleep.”

He peels her arms away from his neck, and this time she lets him. She sinks into the mattress, and sinks quickly back into sleep.

#anonymous #asks #Burn #Taylor #new update #it's not finished yet but I just wanted to update with what I have to so far :)

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creepypocky · 3 years

Note

Hello dear! May I have a romantic and Nsfw creepypasta match-up please? Feel free to ignore this if they are closed but if you do choose to do this then thank you so much! I hope you have a great day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm a big extrovert, goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back. I can have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.

So for the nsfw part.....I'm very shy and i'd like it if someone guided me. But i'm 100% a Bottom and I love praise and maybe a tiny bit of degradation. I also have a big ownership kink like if someone tells me that i'm their's....then I might die. Also if they told me that they "Needed" me I would also die on the spot...in a good way. I'm also a sucker for marking like lovebites and hickies? Yes please. But please tease me and edge me because I prefer not having control so someone else being in control is just...lovely. Also pet names! Like Sunshine, Babygirl, Doll....AHHhh I might melt. Things I don't like are impact play or the whole "Daddy kink" It kinda just makes me cringe

I also don't think I really have a type but.....I do tend to love people who are brooding, and intimidating on the outside but a big teddy bear on the inside because that's how I am sometimes. I hate people who are fake or just passive aggressive because they are super annoying to deal with and honestly if you have something to say then just say it to my face rather than behind my back.

Hello :)

|| I enjoyed reading through this. I'll definitely work on it now. ||

I match you with ~ Jeff The Killer!

First off, he really likes your size and style, he has a think for small girls that can still be tough and that’s something he loves showing off when you get together lmfao, he’s like, “Yeah, my girls strong. Fuck you gonna do about it?”

Now, Jeff is a really unstable, violent guy. A lot of people (even me) don’t even see him ever being interested in being in a relationship, so when the creeps saw Jeff with his arm around you, they were immediately baffled by it.

The truth is, though, this man totally wants to have someone by his side, someone that accepts him even though he’s a killer. Someone that’s open to his feelings and is willing to look past all of the horrible shit he’s done.

You’re like that to him, it took him a very long time to get used to how he felt for you at first. At first he thought his brain was just being stupid, but Jeff isn’t dumb. He knows what these feelings feel like, and he recognized them almost immediately after that.

Jeff is really insane, and he constantly leans on you for support and depends on you to keep him leveled at times. It can get pressuring, but despite it all he always makes sure to not blame you if he ends up doing something dumb because he knows it’s not your fault.

He finds your clothing style pretty hot, he really loves badass kind of outfits with leather and band names, because as I said, he loves to show off that his girl is “cool” or something.

He thinks your resting bitch-face and cold exterior is really badass too, being around you always gives him so much confidence and its a great change from the usual fake confidence he has around everyone that he keeps up as a defense mechanism when in reality he was always pretty insecure.

I honestly think Jeff is an extrovert too, like he loves being around people and interacting with them (When they’re not normal people and don’t think he’s hideous, that is). I canon this mostly because when hes alone, then he’s also alone with his thoughts and his thoughts always end up wandering to his insecurities and what he hates about himself, but you often catch him during these times and you reassure him that everything will be okay and that you still love him.

He totally relates to being the friend that says stupidest shit, you two will often just go up to one of the creeps and just start spouting random shit. He honestly fucking loves being goofy with you, and you two are always creating awesome memories together when you prank the other creeps and sometimes each other and he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you do stupid shit that gets you in trouble or puts you in danger, he’s always quick to get to you and make sure you’re okay, he would probably panic a lot though. Like, “What the fuck, dumbass?” “How the HELL did you do that???“ as he’s frantically trying to solve the situation. Will most definitely sit there and laugh at you for a good 5-10 minutes once the whole thing is dealt with though.

You being able to stick up for your friends is one of the great qualities about you that he absolutely adores, especially since before he became a killer he would always get bullied and nobody would ever stick up for him, so one day when you defend him against a bunch of assholes it just warms his heart up and makes him feel so loved, but he most likely wont admit that.

He’d let it slip eventually though.

When you’re feeling self-destructive, he is 100% there for you. Although he’s not really the best at giving advice, he’ll still sit there with you and let you talk your heart out and will listen to every single word because he wants to show that same contribution towards you that you’ve shown him. He’ll constantly reassure you that not everything is your fault and that you’re strong, and he’ll make little promises to you.

If it was a person in particular making you feel that way though, he’d definitely make sure to pay a visit to the motherfucker.

He admires your determination to fight for the things you want, but to an extent. He hates it when you overwork yourself or push beyond your limits to the point where it destroys you, and he wants you to know that you’re not alone and you can ask for help, you don’t have to destroy yourself. He’s more than willing to stay right there, by your side.

He understands hiding your true emotions, because well, he’s had to do it a lot around the other creeps and around his family when they were still alive. So he won’t ever push you to talk about somehting if you don’t want to, but he doesn’t want you to pretend to be okay either. He’s more than willing to just lay with you and do whatever you want if it would make you feel better.

He honestly likes how you have a southern accent at times, when he’s feeling upset or like his sanity is draining, your accent really soothes him so sometimes he’ll ask you to lay it on thick because he could honestly listen to you talk to him and listen to your accent all day if he wanted to.

It’s good that you like cigarette smoke because I canon this man smokes very often.

When it storms at night, he’ll always hold you close to him with a blanket and just listen to the storm sounds with you because it soothes him too. This man is really pent up from feeling driven to constantly murder and just sitting with you listening to the rain and thunder is one of the main things that level him.

He’s really not the best.... at cooking.... but, this means you can cook often for him since he won’t for himself. B)

He will just put you in a car and drive for hours to no destination and blast that 80s and 90s music just to see that smile on your face.

This man will 100000000000% destroy any spider within a 10 mile radius of you.

He understands not liking people who are fake because there were a lot of people who talked shit about him when he went to school, and when he has a problem with someone he will always say it to their face and make them understand that they’re a piece of shit to him.

NSFW:

You like being dominated and guided? Good, because this man is at least 95% a top. He thinks it’s adorable that you’re shy and will most definitely be willing to guide you through the whole thing and tell you exactly what to do for him.

Jeff is really possessive tbh, so when he’s fucking you he will constantly say shit like,

“Fucking mine”

“You’re nobody elses“

“You belong to me, only”

This man will definitely bite you everywhere, he lives to just throw you down onto the bed and start biting everywhere on your body and making sure to leave marks just so you know exactly who owns you.

Don’t worry honey, he will spend hours just filling you with his cock and telling you that you cant cum unless you beg more, or he’ll just pull out right when you’re about to cum on him and just slap your folds with his fingers as a way to make fun of you.

He’ll call you things like, “baby” “dollface” “darling” when he’s feeling passionate but oh boy if he’s feeling angry or he’s punishing you? Be prepared to be degraded all night.

There we go <3

Sorry if this is too long lmfao, I just think that Jeff is a really misunderstood piece of shit. I hope you’re having a great day and taking care of yourself, and I hope you enjoyed this matchup. :)

#creepypasta smut #creepypasta #matchup #creepypasta matchups #jeff the killer #anon ask #smut

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sadoeuphemist · 3 years

Text

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2) to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order.

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

#fiction #dumping grounds

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fandomsaremykryponite · 3 years

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Heyyy may I have a match-up for the walking dead? Thank you so much in advance and I hope this isn't too much too read!

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lincoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

I'm kinda doing this on my phone, so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Also, since this is the first match-up I've done, I had a bit of trouble trying to figure out who would be the best to ship with, but I think I got something. So, without further ado.....

I ship you with: Abraham

Ok. Maybe not what you might be going for, but hear me out.

So he would TOTALLY love how short you are. He could LITERALLY carry you everywhere. The guy is like 6'5" or taller, right? Or at least he seems super tall to me. Also, he would totally tease you about your height. Not in a mean way, but affectionately. The first time you two interact is when he accidentally ran into you bc he LITERALLY DID NOT SEE YOU. According to everyone who witnessed it, it was pretty funny. Especially when he cracked a grin amd made a comment about how he didn't know pretty ladies like you could be so small.

Also, he totally comes off as a hips/ass/thigh guy. He's got bug hands so he'd love to see how much of your thighs he can grab with them big Ole hands. Not to mention, when spooning, he just ENGULFS you in his arms amd curls around you. Seriously, he might accidentally roll on top of you, or on purpose 😏😏😏, and you'll have to smack him a little to get him off so you can BREATHE.

Also, uh, he's like really broad-shouldered which means he's got like super big hoodies. So, you'd be SWIMMING in his clothes, which you would steal bc he'd start smelling comforting. This would be because he smokes cigars. If cigarette smoke and cigar smoke smell different, then idk. But hey if the smell of smoked tobacco is comforting or makes you feel safe, then he will too. Bc this big boy smokes cigars... ya know like I mentioned.

He also seems to be the kind of guy who would like most of the music artists you mention bc they're loud!!! He's former Army and soldiers LOVE to rock out. So, he might like Lincoln Park for their heavy guitar riffs amd Pearl Jam bc they're a classic and should be respected.

He's also super blunt. So if something is wrong, he'll point it out. Though, what he lacks in subtlety, he makes up for by making sure your convos are in private in case you don't want to talk about whatever is bothering you in front of everyone. He's a good listener and bc he's about a subtle as a rock thrown at a window and blunter than a brick, he'll point out plainly where you might be wrong if you're doubting yourself or offer solutions to problems your overthinking. He's also just as stubborn bc when are redheads never stubborn. You ever seen a redhead NOT be stubborn? There's a reason why there are so many expressions/sayings/warnings about redheads. And Abraham is like the walking/talking physical definition for most of it. If your being too stubborn or bitchy, he'll just throw you over his shoulder (bc let's be honest, in the words of B99's Terry, you weigh the same as a couple of grapes) and walk off with you. Don't matter if you're about to start your shift or going on a run, he'll pick you up and ask someone else to cover for you.

There's actually a betting pool going on about how long it'll be before he carries you off again bc he SERIOUSLY likes that you are small enough for him to just make off with.

The fact that you also are willing to do bat-shit crazy stuff, even if it sounds like a bad idea, is something he both loves and hates. Mostly love bc he'll 100% do it with you. That's a result of doing crazy shit with his fellow soldiers in their downtime when he was in the Army. Also, of it goes south, he can just, again bc your SO short in comparison to him, throw you over his shoulder and make off like a bat outta hell.

Also, he likes that you dress grunge. Mostly bc grunge fashion is a little more practical for the zombie apocalypse since you'll be wearing flannel, combat boots, and jeans.

Also, he finds women with resting bitch faces hot as hell so you're in luck with him.

Let me know if I did this right.

#the walking dead #ask #answered #thanks for the ask!#abraham ford #matchup

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staywritten · 4 years

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All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen» ◄Back «Masterlist» Next►

Chan had been staring at his ceiling for almost an hour. You soundly napping in his arms, unknowing of the emotional turmoil he’d been dealing with since his talk with Felix. He’d been racking his brain on how to tell you, but there wasn’t anyway to put it without it sounding sketchy. The two of you kinda just fell into this perfect rhythm and he didn’t want to disrupt it. You were everything he’d ever wanted. He’d never been able to open up, and feel so comfortable before. Sure, he had his friends and he could tell them anything, but he was always the big brother. He never wanted to burden them. But with you he didn’t feel that weight. You welcomed everything with open arms.

He smiled seeing you pout in your sleep. You still had another thirty minutes set on your alarm. He brushed your hair out of your face, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.You relaxed almost instantly to his touch, cuddling into his chest.

He waited a couple more minutes to make sure you were comfortable before quietly slipping out and heading to Felix’s room.

“What’s up Man?” Felix opened his door letting him in.

“Can I vent? I think I just need to talk it out first.” Felix could tell just how disheveled Chan was. He just looked so mentally exhausted. Felix sat on his bed watching Chan pace. “I don’t want to hurt her… I’m terrified of hurting her”

“Then don’t. Just be honest”

“Honest? If I’m honest I’ll lose her...and I don’t want to lose her Felix I think I’m in love and I don’t want to let it go”

“Noona is understanding, and she loves you too I can tell. Friends don’t look at each other like that” he chuckled “I mean I love you, but I’ve never stared at you the way she does.”

“Felix I’m serious.” he groaned “If she asks me about Rosie what am I supposed to tell her? Hey this is Rosie, technically my long distance girlfriend but don’t worry we’ve been on a break for like three years but everytime I go back to Australia we always pick up where we left off, sleep together and go on dates and stuff. But we’re on a break” his tone sarcastic as he rolled his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest.

“See! It’s that right there. Girlfriend. You need to call Rosie right now and break up properly, that way you don’t have to lie" He grabbed his phone, getting ready to call Rosie himself. “You can just break up and that way you don’t have to tell her anything because-”

Chan watched as Felix’s eyes widened, trained on the door behind him. It’s like he knew before he even turned around. His shoulders slumped in guilt before his eyes met yours. “I-”

“...You have a girlfriend…?” your voice breaking, tears already spilling from your eyes. “I was so stupid…” you shrinked back, you couldn’t even look at him. “A girlfriend…” you sniffled, wiping the tears furiously from your eyes.

“It’s not…” he reached out, his body reacting before he could even form a sentence. “Baby please...”

“Don’t touch me!” you stepped back immediately, hugging yourself.

“I never meant to hurt you” his eyes widened, panicked. He knew he was losing you and he didn’t know what to do. “Please… just let me explain everything and… I know you hate me right now but-”

It was like suddenly you were in your sophomore year again in the same toxic cheating relationship. All of your anxieties about opening up, trusting someone, loving someone. It all came rushing at you. Suddenly you were that same, weak, naive sophomore that let a guy manipulate you. All of your insecurities about Rosie that your friends tried to brush off, were justified.

Your body stiffened, Chan reached for your cheek to wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry”

“I said don’t touch me!” you pushed him back keeping your distance.

“Baby please…” he held his hands up, approaching you slowly; Like you were some frightened animal. “Let me explain...I-”

Your body panicked, your anxiety rising. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You felt cornered, heart broken, deceived. You bolted down the hall, not even bothering to grab your things. You shoved your foot in your sneakers, stepped on the backs of them and ran down the stairs from the apartment building.

The cold night air hitting you hard in your thin t-shirt and sweatpants. There was almost an immediate regret once you got down to the main street. You regretted not wearing a sweater, you regretted not grabbing your phone first, you regretted being in an area that wasn’t within walking distance from your house, and most importantly you regretted ever giving another person your heart.

You ran at full speed for as long as your legs could manage, your lungs screaming for a break, your feet in pain from the rubbing of the sneakers on your bare foot. But you couldn’t stop because stopping would mean thinking.

As long as your body was in some sort of visceral response mode, crying and overthinking became second priority.

“Chan you gotta give her some space” Felix grabbed him, stopping him from going after you.

“I can’t! Felix she’s crying and out there in the middle of the night! She doesn’t have her phone- I-I gotta go find her!”

“Hyung! You’re the last person she wants to see right now. If you find her she’s gonna run again.” he took his keys. “I’ll go find her. You stay here in case for some miracle she comes back.” he ordered before heading out.

It was rare that Felix ever took initiative like that but Chan was falling apart.

He drove down the block, looking for you, the only good thing about the whole situation was that they lived in a rather nice area, it was well lit and close to the college so you should be familiar with it, but it was still dangerous for you to be out there alone.

Felix drove the entire path from his apartment to yours, even stopping at a few shops along the way. But still nothing. Chan was blowing up his phone wondering about an update, but there was nothing to tell him. He couldn’t find you. After driving back and forth twice he was starting to worry. But he needed to hold it together because if he panicked Chan was definitely going to lose it.

Somewhere along the way you’d gotten lost, it was bound to happen. It wasn’t like it was a straight shot from North to South campus, and you weren’t even thinking straight. It just hit you how alone you really were. It wasn’t like you had anyone's number memorized, you didn’t even know where you were. You couldn’t even remember the last business you saw, the few you passed were closed for the night. This was as good as it was gonna get, because your legs couldn’t manage a step further. You finally stopped running and collapsed to the ground of what looked to be a park. At least it was decently lit. You hugged your knees panting heavily,, your legs exhausted from the sudden sprint.

Was this your fault? The only reason you got up early from your nap was because Chan wasn’t there. Maybe you should have just stayed asleep. Living in this warm, blissful ignorance, slowly falling more in love with something you knew was too good to be true. You scoffed, sniffling into your t-shirt. Your heart was filled with regret, because deep down you convinced yourself that you didn’t get happy endings, at least not in love.

Felix drove to your apartment once more. It’d been over an hour since he started looking for you. Even if you walked straight home, you should have made it there by now. He hesitantly knocked on the door.

A very groggy Momo opened the door, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Felix? What in the world? It’s like 1am I have practice tomorrow morning.”

He nervously looked up at her. “I...Is yn-Noona home?”

“What? No, she’s at your place” she laughed at the silly question before reading his face. “Wait...Why? Where is she?” the worry was rising on her face.

“She...Kinda got upset at Hyung and ran out...she left her phone and stuff at the house…”

“What?! She left your house on foot? Felix! When? I- What did he do to her!?”

“I’ve been looking for her for like an hour.” His shoulders slumped “Momo, focus here, I’ll tell you that later but we gotta find her I’m getting worried…”

“An hour?!” She grabbed her purse and phone to call Hyunjin “Drive me back toward Chan’s house, I’m getting her stuff. And tell me every single thing that happened.”

Felix and Chan called everyone they could gather to go and help look for you. It was still too early to file any form of police report, especially being that you left willingly, and it’d only been a few hours but they called just in case.

Chan paced back and forth, he’d had to explain the situation more times than he could count, and there was never a gentle way to put it. He fucked up. He completely and wholeheartedly fucked up. The whole swim team and anyone else he could gather was out looking for you, and all he could do was wait.

Momo walked inside the apartment to get your things. Walking passed Chan without a second look. She grabbed your phone, books and bag packing them up in a furious silence. “Momo I’m so-”

“Save it.” she glared at him. “My best friend is missing because you cheated on her. And if ANYTHING happens to her I swear-”

“I deserve it…” his head hung low. “This is my fault… I.. I should have…”

She gripped her small hands, almost shaking before taking a deep breath “I don’t give a shit about this pity party you’re throwing yourself. This whole woe is me, this is all my fault, I deserve this self hate thing, it’s a little pathetic given the situation. My friend is missing. Our friends are out there looking for her in the middle of the night, and you are doing nothing”

“She doesn’t want to see me”

“You pick a hell of a time to start being considerate for her, where was this when you forgot to tell her you had a girlfriend.”

“Momo you don’t know the whole story”

“And I don’t care to! You are full of excuses!” She let out a breath, visibly shaking. “You know-It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty you could be doing. You could be calling places, calling people, getting out there and looking for her anyway. Yes, it’s your fault. But it’s also mine, I should have never encouraged her to talk to you. I should have never said you’d be different and that you were a nice guy. But I’ll have plenty of time to blame myself after we find my best friend and that she’s home safe.” She rolled her eyes “But hey, if you wanna throw your pity party help yourself. But I’m gonna go find my friend” she grabbed your bag before leaving his apartment.

Chan knew Momo was right, he was falling apart from the guilt. It was like everything he feared was coming true and he felt helpless. He just wanted you to be safe. He took a deep breath.

To Be Continued…

Hi friends! （ﾉ´д｀）I’m sorry, I had to plot ;_;

All In│Bang Chan «Chapter Thirteen»

Synopsis: After a messy break up your sophomore year, you decided that the best thing for you was to finish off your college career single. You wanted to focus on yourself, grow as a person and finish off your degree strong. There’d be plenty of time for love after college. But after losing your camera you become friends with the seemingly perfect boy that threatens to ruin your plans.

Genre: SocialMedia!AU, College!AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

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∘Tags List:

@vhschs @thelustasylum @lunnanunna @yooniversalstudios @aiyalix @ph0ebevix @zaratanveerx @channieboyo @hannahdinse8 @got7-yeah-got7onmymind @itisjustpaula @ann0325441904 @etherealchangbin @7829-kamie @ateez-babygirl @lazyliyah

#stray kids #stray kids scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids reaction #stray kids x reader #stray kids social media au #stray kids sns au #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan sns au #bang chan social media au #skz #skz scenario #All in series #staywritten

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angelsunflowers-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Tadashi Hamada x Hacker!reader (A Hacker’s help)

Request: yeahhhhhh!!🎉 can i request a Tadashi Hamada x reader(gender neutral pls?) where the reader is a hacker and a bit younger than Tadashi(like 2 or 3 years)?THANK U SO MUCH!!😭

Fandom: Big hero 6

Genre: Fluff

Linktree

~~~~

Tadashi ran a hand over his face in frustration, staring at his parked moped, trying to piece together a plan to find his little brother, Hiro.

“Tadashi? Is everything alright?” He slowly picked his head up as he heard the voice of Honey Lemon behind him. Should he bother the chemist with his predicament?

“Hiro’s missing, he’s out bot fighting. I have no idea where he could be. What do I do?” Tadashi confessed.

The tall blonde slowly approached Tadashi, carefully placing a hand on one of his shoulders.

“I know someone that could help. In the computer tech department? Does that help at all?”

Tadashi slowly turned around and started toward the entrance, Honey Lemon led him to the said department.

“Who’s gonna help me? And how exactly?”

Honey Lemon smiled to herself, knowing full well of the huge crush that Tadashi had on her secret helper.

“(y/n), they’re a hacker. They should be able to help us. You know them, right? Honestly, I’m kinda surprised, them being a few years younger than you and all,” Honey Lemon explained.

The blood instantly rushed to Tadashi’s ears and cheeks. He thought he was being discreet with all that staring, nothing gets past Honey Lemon.

“Um, kinda?”

She opened the door to the lab, nobody was there except for (y/n), typing an endless code onto their computer. They acknowledged a presence as Honey Lemon stepped into the large lab, her heels gave away her position immediately.

“Hey, Honey Lemon. I’ll be with you in a minute, I’m just updating my program,” (y/n) spoke without looking up. Tadashi stepped in beside Honey Lemon, watching (y/n) type for another minute before spinning on their chair to face the two. “What did you need this time?”

Honey Lemon instantly got a huge smile onto her face before she pushed Tadashi closer to the hacker.

“Actually, Tadashi has a request for you,” Honey Lemon said.

(y/n) raised an eyebrow and stared at Tadashi, marveling at the amount of red on his face.

“I-I need to track my little brother’s phone because he went to another bot fight…” (y/n) nodded lightly, beckoning him closer.

“Don’t worry, that’s an easy one. Can you give me Hiro’s number?” (y/n) asked.

Tadashi sat next to (y/n), ready to recite the number.

“(Hiro’s number), will this take long? I don’t know what kind of trouble he could be in by now,” Tadashi worried.

(y/n) turned to the monitor, typing in the number they were given by Tadashi.

“Okay, got him. He’s in the south side of town, about 10 miles from here. Is that all you need, Tadashi?” The tech student swallowed nervously, Honey Lemon and (y/n) stared at him intensely. The way they said his name was--

“I-” Honey Lemon stepped forward, placing a hand on one of Tadashi’s shoulders.

“--Actually, Tadashi was wondering if you wanted to come with him. You’re all done here aren’t you?”

Tadashi stared at Honey Lemon in shock, wondering what she was doing. (y/n) took a small peak at her monitor before shutting it down.

“Sure, I’m done, it’s late, and I’m bored… So, why not?” (y/n) reassured.

Tadashi stood still for a few moments, not saying anything until Honey Lemon took a step backward.

“Okay, I have some things of my own to-do. You two have fun!” Honey Lemon yelled out.

Tadashi looked after his friend, not knowing that he was going to be left alone with his crush for an unknown amount of time. Honey Lemon quickly left the lab before Tadashi could call her back in or stop her.

(y/n) grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulders before they looked at Tadashi expectantly.

“Okay, I’m ready. You coming, or should I just hot wire your bike myself?” His face flared up even more at the statement, if possible. He quickly shot himself out of his chair, keys in hand.

“Y-yeah. Come on,” He cleared his throat, not wanting to look so frazzled in front of someone he liked.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” (y/n) asked, curious.

Tadashi groaned, climbing onto his moped before urging (y/n) to do the same.

“More than I would like,” Tadashi groaned.

Tadashi felt his heart flutter and flip as (y/n) hesitantly wrapped their arms around his middle, not quite sure how to hold on to him.

“Is this okay? I’ve never ridden something like this before,” (y/n) asked nervously.

Tadashi smiled slightly, noting the flustered tone in their voice. He slowly grabbed their hands, locking them into place with each other and tightening their loose grip around his torso.

“Are you okay? You need to be tight against me or else you might go flying off,” Tadashi asked.

Tadashi felt his heart melt as (y/n) slid themself closer to Tadashi to not fly off as he instructed. He started the moped and followed (y/n) directions on the road.

“So why did you ask me to come along? We don’t really talk outside of the school,” (y/n) asked.

The 18-year-old tried to come up with a plausible explanation, “I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been trying to come up with an excuse to talk to you. You’re really intelligent and pretty, and just amazing.”

The younger student didn’t know what to say, they glanced to the side at all the buildings passing by, all the lights and beautiful colors.

“Take another right, my phone says your brother should be here,” (y/n) instructed.

Tadashi glanced away from (y/N) to see Hiro running away from some shady looking people.

“Hiro!”

The younger Hamada jumped onto his brother’s moped, no questions asked. Tadashi rushed away from the scene of the crime, (y/n) gripped onto his waist and Hiro to (y/n)’s shoulders; neither wanting to fly off.

“Hey, (y/n). What are you two doing here?” Hiro directed to (y/n).

(y/n) gave him a small shrug, talking to Hiro instead of Tadashi.

“Your brother asked me to come. Hey, did you understand number 5 for the programming assignment?” (y/n) asked in reply.

“Oh, that one took me a while. I can--” Tadashi took a sharp left turn before appearing in front of the lucky cat café.

“Would you two zip it?! Okay, we’re here,” Tadashi yelled.

Hiro jumped off with ease, as did Tadashi. But (y/n) almost fell over, but the eldest Hamada caught them luckily.

“Sorry,” They mumbled. He smiled lightly and helped them steady their footing on the ground.

“Jelly legs?” Tadashi teased.

(y/n) only nodded before they took off the helmet, their hair going everywhere. Tadashi stifled a laugh before pulling off his own helmet. Hiro went inside, not wanting to get lectured by his older brother.

“Is it that bad?” They asked.

Tadashi set both helmets to the side before he placed his hands on their head, smoothing their hair back to normal.

“Just a bit,” Tadashi answered, laughing to himself.

(y/n) turned away from the Lucky cat café, knowing how late it was and that they should head home. Rain slowly started to fall from the sky, drenching (y/n) as they were outside the cover of the bakery.

“You wanna come in for a bit? Just until the rain stops? And maybe warm you up?” Tadashi offered.

(y/n) wiped the excess water from their skin and smiled up at Tadashi.

“I’d like that.”

#tadashi hamada x reader #Big Hero 6 x reader #Disney x reader #Tadashi Hamada imagine #Big Hero 6 imagine #Disney imagine #Tadashi Hamada fanfiction #Big hero 6 fanfiction #Disney fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #self insert #Tadashi Hamada #Hiro Hamada #Honey Lemon

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markftmingi · 4 years

Text

the mc pres : johnny seo

SUMMARY: an au in which two people run into each other after 5 years but they aren't the same people they used to be...

PAIRING: mafia leader!johnny x teacher/single mom! reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive themes, and some smut.

WARNING(S): this isn’t fully written ok this is a unfinished piece i did like almost two years ago so its kinda bad and skips around but i wanted to post it anyways lmao, swearing, slight smut but it’s more of like a flashback of when it happened(?)

WORD COUNT: 2797

"okay everyone, class dismissed," you announced, smiling.

the class, individually, walked out of the classroom. your assistant and best friend, qian kun, stood by the door to say goodbye to the students. some said goodbye to you too, some didn't. you were too tired to notice who said what. you did notice your favorite two students walk in once everyone left.

one of two being mark lee. mark has been one of your students for the past 3 four years. you didn't know many of your students' personal lives but he had a public reputation. he's a member of the biggest motorcycle club in all of south korea. you didn't know much about the gang but you heard the roar of the motorcycles go by your apartment everyday. mark's feared by everyone here... except yourself, kun, and lucas. you all knew he was too much of a goofball to really hurt anyone. then there was lucas. he's the same age as mark so you had him as a student for 3 years too. he was taller than mark and a lot more scarier. the 6'0 young man was a selective mute who glared at everyone who even glanced at him. lucas gained a reputation as fighter in his freshman year after he nearly beat a senior to death when he was being made fun of. the next day, lucas walked in with mark sporting matching leather jackets with NCT stitched across the back. when kun came in two years ago, lucas tried to scare him off. luckily, kun wasn't the kind of person to be easily scared. they were both chinese, shy but had horrible tempers. after a heart to heart with him, he let his guard down around you and kun.

“you look horrible,” lucas said once he fully looked at you.

mark slapped his shoulder, “she doesn’t look horrible... the bags under her eyes do.

"leave her alone guys... they're designer bags." kun joked, making the two boys laugh.

"i'm convinced you all hate me." you said playfully, undoing your hair.

it had been pinned into a tight bun all day, giving you a headache. you also kicked off your heels as well - the daily ritual after school.

"i don't get how you deal with kids all day." mark questioned taking out his homework.

"you're one of those kids i have to deal with all day."

he rolled his eyes, "not me... i don't count. you love me."

"yeah yeah, back to work." you smiled, as you began to plan for the next day.

that's how you spent your afternoons. the four of you would stay after school until your daughter got out of school too. lucas and mark doing homework and projects while kun and yourself planned what you would teach next. if they wanted to talk or vent to you, they would... especially lucas.

the two hours went by and you were now walking out the school.

"you two need a ride?" kun offered them.

lucas shook his head and nodded towards the parking lot. you turned around seeing a small group of bikers staring back at you.

"o-oh." you stuttered.

you couldn't see their faces clearly due to face masks and sunglasses but you were intimidated. three tall, muscular men with motorcycles staring at you was not something you’re used to. they both said goodbye before walking towards the group.

"i couldn't even see their eyes but it still feels like the one in front was staring into my soul,” you mumbled to kun as you walked to his car.

he shrugged casually, "maybe he was."

"kun, this isn't funny."

"relax", kun pulled you closer, "they have a bad reputation but they're not randomly going to jump you or kill you. they go after those who cause problems or mess with them. you're innocent… well some nights you are."

you ignored the smirk on his face and got into his car. kun's apartment was right next to yours. he's heard your moans and screams plenty of times due to your previous relationship. he swore he wasn't that bothered by it but it was still embarrassing.

"kun?" you turned towards him, “what are you doing later?”

he thought for a moment, "well... we still have to finish wednesday's lesson plan. so i will be over to cook my god-daughter dinner and then we're going to work."

you let out a long, dramatic sigh as you got out the car. it was going to be a long night.

•••

the next day was uneventful. classes were boring and you wanted to leave. you loved teaching. it's always been your dream job but some days, you craved a vacation.

you currently didn't have a class right now so you were printing notes of today’s lessons. the door opened slightly, making you sit up. it was only kun.

"so you have a visitor." he said, with an unsure look on his face.

"why the face? who is it?"

"it's one of those bikers from yesterday. apparently he's also legally lucas's guardian." kun admitted.

lucas' guardian? you both knew lucas never mentioned his parents but you didn't assume he was adopted either.

"you can send him in. i'll be okay."

kun nodded before disappearing again. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. you were nervous. why did he want to meet with you? was it strictly about lucas?

a knock on the door made you sit up again. the door opened and it was the last person you ever expected to see.

johnny smirked slightly, "hey, y/n.”

"oh you have got to be kidding me." you mumbled to yourself.

johnny seo. a man you met back in your hometown of chicago. his mother lived next door to your family. you remembered her telling you that her son was finally coming home. when you saw the then 20 year old man, you knew he was trouble. yet you were still so eager to trust him and give yourself away. but that was five years ago. back when you were in college. back when you were dumb and naive. back when you fell in love for the first time.

back before he left you pregnant without a word.

"i came here yesterday to pick lucas and mark and i was very surprised to see you walk out with them." johnny said as he walked closer to you.

"there is no way this is happening right now." you laughed but there was no humor in your voice.

johnny ignored your remarks and openly checked you out, "you look as beautiful as ever... how've you been?"

you scoffed and looked up at him fully for the first time since he walked in. he looked as beautiful as ever too. his hair was longer and lighter than it used to be. he was more fit and had a few more tattoos. those beautiful brown eyes were what changed the most. they were much colder and didn't hold that same sparkle that they used to.

"i don't know why my well-being should concern you but as lucas' guardian, you should focus on mentioning him." you said, folding your hands gently in your lap.

johnny leaned on your desk, "mark always mentioned a ms. y/n that him and lucas stayed after school with and i just knew it couldn't have been you... i should've known though. y/n isn't a common name here. you always talked about how much you wanted to be a teacher and help kids and how much you wanted to come to seoul."

"if you're not here about lucas, you can leave, mr. seo." you stated before getting up.

this whole situation was insane. you never thought you’d run into johnny again. your life was going great. now all of the sudden, he's in your classroom, making your heart beat out of your chest. you erased the chalkboard and wrote the date in the top right corner. when you turned back around, johnny's arms trapped you against the board.

"why are you ignoring me like this?" johnny mumbled.

"there's nothing i have to say to you anymore. when you have to talk about lucas, then i'll talk to you." you said, pushing him away.

he sighed, "i want to talk about us, sweetheart. lucas is 21. he can handle himself. as far as i know, his grades are good. well, that's what mark tells me. that kid doesn't even talk."

you raised an eyebrow, "he doesn't talk to you?"

"no, he only talks to mark... does he talk to you?"

"yeah," you held back a laugh, "looks like i have more of a connection with your gang than you do and you're the leader."

johnny shrugged, "you might have more of a connection with mark and lucas than i do... but you and i have a better connection than anybody."

"had... had a connection. a one-sided one at that."

"i cared about you. just not how you cared about me. i never loved you. you were just supposed to be a fling. although i will admit i called my mom to see how you and the baby were doing. crying into your pillow for two weeks? that's a little pathetic, don't you think?" he asked, leaning against the board.

"fuck you, johnny. you left me. how was i supposed to feel?"

"i told you. you meant nothing to me."

"obviously if you left me as soon as i said i was pregnant." you whispered but you knew he heard you.

the door opened, making both of your heads look towards it. kun.

"am i interrupting something?" kun asked, setting a pack of papers on his desk.

"no, i was just leaving." johnny announced as he walked towards the door, "see you soon, sweetheart.”

as soon as johnny left, you let out a big sigh.

"what the hell happened?" kun asked as he began to separate the papers.

"that man... was johnny as in the same johnny who left me in chicago... jasmine's father."

kun knew everything. being that you only had three friends, two of them being your students, you told him your life story.

"no way... did you know he was that motorcycle president back there?"

you shook your head, "when i first met him in chicago, people around the city had warned me that he was no good. that he only came back to chicago to avoid getting into trouble in korea. i didn't know he was in a motorcycle club at all. i was too blind to see all that."

"too blind because your face was being pushed into his pillow?" kun slyly asked.

you scoffed, "keep stapling papers, qian."

your mind flashed back to what johnny said before he left...

see you soon, sweetheart.

•••

johnny sighed for the nth time this evening. he couldn't get you out of his head now. the woman he thought he left for good. when he met in you in your shared hometown, he thought you were perfect for his needs- beautiful and naive as fuck. you were a really good person. really nice, caring, the total package. he ruined that... almost every night. you didn't deserve that. you didn't deserve for johnny to ruin your innocence just for you to fall in love and have him leave months later.

one day you told johnny you were pregnant. the next day, he was on a plane back to south korea. johnny wondered how the kid was doing. she or he would be about 5 years old. maybe 6. did they look like him? did they look more like you? were they a perfect combination of you both?

"why the fuck am i thinking about this shit now? i didn't give a fuck before." johnny mumbled to himself.

it was roughly 12:30am. johnny wondered if you were still the night owl he remembered you to be. most of that coming from when he used to keep you up all night. he wondered if you’d been with anyone since him. who was he kidding? you were gorgeous and your body was perfect. you could easily have men crawling at the sight of you. the thought of another man touching you bothered johnny. he knew no one could make you feel like he did though. you always felt so tight and wet around him…mouth always ready to take him whenever he asked… the sinful screams and scratches when he’d fuck you real good. johnny could feel himself getting hard at the thought.

he got up and headed out the door. he knew he would end up regretting this later...

•••

you gasped when you opened the door, "johnny, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"i told you that i was going to see you soon,” johnny said quietly as he took in your appearance.

you crossed your arms, "when you said soon, i didn't think it'd be a day later. i also didn't think it would be at 1:38am... or at my house."

"maybe i missed you,” he smirked slightly.

"bullshit. seriously johnny, why are you here? how'd you even know where i live?"

"let me in and i'll tell you."

you looked up into his eyes before opening the door further. johnny smiled at you as he walked in.

"okay, so answer my questions." you demanded walking into the kitchen area.

"i am here because i was thinking about you." he admitted, staring at the marble counter.

"thinking about me for what?"

"well... i was actually i was thinking about how it felt to be inside of you then i got hard and decided to visit you."

you rolled your eyes, "at least you're being honest now."

"what do you mean 'now'? i was honest before." johnny questioned, slightly offended.

"no, you weren't johnny... not to me."

"i couldn't be honest to you. what did you want me to say? 'hey i'm only here until it’s clear for me to go back home. i killed a few people and had to lay low in chicago. you're a beautiful woman and all. i love hanging out with you but i love fucking you more. don't get attached though because i'm going to leave you.' is that what you wanted me to say?" he asked.

you threw your hands in the air, "yes! i would've loved to hear that. it would have saved me from heartbreak and trust issues. i was 20 and naive but if you told me that you just wanted a fuck buddy, then i wouldn't have gotten attached and i definitely would've kept condoms around!"

johnny looked taken back. he’s never seen you this mad before.

"who the fuck are you yelling at?” his words sounded cold but he was more intrigued than mad.

"i'm not yelling at you. i am talking loud. i'm tired of you already and it's only been two days! when you left, i blamed myself, wondering what i did wrong. i was stressed about having to carry a child for nine months and raise it all while being a full-time college student. it was your fault johnny! you and your shit communication skills!" you ranted, breathing heavily.

"momma." a small voice called out.

johnny’s head quickly turned towards the door. your little girl was standing there in a matching pj set. just one look at her and anyone could tell she was johnny’s daughter. you could see that jasmine had his eyes, nose and lips but had your hair and skin tone. your daughter was beautiful.

"yes, baby?" you replied softly, "did i wake you?"

"a little... who's he?" jasmine asked.

johnny crouched down to her level, "i- i'm johnny. your... mother's friend."

she tilted her head at him, "i'm 5 but i'm not stupid. you're my daddy. you look just like me."

"if anything, you look just like me." johnny corrected her.

"nope! you copied me first!" she shot back,

"wait. momma, you're crying."

johnny turned around to see you quickly wiping your tears away.

"i'm fine, jasmine, go and lay back down okay?”

she nodded and skipped off into her room.

johnny cleared his throat, “i know you don’t want to hear this… but i have to be in her life, y/n. i know that i fucked up but she deserves to have a father in her life.”

you scoffed, “wow. now the mafia leader wants to tell me what MY daughter needs. that’s funny.”

“it’s OUR daughter and you know i’m right.”

he was right. you didn’t want your daughter to grow up without her father, but you’d never admit that to him. you knew all the trouble being in the mafia brought to johnny and you feared the same thing would happen to your little girl.

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