#man i didn’t even know he would exist before ten minutes ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crybaby-bkg · 11 months

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victim to my every need

Shinsou Hitoshi x f!reader Warnings: public sex, mall sex, sex toy usage, clit sensitizer, nipple tingling gel, overstimulation, spreader bars, anal play, butt plug usage, vaginal fingering, reader is ovulating, very brief bratting, mention of sadism, multiple orgasms (reader receiving), condom sex, slight aftercare. I think that's it, but pls let me know if I missed anything. Word Count: 5.7k Notes: this is way past overdue lmao but I hope you all enjoy! 🫶🏼 Minors/ageless/blank blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

Settling into bed, you sigh quietly under your breath, lashes fluttering as you snuggle into the pillows behind your head. Finally, some peace and quiet, you think to yourself, instinctively glaring at your wall that your neighbors feel the need to bang against every other night. Well screw them—tonight is for you.

Digging into your night table, you dig out ole reliable; the vibrator that you’ve had for entirely too long that honestly should’ve clonked out on you years ago. But that’s why its ole reliable, with its too loud buzz that always seems to hit the right spot every time. You close your eyes, releasing another breath, spreading your legs overtop of the sheets, and pull your underwear to the side. You’ll be sleep after this in no time.

…Except ole reliable fucking clonks out on you the moment you’re this close to orgasming. You’re in disbelief for a few seconds, clicking the on and off button from memory without having to move from your spot. But, no matter how many times you click it, ole reliable just isn’t turning on.

“Fuck!” You screech, ignoring the bang on your wall from your neighbor. Of all fucking nights, this just had to happen to you. You huff under your breath, finally sitting up in bed so that you could glare at your toy, cursing its pathetic existence as it rolls around your bed.

What were you gonna do? You really needed that nut right now; you were ovulating and hornier than you think you’ve ever been. Your hand won’t be as satisfying, the water pressure in this apartment complex was ass, and you didn’t have any other toys that could get the job done like ole reliable could.

You groan and a run a hand down your face, plopping back onto your pillows as you try to come up with a quick solution. Ordering one online would take too long, and the store that you got it from would be closed by this time of night. As you ponder your options, an idea hits you, and you’re too horny to care about whether or not it was a good one.

…

You walk into the twenty four hour mall with your head basically bowed in shame, scurrying through the open space quickly. Most stores were still open, but you saw on the mall website that their sex store closed at midnight. It was only ten minutes before their doors would be locked, and the walk to the store in the far corner of the mall would eat up all of that time. So you put a little extra boost in your steps, and hope that you make it time.

Which you do, just barely though, as you watch the worker pull out a set of keys from his pockets. You rush over, waving a hand as you call out to the purple haired man,

“Excuse me! Can I get something really quick?” You ask, cringing as your voice echoes in the quietness of the mall. There’s some overplayed tune wafting through the speakers and a few stragglers going from store to store. The worker doesn’t even look up though, back still turned to you as you watch his head shake slightly.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re closed for the night. Come back in the morning.” He tells you, a deep voice ringing from the man that echoes slightly. It makes you give pause, something filthy happening to you at the sound of him. Your steps stutter as your thighs twitch, finally taking a moment to take the man in as you step up beside him. He turns to you with his eyebrow cocked, hands pausing though as he looks at you.

He’s handsome as ever, with fluffy lavender hair in the cut of a mullet, and a sharp, angled face. He’s covered in piercings, which shocks you, with one in each eyebrow, another going through the bridge of his nose, another going vertically through his bottom lip. His eyes match his hair, and despite the bags under his eyes, you think he might be the finest specimen you’ve ever seen in your life.

Either that, or your ovulation is making you a madman.

“I’m so sorry to be a bother, but I really need to buy something. Like, really badly.” You emphasize, giving him a small smile as he cocks his head at you. He’s taller than you, wearing a gray hoodie and loose sweatpants that you try not to stare at. You’re not completely shameless.

“Well, if its that urgent, maybe you need the pharmacy on the other side of the mall, then.” His deep voice is low, sarcastic, but you notice that he doesn’t lock the doors yet. Instead, he leans against them with his shoulder, looking down his nose at you as you stand there practically dancing between your two feet.

“The pharmacy doesn’t sell what I need.” You mumble, eyes darting across the mall to see if anyone’s paying you two any attention. A few look toward you, mainly because you’re damn near pleading to be let in the shop called “Trunk’o’Toys” with a very obvious eggplant beside it. You avoid their gazes and look back toward the worker, whose eyes conveniently roll the moment you catch his gaze. He sighs real loud, shifting on his feet as he twirls the keys around his pointer finger.

“Look, sweetheart, I’ve been here all day. I’m ready to go home and smoke a joint or two, and I would prefer doing that sooner rather than later. We’re closed.” He says the last part with finality lacing his tone, making you bite your lip in worry. Despite the time throwing on clothes, driving over here, and conversing with this worker, you’re still wet as ever. Still throbbing in your panties, still feeling as desperate as hell, and the fact that he won’t let you in is driving you up the fucking wall.

The worker goes to lock up the shop once more, but you reach a hand out to stop him quickly. Your hand closes around his wrist, and you think that maybe this is a terrible fucking idea, especially when he freezes and fixes you with a hard glare. Despite this though, you lean in until your mouth is inches away from his face, looking down at the floor and then his soft looking lips, and then the floor again because his mouth is too pretty.

“Please, just let me in.” You whisper, swallowing loudly as you contemplate if you should share all of your troubles. You decide that, if you want what you need so badly, then you should just go for it, damn the consequences that come with it.

“I, um, I’ve been rather, you know…worked up lately,” you whisper, avoiding his seemingly bored gaze. “And work has been hectic, and I haven’t had any time for myself and—”

“Baby, I don’t care about your life story.” The worker interjects but you squeeze him a little harder and finish your explanation.

“And I finally got the chance to—to alleviate some of the worked up-ness, and I got so close, and then.” You stop, swallowing again, suddenly nervous as the worker seems intrigued now. He raises a pierced brow, ducking his head down so that you can look at him again, and you do.

“And then?” He questions, tone suddenly shifting as he licks his lips once. He sees where this is going, and you kinda hate the man for making you say it out loud when he sees how desperate you are.

“And then my vibrator died before I could finish.” You whisper out in a rush, eyes dropping to his mouth that presses in a thin line. “And I—I really need a new one, ‘cause I think I might go crazy if I have to wait through the night.” The air between the two of you is electric, and you finally let his wrist go when you see how he goes from annoyed to intrigued. You take a step back, feeling woozy at the close contact, how your hole still throbs, at how this worker is staring at you. He takes a step forward, closing the gap once more as he looks down at you, with an almost amused smirk on his face.

“And my shop the only shop that can help you?” He asks almost sarcastically, grinning when you frown a little, confused since you just offered him a too personal explanation.

“Well, yeah,” you answer, feeling a little dumb at his question. It only makes the worker grin even harder though, at your uncertainty, how you shuffle on your feet when he leans in real close in your space. He has a hand on his hip, the other resting against the shops doors, and his eyes feel like they’re undressing you by the second.

“You know I’d have to charge you extra. An inconvenience fee, and all.” The worker teases you, cocking his head when he sees you thinking it over silently. As you look down, you catch his name on his name tag; Shinsou. He was a cheeky little fucker, that for some reason turned you on more than you cared to admit, even if he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Yeah, that’s—that’s okay.” You stutter over yourself, swallowing when you look down and catch a twitch between his legs. Your cunt throbs with every second, and you wonder how much more shameless you could get before the night was over. You look up though, when Shinsou clears his throat, lavender eyes feeling hypnotic like a sirens call.

“I can waive the fee, though. But only if—”

“Yes.” You cut him off quickly, nodding your head as you step even closer to him until your shoes bump against each others. You wrap your hands in the front of his hoodie, pouting when he laughs at you, holding your hands in his own bigger, warmer ones as he tilts down to look at you.

“You didn’t even wait for me to tell you.” He teases, skimming his mouth against yours and pulling away with a shit eating grin when you try to kiss him. You pout, uncaring of the few people that linger in the mall, having eyes only for the hot sex toy shop worker that squeezes your hands in his.

“Don’t need to. I’ve been this close to finishing since you turned around, and I’m ovulating like I’m in fuckin’ heat.” You whisper in a confessional to him, eyes going wide after your word vomit. You wonder if it was a mistake sharing something that intimate with a stranger, especially with how Shinsou’s own eyes go wide at your words. But they quickly lower, his lids heavy as he brings you in close by your hips until they press against his, and you gasp at the bulge that pokes at your tummy.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” Shinsou whispers against your mouth before he pushes the door of his shop open with one fell swoop. You two go falling inside, mouths suddenly on each others, hands gripping and groping everything that you could reach, stumbling until your back hits the front counter. Your hands under his hoodie, moaning at how jacked he really is, how he’s been hiding all that muscle under clothing so big.

And Shinsou does the same, squeezing the fat of your ass and thighs in his palms, consuming you with every peck of his mouth, every lick of that pierced tongue you hadn’t noticed before. You groan against him when he quickly lifts you onto the counter, mouth still connected to his, head tilting as he swallows your every little noise. He pulls back after what feels like hours, after he squeezes at your tit and feels you throb against him, after you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer than he thought possible.

You don’t stop though, tilting down to start mouthing at his neck, one hand gripping his shoulder to pull him in tighter, the other groping his pec. You can feel Shinsou moving around, but pay it no mind, only lean back slightly when he tugs at your shirt. It comes off in one quick motion, and he holds you back when you go to mouth at his jaw again.

“Think I wanna try a few toys with you. ’S that okay?” Shinsou asks, huffing a little and grinning at your wide eyes when you finally see what’s in his hand.

“Tingling gel?” You question, scratching lightly at his nape when he starts digging around for a pair of scissors behind you under the counter. It presses his hoodie to your warm skin, the fabric tickling you as you press your nose against his temple.

“Where do you wanna put that?” You ask in a moan when Shinsou nibbles at your jaw, hearing him cut open the plastic. He answers your question when he suddenly undoes your bra clasps, makes you wonder if the fucker secretly had an extra pair of arms you hadn’t noticed before to be so tricky. Your breasts fall out of your bra with a slight bounce, gasping when Shinsou pulls back to watch. His eyes go low as he cups one tit in his hand, staring up at you from beneath his lashes with an impish grin.

“Right on these pretty little things.” Shinsou tells you, leaning in to lick against your bottom lip, asking against your mouth, “Is that okay with you?”

And you nod as enthusiastically as you can, managing to bump your forehead against his own, pulling a laugh from the two of you. You affirm him, pushing your chest into his grip, biting your lip when he squeezes with a grin.

“Heard this shit kicks in pretty fast, so tell me when it does.” Shinsou murmurs, invested in opening the cap and squeezing some onto his fingers. He warms it between his fingertips, the lull in conversation making you glance up at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“What?” You can’t help but blurt out, suddenly a little unsure of yourself. Here you are, at midnight, in public, sitting on a sex toy shop counter with your tits out, waiting for the hot worker to rub tingling gel on your nipples.

You can’t say that you make the best decisions when you’re ovulating. But Shinsou only grins crookedly at you, leaning in to kiss you a lot slower, a lot gentler this time than before. His warm tongue ring glides against the grooves of your gums and teeth, feeling you gasp into his own mouth as he finally starts working the still cool gel on your nipples.

“Nothin’. You’re just really pretty like this.” He tells you, leaning back to watch the clear gel absorb into your skin, looking back up at you as you watch him. “I never got your name, either.”

You tell him, in a shaky little breath, when he works it into the other nipple. His fingers are thick and stocky, the pads of his fingers rough yet gentle where he massages the gel in. He thumbs at them, plucking them softly to hear you hiccup and moan, wrapping your legs around his waist even tighter when the feeling hits after only a few seconds.

“It’s kicking in already.” You whine, high in the back of your throat as you lean your head back.

“How does it feel?” Shinsou asks against the column of your throat, pulling away momentarily to take his hoodie off, finding him with no shirt underneath. His chest rubs against yours when he leans into you, and it makes your hips buck at the sensation. He chuckles under his breath, grabbing at your hips as he starts to languidly grind his hips into your own.

“Kinda weird. Really good.” You mutter, eyes screwed shut when the feeling intensifies, foreign in sensation. But not bad at all, especially when paired with Shinsou mouthing at that spot beneath your ear, the bulge of his cock sliding against your clit. You can feel him grin, squeezing at your ass as he murmurs against your neck,

“Mind if I up the ante with some more fun?” You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, making him outright laugh this time. When he pulls away, you’re pouting at him, and he can’t help but lick at your protruding bottom lip before reaching under the counter again. You gasp at the contact of his warm skin against your tingling nipples, toes curling as you feel your body going limp.

“Please, hurry up. Touch me, just do something.” You whimper to Shinsou, pulling at the hair on his nape when you hear him cutting another package open behind you. This time, you can’t see what it is, and it makes you all the more desperate. Shinsou tuts at you, nipping sharply on your shoulder, pushing your already sensitive chest into his own to hear you gasp again.

“Such a whiny little thing you are.” He chided, sounding almost disappointed. But you don’t get a second to dwell on it when you hear a buzzing sound behind you. Your back straightens, trying to look over your shoulder, but Shinsou pulls it out in front of you before you can. He holds the toy between you two, something long in shape and purple in color, with what looks to be a suction on the other end that he holds.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was the same exact make and model as ole reliable. You could cry right now.

“Since its fresh out the pack, it doesn’t have much battery life. So let’s put this thing to use, and fast.” Shinsou grins at you, the rose gold bar in his lip shining in the low lights of the shop. He looks heaven sent right now, or maybe hell sent, with his devious grin and glinting facial metal and the fact that he’s waving a vibe in front of your face.

But you take that as a win anyway, nodding mutely as you spread your legs in front of him, finally unwrapping them from around his waist. Shinsou grins at that, forcing the vibe in your hands as he strips you bare from the waist. You press the vibrating toy against your nipples, inhaling sharply when the tingling feeling is only amplified. It’s snatched out of your hand quickly though, making you frown at Shinsou who tuts at you disappointedly.

“Told you it only has a bit of life in it. If another vibe dies on you tonight, I think its just your fault at this point.” He throws back in your face, grinning when your eyebrows furrow and you frown at him.

“Victim blaming, are we?” You tilt your chin at him, watching with lidded eyes as he takes all of you in—your pebbled nipples, your soaked cunt, your quaking thighs, your curled toes. He takes it all in with a bite to his bottom lip, finally pressing the low buzzing toy against your already swollen clit.

“Oh, so you’re a victim now?” Shinsou teases, presses his mouth to yours to feel all your hiccuping little moans and sighs. “All because you couldn’t cum?” The way he spits the words feel derogatory, makes your lip pout and a whimper crawl from your throat. Shinsou coos over you, pressing the pads of his other hand against your slick hole, pecking at the corner of your mouth.

“What a poor little thing you must be, so desperate to cum like this.” His voice is full of faux sympathy, but you eat it up either way. You nod desperately where you hide your face in his shoulder, feel the tip of his middle finger slide so easily into you, that it feels like pure sin. He goes all the way down to his knuckle without a single hitch, groaning low in his throat when you pulsate around him, clit twitching.

“Bet I could make you cum in barely minute. Ain’t that right?” Shinsou’s voice is dripping sex and ecstasy, makes you keen when he starts crooking his finger inside of you, doesn’t waste a single second before he’s already sliding another one in. That one goes in with such little restraint, he wonders if you fucked yourself in the car ride over here. He bites at your shoulder, feeling you arch into him, clinging onto him for dear life.

“Please make me cum, I wanna cum so bad.” You whine to him, wonder how you’ve gotten this pathetic in such little time. But its hard to think when the vibe is working you back up as quick as ole reliable always use to, and his fingers are sliding against your walls so smoothly. Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel a familiar throb in your pelvis, hips shaking as you pull Shinsou into you, hiding your face in his flesh.

“Already? But we just got started.” His voice is a low drone, makes you bite at his skin at his teasing. But its really to silence your own voice, embarrassed at how quickly you’re reaching your climax already.

It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge, feels like you’ve been edging yourself for over an hour at this point. All it takes is for Shinsou to turn the settings up once on the vibe, for his fingers to graze that ever growing spot inside you, for his voice to be nothing but a lilting whisper into the air to just cum, just let go already. And you do, with a little hiccup and shake all over the counter as Shinsou guides you through it.

When you finally come down from your high, you wriggle your hips away from the toy as much as you can. Shinsou chuckles airily at that, but listens to your wordless command. He drops it on the floor, pulling you away from him a little so he can admire the headiness glazing your eyes.

“You ever cum that fast with anyone else?” He asks you, kissing you gently, sighing when you lap at the seam of his mouth. You take a few seconds to answer, trying to find the earth around you again, before you flutter your eyes open. He stands there, all tall and lean muscle, pushing his fringe back with a soaked hand. It makes you throb more than you care to admit.

“No, just you.” You admit, rubbing a hand over his pecs as you take him in, the now straining bulge in his sweats. You eye it for a while, going to reach down to touch it, when your wrist is caught in a strong grip. You look up at Shinsou, at his low eyes, and almost sleazy grin.

“Well, I bet I can break my own record tonight. Got something even better for you in the back.” He nods his head to the backrooms, and you wonder if you should really go through with this. You already let a practical stranger see you naked, play with your tits and clit, and finger you in a matter of what you think has only been twenty minutes. Who’s to say he won’t go too far in the backrooms with the toys, where only he knows what lies back there?

But then again, who’s to say you won’t like it?

So you bite the bullet, nodding once as you wrap your arms around his neck. The tingling gel is starting to wear off already, but it still buzzes when your skin touches his. You lick from Shinsou’s chin to his lips, tongue grazing the metal in his lip, grinning when he nips at you.

“I’d love to see the rest of the tricks up your sleeve.”

In only a matter of minutes, does Shinsou have you in the backroom, bent over a utility desk, with a few more trinkets grabbed along the way. Your ankles are in a spreader bar after you keep squirming when he put another tingling gel on you—on your clit this time.

“Another one?” You had asked with a roll of your eyes, squeaking when he landed a quick slap to your ass.

“You’ll like this one even better.” Shinsou had promised you, hadn’t told you that the clit sensitizer would be so powerful, could make you so sensitive. He’s glad he put you in the spreader bar, or else you would’ve made yourself cum again and again by just rubbing your thighs together.

It feels like hell now, when he keeps ghosting the tips of his fingers across your swollen clit, feeling it twitch in response, as he tries to relax you. You’re not sure when he got the butt plug, or why he specially chose the heart shaped one, but all you know is that you need to cum as fast as humanly possible.

“Hurry up,” you demand, shifting on your feet, hearing the squelch of Shinsou’s two fingers that pump in and out of your ass. It’s a small plug, light work he had called it, but still wanted to take precautions, as generous as he was. You had never imagined you’d do butt stuff in public on the first date (if you could call it that), but for now, all you can focus on is getting filled.

“Stop being a brat.” Shinsou shushes you, finally pulling out his fingers, and wiping the excess lube on the globe of your ass. “You won’t like me much if you keep it up.” He promises under his breath, as you watch him lube up the plug from over your shoulder.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” You snipe, eyes fluttering a little when he positions the narrow and cold tip at your rim. Shinsou grins at you, with low eyes and a mischievous look glinting in the too bright lights as he starts pushing the toy inside of you at the same time he starts playing with your clit again.

“Brats typically don’t like brat tamers. Especially ones who have a knack for sadism.” His voice took on an almost warning tone, a challenge, to see if you’d bite the bullet. But you cave almost instantly, flattening against the cold metal desk, thighs quivering as he the toy starts filling you up more and more, your clit buzzing, until you feel like you can’t speak. So, Shinsou takes that as a win, hunching over you to nibble at your throat, smiling when the toy finally settles fully inside of your warm heat and you spasm before going lax.

“So, you’ll be good for me, yeah?” Shinsou questions you, a testy tone taking over his voice as he pecks sweetly at your sweaty cheek. You can only nod meekly, keening high when he pulls the thickest part of the plug out, only to push it back in a little harder, thumbing at your overly sensitive clit.

“Use your words.” He demands, though his voice is still so soft in your ear. You hiccup again, wonder if he knows you came again just from filling your ass. You think you should be ashamed, but that clit sensitizer is living up to its name, and he pinches the swollen nub a little harder than before. It fries your brain instantly, makes you easy and pliant and putty in his hands.

“I’ll be good.” You mumble, swallowing around the drool pooling in your mouth. You can feel Shinsou’s grin, listening to him ripping open a condom as he speaks against your ear,

“Thought so.” It feels so degrading, so demeaning, like you’re just giving up so easily when someone with so much more power looms over you. But it feels so good lying belly up, or really, ass up, and giving him everything he wants. You want it equally as bad, if not more, and you’re willing to give up more than you can admit just to be filled in both holes.

Your back arches high when Shinsou starts sliding his cock inside of your cunt. You have to look over your shoulder to admire the scene behind you, gasping at the piercing just at the base of his cock, wonder how it’ll feel bouncing off of your clit and lips as he fucks you. Keening at the thought of being so close to it, that you start pushing yourself back with every slow second he fucks into you.

“So desperate, aren’t cha?” Shinsou teases, his voice strained, the grip on your hips getting tighter and tighter the more he sinks into you. You want to throw your leg up on the counter to feel him deeper, but the spreader bar keeps you nice and wide for him, and you use as much strength as you can muster to start fucking yourself on his cock. He hasn’t even slid all the way inside yet, but you can’t get enough of him.

Can’t get enough of the wide stretch of his cock, the veins bulging alongside the underside, the warmness of it. How you feel it slide against the plug in your ass, how he overwhelms you by laying all his weight onto you, how he keeps petting at your clit despite it feeling so swollen you think it might burst.

And when he does finally sink all the way into you, you cum again with a loud cry, clit throbbing painfully hard with every brush of Shinsou’s fingers against it.You cum so hard it brings tears to your eyes, makes you clench down almost painfully, body going weak under the weight of him on top of you.

“That’s a good girl. Felt good, huh?” Shinsou says softly, whispering in your ear as his hips never let up on that gentle rocking motion. You can only hiccup a tiny little sob from the back of your throat, overstimulated and shaking all over, feeling the never ending pleasure shooting throughout your body.

Shinsou only coos down at you though, starting to fuck himself into you a little harder, a little faster, until your hips rhythmically start pounding against the edge of the desk. You can only hold on for the ride, moaning too loud for it to be so late, to be in public, but neither one of you can bring yourself to care too much. His cock is carving its way inside of you, an imprint that’ll last forever, feel it reaching the back of your throat.

He holds onto you by the fat of your ass, groaning when he spreads your cheeks. To watch his own cock pump in and out of your messy cunt, how much it drools around him, secretly wishes he didn’t have to wear a condom. Wishes he could help you with your ovulation, but maybe he’s taking it a bit too far, but maybe, you’ll like it more than you care to admit.

He watches how the heart in your ass jiggles with every thrust, every clap of his balls to your overly sensitive clit. How your thighs shake and your feet shuffle, where he’s sure you wanna lift them onto the desk. But he doesn’t let you, just watches the torture of being fucked sensitive overcome you, as you jump and cry out when he plays with your clit again.

In seconds, do you cum again, secretly glad that you start to feel that this sensitizer shit is starting to wear off already. The gel for your nipples didn’t even last this long, or have this strong of an affect! But Shinsou uses this to his advantage, uses your squeezing cunt to chase his own orgasm, feeling his thrusts become unsteady, his voice low and shaky as his hips become erratic.

He cums with a low curse, grunting as he curls over your back, biting at your nape to silence his noises. You sigh in content as you feel his cock twitching inside of you, despite knowing he wore a condom, it sates something deep and primal in you. You lay there beneath him until he catches his breath, sighing as he finally comes down.

You both stay there in silence as Shinsou pulls out, disposing of the condom all the while. After that, he works out the butt plug, unhooks you from the spreader bar, and leaves you on the desk while he retrieves some lotion for your ankles in his locker. You sit up on the desk as he rolls a chair over, feet in his lap as he starts massaging where the cuffs of the spreader bar wore into your ankles. After what feels like hours, Shinsou speaks up,

“So, can I ring you up for that clit sensitizer?” He asks, looking up from under his fringe with a little grin. You laugh heartily at that, throwing your head back as you lean your weight on your wrists.

“Hell no, that shit is the devils work.” You sigh with a shake of your head, watching Shinsou shrug, before tacking on, “Give me two bottles of that shit.” You both laugh this time, before falling into silence again. Shinsou takes your other ankle to start massaging it, which in return gives him a glimpse of between your legs once more. He stares for a second before meeting your eyes, a little smirk gracing your features.

“Should I make a mold of my cock for you to keep when I’m not around?” He suggests with a tilt of his head, making your own eyebrows raise in surprise. You pretend to mull the idea over in your head for a few seconds before shrugging.

“You know what? That’s actually not too bad of an idea.” You admit, glancing down to where his cock is covered again, but you see that telltale twitch once more.

“Really? ‘Cause I’ll start that shit as soon as you leave.” Shinsou gets serious suddenly, although his eyes are full of mirth. You lean forward, feet sliding from his hands to his lap, grinning at the bulge that swells under your sole, the glint in his eyes at your proximity.

“How about I stay and help?” You suggest instead, running a hand through his hair, pulling him a little closer, mouth skimming his. You feel his grin more than you see it, and it makes your stomach twist in knots and your cunt remember just how good he felt only minutes ago.

“That sounds even better.”

#this was so hard to format on the app for some reason #I was soooo annoyed #WHY ME #anyway #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#shinsou treats! 🍬

325 notes · View notes

applejuicefruit · 1 year

Note

hello love,ur writting is so amazing

can i request where jude or kylian is jealous about reader gives more attention to her pet..like reader always gives the pet cuddles massage,hugs and one of them are jealous

if u accept this request thank u love if u dont like it its okey

Yes please I love this request so much! I feel like reader is me because my dog>>>> anyone else

kylian mbappe x reader

Pet therapy

When you and Kylian moved together he knew he had to accept the fact that you would have never been just the two of you in the relationship. Your dog Loki was there too and he always wanted more attention than a baby. You adopted him three years ago, he was only a puppy, so small he couldn’t even walk straight but you fell in love with him the moment you saw him at the shelter. So now, three years later he was your best friend and your protector.

Kylian asked you to move with him only six months into the relationship and you agreed. You were in love and everyone knew. He knew you were moving him with your dog too, and even if he wasn’t a big fan of Loki he knew you cared too much and that you would choose your pet over him any time. So he agreed of taking you and Loki into his apartment. Luckily for you, or your dog, his apartment was huge so Loki had a lot of space for when he wanted to play.

But one thing Kylian didn’t know about was that you would spend most of your time taking care of your dog instead of spending time with your boyfriend. Kylian was not a baby of course, but he loved your attention, you taking care of him and making him feel special all the time but now your dog was taking over most of your time.

Was he really jealous over a dog?

Yes he was.

He couldn’t stand the fact that everytime when you wake up you would greet Loki before greeting Kylian. The fact that you would kiss your dog goodnight before you do it with Kylian. The fact that you would take time showering and cleaning your dog but you would rush it everytime you and Kyky took a shower together. He just couldn’t stand it.

One night you came back pretty late from work and all you wanted to do was taking a shower and laying down in bed and sleep.

The moment you opened the door you saw Loki jumping from the couch and running to you.

“Hi baby!” you greeted him with your baby voice. That stupid voice you would make every time you talk with your dog

“How’s my baby? Uh? Were you good today? Did you have fun with Kyky?” you asked him knowing he couldn’t answer back but still you loved treating him like a baby because to you, he was your son.

You spent almost ten minutes petting your dog before going up to Kylian.

“Hey babe, how are you?” you asked him, dropping your baby voice and sitting on the couch next to him.

“Oh so you know I exist too…” he said and that confused you a bit.

“Of course baby…are you okay?” you asked him a bit worried.

“So she cares now…I thought I wasn’t your priority” he snapped back and you had no idea why he was behaving like that.

“Kylian what’s going on?” you asked him a bit more irritated.

“Loki, that what’s going on?” he said and you immediately worried.

“What happened? Is he okay? Did he do something? Did he break something?” you asked and Kylian rolled his eyes seeing your reaction.

“That’s what I’m talking about! You give him all of your attention! I exist too!” he shouted back and you couldn’t help but smile. Your boyfriend, the man that you love the most in your life, was jealous over a dog.

“Why are you smiling now?” he asked you.

“Kylian” you laughed “are you serious? I mean, you’re jealous over a dog?” you kept laughing and he felt his cheeks heat a bit, realising he over reacted too much.

“But I mean, you give him all your attention and what about me?” he looked at you with puppy eyes and you couldn’t believe of what you were hearing.

“You…Kylian” you said moving from the couch to his lap “are the most important person in my life okay? I love you and you know it and I can’t believe my boyfriend is jealous over a dog” you said still laughing and he laughed too “I promise I’ll take care of you too” you said kissing him.

“More showers, just you and me” he said and you nodded, a smile on your face.

“And please don’t let him taking over my spot on the couch, he’s absurd!” he joked looking at your dog who was currently sleeping in Kylian’s spot.

“I promise you big baby” you said and Kylian smiled.

You just had the best day of your life, finding out that Kylian loved you so much that he was jealous over a dog.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe x reader #kylianmbappe x reader #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe x you #paris saint germain #psg #equipe de france #football fan #football imagine #football blurb #football drabble

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seven-stars-in-his-palm · 5 months

Text

okay so a couple of days ago i saw this ask on @fellshish's blog about a need for a full 1941 discorporated aziraphale angst fic, realized i had an entire outline already in the hull, and... this happened:

a "what if crowley didn't miss in 1941" fic, including but not exclusive to the moment itself, the hours leading up to it, and the aftermath; a fanfiction (chapter 3/4)

summary:

It's Fell the Marvelous' awaited debut performance on the West End. He has his marksman, his turnips, and things appear to be going as planned—that is, until said marksman does the one thing he was supposed to avoid. Not missing. (or: the bullet catch goes wrong, and due to a tiny technicality, crowley's afraid aziraphale is gone for good. and crowley himself—for the first time in quite a while—is well and truly alone.)

warnings: full of blood, sweat, kissing while crying, blown up heads, prayers, nostalgic churches, polaroids, alcohol, and aziraphale being a discorporated bastard and bitching his way back to earth while a plot we should probably be focusing occurs as we ignore it entirely. and written extremely slowly. oxymoron but i couldnt get this out of my head fast enough and now you must endure it (should you choose to accept). i think i'm gonna be pretty proud of this though. excited!

(also thank @tforthetea for the inspiration because a conversation with them helped spark this the first time. all hail)

ao3 link for those who didn't check the title, and fic under the cut! :)

chapter 1: number thirteen

One of the things Crowley liked gloating about on occasion was that he was older than Death Itself.

He wasn’t technically wrong, per se. The humans think him mad, and the demons think him stupid, but he was still right. Human concepts, despite their hold on the population and overall importance, were non-existent before or even during the Beginning. The Four Horsemen and other ideas evolved right alongside the humans, so technically, Crowley was older than all of them. He rather liked having something to lord over War (in his head), during the few unfortunate meetings he would have with her. Famine was a non-issue, and Death could not touch him regardless of how much he didn’t like him. There were failsafes.

Now, however, actually being in the room that Aziraphale could potentially walk into and never come out of, Crowley would gladly take all of it back and pretend he never even thought about it at all.

The damned magician. Crowley never caught his name, but if he had, he would wrought him with the most annoyingly small curses that no one would ever believe to be true after today. Tonight wasn’t just about impressing the audience or even repaying that wine-filled debt, it was about them. Tonight, Crowley was to play the trusted stooge, and…shoot the angel. Point blank. In the face. And make it look real. And not discorporate him. And not get them fired. And—

There were a lot of things to consider, alright? To contrary belief, Crowley did, in fact, not think Death was silly or stupid. He’d also been there when It was born, you know. Crowley liked Abel. Watching It happen was, plainly, fucking terrifying. It brought up something new, and change was just as scary as Death. Ask anyone, and they’d tell you.

Crowley has been running that unfortunate meeting involuntarily through his head for the first ten or so minutes of waiting for the actual show to begin, while also listing out the terrible things he would do to the magician man had he ever held the opportunity again. He’d been sort of gunning (no pun intended) to stay backstage and avoid the riffraff, but been ushered out the dressing room the second he’d given his (admittingly harsh) two cents on the situation. Aziraphale said he wanted privacy before the big show, but Crowley knew he was just ticked. Aziraphale was an angel who thrived with a supportive devil over his shoulder.

So, Crowley is just milling around in the crowd as the Allied soldiers and their companions filter in. They come and go—a Lady even comes to check on him at point, mentioning odd vacant gazes and looking over shoulders paranoid-like, but he waves them off before they can pry. He really shouldn’t be so worried—even if Aziraphale…‘didn’t make it through the night’, he’d eventually be fine. As long as he discorporated a certain way, nothing too lethal—some deaths were harder to come back from others.

They’ve been discorporated before, of course. That was how Crowley knew this. Six millennia offered many opportunities for the event. But never, and it was never, at each other's hand. On paper, yeah, they killed each other on occasion, but truly…

Crowley shifts nervously, sending a glare at anyone who got a bit too close, but the brief discomforts aren’t enough to lift his spirits. There was one entity faffing about who refused to bugger off even with direct acknowledgements, though that might be because Crowley was imagining It. Or It really was here, and interested in the affairs of potential angel discorporation. Or a bomb was going to fall here and It was just beating the rush. The theories were far from endless.

Death appeared back there as soon as Crowley had been kicked out. He’s simply been dealing with it since then, and It probably wasn’t helping to lift his spirits. He shouldn’t be so antsy—both logic and mechanics deemed it so.

They’d be fine, Crowley repeats to himself near constantly, finding a proper seat in direct line of sight where Aziraphale will be standing. He readjusts his tie as the humans sit around him, creating a perfectly isolated bubble of red velvet seats. What did it matter that twelve humans died doing this before? They weren’t human. Death had no claim on them. It couldn’t take them even if It so desired.

Crowley scowls at the hooded figure standing near the entrance of the theater, cold scythe gleaming under the warm bulbs of the West End. Its just…standing there. Making no move to come closer, either. Odd.

Crowley sinks lower into his plush seat, as if trying to avoid Death’s gaze. But being one of two immovable objects on this Earth, It’s always on him. If Death had a goal, there would be no point in warding It away.

Seeing Death is a famous bad omen, and would send a chill down his spine had it been anywhere else. At this moment, however, Crowley is simply irritated. If It was looking for another soul in this theater, that was fine by him, let It take them, but It would not be ruining whatever this was. Humans were ever plentiful—there was only one angel deserving of Earth.

Before Crowley can decide whether or not he should be stupid and confront the omen in the room, the lights go dim. The crowd’s murmurs die down, and Crowley has no choice but to stay seated and watch the show. Aziraphale wouldn’t be coming on until the Ladies of Camelot had their first number, but Crowley could easily endure it. The gaze aimed straight at his head could be ignored.

World be damned if It took the angel’s enthusiasm. They’d be fine. Crowley just has to remember that.

-----

Things are, indeed, not going fine.

Crowley is meant to go up on stage any second now. Aziraphale has no inkwell in his gloved hand. No amount of snapping is removing said turnip from line of sight. He reads the pamphlet—then again, then again, then again, but there is no second option for apparently miracleless individuals.

Fucking. Hell.

Whatever false bravado Aziraphale is spewing is null and void compared to the should-be-non-existent nerves running through frantic hands and finding absolutely nothing useful. Crowley flips through the same two pages—give the stooge the bullet, poise, and shoot. The miracle would’ve ensure that the bullet would never leave the barrel. But now—now, well, he really regrets not considering a Plan B. Did they ever consider a Plan B? Apparently not.

Getting there is a blur. Aziraphale is essentially shoving the rifle into Crowley’s care, which is honestly becoming a worse idea by the second. He’s switching between the demon and the audience so quickly that Crowley can’t tell who he’s addressing. They’re deathly quiet, and Crowley would feel embarrassed if his heart that shouldn’t be there wasn’t pounding with too much blood in too little time. His mind is a soup. Muddled, feverish, and incredibly foul tasting. You wouldn’t want to drink it even if you were starving.

“I would ask you,” Aziraphale says loudly, cutting through the fog of utter mental mush, “to take this bullet, and load it into the rifle. Very carefully.”

Crowley nods belatedly, squeezing and turning parts of the gun to get the non-existent warmth running back through his fingers. He takes the bullet, and turns it round a few times while Aziraphale stares at him with excruciating anxiety. Is he stalling? Honestly, even Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“It's perfectly simple,” Aziraphale mutters softly, pushing the gun a bit closer. “Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.”

Crowley can’t find himself to agree here. He’s staring at him, and that would usually get him to listen regardless of shades, but Death is boring into them like the harshest of theater critics. His skin is slick, almost clammy, threatening to let the gun slip and fire a stray bullet anywhere but its intended target. His back is sore, oddly enough. Irritating.

Crowley has questions, like he always does, but the time has long passed. What he wants to ask is ‘do I just squeeze that little bit there?’ pointing at (what looks like) to be the trigger—but then that would just make Crowley look incompetent, so he swallows it back and nodly lightly. He’s never fired a gun like Aziraphale seems to believe whole-heartedly, but he’s certainly watched it happen. He’s picked up enough of the motions to figure it out on his own.

That thought still doesn’t help when he’s being told to insert the bullet, though. Crowley fumbles through it, opening a mislaid hatch or two, but manages before Aziraphale could raise any alarms. He’s already stood back in position (when did that happen?) when Crowley raises the loaded rifle for all to see, proclaiming as such. He bites back the tremor threatening to appear—he wasn’t nervous. Excited, more like it. Excited to finally get an excuse to make a throw at the angel non-suspicious like.

That was all it was. Really.

Crowley turns the rifle one last time as Aziraphale spins more useless pageantry for the audience to woo at. They’re both grinning, but tightly and annoyingly false. It wasn’t the eyes that were the problem—what, do you think that demons ever got stage fright? Absurd!

It was just...well, there weren’t just humans in this audience. Crowley couldn’t forget the shadow looming at the end of the theater no matter how tight he grips the side of the weapon. But, just like Someone had laid out all that Time ago—Death could only perceive them.

It could not touch them.

It would not touch them.

It would not touch him, if he could help it.

The drums begin their incessant titter as Aziraphale finally turns to Crowley properly, blue cloak glimmering under the warm light of the stage before them. “A-are you ready, sir?”

Crowley would scoff at this if he could. Sir. Only humans ever addressed him that way; angels look down on him, demons sneer at him. Though he supposes this angel would be different—always throwing the curveballs, him.

“When you hear my signal,” the angel says, voice growing quieter, “shoot.”

Aziraphale removes his tophat, revealing preciously white curls. This pings something, the remaining traces of damned sense he’s got buried inside. Crowley isn’t sure what has possessed him—but he shakes his head. It’s all he can do. Don’t make me do it, he nearly warns out loud. Not if you know what’s good for you.

Aziraphale stills, but not before mouthing words that would be akin to an ashamed mumble if he were close enough. Trust me.

Trust me.

Satan, he got him there. That’s why Crowley was here, after all. Stooge. 100% Reliable Marksman.

Right.

Aziraphale isn’t nearly as good as Crowley at hiding his anxious gaze. “Ready?”

Oh, Heavens no. He never would be, but no better time than the present. Or something like that. He can’t recall where it came from.

“Aim…”

Crowley can’t ignore it anymore—he’s shaking. Extremely so, at that. It’s knocking around the air in his lungs very unkindly. It’s quite difficult to aim. His head is bobbing around in the scope.

Just about…

There it is.

Crowley waits—just like he’s done for the last…however long. A long time. His arms are starting to hurt, frankly. He rests his finger over the trigger to ease the trembling a tad.

And the magician remains silent.

Crowley ignores the sweat crawling down his neck. (Wasn’t it supposed to be freezing?) He waits some more—it’s not like one can forget where you are. Benefit of the doubt and such.

Nothing still. Nary a nod.

He’s been staring at him for a minute. The crowd hasn’t uttered a peep. Is Crowley just supposed to…do it? Did they talk about this? They must have. They talked about this. They talked about it, right? Yeah. Yeah, they must have—

"Fire!"

He startled him.

The reason why he listens is easy to explain. Aziraphale made Crowley flinch. A bit of a spook, really, not that bad of a fright. A sudden jolt—a tap on the shoulder, one that said ‘oh, look, you’ve got perfect aim already! Shoot!’

And he did.

What’s the first rule of approaching someone with a weapon again?

Right. Don’t fucking scare them.

The handle is warm. Slick, heavy, shaky. The scope aims with guilty target missing at the helm. A puff of smoke is spewing from the barrel. A thump, a sickening thump, deafening in the cricket silence of a post-trick world.

And Aziraphale…is on the floor.

(Where else would he be, really?)

There, obviously. On the floor. With a blown-up head. Bleeding like blessed Heaven. Bleeding like bloody Heaven, while Crowley has to take in the sight and smell the blessed thing.

It fits. They fit. Like a perfect crown on a decapitated head.

God, his head’s just gone, isn’t it?

A noise cuts through the thick silence like a stubbornly determined knife. Far away, above it all, there it rings. It’s muffled, soft, and almost awkward in the way it cuts through the air. A camera click. A reluctant, malicious camera click.

And that was just the perfect way to say it, no? He blew his brains out. Crowley blew his angel’s fucking brains out with a fucking gun that he’s never fucking held before.

Trust me.

Well. That, no doubt, was Aziraphale’s fault—it’d be a funny old world if angels and demons went around trusting one another.

-----

hgh. hope that was decent. chapter two coming as soon as it can because im invested now :))

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens 1941 #cw blood #cw guns #cw death #maniac writing #in a west-end town

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chockfullofsecrets · 11 months

Text

Spiderverse: Smile Log

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: “Okay, we got the time your baby kicked you in the face and you thought you’d broken your nose. Nice, classic slapstick.” “Lyla-” “And then that time an anomaly accidentally tickled him-” “Lyla, no-”

Peter B. asks an unexpected question and gets some information he really shouldn't have.

Wordcount: 1478

Oh, Miguel is fully aware of what the other Spiders think of him. Feral this, stick in the mud cabrón that - but for putting up with extended exposure to the Earth-616 version of Spider-Man for the six months that his little experimental society has existed? They should be calling him a shocking saint.

The Peter in question continues to hang off his shoulder, where he’s been since he swanned into the monitoring room ten whole minutes ago without an invitation. “-stay with me on this, I’m building to a point here - hello? Earth to Miguel?”

“What,” he snaps.

Peter pouts, an expression that he honestly didn’t think grown men were capable of until meeting this guy. “Did you hear anything I said?”

Easy. “No.”

And anyone who was, you know, sane, might take that as the insult he means it to be, but Peter just laughs and jostles his shoulder companionably. “You really are a grump sometimes, you know that? You gotta lighten up, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack one of these days.”

“Tell me about it,” Lyla says from his other shoulder. She likes Peter, talks to him directly more than any of the other Spiders, and she’s programmed to gather information that she thinks he wants, which means - yeah, he’s going to go ahead and ignore the implications of that one.

Peter makes a thoughtful noise. Concerning. “Hey, Lyla, you’re around this guy twenty-four-seven, right - does he ever relax? When’s the last time he, I don’t know, smiled?”

Miguel expects a snarky reply, not Lyla’s glasses flashing opaque the way they do when she’s looking something up. “Hm, let me check. Pulling up a smile log…”

He’s focused on the latest multiverse model, like everyone else should be, so it takes him just a bit too long to realize that they’re ganging up on him. “Wait. Lyla, belay that-”

“Okay, we got the time your baby kicked you in the face and you thought you’d broken your nose. Nice, classic slapstick.”

“Lyla-”

“And then that time an anomaly accidentally tickled him-”

“Lyla, no-”

“And - aw, this one’s cute! - after a mission he helped a girl get her runaway balloon and she hugged him-”

“Lyla!” he snaps, slamming a fist onto his desk, and she finally stops. “Por dios, would you quit that? Why do you even remember that stuff, it’s a waste of storage space!”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “My data, my business.”

“Yeah, yeah, can’t you just run the scans like I asked you to and stop causing trouble?”

They keep bickering over the new extrapolation methods, and Peter -

Okay, look. Miguel doesn’t have a “spider sense” or whatever seems to warn the rest of the Spiders before anything happens, so he has to rely on his own judgment. And with Peter being around all the time, Miguel’s learned to more or less tune him out, figures it’s the only way he’s ever going to get any work done.

Which is more or less why he doesn’t notice that Peter’s still there until someone’s hands shove their way under Miguel’s arms and start tickling, because that’s when his brain decides to turn on the instant reactions. “Jammit - hAh-”

He clamps his arms down automatically, reeling backwards into Peter’s chest just in time for the attack to stop. “Wait - did you just laugh?” Peter demands. “Shit, I didn’t think that was actually going to work, do it again!”

Peter’s fingers start wriggling back into hypersensitive flesh, trapped in his armpits, and Miguel barely manages to keep his mouth shut as more embarrassing sounds start knocking loose inside his chest. Get away, he yells to himself, hit him, move, just fucking move - he can’t remember the last time his reflexes have been anything but overprotective, but right now every fiber of his body insists he has to stay exactly where his is because granting Peter’s hands even a millimetre more of freedom is going to be the death of him.

He refuses to think about the way his mouth is spasming at the corners entirely without his permission even as the rest of him locks in place. Lyla can record that one, if she wants. See if he cares, it doesn’t count. This is fine. All he has to do is stand here until Peter gets bored - the way he acts, the other man might not even know what an attention span is.

Peter sighs, proving his point. “I’m not asking for much, just one laugh,” he laments dramatically, though Miguel can hear the stupid big grin he gets in his voice. “Do I need to be more annoying? I can be more annoying.”

Miguel sincerely doubts it - at least, until Peter flips one hand around from where it’s pressed up against the top of his ribcage, locks onto his elbow, and starts trying to lever his right arm away from his body. “Geez, would you lay off with the triceps? I’m gonna give myself carpal tunnel over here.”

If Peter would just stop tickling for one shocking second, he’d tell him that he sincerely hopes his stupid fingers break off and die. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself in a motion that’s definitely defiant and not at all panicked, getting as far as opening his mouth before the part of his brain that’s being lit up by every twitch of sensation decides to take over. “Nngh - no, nohoho, mierda!”

His entire face burns red as strangled snorts of laughter keep leaking out of him, has to fold over and brace one of his hands against his jaw to regain any kind of dignity - not that it helps, with Peter changing his hold to adapt to even that small bit of movement and using it to finally pry his arm up.

It’s really, really not fair that the most irritating Spider-Man is one of the most competent ones too. Miguel’s pretty sure luck hates Spiders in general, but it seems to love messing with him in particular.

“You know,” Peter starts conversationally, like he’s not wrapped around Miguel and taking half his weight because he’s shaking too hard to do it himself. “I think this is gonna be a good experience for us. Like, ah, coworker bonding. What’d you say we do this every week until you figure out how to loosen up like a normal person?”

Miguel’s going to kick his ass. He’s going to take his watch and ban him from Nueva York in perpetuity, as soon as he can stand up again. Earth-616 has other superheroes, they’ll survive their Spider-Man losing an arm or two.

Peter dodges the frantic headbutts and kicks he attempts and laughs, light and easy - it makes Miguel feel even stupider, twisted up on himself in desperation to avoid just that. “Hey, if it doesn’t work with your schedule you could just say so! I’ll pencil you in for biweekly, then.”

Idiota. Culero. Miguel doesn’t know if he’s cursing himself or Peter out anymore. He’s properly trapped now, sandwiched up against his own desk with one of Peter’s hands keeping his arm pinned and the other wiggling threateningly over a defenseless armpit. “Well? You gonna say something, or do I have to go full supervillain? I do a great Doc Ock impression, let me tell you.”

Miguel painstakingly loosens his death grip on his own jaw and opens his mouth just enough to wheeze out a heartfelt declaration of his undying hatred. Coughs before he can start, his throat raw from attempting to keep his laughter contained. There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns his head to find Peter looking down at him with something between amusement and genuine concern.

Fine. Fine. “Can you just. Stop. Before I pass out?”

Peter laughs again, landing firmly in amusement and on Miguel’s list of dimensional threats. “Yeah. Yeah, fine, I’ll let you off easy this time.” He lets go, hovering for a moment and then swooping back in to pull Miguel upright when he can’t quite manage it himself. “Okay, super ticklish and super repressed. I can work with that.”

“Don’t,” Miguel growls, leaning on Peter’s shoulder entirely against his own will as he starts to walk both of them out of the office. Where are they even going? The cafeteria? It’s only been-

Oh. He hasn’t eaten in twelve hours. No wonder Lyla had decided to mess with him. But Peter wouldn’t have known that.

“Nope, too late, I’m invested now. Wasn’t kidding about the biweekly thing, by the way.”

Lyla perks up from behind a screen. “I’ll put it on his calendar.”

“Oye, I’m locking you both out of the monitor room.”

The two of them start talking over his head, planning some kind of break in. Miguel turns his head away so Lyla won’t see him smile.

#tickling #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #chocfic

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pleasinghellfire · 2 years

Text

Old Faces

Request: An Eddie x reader fic in which he lives OBVIOUSLY and they go back years later for a high school reunion with the Helfire Club?

A/N: In this world, the upside down and Vecna exist but Chrissy and Jason do survive. I don’t mention it but Eddie still loves DnD and plays it time to time when he gets the chance.

“Do we really have to come back here?” Eddie groaned as you dragged him through the familiar halls of Hawkins High towards the gymnasium. It's been ten years since darkness took over this once quiet town and Hawkins was finally back to normal. No one had to worry about flickering lights or a dark shadow in the sky. It was over.

“Nancy told me she and Steve would be here. It’s great timing since Hawkins is a pit stop. Come on.” You pulled on Eddie’s dead weight arm as he whined and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey,” You lifted Eddie’s chin so he could look you in the eyes. “I remember but that was years ago. Look at how far you’ve come. ‘Eddie the Freak’ got that diploma, ran like hell out of here and made a name for himself. We don’t have to do this, I just wanted to say hi to our friends while the bus fueled up. We can go back to the station or we can walk through those doors and show everyone who Eddie Munson is now.”

Eddie looked between you, the gymnasium doors to his left and down the hall to his right as he contemplated his opinions. “Ten minutes.” Eddie gave in. “We say hi to Steve and we are out.”

You kissed his cheek and smiled. “Ten minutes and out.”

You pushed through the doors to see your old classmates sitting in their own individual crowds scattered across the stands as the sound of everyone’s conversations bounced off the walls. The same championship banner from 1986 still hung high in the center behind the basketball goal alongside multiple tiger spirit posters. There was a table to the left full of drinks and small snacks for everyone to enjoy.

“Oh my Eds, look.” You pointed towards the table. “There’s Nance. Aww, her baby bump got so much bigger. Let’s go.”

You dragged Eddie towards Nancy who was nibbling at the cookies. Eddie started to tune the two of you out as the conversation started about Nancy pregnancy cravings and other women's bodily functions he had no idea about. Taking a look around he caught sight of his old Hellfire Club members waving him over.

“Wow, Eddie Munson. We thought you were too famous to ever walk back through these doors.” Eddie laughed as he hugged Garrett.

“Munson, you clean up nice. Never thought I’d see the day where you didn’t have long hair but glad to see you still rocking the old hellfire shirt and vest.” Jeff greeted.

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered looking down at his attire. “My girl insisted I wear this tonight. You know how it is, always gotta do what your lady wants.”

Eddie was so lost in conversation catching up with his old friends that he missed that ten minute mark. Ten minutes turned to twenty which turned into almost half an hour but he didn’t mind. He was amazed to see how much everyone has grown since graduation. It felt like no time was lost and everyone fell into a comfortable conversation laughing among each other.

“Well would you look at that, the freak is still around.” The conversation died as Jason Carver walked up. Even all these years later, he still wore his Hawkins letterman jacket.

“Goddammit, here we go again.” Eddie cracked his neck before he turned around to face Jason. “What do you want?”

“What are you doing here, freak? I thought we ran you out of town back in 86’.” Jason tried to seem all intimidating as he puffed his chest out stepping up to Eddie but it only made Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire club snicker in laughter.

“Yeah thanks for that man. I’m living the life now. (Y/N) wanted to stop by for a second while we were on the road.”

“(Y/N)?” Jason turned around, looking at you as you were smiling up at Nancy with your hand on her bump trying to feel for any baby kicks. “Huh, I expected more from her than to stay a freak just like you.”

Eddie grabbed Jason’s letterman, pulling Jason’s attention away from you. “You better watch your mouth Carver.”

“Whatcha gonna do about it? Are you gonna get your satanic cult on me again?” Jason lashed out.

“Hey!” The two boys turned as you walked up, stepping in front of Eddie. “Jason, still a pain in the ass all these years later huh? Nice to see you’re still stuck in this dump holding on to your teenage years.”

“Yeah? I bet the two of you went out spreading that cult demon shit all over the city.”

“Yeah, this city and the next one and the next one because while you peaked in 86’ and stayed stuck here, Eddie made a name for himself as Corroded Coffin opens for Metallica every night. And to top that off, unlike you, he has a hot girlfriend while you can’t get anyone since Chrissy dumped your sorry ass after we graduated.” You fired off.

Jason scuffed under his breath as he shook his head and walked away, leaving the gymnasium.

Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in and connecting his lips to yours. Even after all these years of dating, a simple kiss still sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you for sticking up for me sweetheart.” Eddie whispered between kisses.

“Don’t mention it baby but we gotta go. Tour buses are full and we’re running late. Time to be Mr. Rockstar, lead man of Corroded Coffin.” You fake swooned making Eddie laugh.

You and Eddie bid a farewell to all your old friends before you stepped back into Eddie’s tour bus, leaving Hawkins once again behind.

#pleasinghellfire #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #stranger things 4 #the hellfire club #metallica #jason carver #chrissy cunningham #nancy wheeler #steve harrington

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loserscanwritetoo · 17 days

Text

Starman

Chapter 1

If you would’ve asked Nico where he saw himself in the future 5 years ago, he most likely would have answered anywhere but where he was right now. He probably would've told you that he’d be in his senior year of high school, that Bianca would be off to college, or maybe working in their mothers store. He would probably secretly hope that his dad would come back. But alas, none of that came true.

Instead here he was. An orphan with a dead sister and a deadbeat dad who had only ever been in his life when he was a kid. He hadn’t even come to Bianca or Marias funeral, and when the state asked if Nico had any living relatives, he hadn’t even thought of his dad. Well, maybe a little bit, but that was no one's business but his own.

So he had been shipped off to live with his half sister, who he had never even met, and didn't even know existed. They shared a father, but that seemed to be the only thing they had in common.

Hazel Levesque was 15, and apparently their dad had abandoned her and her mom the same way he had abandoned the di Angelos. Her mom seemed to be a bit of a nutcase. She insisted Nico call her mom (weird) and he was forbidden to ask anything about his father (weirder). Needless to say Nico hadn't really found his place with the Levesque’s.

Hazel spent most days in school, and the others out with her boyfriend Frank. Frank did not seem to like Nico at all, and therefore the feeling became mutual.

The accident happened in February. In the middle of the school year. Nico had been so busy with the grieving, funerals, and the move to America and the Levesque’s that he’d missed the rest of his junior year, and now he was going to have to retake it at Hazels school.

Hazel’s mom, Marie, had insisted that he retake his junior year, much to Nicos dismay. He was going to drop out, and as an almost 18 year old he refused, and claimed she had no right to determine what he was going to do, thank you very much. Turns out he was wrong.

Marie had dropped off Hazel and Nico at New Orleans Dam High School. The name was a mouthful, and some genius student seemed to have realized that, and had spray painted over New Orleans, and added an N to Dam, leaving only Damn High School. Nico chuckled at that and earned himself an angry glare from Marie. Whatever. It wasn't like he cared about what she thought. (She had absolutely hated him from the moment he’d moved in. Something about a 17 year old smoking had pissed her off, and she had never gotten over it.)

They made their way to the front office to get Nico squared away. He felt like everyone glared at him, and the lady at the desk handed him his schedule without even glancing at him. Great! This was going to be an awesome day!

Hazel rushed off the second Marie left. Probably to hang out with Frank or Rey- whatever her name was, or any of her other friends, so Nico was left alone.

The bell rang, signaling for everyone to get to their classrooms, and as Nico looked down at his schedule he sighed. How the fuck was he supposed to know where classroom EG956 was.

The corridors quickly emptied, and Nico was left to wander around the four storied school for ten minutes before he gave up, and made his way out to the bleachers to fish out a cigarette from the pack in his jeans. He only had four left, and made a mental note to get more from the corner store Marie had made him get a job at. Maria di Angelo would never make him do anything. She cared about him, and didn’t give a shit if he smoked.

“Se lo faccio da solo non ho il diritto di fermarti", she'd always said with a sly grin. If I do it myself I have no right to stop you. Nico smiled at the memory as he lit his cigarette. Man, he missed her so much. Bianca however had cared that he smoked. She insisted that he was going to face a premature death. Oh the irony.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out there for, dreaming of his past life. It felt like 70 years ago, but it had only been a few months. Somewhere far away a bell rang, signaling that class was over. He was startled back to reality by a soft voice.

He looked up from where he was sitting to see a blond dude, wearing an orange shirt under a green flannel. He wore a concerned expression, and the brightest blue eyes Nico had ever seen. He looked like a ray of sun, and Nico was sure that if he came any closer he would get burned. The boy radiated warmth.

SunBoy, as Nico resorted to calling him in his mind, raised an eyebrow at him and Nico realized that he’d completely missed what he had said. He was going to say something stupid like ´huh`, but before he could embarrass himself the other boy repeated himself.

“You’re not allowed to smoke on school grounds, you know.”

“You gonna tattle on me?” Nico retorted. Damn him and his lack of impulse control. SunBoy looked startled, as if no one had ever talked to him like that before. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe people were afraid of getting burned.

“N-no,” SunBoy answered before regaining control of his voice “I’m just saying, if a teacher, or god forbid one of the football players, catch you, you're dead.” He dropped his clearly faked strong guy demeanor and gave Nico a warm smile. “And I don't feel like patching you up.”

He held out his hand. “I’m Will. Will Solace. Are you new? I don't think I’ve seen you around, and I know most people here.”

Nico realized he was supposed to shake the blonde's hand, and did so, albeit reluctantly.

“Nico.” He replied. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t used to anybody but his family paying attention to him, so he just said the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Do you know where classroom EG956 is? I was supposed to have class there but I couldn't find it.” Will’s smile got impossibly bigger.

“I get it. You’re alone at a new school and don’t know anybody, so you can't ask anyone about where to go” Nico hesitated for a second before answering

“I’m here with my half sister, Hazel, but she left me the second we got here.”

“Hazel Levesque?! She’s a year under me, we’ve talked a few times, and she seems really nice, tough shell though.” He laughed, and Nico gave him a small smile back. Will quickly continued, “Where’s your next class? I’ll show you the way, I know this school inside and out”

And so Nico made his first friend in America. Once they had compared schedules to see if they had any classes together (chemistry, Thursdays and Fridays), Will walked him to his classroom and promised to wait for him in the cafeteria afterwards.

Nico was excited at the prospect of having a new friend. Back home in Italy, Bianca had really been his only friend. Something about the autistic-mythomagic obsessed-loser had not attracted many friends, and Nico was fine with that, because he could tell Bianca everything. Maybe Will could be that kind of friend.

His history lesson flashed by as the teacher told the students what they were going to do this year. Apparently the first project was Greek mythology, something Nico already knew heaps about.

As the bell rang, Nico grabbed his letterman bag and flight jacket, and headed out the door. After a few minutes of navigating he made it to the cafeteria, where he found Will sitting next to two boys that must be brothers, a blond dude, and a shorter guy, who was sitting on the table and gesturing wildly with his hands. Will noticed Nico from across the room and gladly waved him over.

“Nico! Hi! These are the guys, that’s Travis and Connor,” he gestured at the two boys who looked identical. They must be brothers, right?

“That's Luke” the blond guy gave him a wave

“And that's Leo, guys, this is Nico!” The boy who had been sitting on the table, Leo, jumped down and quickly embraced Nico, who froze. He was NOT used to strangers hugging him. Thankfully Leo noticed his awkwardness and let go, joining the other boys at the table.

“Sorry man,” he said “I’m a hugger, I should’ve asked before, but Solace has been rambling on about you since we got here and I feel like we’re already pals.” Nico smiled at him and sat down.

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked around the room.

It was full of students, but it didn’t take long before his gaze caught Hazels. She raised an eyebrow at him, but quickly joined in that conversation at her table.

Nico quickly fell into chatter with the boys, and he even found himself laughing out loud at something Travis said once or twice. Maybe this was going to be okay, he thought to himself, maybe he could make do here.

Marie had picked up Hazel and Nico after school, and after an awkward dinner Nico found himself in what he was finally starting to consider his room. His phone buzzed with a text from Hazel, who in the six months he’d lived here, had only texted him twice.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Hazel

i saw you hanging out with luke

hes bad news

Nico

So now you care?

Hazel

oh dont be like that

youre my brother

Nico

Half brother

Hazel

so what? im not allowed to care?

Nico

Not when you've ignored me since I got here

Hazel

im not used to siblings. sorry

Nico

Okay

Hazel

its just

hes not been the nicest to one of my friends

Nico

Okay

Hazel

no really nico, be careful

he really hurt annabeth

Nico

I really don’t feel like getting into your friends boy drama

Hazel

do you have to be like that?

just

sit with us tomorrow

Nico

Alright. I’ll give it a try

Hazel

yay! ill tell the guys!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Nico put down his phone and sighed. He couldn't wrap his head around why Hazel had switched on him so quickly. Tomorrow was going to be a mess.

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skymaiden32 · 4 months

Text

Bad News

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds, Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Continuity: TOS

Last chapter, here we go!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Gordon learns who Trench really is.

------

The walk along the beach was surprisingly peaceful, and Gordon found himself relaxing a little, although he knew there was no way he could fully let his guard down.

Trench broke the ice. “So, you must have questions. What do you want to know?” He asked in that tinny voice of his.

“Okay, that one’s easy enough.” He chuckled without any humour. “Who the hell are you?”

Trench paused. “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me.” The mask was off before Gordon could even blink. He held back a gasp when he saw who it was. “It’s been too long since I felt the crisp sea air on my face. Can’t take the mask off in front of the Aquaphibians. I’d be dead in two seconds flat.”

“Troy Tempest…?”

The man in front of him bowed. “The one and only.”

Gordon frowned, trying his best to regain his composure. “You’re the last person I’d expect…” Shore hadn’t been kidding at all, had he? This was bad. This was really bad. “You and Titan hate each other.”

Troy hummed. “That was before he… shall we say… opened my mind to Marineville’s faults.”

More like brainwashed, Gordon thought, but didn’t say aloud. “What about Atlanta? Phones? Fisher? All the people you left behind? I’m sure they all miss you.” When Troy didn’t answer, Gordon changed tactics. “Okay, then what about me? I know you’ve met Scott and Virgil before, so that explains how you knew we were siblings, but it doesn’t explain how you knew I was IR.”

Troy smiled. “X20. He was on a routine mission to Marineville and overheard your little conversation with Shore. Which he then reported back to me.” They approached a large rock, and Troy gestured for Gordon to sit next to him. Gordon glared at him in reply, but eventually complied, fearing what might happen to his brothers if he didn't. “It was simple to set up a disaster that would be too hard for International Rescue to ignore.”

“So it was you who attacked the USS Rodgers.”

“I would’ve thought that would be obvious. It was my tracker that allowed me and my men to follow you here.” The other man hummed. “The plan originally was to follow you to your base and seize your technology. Well, that was Titan’s at least.” Gordon raised an eyebrow. “My plan was to just talk to you. I’m glad you found the tracker. Makes my task of explaining our failure to the King easier.”

The aquanaut froze. “Wait, just making sure I’m understanding. You were never going to attack our base? You really were just going to talk?”

Troy grinned. “I may not be on the surface dwellers side anymore, but I still consider you a friend. And Titanica has no pre-existing quarrel with International Rescue. Attacking you would be unwise.”

“You’ve changed your tune.” Gordon hissed, not falling for any of it. “You were taking my brothers prisoner less than ten minutes ago, and now you’re saying that ‘attacking us would be unwise’. I see right through you, Tempest.” He frowned. “Or should I be calling you Trench now?”

Captain Tempest, Captain Trench, whoever it was in front of him, sighed. “Look. I meant what I said. No harm will come to them. As a matter of fact, if the Aquaphibians hurt them, I’ll end them myself.”

“Bet Titan won’t be happy about that.” Gordon scoffed.

“I learned he doesn’t care a long time ago. So long as someone does the work and the work is done.” Troy retaliated. “And I learned that when I was in WASP.”

“I see.” An uneasy silence followed. Gordon had just one question to ask. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why talk to me in the first place? Why not just disappear?”

More silence. For a minute, Gordon didn’t think Troy would answer him. But eventually, he did. “To say sorry.” He said in a low voice. “Sorry I didn’t manage to say goodbye.”

Gordon’s eyes widened in realisation. It had been too quick, leaving WASP after his accident. He hadn’t been able to stay at Marineville General for long. His injuries had needed to be specially treated. And since he’d already been honourably discharged following the whole mess, he’d never gotten a chance to wave farewell to the group of aquanauts who had taught him so much, who’d done their best to steady him and be a secondary family. He’d never gotten that closure. But then of course, neither had they.

“I’m sorry too. Sorry that I lost touch with all of you. Sorry we’re on opposite sides now…” For the first time since Troy had made his presence known, Gordon looked at him. Really looked. “You look exhausted, Tempest.” He said honestly, and was surprised at his own concern. “How hard is Titan working you?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

Gordon gave him a look, channelling his best Scott impression. “Troy.”

“The undersea races don’t need as much sleep as humans do.”

The look hardened. “Troy. How much sleep do they get?”

Troy winced. “Four hours? At most?”

“And Titanica is the better option over Marineville?”

The other aquanaut huffed. “I’m not going back there.”

“Then leave Titanica at the very least. You don’t have to work for WASP. Just…” Gordon paused. “Just come back to the surface. You said yourself, you haven’t felt the air on the surface for ages.”

Troy sighed, looking out to the sea. “I can’t do that. The ocean is my home now…” He frowned. “Plus, I’d be in for one hell of a Court Marshal. They’d track me down, make me pay for leaving WASP, and then I’d be stuck in a prison cell.” He laughed dryly. “What sea air would I feel then, Gordon?”

“That’s what you think, Troy, but the truth of it is that WASP will defend you. And that’s because you didn’t leave. You were taken.” Gordon frowned when Troy froze, confirming his worst thoughts. “I’ve got it, don’t I? Titan abducted you. He moulded you into someone you’re not, and then he forced you to fight your friends.” Troy’s continued silence was damning. “Tell me I’m wrong!”

“How dare you speak of Titan in that way? He saved me from that life.” Troy’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Gordon immediately knew he’d pushed too far. He couldn’t stop himself from looking down. He knew though, he was right about what Titan had done. The tyrant couldn’t kill his worst enemy, so instead he shaped Troy and his mind as he saw fit. “I will not return to life on the surface.”

Out the corner of his eye, Gordon noticed the mask slip back on. He supposed Trench was fully back. A crunch was heard as he crushed something in his hand. Gordon recognised the tracker that had let the Aquaphibians follow them here in the first place. “I will not tell His Majesty about this conversation we had, but I believe that conversation is over.” He pressed something on his collar, and began speaking in the Aquaphibian language. Gordon could only barely make it out with the little he’d been taught at WASP. His brothers were being released. “As promised, your brothers are unharmed. I strongly advise that the three of you leave. The rest of your family must be worried.” He gestured in the direction of the Thunderbirds, letting Gordon lead the way there.

The aquanaut breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them standing there in front of Thunderbird 2. He broke off in a run, just wanting to stick to them like glue now. When they saw the look on his face, they frowned. Scott glared in Trench’s direction. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No! Absolutely not. Just…” He looked back at Captain Trench and his Aquaphibian men. He didn’t like what he saw in his old friend, now a new enemy. “I just want to get home.”

His two brothers nodded, clearly agreeing with his decision. It had been a difficult day. And as Thunderbirds 1 and 2 both lifted into the air, Gordon processed everything that had just happened. It took a while. All throughout the journey home and the debrief, where Scott had the unfortunate task of telling their father what had just happened. Jeff Tracy was out for blood now, and Alan had looked mortified. .

Gordon took his secret to bed with him, locking the door for as much privacy as he could get with three brothers in the house and one able to get in contact from space at any given moment. He turned on his video-call, taking a deep breath as he typed in the familiar number. His heart beat in his chest as it rang. Finally, the person he was calling answered.

“Hello?” Voice only. Dang it. Oh well, it was better than nothing.

Swallowing down his nerves, he continued what he’d started. “Hi Atlanta. You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Gordon Tracy. I used to work with you at WASP.”

The woman on the other end gasped. “Of course, Lieutenant Tracy! It would be difficult to forget you.” Gordon smirked. His reputation still preceded him, then. “Father said he’d contacted you about temporarily replacing a crew member. Have you changed your mind?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I called to talk to you about something else.”

“Oh?”

“I, umm…” He hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy to tell her. “I… saw Troy earlier today.”

“Oh.” Atlanta’s voice wilted. “So you know then.” It wasn’t a question. “He tracked you down.”

“Yeah, and…” Gordon sighed. “I just wanna talk to someone about what he said. Someone who’d know…”

“You don’t have to finish that sentence, Gordon. I understand. Do you want to talk now?”

“Yeah, I would.”

So that’s just what they did together. They shared what had happened among themselves. The conversations they’d had with Troy since his turn and how they felt. And Gordon felt so much lighter, to know he wasn’t alone in this feeling.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #stingray 1964 #stingray fanfiction #thunderfam #gordon tracy #captain trench #troy tempest #scott tracy #virgil tracy #atlanta shore #sky writes stuff

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kjs-s · 11 months

Text

Put on an act

Pairing: Foggy Nelson x reader

Summary Foggy panickly introduced you as his partner to his ex.

Prompts :“Can’t believe I let you drag me into this” and “Act like we’re dating, I see my ex”

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: none I can think of

A/N: This is my entry for @locke-writes 2k celebration. Congats again Noah and I hope you will like this

''We need to pick something meaningful. Which ones do you think will say 'thanks for sticking around' and ' we appreciate you'?'' Foggy asked you looking around the flower shop a little lost. Karen's ten-year anniversary working for Matt and Foggy was coming up. The little celebration was your idea after Karen narrated how she came to work with them when you were first hired as a paralegal. You couldn't believe how fortunate you were to be employed by such terrific people.

''I know that, pick pansies, sunflowers, and yellow roses. We actually had a botany and flower meaning class in my university.'' Your tone was so sincere that you could fool anyone that didn't know how fond of sarcasm you were.

''Really?'' Foggy sounded enthusiastic hoping he wouldn't have to stay any longer in the shop and he could just return to the office and the case he was working on.

''Of course not. I have no clue, my botanic skills and non-existent. Let me look it up.'' You searched for the right choices while Foggy was trying hopelessly to locate someone to help you.

After about ten minutes you looked up from your phone.

''Ok, I think I have a decent bouquet picked out. We just need to find those four flowers and ask one of the florists if they go well together.'' You tried to show Foggy your phone but he panicky turned toward you and asked you to follow him out of the way.

''I'm sure those are great but right now I need a favor. Please act like we’re dating, I see my ex over there.'' He nodded towards the entrance where a couple was browsing the potted plants.

''The blonde one, with the cute red coat? She looks like a nice girl.''

''She is but we broke up because she was offered a job in Chicago and I wanted to stay here. And you know me, I couldn't deal with having a long distant relationship. So, please pretend to be my partner if she notices us.''

You didn't get the chance to respond before Marci was right behind you without her company excited to see Foggy again.

''Hi, I almost didn't see you there. How have you been?'' Marci greeted her ex and you couldn't help but admire her confidence. She had a way of talking and could make everyone around her stop to listen to her.

''I'm great. Still working with Matt and the business is doing fantastic. Oh, and that's my partner (Y/N) who also works with us.'' You shook her hand.

''So you are Marci. I knew Foggy's ex was a brilliant lawyer that helped him on cases and I am glad to finally meet you.''

''It's great to meet you too. I am happy that he found such a sweet person as you.'' Then the man who was with her earlier approached you.

''That's my husband Trevor. We got married five months ago and we just moved back to New York. Honey, these are Foggy and (Y/N).'' Trevor knew who Foggy was surprising you about how civil this random meeting was being. You could never imagine being that cordial with any of your exes due to the fact that you broke up because they were either immature or totally arrogant.

Marcia and Trevor had already placed their order and began to leave but not before they invited the two of you to dinner at their new house the next day. An invitation that Foggy accepted without a second thought.

''Are you out of your mind? Couldn't you lie and say we are busy or that Matt needs you for a case?'' You tried so hard to not raise your voice at him.

''I'm sorry, I didn't think this through. I can make something up to try to avoid this. Sorry, I honestly didn’t think it would bother you that much.''

''It's not bothering me. I just believe I would feel bad lying to them during the entire evening. They both seem so friendly. But it will be fine. I don't mind pretending to be your date or your partner. Now let us go see about those flowers. I picked daises that symbolize loyal love, arborvitae for unchanging friendship, and lastly for affection zinnia, and morning glory. I believe Karen deserves the best bouquet for her party.'' Foggy agreed with you and ordered the bouquet to be made and delivered to the office in the afternoon.

Later that day during your little celebration you informed Matt and Karen about your encounter earlier. They found it hilarious that you pretended to date and hoped you at least have a good time during dinner the next day.

You decided to get together before dinner to come up with a story about your relationship just in case they ask.

''We don't have to come up with a complicated story. I have been working for you for a while now and I liked you from the moment I met you. We will just say that after a while we decided to act on those feelings and hopefully, we will be together for a long time since we already see each other all the time. Simple enough?''

''Yes, I like it. I will say that I asked you out before the holidays so if you rejected me at least the office would be closed and I would only be humiliated and heartbroken at home.''

''I would never humiliate you. But, sure let's say that. I just can’t believe I let you drag me into this'' You playfully complained to him before making your way to Marci's home.

She and her husband were delighted to see the two of you, especially Foggy since he hadn't met any of Marci's other friends from when she used to live in New York.

As you predicted, you were asked about how long you are together and how your relationship started.

''I liked (Υ/Ν) since the first day we met. Matt was the one who decided on adding a new employee to our team and we were blessed with this angel. The first thing I noticed from our interview together was the approach to Matt's crazy questions. I hadn't seen anyone else answer him with such intelligence and creativity. And on top of that, we got lucky to find someone with a charming personality. I found the courage to ask (Y/N) out after working together on an extremely tough case. I can't hide that I was a little surprised that such a wonderful person agreed to date me.'' You mentioned that you were the lucky one. And indeed you always felt delighted to have met him. In addition, you hoped there was some truth to his words.

After dinner, he drove you home thanking you for everything and making small talk about work. However, you couldn't get his words out of your mind.

''Did you rehearse your little speech about how we started dating beforehand? Because it was really sweet.'' You asked him while still in his car.

''I didn't, I just honestly find you amazing.'' He couldn't bring himself to look at you right this moment.

''I find you amazing too. And I hope I could do this in a more romantic way but would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow? Just the two of us this time.''

''You mean it? Because I would love to.''

''Of course, I mean it. I will text you the details tomorrow morning after I make a reservation.'' You smiled at him and after giving him a peck on the cheek you left the car. The moment you entered your home you took notes of all the things you had to do the next day in preparation for your first real date.

#foggy nelson x reader #marvel fic #daredevil #daredevil fic #my wriring #marvel #2k follower celebration #2k wriring challenge

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hanakihan · 10 months

Text

‘Love is painful, and it hurts you in all the wrong ways. I hope you’ll never know love’.

It’s the last words he remembers his mother told him before he found her cold in bed two weeks after. And then it was a mess of faces and voices, unfamiliar hands passing him around like some sort of sold goods until eventually he ended up surrounded by other children and adults in orphanage.

Thinking about it now, he doesn’t really remember much of his childhood - only that it was lonely and divided of affections family members shared. He might’ve been ten years old, but he still understood that it wasn’t normal when his mother walked ahead of him and didn’t make sure if he followed her at all, like he didn’t even existed. It absolutely wasn’t normal especially when he saw other children being carried or hugged by their parents, being paid attention to. He wouldn’t say his family was abusive - it’s hard to tell when your entire family is just your mother, who you can’t really compare with anyone else. From what she shared to him once when they were having a dinner, is that their bloodline is cursed, and that death follows them around, stalks them from generation to generation, taking them at their prime, only leaving behind a fruit of short lived love.

After that she stared at him for a minute and started to weep.

She never loved him like a mother would love her child, wholeheartedly and selflessly. She did, however, cared about him to some degree, since she did provide for him and raised him. Thinking back to it, her final words were probably the last act of her care. An advice, a warning, born from experience, since she felt death breathing down her neck.

Woo Jin-Chul wasn’t loved, never knew proper love, but his ten years old heart ached when his cold unmoving mother never opened her eyes.

And now, as an adult, he’s terrified of how much he resembles his mother, of how much he’s her. The way he cares about certain people but doesn’t love them. And for those he doesn’t care, he feels nothing. It’s as simple as that and this detachment terrifies him, makes something in him conflicted, makes his skin crawl, makes his own mind feel trapped in flesh of this body. There’s something fundamentally wrong about him, even if Go Gun-Hee - and this man is closest Jin-Chul ever felt akin to love for a person - says that Jin-Chul isn’t heartless, that there’s a feeling of calmness and safety around him. That life breathes in him, like world starts to breathe after a long winter under first spring rays.

Jin-Chul cares about his superior the most, still finds his words hilarious, but doesn’t argue.

And then Sung Jin-Woo appears on scene like a perfect mirror to him. Sung Jin-Woo feels familiar, like an old friend, and every time they share same space, Jin-Chul can feel familiar grind of ash between his teeth and taste of it in his mouth.

Jin-Chul is intimately familiar with this, feeling it around his mother at that evening. Sung Jin-Woo reeks of death, he feels like death, he is death. And yet, despite the coldness and detachment, underneath all this ash he’s carrying in him, there’s a burning love. Sung Jin-Woo loves, he loves and cares and protects unconditionally and wholeheartedly, with his feelings and passions yet never gets burned by it.

And Jin-Chul finds himself loving him one day. He feels something warm and gentle blossom on his chest, like first shy snowdrops upon arrival of spring, gentle roots with beautiful white flowers embracing his cold heart with warmth. It’s so sudden and unfamiliar to him that breath gets stolen from his lungs and he hastily excuses himself, leaving mildly worried Go Gun-Hee. He feels bad about it, but he’s so overwhelmed by realization that it makes him laugh. It’s a such beautiful feeling, so light and gentle and he thinks that it’s something he and his mother should’ve shared, too.

And then he covers his face with shaking palms and starts to weep, just like his mother twenty years ago. She loved his father, however short lived their love was, she probably tried to love Jin-Chul despite being unable to. And she paid for love with her life.

Jin-Chul wasn’t afraid of death since it followed him all his life. But now he loves, and fear embraces him, clenching his heart and tugging at roots of love.

Jin-Chul is afraid of love. Afraid of death. Afraid of Sung Jin-Woo.

————

@i-bring-crack the brainrot was strong with this one, I’m still thinking about Reincarnation AU and boy does it becomes depressing the more you analyze it—

#solo leveling #woo jin chul #sung jin woo #buckle up bitches we’re entering depression territory #man emotionally detached jinchul thanks to AB meets seemingly emotionally detached Jinwoo who’s actually burning with love and feelings #jinchul not being afraid of death but then he knows feeling of love and he’s afraid now #the understanding of his mother’s words came too late to him #jinchul distancing himself from jinwoo - his love and his death #jinwoo: let me love you for fucks sake; jinchul: terrified screech

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juniormint1125 · 1 year

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No Matter What - Part 1 - Choi Seungcheol x Reader

No Matter What

Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x Reader

Summary: You have a secret that threatens your budding relationship with Seungcheol. When your fear of hurt becomes too much, you tell him the truth, hoping to have a clean break before you fall any deeper. But Seungcheol’s one persistent man that just won’t let you go.

Word Count: Part 1 - 2,679

Genre: angst,fluff

Warnings/Contains: Nothing, I think?

Part 1

“I’m so sorry!” a masculine voice echoes in your ears.

You hadn’t noticed him walking toward you until the two of you collided. And now he’s kneeling in front of you, scooping up the contents of your bag from the sidewalk.

“It was my fault,” you reply, squatting down to gather the last few items. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I apologize.”

“Neither was I, so I’m sorry too.” His friendly smile accentuates the dimples in his cheeks, and you grin. His long eyelashes are dark and alluring; he’s handsome. You must be delirious from lack of sleep, ogling some stranger on the street.

You don’t want to be late for work, so you thank him for picking up your things and hurry down the street. As you’re crossing, you think you hear someone calling after you. You turn to look back, but cars blocking the intersection make it impossible to tell and you don’t have time to wait and see.

You fumble for your key card, but it isn’t in its usual place. You turn your bag inside out, but there’s no trace of it anywhere. Hopefully, in your rush to leave the house, you left it behind. Another teacher arrives a few minutes later, and you follow her into the school. This day has not gotten off to a good start, but hopefully it isn’t too late to turn things around.

Work runs late; there are too many papers to grade before the end of the term. When you’re finally finished, you quickly pack your things, and head for the door. You’re exhausted and just want to be at home. When you open the door, the evening air is cold, causing you to draw your coat tightly around you.

“Excuse me,” a vaguely familiar voice calls from behind you. “I think this belongs to you.”

When you turn, you’re face to face with the man you ran into that morning. He’s holding your missing key card, a wide grin on his face, those same soft dimples sharpened to enhance his already captivating smile.

“I thought I had lost this! Thank you so much for returning it!” You quickly blurt out an apology. “I’m really sorry about this morning. I was running late and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” he replies softly. “I’m glad you weren’t paying attention.” His eyes dart between you and the school and he scratches the back of his head. “Well, what I mean is…I’m happy to have met you.”

His ears flush red and he looks away. You giggle, partially at his awkward compliment, and partially at yourself. You feel like a middle school girl talking to her first crush. It’s absurd how fast your heart is pounding.

“I guess you need to get going,” he mutters.

You hesitate. “I guess I should. Thank you again for returning my card.”

He says goodbye, then turns to walk down the street. You stand staring, watching him as he leaves. It’s hard to believe decent humans still exist. Most people would have left the key card where it lay, or a few might have returned it to the school office. Not many people, if any, would have returned it in person.

Once he’s disappeared, you turn and head home. All of a sudden it strikes you how dark it is outside. School has been over for hours. Did he wait, in the cold, all this time for you to come out?

…

It’s the end of the week, and you’re actually leaving work on time when the school secretary stops you. “Something was just delivered to you,” she beams.

On the counter behind her is a huge bouquet of flowers. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. “What is that?”

“A very handsome young man dropped these off about ten minutes ago.” Her mischievous grin makes your heart pound. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” you reply flatly.

“Well, it certainly looks like this young man wants to change that!” she chirps.

She hands you the flowers and you practically run out the door, your face blood red. You’re baffled as to who they’re from; there’s no one in your life who’d do this. Once you’re out of the secretary’s line of sight, you stop to read the card.

You can thank me for returning your key card by having dinner with me. Seungcheol

A huge grin spreads across your face. Seungcheol. His name is Seungcheol. You smile to yourself, but it quickly turns to a frown. Why are you smiling about some man you only met for two minutes? You shake your head; you’re being ridiculous.

“Do you like the flowers?”

You look up to see who’s talking to you. You can’t believe it’s him.

“They’re beautiful,” you answer. “But you didn’t have to do that. I should have sent you flowers. It was my fault for running into you, and then you returned my key card, and…” You stop yourself from rambling anymore. You blush in embarrassment.

“I don’t mind; I wanted to.” He pauses. “So, is that a yes?”

You look at him puzzled.

“To dinner,” he adds.

You’d forgotten the card. Once you’d seen him standing in front of you, your mind went blank. Dinner sounds nice. You want nothing more than to say yes. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” you advise. “We don’t really know each other.”

He chuckles. “Isn’t that why people go on dates? To get to know each other.”

He’s got you. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just my life’s…complicated.”

“You could let me be the judge of that.” His smile is irresistible as his eyes all but disappear behind his lashes.

“I don’t know…” You’re trying your best to maintain your resolve.

He throws his hands up, surrendering for the moment. “I won’t give up,” he vows. “I’m going to keep trying.”

The idea terrifies and excites you.

…

Every day, for the next two weeks, there’s a single red rose waiting for you when you leave work. There are no notes attached, but you know they’re from Seungcheol. He really isn’t going to give up.

Then one day, there are no roses.

“You played too hard to get,” the school secretary says. “That poor boy gave up.”

She’s right, and you don’t want to admit that you’re disappointed. It’s been flattering having someone pursue you again. It’s been such a long time since…You don’t want to think about him. You sigh as you walk out the door. It was nice while it lasted, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever. You’re about to cross the street when someone calls to you.

“Excuse me, miss?” You turn and Seungcheol’s captivating smile greets you. “I think you forgot these.”

In his hand, he’s holding a bouquet of roses identical to the ones he’s been sending you for the past two weeks. You’re beaming. He stretches out his hand, handing you the roses. “I told you I wouldn’t give up.”

You have to hand it to him, he’s definitely determined. And it’s damned attractive. “You’re making it very difficult for me to say no,” you admit. He grins smugly.

“Then say yes.” Looking at you with puppy dog eyes, he adds, “Please.”

“Okay,” you concede.

“Really?” He’s ecstatic. It’s an ego boost to see the excitement in his eyes. “Are you free tonight?”

There’s no way you can go anywhere tonight. It’s too last minute; there’re too many details you have to take care of before you can spend the evening away from home. But he might get discouraged if you turn him down again.

“Tomorrow?” you ask. It’s the weekend. You should be able to work things out so that you’re free. He nods energetically.

“Here.” He pushes the roses into your hand. “My number’s on the card.”

“How did you know I would say yes?” you chuckle, inhaling the flowers’ sweet scent.

He smiles sheepishly. “Wishful thinking.”

Before you fall asleep that night, you send a text to the number in the flowers. The roses are beautiful. Thank you.

He responds quickly, as if he’s been waiting by the phone. Not nearly as beautiful as you.

You laugh out loud at his compliment. It’s cheesy, but it makes you feel special. Before you can reply, another text arrives. Does seven work for you? I’ll pick you up.

You can’t have him at your apartment. Seven is perfect, but I’ll meet you at the restaurant.

A few more texts and all the details are sorted out for the first date you’ve had in over two years. A million thoughts begin running through your mind. What do you wear? What do you talk about? Will he expect a good night kiss?

There’s no need to worry. It’s only one date. Nothing will come of it. You roll over, tuck your hand under the pillow, and try to sleep.

…

About an hour before your date, you’re still trying to figure out what to wear. Everything else has fallen smoothly into place, but you’re struggling with this one detail. Most of your closet is teacher attire, not really suitable for a first date. You text your fashionista friend for some advice. She’s ecstatic to help and heads right over.

She raids your closet, putting together an outfit she describes as “chic meets cute.” Whatever that means. She insists on helping with your hair and makeup too. You sit down to be pampered, and she asks about your date. You tell her what little you know about him, and she squeals.

“Dimples and long eyelashes! He sounds gorgeous!”

“I guess he is pretty handsome,” you giggle. Your heart flutters, making you giggle again. Your friend turns serious.

“Are you going to tell him about…” She meets your eyes in the mirror and your happy mood plummets. “Never mind, Y/N It’s only the first date. There’s plenty of time to get serious later.”

You try to smile. Should you just be honest with him from the start? That way he can run before things do get serious. Or should you find out how serious he is first? Then you’ll know whether or not it’s safe to share your life with him. Your friend’s voice brings you back to reality.

“Hey! Don’t worry about any of that stuff, okay? Just have fun. You deserve it!”

But that’s easier said than done.

You stop at the light before crossing the street. It's your last chance to run. You should walk away before either of you become any more involved. You could save everyone a lot of hurt. You pull your coat tighter around you as an icy wind blows past, then glance across the street. Seungcheol’s already pacing back and forth outside the restaurant. It comforts you to see that he’s nervous too. He looks at his watch, then looks in your direction. When he sees you, he smiles and waves, then walks toward the crosswalk. He meets you halfway as you cross the street.

“You should have let me pick you up,” he scolds you. “It’s freezing out here!”

He really is too thoughtful. “It’s okay. I didn’t have far to walk.”

He smiles warmly. “Let’s hurry inside. I made a reservation.”

Dinner is delicious and Seungcheol is the perfect gentleman. He pulls out your chair, stands when you leave for the restroom, and even helps you with your coat when dinner’s over. He’s charming and funny too. It’s getting harder for you to deny how much you like him.

He asks you for coffee after dinner, and you agree. You don’t want to go home yet; spending time with him is easy and relaxing, in direct contrast to your everyday life.

“Are you cold?” he asks as you’re walking to the cafe.

You shake your head. “I’m okay.”

“Here.”

He wraps his scarf snugly around your neck. When he’s finished, he laughs. You frown, pretending to be offended. “Cute. But next time, you’ll dress warmer.”

Next time. He’s already planning to see you again. The thought makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“If you want there to be a next time, that is.” he adds. You can’t stop yourself from giggling. “What?” he pouts.

You echo his words. “Cute. Next time, I’ll dress warmer.”

“Good,” he replies sternly. You both burst into laughter.

…

You find it easy to fall into a comfortable routine with Seungcheol. He’s warm and open, affectionate, and sincere. His heart is gigantic, and you can’t help but be ensnared by his generosity. You often find yourself lying in bed at night wondering if you really deserve someone like him, someone so wonderful.

After all, your relationship is built on a complete lie. You’re omitting a huge part of your life from the picture you’ve painted for him. It’s not fair to keep something so important from him, but you never imagined things would go this far. You never believed that you’d fall so hard for him. There was no way you could have known how perfect he’d be. And now that you’ve grown so attached to him, you’re terrified you’ll lose him if you share your secret. It’s not something that can be easily brushed aside or forgotten.

Each time you see him, you push your guilt down and lock it away. You tell yourself the relationship won’t last much longer. He’ll get tired of you and move on. Then you won’t have to worry about what you’ve hidden. Each time you see him, you talk yourself into pretending one more time. You’ll be able to let him go soon. You just want to enjoy being cherished a little while longer.

But weeks turn into months; it gets harder to hide the truth. The two of you grow closer, but your guilt plagues you. That and your fear of your past repeating itself. You can’t manage to heal the wounds that your ex left in your heart. In the back of your mind, each time you see Seungcheol, you’re expecting the other shoe to drop. Then you’ll be left alone, all over again.

One night, Seungcheol is walking you home, when out of the blue, he asks, “Why do you never invite me back to your apartment?”

You choke on nothing. “What?”

“All the times that I’ve walked you home, you’ve never once asked me upstairs.” He laughs nervously. “Are you hiding something up there?”

You turn on him. “Why would you say that?”

He reaches for your hand. “I was only kidding, Y/N. I just felt…Never mind. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Cheol.” You squeeze his hand, and he smiles.

“I guess I was worried that maybe…maybe you aren’t as serious about me…as I am about you.” He looks away.

“It’s not that. I care about you. So much.” You hesitate. “There’s something about me that you don’t know.”

You turn away to hide the tears in your eyes. His palm caresses your cheek. “Please, look at me, Y/N.”

You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, wiping tears from your cheeks. “Whatever it is, I promise, I’m not leaving, I want to be in your life for a very long time.”

His words stab at your heart. As much as you want to drop your walls and trust him, your past keeps rearing its ugly head. Your insecurity has you convinced that eventually, he’ll let you down. If you break his heart first, that won’t happen. Your relationship’s already gone too far and have to stop now.

“If you know the truth, Cheol, you won’t want to be in my life anymore.”

He smiles. “I told you once before, Y/N. Le me be the judge of that.”

You look him squarely in the eye, challenging him, your eyes asking him if this is really a road he wants to go down.

“What is it, Y/N? You can tell me anything; it won’t scare me away.”

“I have a daughter,” you declare.

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murkycran · 2 years

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Human Dreamling AU (Part 2)

Despite realizing his feelings, Hob very much tries to continue on with life as it had been so far.

For one, he doesn’t even know if Dream likes men. All Hob knows is that Dream used to have a wife.

So a little background:

Both Hob and Dream used to be married. Hob’s wife Eleanor and son Robyn died in a car crash. It happened after Hob finished his master’s degree and had been teaching as an associate professor for a few years, taking a break on getting his PhD until Robyn was a little older and Eleanor didn’t need as much help. After Robyn and Eleanor died, Hob put off getting his PhD indefinitely and sank into a bad depression. Bills went unpaid, the house he planned to raise his family in went into foreclosure, and he became homeless for a short time

When the 1 year anniversary of Robyn and Eleanor’s deaths comes around, Hob is at the lowest point of his life. He’s been homeless for a couple of months at that point and is feeling pretty hopeless. Initially he’s overcome with shame on the anniversary bc of how bad things have gotten (thinking about what Eleanor would think of him). That night, though, he’s approached by Mad Hettie. Almost everyone avoids her, even the other homeless, bc she has a reputation for being Odd.

Hob REALLY wants to be left alone, but he’s still not a complete asshole, so he humors Hettie and listens to her ramblings. She gets worked up talking at him (not to him, AT him), going on and on about how Hob has “been here before” and she knows he’ll recover like he always does, him and Hettie, so similar, they don’t just give up the two of them, they keep going no matter what, and she knows Hob will get back on his feet-

Hob listens and is just like: “what”

He’s PRETTY sure he had never met Hettie until just a couple of months ago

After a few minutes Hettie seems satisfied, finishes with “this isn’t the end, Hob Gadling”, and putters off into the dark.

That night Hob thinks about what she said (at least, the last bit, not the rambling bits) and decides she’s right. It’s not the end. He still wants to make Eleanor and Robyn proud by being the man he would have been if they were still alive.

It’s hard work, but within a year Hob has a small apartment and is interviewing for a substitute teaching position at a high school. (Side note: I’m not trying to make it seem like it’s easy to get out of being homeless. Hob would have resources many people don’t, like presumably veteran benefits, and I imagine he would also have people he could ask for loans to help him get back on his feet. It’s just that he previously didn’t have the motivation to do so.)

After a couple of years of teaching high school history, Hob decides it’s finally time to get back into teaching at the university level. He also starts working on his PhD.

It’s ten years after Robyn and Eleanor’s death that Hob meets Dream.

NOW FOR DREAM’S BACKSTORY

Grew up in a REALLY weird, really rich family. He and his siblings were all adopted as infants by Night and Time. Yes, all of their names are the same as canon. Like I said, a really weird family. No, I don’t know why, and neither does Dream, but it was never really an issue growing up bc they were all homeschooled so it wasn’t like there were any normal kids around to make fun of them or point out how weird they were.

This has kind of led to all the Endless siblings being a bit Odd compared to outsiders (Night and Time fully encouraged the Oddness). They all have really weird sibling dynamics, but are still a family. (Important side note: I don’t think human!Dream would have as horrible relationships with his siblings if they were human as he does in canon *cough*Desire*cough*. For one, the Endless being human takes out all the high stakes of being anthropomorphic personifications in charge of human existence. So. SURE, they have their fights and petty squabbles, but what siblings don’t? So, in other words, the Endless are def more familial in this AU.)

At the beginning of his writing career Dream met Calliope, a fellow writer. Calliope was an upcoming poet and playwright. She and Dream have a pretty short courtship before they get married; I’m talking like less than a year. (Desire makes a point of saying they don’t think the relationship will last, which naturally pisses Dream off. Unfortunately, they’re right.)

Calliope and Dream have a son (Orpheus - the tradition of giving kids weird names continues), but within the first few years of his life Orpheus gets really sick with an incurable disease. He dies just before his sixth birthday. Neither Dream nor Calliope cope well; Calliope refuses to leave the house while Dream starts distancing himself from her and burying himself in his writing. During this time (fueled by angst and anger), Dream writes the novel that would make him famous and kickstart his writing career.

Mutually, deeply unhappy (and resentful on Calliope’s part, bc she feels like Dream abandoned her), they get divorced. Desire doesn’t gloat or anything about it, but Dream is angry enough at the world that it doesn’t matter, he refuses to speak to Desire (but really he’s angry at himself). He never was good at keeping up with his siblings in general, but it becomes even worse afterwards and Dream only regularly speaks with Death (read: Death knows where to find the spare key to Dream’s house and regularly breaks in for mandated sibling bonding).

Dream keeps writing, channeling his emotions into his work. Even though he’s using a pen name, the overwhelming success of his book becomes too much for him to manage alone and he hires Lucienne as his manager, who in turn hires Jessamy as Dream’s personal assistant.

Dream settles into a new normal, telling himself he needs no one, all the while coming to rely heavily on Jessamy and Lucienne (whether he realizes it or not).

If he didn’t already, BOY DOES HE REALIZE IT when Jessamy is involved in a wreck with a drunk driver. (I’m actually not entirely decided on whether or not Jessamy dies; on one hand, there’s canon. On the other hand, she could just become disabled from the wreck, is unable to work for Dream anymore. When Dream refuses to hire another PA bc he feels like he would be replacing Jessamy, she would pick out her own replacement and tell Dream to get a grip. Hm, I’m undecided. Feels like my want to give Dream more friends is leaking into this AU lmao.)

Dream doesn’t make it easy on Matthew. Matthew doesn’t make it easy on Dream either though. He takes his job REALLY seriously, especially after he feels like Dream thinks he can’t be as good of a PA as Jessamy. Jessamy and Lucienne aren’t afraid to call Dream out on his bs, but Matthew straight up *says* “bullshit” to Dream’s face and is a lot more brute force about getting Dream to take care of himself. Where Jessamy and Lucienne use passive aggressive persuasion on Dream, Matthew is just annoying as hell to get Dream to do what he wants.

Okay, that’s enough backstory and exposition for now. Now to the Present again ->

When Dream starts observing Hob, he’s actually between publishing contracts, so there’s no rush or deadline for the book he’s researching. Perhaps that’s why he allows himself to be so drawn in to conversations with Hob.

When they have their first argument where Hob gets frustrated at Dream’s aloofness and says he’d be better off talking to a different, more experienced professor, Dream takes it as Hob saying he doesn’t have the time or patience to deal with Dream’s questions. That’s not what Hob says, but Dream is Dream and takes it that way.

Cue them resolving their issues with help from big sis Death.

After that, the meetings between Dream and Hob are easier and less formal/more relaxed.

Somehow a lot of their conversations circle back to somewhat philosophical arguments. Dream has a pessimistic, darker outlook on humanity and history, while Hob is more optimistic and generally looks more towards humanity’s achievements than the shortcomings.

They also talk about other, more personal subjects. Never getting too deep into explanations, Hob tells Dream about Eleanor and Robyn, while Dream just says he got divorced after their son died. They bond over their loss, but bc they’re themselves, they don’t dwell or talk about it in-depth.

Nonetheless, Dream is quietly surprised at himself for opening up (even if it only was a tiny crack) to someone that didn’t either A) work for him or B) was related to him. When he realizes this, it’s a little easier to admit to himself how much he looks forward to his talks with Hob.

Part 1 of this AU!

Okay, that’s it for now. Sorry it was so much exposition and backstory, but I felt like to properly establish a human AU I needed to cover some stuff. Coming up: more insight to the Endless family dynamics! Some good Dreamling pining! And probably some fluff, too, just for good measure. I’ll be tagging this AU as “human!dreamling AU” btw, so it’s easier to find. I’ll also try to remember to add links to new posts on the older posts as well.

Thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, and left comments in the tags or on the post!! I had no idea this would be so appealing to fellow Dreamling fans. 😊 y’all are the best.

(As a final side note: someone brought up how I was going to handle Dream’s entrapment by Burgess in this AU. Tbh, I hadn’t thought that far originally bc this started as a cute little idea, but it’s now become a fully-fledged fic plot lmao. I have some ideas of how to handle it, I just may not get around to it next time yet bc I’m still not super sure.)

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #human!dreamling au #death of the endless #desire of the endless #the endless #i feel like I rambled too much but oh well #sorry about any typos 🙃

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audblogforfanfics · 1 year

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@hijacksecrets this is the first part of the fic, I hope you like it!

Part One- Vampire Things

Jack woke up in a small clearing in a forest, with zero memories. A tall, imposing man with white hair and red eyes was staring at him with a sad but gentle smile. “Jack Frost,” the man whispered. And then the man walked away into the night. That’s the last Jack had saw of him.

He saw his reflection the first time in a nearby pond, lit by the light of the moon. His hair was snow white, his eyes were an ethereal ice blue, and his skin was as pale as the dead body at the other side of the water.. hold on why is it enticing?

So. Jack may have blacked out for a minute. Or two. But he knows that he was on the other side of the pond, yet now he’s with the dead body that apparently has puncture wounds on the inside of it’s wrist. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and sees the red. Blood? Is he bleeding?? He checks if he lost any teeth and nicks his thumb in the process.

He shouldn’t have teeth that sharp, he wasn’t a vampi-…. Oh. Oh shit.

~~~~

It’s been 300 years now. He’s only seen the albino vampire (which he now thinks knew what made him a vampire) in passing, and has never been able to reach the man. They never spoke, not once. Yes, Jack was salty about it, but it’s whatever. Everyone else in the supernatural community seem to avoid him, too, so he assumes he did something wrong before...

But that’s not important right now. Right now, he’s focused on remaking his list. After three hundred years, it makes sense for it to get lost or destroyed sometimes, leaving him to remake it once in a while. So, Jack is currently typing up his list in a cafe in some small town in Scotland- Berg? Beark? Oh well, he’ll probably remember it later.

Jack’s Vampy Features:

Pros: capable of flight, capable of turning into a bat, capable of eating human food (less of an appetite for it tho), curses have little affect, garlic does nothing, can enter places just fine, fast healing factor, temperature has no affect, can’t get drunk, cool elemental powers- mine is ice!, easy to travel the world, able to see the evolution of mankind, ...

Cons: spiky wood causes wounds to heal slower (human rate), allergic to “holy” things, need blood to not pass out/get sick, no memory of past life (is this just a me thing?), chased out if found out, hunters exist to kill us, monthly existential crisis, sun = death, mortal friends die before you do, things you treasure get destroyed due to time, places you loved are no longer there, living through wars, unable to keep lasti-

His laptop was forcibly shut, nearly crushing his fingers. He looked up at the tired barista, who looked quite exasperated.

“Sir, the cafe closed ten minutes ago. I already cleaned up, and would greatly appreciate it if you left. Immediately. Right now, even!” they paused, as if remembering this was a customer. “Please.”

Jack hastily stood up, putting his things away. “Of course! I didn’t even realize the time, my apologies- your service was excellent, and the meal was delicious, I hope you have a wonderful night, goodbye!”

As soon as Jack was out the door, he heard it lock. Which, ouch, but it makes sense considering he was there for far too long. It was incredibly dark, and there were hardly any people out.

perfect time to go hunting

No. No, he will not. No, instead, he’s going hom-

but you need to, it’s been too long

...Fine. He’ll have a small snack at a park, but that’s it. Nothing else.

....

“Nothing else,” he muttered, walking briskly towards the nearest and emptiest park. “Just a.. squirrel, or something- Nothing. Else.”

~~~~~

(next part will have Hiccup’s POV and story, woot woot! I hope you enjoyed!!)

#rotg jack frost #he's a vampire now #hiccup is a vampire hunter #enemies to lovers #hijack #hiccup x jack #they are messes #but it's okay #jack has amnesia #he is not mentally okay #neither of them are #lmao #question: how do I get the font to be smaller?#please let me know #i am struggling

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applejuicefruit · 1 year

Note

Can u make one with Adrien pleaaaase ! where someone disrespects you, he doesn't like it at all and "fights" with that guy? Thank you !

I feel like Adrien would be so protective of his girl like he is with his teammates!

adrien rabiot x reader

Fight me

You and your boyfriend Adrien were currently spending some time in one of your favorite rooftop bars in Torino. Just you and him, sitting on a very comfortable couch watching the beautiful Torino skyline during sunset, it was perfect. Your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist as you both drank your cocktails. You were talking on where to go these holidays, he wanted to come back to France for a few days and you couldn’t agree more but he was also saying how he wanted to go somewhere tropical, maybe Puerto Rico or Colombia. Adrien was a sun man, but you, on the other hand, wanted to visit some cold places, maybe Iceland and everytime you brought up the topic he bursted out laughing, saying how different but perfect for each others you were. And he was right.

“Mon amour” he called you waking you up from your light day dreaming “as much as I love staying here I should really use the restroom for a minute” he said and you bursted out laughing.

“If you have to go…” you joked lifting your head from his shoulder.

“I’ll be as quick as possible” he said before leaving for the restroom.

It only took ten seconds of Adrien being gone when a man approached you and set on the couch next to you.

You didn’t want to sound rude or anything but the bar was almost half empty as it was a week day and most of the people were still at work or busy with their lives, so you thought, why did he have to sit there?

“Hey beauty” he tried to talk to you but you simply looked away. This situation was making you very uncomfortable and you were mentally counting the seconds for Adrien to come back.

“I’m talking to you” he said again as you ignored him “what a bitch! I’m just trying to be nice to you and your making it very difficult you know I could fuck anyone I want, you’re nothing special” he said laughing a bit and in that moment all you wanted to do was crying but you didn’t want to look or sound weak.

“What did you say to her?” that voice. Right in the moment you needed him the most.

“You heard man” the so-called man sat next to you didn’t even turn his face to see who he was talking to.

“Stand up, that was my seat” Adrien said with a very annoyed voice.

“Chill out man…” he said standing up “…I just wanted to see if the girl wanted to get some, you know, but apparently she’s more of a saint, anyway not my type, she’s not even that pretty” he said but before he could leave Adrien saw his opportunity and punched the guy right in the face. He fell to the floor and Adrien knelt down “if a woman say no is no, don’t you ever forget that! Just because you’ve been rejected that doesn’t give you the right to treat them bad…and, for what you said to my girlfriend, don’t you ever try to speak or even look in her direction again, clear? I’m ashamed to be called a man when people like you exist…what a pity” Adrien said standing up again “…I think we should leave mon amour” he said in a calmer and sweeter voice while he grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar. Once in the car you still tried to process everything that happened ten minutes ago.

“You okay mon amour?” Adrien asked you as he saw you looking out of the window.

“Mh-mh” you said too scared of sounding weak if you spoke.

“Cherie?” he called you with your favorite nickname that made you melt all the time.

“I’m fine…it’s just…” you let a few tears fall and Adrien quickly wiped them away “…I panicked a bit when I saw him sitting next to me and I hate it because I never know what to say or do in these situations…but thank you for being there when I needed you…” you thanked him.

“I will always be there for you mon ange…always” he grabbed your hand and gently kissed it while he started driving back home as he promised you to stop and buy your favourite take away and watch you favourite barbie movie once you were both comfortably laying in bed.

#adrien rabiot one shot #adrien rabiot imagines #adrien rabiot fluff #adrien rabiot angst #adrienrabiot #adrien x reader #adrien rabiot x reader #adrien rabiot x you #adrien rabiot smut #adrien rabiot imagine #adrien rabiot #equipe de france #football imagine #football fan #football drabble #football x reader #football blurb #football headcanon #football one shot

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rainisawriter · 7 months

Text

Together-Forever – Woozi (PSF #7)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff, supernatural, romance

Prompt: Porch Swing (@flufftober)

Word Count: 7,632

Pairing: Reader x Woozi

World: Seventeen

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Woozi was a workaholic, always putting his everything into his work. He didn’t want to disappoint his fellow members or the fans that supported them, so he was hyper critical of himself and his craft. He worked hard to improve every single day, but even he had his limits.

He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and he needed a break. More importantly, he felt guilty toward you. You’ve been dating him for a little over a year now and you never once complained about his schedule or the fact that you rarely saw him. You understood long before you started dating that he wouldn’t be readily available to you and that was okay.

As long as he left his heart with you, you could handle the long stints away from him. He knew that because you made sure to remind him often, knowing how he could obsess over such things. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He felt as if you deserved better than he could offer and yet he couldn’t let you go.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You stifled a yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you sat in the break room, a half-eaten sandwich sitting in front of you. Kiyoung, your best friend, was sitting next to you at the round table, bent over his phone as he tried to beat the same level he had been working on for twenty minutes.

“Damn it,” he scowled at the Game Over screen, readjusting the glasses on his face. “This level is way too hard. I hate this game.”

“You keep saying that yet you keep playing it,” you pointed out, earning a scoff.

“Of course. I love this game.”

“That’s a mood,” you laughed, not unfamiliar with hating and loving a game at the same time. You believed that only true gamers experience love-hate relationships with their games. “Want me to try?”

“No!” He pulled the phone away when you reached for it. “There’s no point if I don’t beat it myself.”

“Whatever you say, man.” You shrugged, reaching for your drink when your phone started to vibrate.

It was a text from Woozi, asking how your day has been going. You smiled warmly as you composed a reply.

<;- There haven’t been many customers today. The most exciting thing to happen is Kiyoung threatening to murder his game. How are you, babe?

His reply was almost instantaneous.

-> He really needs a new hobby. I’m doing good, though Dino and Hoshi broke cracked one of the practice mirrors when they were horsing around.

You snorted at the visual, not the least bit surprised.

<;- Oh, jeez. Got your hands full as always it sounds like. Try not to murder anyone ♡

-> No promises 🙂

-> I have a surprise for you when I get home.

You grinned, feeling excited and curious. Before you could reply, though, he sent another message.

-> No, I’m not going to tell you what it is so don’t ask. It wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.

You pouted at the message, hating how he could always read your mind.

<;- Stay out of my head 😡 it’s rude!

He didn’t reply and you assumed he had gotten busy again. You glanced at the clock, smacking Kiyoung on the arm. “Lunch is over. Back to work.”

He groaned in frustration. “But I’m so close to beating this level!”

“You said that ten minutes ago, my guy.”

“Stop judging me, it’s hard okay!”

“Sure, sure. If you wanna get yelled at, feel free.” You patted his shoulder before throwing away your trash and clocking back in. Working at a grocery store wasn’t a super demanding job, at least not for you. You spent most of your time alone restocking the shelves or changing prices.

Customers would occasionally ask you where something was but that was the extent of human interaction for you, outside of your own co-workers. You found your mind straying toward Woozi’s text, trying to figure out what the surprise was. It was driving you nuts because you were an impatient and overly curious individual. Waiting was the bane of your existence. So was not knowing.

You were so tempted to message him asking for a hint, but you knew it would be pointless. He was more stubborn than you were and you easily broke when it came to him. The two of you rarely ever argued, but he usually won when you did simply because his will was stronger than yours.

With your focus elsewhere, you weren’t paying attention when you set down a box of soup cans, setting them a little too far to the side. The box tipped over, the cans hitting the linoleum floor and scattering across the floor. You winced as the loud sound echoed throughout the quiet store, causing patrons to look at you in surprise.

Kiyoung snickered at you, not stopping as he restocked the boxed mac-n-cheese. “You are so getting yelled at for that.”

“Shut up and help me before -“

“Yah! What are you kids doing?!”

You winced again as the store’s manager came rushing over, his sandals slapping against the floor. He was Woozi’s height and twice his age but this man was terrifying. You had no proof, but you and Kiyoung were convinced that he had been part of the mafia in his younger years.

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “It was an accident…”

“Do you think money grows on trees, huh? What would you do if they broke open?!” He scolded, wagging his finger at you.

“I would pay for them out of my check, sir,” you answered without missing a beat, holding his gaze.

He sized you up, narrowing his eyes. A moment of tense silence passed by before he nodded. “Good. I’ve taught you brats well. Now clean this up and be more careful!”

“Yes, sir!”

As soon as he disappeared, Kiyoung burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. You scowled at him, resisting the urge to chuck a can at his head. As hard as his head is, it would probably bust open for sure if you did that.

“I hope you never beat that level.”

His laughter died abruptly as he gasped, staring at you in horror. “You’re evil! Cruel! Heartless!”

It was your turn to snicker at him.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You sighed with relief as you stepped into your apartment, the cool air of the AC wrapping around your body. It’s not like it wasn’t cool outside, as well, but your apartment was much colder. People often joked about it, saying you must have been a polar bear in a past life which you could get behind because those guys are pretty neat.

The smell of food filled the apartment and you grinned, rushing to the kitchen. Woozi stood in front of the stove with his hack to you, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. You snuck up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as your chin rested on his shoulder.

“It smells amazing,” you praised. “You didn’t have to cook, though. I’m sure you’re tired.”

He leaned into your touch, free hand resting over your own. “I don’t mind. How was work?”

You thought about the can incident but decided it wasn’t exciting enough to mention. “Same old same. What about you? Did Hoshi and Dino get in trouble for the mirror?”

“They got scolded by both S.Coups and our manager,” chuckled Woozi.

“Ah, I see.” You pulled away, leaning against the counter beside him with your arms folded over your chest. You tried not to look too excited. “So~ You had something to tell me?”

“Did I?” He feigned innocence, quirking a brow at you.

You scowled. “Don’t be a sadist, you know it’s been driving me crazy all day.”

The corners of his lips twitched upward and he held out the spatula to you. “Watch the food. Don’t let it burn.”

“I make no promises.” As soon as you took it from him, he disappeared down the hall. You focused on the food in the pan, glancing over your shoulders every few seconds.

Woozi returned with a pamphlet in his hand. “Here, look at this.”

You exchanged the spatula for the pamphlet, looking at it curiously. It was an advertisement for a cabin getaway in the woods. It seemed peaceful and the images were beautiful, but why was he showing you this? You sent him a confused look.

“Let’s go away together.”

“Eh? But… what about your work?”

“I need a break,” he admitted, running a hand through his black hair. “It was approved this morning. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I definitely want to. It sounds amazing,” you grinned, throwing your arms around him. “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. Do you really want to go or are you just doing it because you feel bad for being away?”

“Both.” He turned the stove off, setting the pan aside so the food wouldn’t burn. He turned toward you, hands finding your hips. “I’ve wanted to go there with you for a while now but something kept coming up. I’ve made sure that we can be together uninterrupted for the next week and a half.”

You brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Then what are we waiting on? Let’s go!”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “We have to pack first.”

“Then let’s get packing!”

“What about dinner? It’s going to get cold.”

“That’s what microwaves exist for.”

Woozi scowled at you, pinching your side lightly. “You are not reheating my food in the microwave. We’ll eat first and then pack, okay?”

“Fine~” You pecked his lips. “Thank you for cooking, baby.”

His lips slid upward, cheeks dusting with the faintest of blushes. He had never stated it outright, but he adored it when you called him that, even more so when you added my before it. You had picked up on this, of course, and you adored the way he reacted to it.

Knowing you had such an effect on him with a single word filled you with joy and pride.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

“Babe, wake up!” You shook Woozi but he just grunted, rolling over so his back was facing you.

You scowled at the disrespect, deciding to flop on top of him. He shifted again, lying on his stomach with his cheek against the pillow. You wrapped your arms around his waist, cheek resting against his shoulder blades.

“Come on, wake up~! We gotta get to the cabin.”

“What time is it?” He muttered, voice husky from sleep.

“Uh,” you lifted your head to glance at the clock before resting on him again. “4:30.”

“You’re joking,” he groaned, covering his face with his hand. “My first day off and you wake me up at 4:30…”

“Well, when you put it like that, I feel guilty,” you frowned. You had been so excited about the trip that you barely slept and as soon as you woke up, you couldn’t go back to sleep. You hadn’t stopped to consider that he probably needed the extra rest.

“Move,” he ordered, waving his hand at you.

You obeyed, pushing yourself up and off him. “I’m sorry.”

Woozi hummed, pressing his palm against your stomach until you laid down on your back. He wasted no time falling on top of you, face buried in your chest and arms around your waist. You returned the embrace, running your fingers through his messy hair.

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered softly. “The cabin isn’t going anywhere.”

You knew sleep was impossible for you because you were already wide awake, but you decided to let him use you as a pillow. You waited until his breathing evened out before reaching for your phone, keeping yourself occupied by scrolling through Tumblr and watching videos with the sound muted.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You stepped out of the car, breathing in the clear autumn air. The cabin was surrounded by tall pine trees as far as the eye could see, nearly bare as most of the leaves had fallen. The ground was covered with them, creating a sea of orange, brown and red.

The cabin itself wasn’t very large but that was fine with you. It was just the two of you, after all, so you didn’t require a lot of space. A large lake sat in front of the cabin, the sun reflecting off of the clear water. It was breathtakingly beautiful and so quiet, a far cry from big city life.

“I think I want to live here,” you breathed out, watching a couple of birds as they hopped among the branches, chirping cheerfully. “Can we live here?”

Woozi chuckled as he grabbed the bags, shutting the trunk. “Let’s see if you still feel that way after a week with no Wi-Fi.”

“Eh? No Wi-Fi?” You cried, following after him. “The guy said it was spotty, not non-existent!”

He hummed, the wooden stairs creaking under his weight. “If they said that, less people would come.”

You frowned, tugging your phone from your pocket. “Ha! I have a bar of… service… shit.”

He snickered, sending you an I-told-you-so look before heading inside.

You followed with a sigh, closing the door behind you. “Good thing I brought a book with me.”

“Only because I told you to.”

“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. All that matters is that I made the choice to bring it.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you sleep better, darling.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile at the pet name, watching him disappear down the hall. The inside of the cabin was completely open, the only walls belonging to those of the bedroom and bathroom. A fireplace sat against the right wall in front of the sofa. Two large bookcases sat on either side of it, filled to the brim with books.

“Ooo,” you rushed over, scanning the spines. Most of them were books about nature – fishing manuals, books identifying birds, a guide to insects, a survival guide for all occasions. All of them were educational, making you frown. Where were the murder mysteries? The thrillers?

A cabin in the woods is the perfect place to read a spooky story. “Talk about a missed opportunity,” you muttered.

Directly across from the front door was the kitchen, separated by a small island. It wasn’t very big but it had all of the necessities, including a microwave. You headed down the hall into the bedroom, finding Woozi folding and putting away the clothes into the dresser.

The bed was large, the comforter looking fluffy and inviting. With a grin, you rushed forward and threw yourself onto the bed, releasing a happy sigh.

“It’s like I’m laying on a cloud.”

Woozi scowled at you, smacking your thigh lightly before bending down to pick up the bag you had knocked off the bed, it’s contents spilling out across the wooden floor. Something caught his eye under the bed and he reached for it curiously.

“Look at this.”

“Hm?” You lifted your head as he stood up, holding an old newspaper. “Where did you get that? Did you pack it by accident?”

“It was under the bed.”

You sat up, folding your legs beneath you as he handed it over to you. The paper was thin, feeling as if it were going to crumble in your hands. He sat beside you, peering over your shoulder as you read it.

“October 8th, 1851. Seoulhaven headless rider spotted again. The folks of Seoulhaven are no strangers to paranormal sightings, but none are more consistent than the Headless Rider. Recorded sightings date back to the early 1500s, though no evidence exists to prove the existence of this paranormal creature and/or phenomenon.”

You exchanged a look with Woozi before continuing.

“A witness reported seeing a strange flickering light in the woods late one night along with terrifying moans of pain. Believing someone to be injured, she rushed toward the sound only to find a headless man atop a black horse. Despite having no head, the witness claims that he was talking, asking for his head. The witness refused to provide their name but insists that they are not making up this story.”

You hummed with interest, looking at the drawing they had included of the Headless Rider. “Hey, do you think it’s true?”

“Of course, it’s not.” He shook his head, standing up to resume his task. “People can’t live without their head.”

“But what if he’s not a person? If he’s a spirit, then -“

“It’s impossible, darling. If spirits existed, they wouldn’t have a corporeal form which means they couldn’t lose their head.”

You clicked your tongue, frowning at the newspaper. “Such a buzzkill.”

“Sorry.” He copied your frown, feeling a bit guilty for ruining your mood. He tugged the paper from your hands before cupping your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

Your hands found his waist, tugging him closer, the legend completely forgotten.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the loud tick, took of the clock ha ging on the wall. Woozi was asleep beside you, snoring softly as he had been for the past four hours. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t sleep and you had no idea why.

You glanced at your boyfriend, brushing the hair from his eyes with a smile. You grabbed your phone from the bedside table, wincing when the bright light flooded your face. Not a single bar of signal.

With a sigh, you slowly crawled out of bed, careful not to wake up Woozi as you did so. You grabbed the murder mystery book from your bag before heading outside, settling down on the porch swing. The night was chilly and eerily quiet, broken only by the sound of an owl hooting in the distance. The moon was full, providing plenty of light for you to read.

You swung lightly as you read, getting lost in the mystery that the book spun. As soon as you felt confident about who the murderer was, the book would throw a curveball. This left you scratching your head and questioning everything you thought you knew.

Back inside, Woozi reached out for you, seeking the warmth your body offered. When he couldn’t find you, he lifted his head to find your side of the bed empty and cold. He rubbed at his eyes, pulling himself out of bed.

“Darling?”

No response.

After checking the bathroom, he stepped out onto the porch, wrapping his arms around his body as the cold wind rushed past. His eyes fell on you and he sighed at your lack of coat. You were so engrossed in the book that you didn’t notice him until he put a blanket around your shoulders.

“What are you doing up?”

He sent you a tired look as he sat beside you on the swing, bringing the other half of the blanket around his body. “I should be asking you that.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you answered, resting your head on his shoulder. “And my phone had no signal.”

He snorted, an amused smile on his face. “Still want to live here?”

You thought about it for a moment, slipping your hand into his. “As long as you’re here, I don’t need Wi-Fi.”

He quickly looked away to hide his warm cheeks, squeezing your hand. “You wouldn’t last a month.”

“Che. You have no faith in me, how sad.”

“Because I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Why would I pay attention to myself when I have someone so beautiful in front of me?” You grinned, adoring the way he sputtered, his cheeks darkening another shade.

“I swear you exist just to flustered me,” he muttered, bringing your hand to his lips.

“It’s such a fun job, honestly.”

Woozi just hummed in reply, resting his head against yours.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as cuddled under the blanket, swinging back and forth gently. It honestly felt like a dream to you, one you never wanted to wake up from. Having no Wi-Fi sucked, sure, but if it meant you got to live here with Woozi, you’d gladly accept it.

There was a flicker of light from the corner of your eye and you lifted your head, glancing at the treeline but there was nothing there. You figured it was probably just the darkness messing with your eyes or the glare of an animal’s eyes when they caught the moonlight.

As you started to look away, though, you saw it again. You stood up quickly, squinting at the darkness.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you see that?”

Woozi frowned, tugging the blanket around him before stepping up beside you. “See what? There’s nothing -“

There it was again, like a candle flame flickering in the wind.

“You’re seeing this, right?” You inquired, afraid to look away in case it disappeared again.

“Yeah… I think we should go inside – oi, where are you going?!” Woozi rushed after you as you started toward the treeline. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, a scowl on his face. “Do you always have to be so reckless? You have no idea what or who that is.”

“That’s the point of going to find out, babe.”

“Don’t babe me. There’s no way we’re going into those woods.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No.”

You sighed heavily. “Fine.”

“Good.” He cast a weary look at the treeline before starting toward the cabin.

As soon as his grip loosened, you yanked your arm free and took off toward the light.

“Yah!” Woozi yelled your name, rushing after you. Normally, he was faster than you, but he wasn’t wearing any shoes and the ground was littered with twigs and small rocks. “Shit!” He cursed, wincing when he stepped on a particularly sharp twig.

You, however, were wearing your favorite pair of flip flops so the terrain was no issue for you. When you finally got close to the light, you slowed to a stop, leaning against a large tree. You were breathing heavily, breaths coming out in puffs of white smoke.

A painful moan filled the night, echoing through the trees.

Your brow furrowed. It was faint, but you could see an outline of something moving in the distance. Woozi finally caught up, an annoyed look on his face.

“I might actually kill you -“

You slapped your hand over his mouth, bringing your finger over your lips to indicate he should be quiet. His brow furrowed in confusion. It was then that you realized the moaning had stopped. Curious, you peered at the darkness but the outline was gone, the forest as silent as the grave.

Suddenly, a headless man appeared in front of you and you screamed loudly. You threw your arms around Woozi, squishing his head against your chest. He wasn’t sure if you were trying to comfort yourself or him.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry! I did not mean to frighten you, child.”

You blinked dumbly as the man took a step back, his transparent hands raised in surrender. He was dressed like he just stepped out of a historical re-enactment but his entire body was a faint blue and mostly transparent.

“Uh… babe?”

“Yeah?” breathed Woozi, unsure how to feel in this situation.

“He’s… talking to us, right?”

“I think so.”

“He doesn’t have a head, though…”

“I know.”

“Fear not,” stated the man as he placed one arm across his chest and the other behind his back before bowing. “I shall not harm you.”

Woozi tapped your arm and you realized that you were still squeezing him tightly. You gave him an apologetic look as you released him, turning to face the man.

“Are you… the Headless Rider?” you wondered.

“I am, indeed.” He held out his hand. “Sir Reginald Jun Kim, at your service.”

You hesitantly reached out, fingers brushing against his palm. Though you touched nothing solid, your fingers felt cold and his hand blurred like a TV losing its signal. “Trippy.”

“Oh my. It has been so long that I have met another that I had forgotten I can not touch the living.”

Woozi scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and eyeing the man wearily. “How do you forget something like that?”

“Well, if I recall correctly, the last time I attempted to touch a living being was over one hundred years ago,” he replied, sadness in his voice.

“I have so many questions,” you muttered, feeling excited at this discovery. “I don’t know where to start.”

Woozi grabbed your arm, attempting to tug you back away from the man, his voice tense. “We should leave him to his business, darling.”

You hummed, not budging an inch. You were far too interested. “What exactly is your business? Why do you haunt these woods? How old are you? How did you die?”

Woozi pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. Did you not realize how dangerous this situation was?

Reginald laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the trees. “My, you are a curious one, are you not?”

“Annoyingly so,” muttered Woozi.

“I will do the best to answer your questions in the order in which you asked them.” He folded his arms behind him, straightening his back. “My business is to find my missing head. I haunt these woods because this is where my head lies. I am 893 as of two days ago -“

“Oh, happy late birthday!” You grinned, earning a look from your boyfriend.

“Why, thank you, dear. As for your last question, I was slain by the woman who cursed me.”

“You’re cursed? How come?”

A heavy sigh came from him as he turned to face the lake, half hidden by the trees. “Her name was Yongsun and she was a beautiful young woman. We grew up together, as thick as thieves, some might say.”

He slowly made his way toward the water and you followed without hesitation. Woozi grabbed the back of your shirt with a scowl, staying close in case something happened. Though, he wasn’t too sure there was anything he could do should this man choose to attack.

Reginald stopped at the lake’s edge where an old wooden bench sat. You brushed off the dirt and leaves from it before settling down, Woozi beside you. He was grateful to be off his feet and he scowled, brushing away the leaves that clung to his skin.

“She fell in love with me, it seems, though my heart belonged to another – her younger sister. When she learned of this, she flew into a rage, demanding that we stop seeing each other. We both refused, of course, for we were deep in love and…”

“And what?” You prompted, leaning toward him.

“She was with child. My child.” He said it proudly yet his words were laced with so much sadness that it made your heart ache. “When Yongsun learned of this, she did the unthinkable – she resorted to witchcraft to punish us both. She cut off my head while I slept. I felt not a thing.”

“That’s horrible,” you scowled, folding your arms over your chest. “What a bitch.”

Woozi smacked your thigh lightly, clicking his tongue. “Language.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“That’s not funny.”

You snickered, taking his hand in yours before turning back to the spirit. “What happened to the sister?”

“I do not know. I have searched for that answer for many years but I fear it has been lost to time.”

“How did you come to realize you had been cursed?”

“When I rose from the grave a week later. I was myself, yet I was not. Alive, yet dead. She was sitting in front of my grave with a slain goat and a book of dark magic. ‘I have cursed you for all eternity,’ she told me. ‘You will wander here until time stops and the world dies, unless you can find what you have lost.’“

“What a bitch,” you scoffed, ignoring Woozi’s look. “I hate her.”

“I wish I could,” he admitted softly. “I have tried to hate her, but I simply cannot.”

“You’re better than me. I’d never forgive her.”

“I have not forgiven her, make no mistake. I simply cannot hate her for her actions. If I did so, I would be no different than she. I would be giving in to the same darkness that corrupted her once pure heart.”

You exchanged a look with Woozi, both of you surprised by just how deep his words were.

“And so, here I remain,” He held his arms out on either side of him. “Searching endlessly for the head I have lost so that I may finally find peace.”

You frowned at Woozi, squeezing his hand.

Without a word, he knew what you wanted. He shook his head, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer to you. “Absolutely not. We’ve entertained this long enough.”

“Think about it,” you whispered back. “He’s been searching for so long, alone in these woods. He lost the love of his life, he was betrayed by his best friend and then he was cursed to wander alone. We have to help him.”

“We don’t even know if finding his head will free him. Plus, he’s been searching these woods for centuries and hasn’t found it. What makes you think we can find it?”

“Because we’re together,” you grinned, squeezing his hand again. “And together, we can do anything.”

“No, absolutely not.” He shook his head. “I’m putting my foot down. We are not doing this. We are going back to the cabin and we’re going to enjoy the rest of our vacation as if this never happened.” He stood up from the bench, wincing when he stepped on a rock.

You stood up as well, wrapping your arms around him. “Please, Jihoon?”

“No.”

“Please, baby?”

He shifted his weight, shaking his head no but you knew his resolve was breaking.

“Please?” You nuzzled against the side of his neck, lips ghosting over his skin. “My baby.”

He groaned in frustration as his resolve completely shattered with those two words, almost as if they were magic. “Fine, but we’re only going to look until the sun rises, then we go back to our vacation.”

“Thank you!” You grinned, pecking his cheek.

Reginald chuckled softly. “You appear to have some magical affinity, as well, my dear.”

“Only with him,” you laughed. “Do you have any idea where the head might be?”

“I do not. I feel as though I have wandered all across this land without success.”

“Great, so we’re searching blind,” sighed Woozi, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go get my shoes, don’t you dare move.”

You chuckled at his stern look, giving him a nod.

He started to walk away but paused, glaring at the spirit. “If you do anything, I swear I will find a way to bring you back to life just so I can murder you myself.”

Reginald held up his ghostly hands in surrender. “You have my word, my dear sir.”

You hummed thoughtfully, holding your chin as you paced back and forth in front of the bench. “Did she give you any clues? Any hints?”

“No.”

“Did you check your grave?”

“It was the first place I looked.”

You hummed again, mulling over everything he had told you thus far. “She was super upset because she loved you but you didn’t love her… did she confess to you? Or did you find out when she got angry?”

“She confessed.”

You snapped your fingers, eyes widening as you turned to him. “Do you remember where she confessed?”

“Why, yes. It is not far from here, in fact.”

“I bet that’s it! Let’s go!”

“Your boyfriend was quite clear about waiting here for him.”

You frowned, looking in the direction of the cabin but there was no sign of Woozi. You couldn’t stand still, practically bouncing on the spot with excitement. “Ugh! He’s taking too long!”

“Well… perhaps I could leave Sato here to wait for him.”

“Sato?” Your brow furrowed. “Is there another spirit here?”

“There is.” He cleared his throat before whistling loudly.

You had no idea how this was possible without his head but, for the sake of your brain, you chose not to question it. Something told you he wouldn’t be able to answer you anyway.

There was a high-pitched neigh in the distance before a large, spectral horse jumped down from the hell behind you, trotting over to his master. Reginald chuckled, patting the horse gently atop its head. “I require you to wait here for Sir Woozi to return. When he does, bring him to me.”

Sato neighed, nodding his head. Part of you was disappointed that the horse didn’t start speaking.

“Excellent. Follow me, then.”

You offered the horse a smile before following him deeper into the woods. Between the full moon above and the ethereal glow of his body, you had no problem seeing where you were going.

He led you to a clearing deep in the woods where a tall cherry tree sat, its branches completely bare. Even naked, it was beautiful and felt almost magical to you.

“This is where she confessed,” he explained as he stood directly beneath the overhanging branches.

“Well, time to get digging, I suppose,” you muttered, kneeling on the cold earth and sticking your fingers into the dirt.

He kneeled in front of you, copying your motions. Though he didn’t touch the ground, clumps of diet were lifted up and tossed to the side, forming a pile beside him.

“That’s so wicked,” you muttered, amazed by the magic being performed in front of you. “Is that, like, a dead person thing or a curse thing?”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I am not quite sure. I have never given it thought before this moment.”

“Ah, I see.”

It felt as if you dug for ages before you heard the sound of hooves slapping the ground, growing steadily in volume as Sato rushed toward the two of you. To your surprise, Woozi was riding on his back, looking a bit uncomfortable at riding a dead horse.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. “How are you riding him?”

“I have no idea,” he scowled as the horse came to a stop in front of you. “Give me your hand.”

You wiped your hands on your pants to remove some of the dirt before holding them out to him, helping him off the creature’s back. With a loud neigh, his body dissolved into nothingness.

“Shit, did he die?” You questioned with wide eyes. “Again, I mean.”

Reginald chuckled, continuing to dig. The lower half of his body was in the hole. “Fear not, he will be fine. Manifesting so that he can be ridden is quite taxing, you see. He simply needs to rest and he will be right as rain.”

“That’s good,” you sighed in relief, hand over your heart. You tried to return to digging but Woozi stopped you, scowling at you.

“I told you to wait for me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just… I had an idea and I got excited!”

“You’re too reckless! What if something happened?”

“But it didn’t. I’m perfectly fine, see?” You held your arms out with a grin and his eyes scanned your body before sighing.

“Any luck?”

It was Reginald who answered. “I am afraid not. The hole is quite deep yet I do not feel my head at all. It is not here, I fear.”

“Wait… you can feel it?” inquired Woozi with a furrowed brow.

“Faintly, yes. It is certainly in this area, but I cannot seem to narrow it down.”

“Well, what else is in the area that could be significant?”

He pulled himself out of the hole, humming in thought. “This tree where she confessed her love to me. My grave, which I have already checked -“

“Wait a minute,” you held up your hand to stop him. “Just your grave?”

“Well, no. It is a graveyard.”

You and Woozi exchanged a look, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Unless you can find what you lost,” you repeated the words he had told you, Woozi finishing the thought.

“I don’t think it’s your head you need to find.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sir Woozi?”

“It wasn’t just your head you lost,” he spoke softly, folding his arms over his chest as he glanced at you.

“Your lover and child,” you whispered with a frown. “Are they… in this graveyard?”

For several moments, Reginald was silent and still, not moving an inch. The two of you exchanged a concerned look but, before you could question him, he turned on his heel and took off through the woods.

“O-Oi! Wait for us!” You grabbed Woozi’s hand before taking chase, struggling to keep up with him since he could float rather than run.

By the time he stopped, both of you were breathing heavily and you had to lean against the rusted iron bars surrounding the graveyard. You could just faintly see his glowing form at the other end of the graveyard.

“Are we really doing this?” Woozi huffed, hand on his hip and a tired expression on his face. “Digging in the woods is one thing, but digging in a cemetery? That’s a crime. If we get caught…”

You knew what he was thinking. As an idol, if he was caught and arrested for grave robbing, his company would most likely fire him or, at the very least, remove him from Seventeen activities for the foreseeable future. His job was everything to him and you weren’t sure how he would handle being removed prematurely from it.

You cupped his pale cheeks gently, kissing his forehead. “Go back to the cabin, baby.”

“What? You want me to leave you here?” He scoffed, eyes hard. “That’s not going to happen.”

“If you get caught, it’ll be bad -“

“And you think it won’t be if you get caught?”

“Not as bad, no. I don’t have a career on the line, you do. Let me handle this, okay?” You started to pull away but he stopped you, his hand covering your own.

“No. We do this together or we don’t do it at all.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Like you said,” he smiled lovingly at you, eyes filled with warmth and love. “Together, we can do anything.”

You grinned proudly, claiming his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, darling. Now let’s get this over with so we can get back to our vacation.”

You snickered, nodding at him before climbing through the hole in the fence, heading toward Reginald. He was standing in front of a small headstone, vines growing from the cracks. There was no name or date listed upon it.

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I must…” His voice trembled as he sank to his knees, beginning to move the dirt. “I must know.”

Exchanging a look, the two of you kneeled on the ground and started to help him dig. It didn’t take long at all to reach the remains because they weren’t buried very far down, nor were they inside a box. The skeleton sat in the fetal position, clutching the tiny remains of a premature infant.

You swallowed hard, looking away because it was simply too hard to look at. Woozi put his arm around you, gently rubbing your upper arm.

Reginald’s shoulders trembled as soft sobs left him. “My beloved Eunsoo… my beautiful child… my family…” He reached out, fingers brushing against the pendant around her neck. Rather than going through it like it should have, he was able to grasp a hold of it, lifting it from the grave and clutching it to his chest.

“I’m sorry, Reginald,” you told him softly, reaching for his shoulder but your fingers went right through him. You tried to find the words to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay but you knew it would be a lie. All you could do was apologize – for what had happened to him and for being unable to help him. “I’m so sorry.”

Woozi squeezed your shoulder, resting his head against yours as he whispered, “We tried, darling.”

“I just wish we could do more…”

“I know.”

The sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, the sky lighting up.

“There’s nothing more we can do.”

You frowned at him, noticing the sadness lingering in his own eyes. Despite having been against the idea, you knew he also felt disappointed and upset at the failure. “We can’t just leave him like this.” You motioned toward the sobbing spirit and Woozi mirrored your frown.

He knew you were right, but he had no idea what either of you could do.

“Don’t cry, my love.“

Your head snapped to the side, eyes widening as you smacked Woozi’s arm repeatedly. “Are you seeing this?!”

“I see it, now stop.” He grabbed your hand to stop you, but his eyes were trained on the beautiful spectral woman standing between two large trees, just inside the fence line.

Reginald slowly turned, a gasp escaping him. “It… it cannot be…”

She smiled. “But it can be, my love, for it is.”

He slowly approached her, his voice trembling. “Eunsoo…”

Eunsoo held out her arms and the man rushed at her, his arms wrapped around her body. Both of them became fuzzy when they did this, parts of their bodies weaving in and out of focus. “You have finally returned to me. You kept me waiting for so long.”

“I am so sorry, my love. Please… forgive me!”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Jihoon, look!”

Reginald’s head was slowly materializing from the neck up, returning to him as if it had never been gone in the first place.

“This has got to be a dream,” muttered Woozi, rubbing at his eyes with his shirt since his hands were dirty. You pinched his hand and he cried out, scowling at you. “What was that for?”

“You can’t feel pain in dreams.”

“Says who?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I read it online somewhere as a kid. It’s probably true.”

“Good lord, darling, how did you survive before you met me?”

“Very recklessly, apparently,” you laughed, making him shake his head in disapproval. You didn’t miss the slight smile on his face, though.

As rays of light started to shine over the graveyard, the two of them kissed, their bodies slowly disappearing until there was nothing left. Tears gathered in your eyes, Woozi bringing you into his arms, lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” you mumbled sadly. “But I’m glad he finally got to move on. I’m glad they’re together again.”

Woozi hummed in agreement, brushing his fingers through your hair. “We should refill the grave.”

“Good idea.”

“Let’s do it quickly before anyone arrives.”

“Right~”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You were the first one to wake up that afternoon, snuggled up against your boyfriend on the couch because it was closer than the bedroom. Woozi was still fast asleep, one arm around your waist and the other tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow.

You smiled tiredly at him before slowly crawling off the couch, careful not to wake him up. After taking a shower, you decided to make some food for the two of you. Upon entering the kitchen, though, you noticed something sitting on the counter.

Upon closer inspection, it was the pendant belonging to Eunsoo. With a furrowed brow, you carefully picked it up, half expecting it to turn into dust. You had seen it in Reginald’s hand when the two disappeared, so how was it here now? You brushed your thumb over the green emerald sitting in the center and an idea struck you.

With a smile, you slipped it into your pocket before getting to work making breakfast. The smell wafted through the cabin, tickling Woozi’s nose until he stirred, rubbing at his eyes. He briefly wondered if last night had been some strange dream, but his sore feet and dirt-covered hands said otherwise.

He headed straight to the bathroom, taking a long, hot shower to stave off the autumn chill. You were just finishing up in the kitchen when he entered, rubbing the towel over his wet hair.

“Breakfast is ready,” you told him, pecking his lips.

He hummed in amusement, sitting down at the table. “It’s six in the afternoon.”

“So? We just woke up, so it’s technically breakfast.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

You set a plate in front of him, moving to sit across the table but then you changed your mind. Instead of sitting down, you moved behind him, pulling the pendant from your pocket. He paid you no mind as he ate the omelet, savoring the flavor because you made it just the way he liked it.

You slipped your arms around his neck and he paused when he felt the thin chain against his skin.

“What are you -” he brought his hand up to lift the pendant, realization flashing through his eyes.

You secured the clasp before wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling against his cheek. “Let’s be together forever, Jihoon, even after we die.”

A smile came to his lips, his hand resting on your arm as he hummed. “I’d like that.” Warmth and love filled both of you, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket that tied the two of you together.

“Forever,” you whispered softly.

“Forever,” he whispered back.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

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