#I be clueless until I google- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beenbaanbuun · 8 months

Text

seventeen’s reaction to their youngest member getting injured

choi seungcheol

has already lost 10 years of his life just from worrying about you

loses 5 more when he has to accompany you to the hospital because of your broken leg

he tried to save the lecture until after he knows you’re okay, but he can’t help it when the leader in him comes out

the conversation *cough* reprimand *cough* lasts for the whole car journey and by the time you’ve got the the hospital, you’d already been blocking it out for 10 minutes

“you need to be more careful,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he might be frustrated, but he still wanted to show you he cared. “it might be a broken leg this time but who knows what it’ll be next time!”

at the end of the day he just cares about you too much to see you hurt

yoon jeonghan

if it isn’t bad, he’ll just tease you about how clumsy you are

probably still teases you if it is bad, but when you start tearing up because of how much it hurts, will immediately stop

causes hell just to make sure you’re getting the best treatment possible because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t make you were were as comfortable as possible

eventually calms down when you assure him you’re fine and you feel perfectly alright with what you’d been given

leaves 80% of the lecturing to seungcheol and just gives you a tiny one himself, mostly about how you’re not allowed to worry him

once he knows you’re feeling a little better, a switch will flip and he’ll go back to his regular annoying self just to try and get things back to normal

“well at least you didn’t fall down the stairs,” he laughed before cutting it short just a few seconds later, “oh, wait… never mind, you did!”

hong jisoo

was the only one around when you cut your finger open with the kitchen knife

doesn’t know what to do so he sends a text to seungcheol and shoves your hand under the cold tap for a while

tries to cheer you up but doesn’t really know how to when you’re bleeding profusely and crying just as much

eventually lands on his usual method of doing stupid shit just to get the tiniest smile out of you while you wait for anyone else to come and do the important part of patching you up

“keep your hand there,” he tells you as he lets go of your wrist and steps away from you, “get ready to feel better.”

100% does that silly little dance of his which has you cry laughing instead of just regular crying

you almost forget how much it hurts and shua considers his job done!

wen junhui

kind of clueless on what to do when you go to him with a bloody nose and tell him you got hit in the face playing foot volleyball

sits you down on the sofa whilst he frantically google’s how to stop nose bleeds

asks you to go and grab tissues before realising that you’re the one he’s supposed to be helping and goes to get them himself

winces a bit when he gets blood on his hands but remembers that he’s doing it for you and the grossness of it goes away pretty quickly

tries to talk you through the pain, letting you know about what he’s been doing with his day and what he’s planning to do later

“and then you came in to talk to me and i think that’s it,” he finished up recounting every second of his day as he switched the tissue for a clean one, “and then later i’m going to head to the practice rooms to-”

definitely forgets about your injury once the bleeding has stopped and boops you on the nose only to profusely apologise when you wince in pain

kwon soonyoung

if you could run away with a sprained ankle, you definitely should because hoshi will turn up his clinginess by about 80% the moment he hears that you have an injury

will not let you out of his sight until he knows you’re okay again

unfortunately for you that means you have a permanent body guard telling you what you can and can’t do which gets very old very fast

you cant even hide from him because god knows he will seek you out and yell at you for walking on your bad ankle too much

might be overbearing but in reality he just wants you to get better as quickly as possible because it makes him sad to see you in pain

“sit down and let me do it,” hoshi shouted as he noticed you trying to get a bowl of cereal for yourself, “and you wonder why i like to keep an eye on you…”

you eventually give into the clinginess in the hopes that he’ll get bored after a while… he doesn’t…

jeon wonwoo

freezes when he spots you crying and holding your wrist in front of the stove

literally does not know what to do in this situation because he usually palms it off onto one of his other members

but he’s the only one around and you’ve just been burnt and desperately need someone to help

so he walks over to you and drags you to the sink with your good wrist, all whilst muttering complaints about how you need to be more careful

strokes your hair when you’re running your wrist under the cold water to try and soothe you just a little

“you’re okay, y/n,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “i know it hurts but the longer you hold it under the water, the less it’ll hurt in the long run.”

passes you along to the next member that comes along but will check up on you every few minutes just to make sure you’re okay

lee jihoon

his first response is always ‘go find seungcheol’ when you go to him with an injury, but sometimes he’s the only one around and you look so upset and fuck… he’ll have to deal with this

very methodical about it - asks you what’s wrong, finds out what he needs to do, does it

he’ll try and hide his smile as you tell him about what stupid thing you were doing that got you hurt this time, but tries to hide it because at the end of the day, you’re still injured

usually shuffles in close whilst he’s bandaging you up just so you can lean on him in it gets too painful at any point

he refuses to complain about you leaning on him when you’re hurt because how can he deny you physical affection when it’s obviously making you feel better

in reality he just has a soft spot for you and uses you being hurt as an excuse to let you hug him with no complaints

“there we go, kid,” he rubs your arm affectionately, “all patched up…”

lee seokmin

panics because oh god his kid is hurt and he doesn’t know what to do and WHERE IS SEUNGCHEOL

will sit down and hold you close while he rings around the members to try and find one to come and help

he claims the cuddling is to help soothe, but you both know it’s so he can calm himself down more than anything

eventually gets ahold of another member and begs them to come home and help

breathes a sigh of relief when they agree; now his only job is making sure you’re calm and comfortable and nothing hurts too much

cue seokmin literally becoming your butler for the next 20 minutes whilst you wait for someone else to get home because he needs to make sure that you have everything you need

“do you need more tea?” he asks as you take the final sip. not even a second passes before the mug is taken from you and more tea is poured. “i’ll get you some more, just so you have it if you want it, okay?”

kim mingyu

tries his hardest to help but he can’t help but gag when you tell him about how you trapped you fingers in the car door

doesn’t know what to do so he literally wraps up your whole hand in gauze and calls it a day - it’s someone else’s problem now

spends more time trying to cheer you up than he actually does helping with your injury because at least he knows how to make you smile

tells you bad jokes until you can’t breathe from laughter and you’re begging him to stop

he stops but only so you can get your breath back, and then he starts again because laughter is clearly a great pain killer

“if it’s more jokes you want then it’s more jokes i have, pipsqueek,” mingyu smiled at you as you frantically shook your head, “no more jokes? well that’s boring… how about this one? why did the old man-”

continues until someone more qualified to deal with your gross injury gets home

xu minghao

doesn’t lecture you in the same way seungcheol does, but definitely gives you a speech about how you shouldn’t be putting yourself in dangerous situations

rolls his eyes at you when you try and pass the blame onto another member who you claimed to be your ‘partner in crime’ because he knows it was definitely just your own clumsiness

still tries his hardest to help clean up the scratch on your face that you got from who knows what - minghao had zoned out part way through your convoluted story

lets you squeeze his hand if the antiseptic makes your scratch hurt too much

even let’s you pick out a cute bandaid to put over it just because he knows it’ll cheer you up

“if your stylist gets mad at you, don’t come crying to me,” he grumbles as he presses a kind kiss to the bandaid, “it’s your own fault, no one else’s.”

tells you to be careful before you go running off to cause more trouble

boo seungkwan

very much an ‘i told you this would happen’ kind of person, even if he had not ‘told you so’ like he says he did

will roll his eyes when you get brought back to the dorms with a cast on your wrist, but is the first to help you carry your stuff inside

yells at you if you even think about lifting a finger but complains about how you’re making him do everything for you

you always tell him if it’s that much trouble you’ll do it yourself, but he’ll just glare at you and tell you to stop talking nonsense

threatens to tell seungcheol whenever he catches you with your arm out of your sling

would actually go through with it if he thought you were doing any real damage to your arm

“the doctor wouldn’t like you doing that, you know,” he muttered as he watched you stretch out your aching limb, “neither would seungcheol…”

choi hansol

vernon knows that if you go to him with an injury, you have exhausted literally every other option you have

literally clueless about what to do when you walk up to him with a black eye because you ran into a glass door

google is his best friend as he frantically searches how to reduce bruising

has no qualms with sending you to retrieve your own ice pack from the freezer as he does some more googling…

won’t do much to try and cheer you up other than putting on a movie and grabbing snacks for the two of you to share

doesn’t complain about holding your ice pack in place when you fall asleep on his shoulder… after all, it just means more snacks for him

falls asleep himself before the film is over and your ice pack ends up on the floor… so much for trying to reduce the bruising

lee chan

probably his fault you were injured in the first place so he makes you promise that if he helps then you won’t tell any of the older members

you only agree to the deal when he offers to buy you a meal as well as helping you clean and bandage the cuts on your knees from where he tripped you

he honestly tries his hardest to help, partly because he feels bad and partly because he doesn’t want to face anyone’s wrath when they find out he’s the reason you’re injured

tries is the main word, though, as he ends up having to get help from someone else anyway

he chooses the least likely member to get him in trouble and together him and mingyu puzzle over what to do about your knees

you eventually end up guiding them through the process of cleaning them and then wiping them down with antiseptic before bandaging them

“do you think i did a good job?” he asks once the bandages were secured over the grazes. you glared at him. “fine, a good enough job for you to not tell on me…”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen reactions #svt fic #svt reactions #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt addition #seventeen addition #svt 14th member #seventeen 14th member

678 notes · View notes

goodboyyyy · 1 year

Text

Your phone dinged- it was an email from your college. You'd been waiting for it all summer- you'd been dying to know what dorm you'd be in and who your roommate would be.

You were super excited for college, to be around other smart people, especially since you were going to an Ivy League. You'd kind of been an nerd in high school, but thought that in college, brains might be appreciated over brawn. You'd imagined it a lot- being around other smart people who could actually have a discussion, instead of the homophobic idiots you went to school with, the dumb jocks you had to take classes with, all the dumbasses who cared more about football than books and things like that. You hated being around these idiots more and more every year. Even though you always wished you looked more built, you never let yourself work out or go to the gym. You didn't want to be anything like them.

Grinning, googled your roommates name excitedly and found an Instagram….

Your jaw dropped. This had to be a joke.

He looked just like every stupid muscle head jock you been trying to get away from! You, scrolled and scrolled, hoping your opinion would change, but every picture was just him at the gym, or faxing, or at some party scene like a beach. He was really hot, but you didn’t really want a hot roommate, you just wanted a cool roommate.

You sighed, closing your laptop. There was no sense stressing about it now. You couldn’t really tell how a person was from a picture, anyway. Maybe he was a cool guy who just happened to work out.

But then school started, and your roommate was worse than you imagined- an annoying, pompous jock who thought he knew everything. All he talked about was lifting, dumb motivational sayings, and partying. He wasn't actually dumb- but that just somehow made it worse. It just added to his smug, superior attitude knowing he wasn't a typical dumb jock- and he loved to hear himself talk, always went on and on about everything to show you how much he knew. He wasn't even that douchey- he was just annoying as hell, always thinking he knew more and better, always acting like this great person so people would think that about him. He was even hotter in person, until he opened his mouth at least and the dumbest shit you ever heard seemed to come out of it without fail every time. Now, every time he spoke, he rolled your eyes and automatically tuned him out. It was the only way you could bear having to room with him.

It was awful at first, but the year is going by pretty fast. Before you knew it, winter break was here you were busy packing the last few things to head home. Ironically, you were as excited about going home as you have been to arrive at college. You couldn’t wait to be by yourself, away from this idiot, and not have to hear him or hear about working out or anything like that for a couple of days. Suddenly, your phone dinged. You went to grab it, but your roommate was right next to it, so he passed it over to you. His eyebrows raised as he stared at the screen. “Shit, man.”

“What?” You said as you took the phone. It was a gmail notification.

FLIGHT CANCELLED.

Your stomach dropped. You were already leaving late because your last final had been on the last day the school was open, at the dorms and closed for break that night at midnight. You lived across the country.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to do now,” you said more to yourself and more out of frustration than to him. You didn’t even consider that his dumbass would have any ideas for you.

“Well, why don’t you come stay with me for a little while?”

You looked up at him, eyebrow raised and pretty surprised that he’d offer, till you remembered he was too dumb and clueless to realize how much you didn't like him. You wanted to tell him it was fine, no thanks… but you had no other options now, aside from maybe sleeping in the airport till the blizzard passed. That could be hours or even days, though

“You mean it?”

“Of course man! Look, I know we’re not like, best buds, or gym bros or anything like that, I’m not just gonna leave you stranded here. I’m heading out in like an hour. You can come stay at my place a night or two until you can figure out another flight.”

It wasn’t ideal, but like you’d already realized, you had no other choice right now. You packed the last of your things and put them in his car. The snow was already starting when you left, and came down harder and harder as you drove the 20 or 30 minutes over to his house. You were kind of scared sometimes, but he was actually a really good driver. Anytime this car slid or skidded even a little, it was like he knew exactly what to do to get it back on track. His big muscular arm bulged now and then as he gripped the steering wheel tight when the Jeep had fishtailed briefly a few times, and you caught yourself staring at it a little too long more than once. It was honestly really impressive to watch, you would’ve been freaking out if the car skidded at all like that, but he stayed totally calm. Maybe he did know a thing or two after all.

He already texted his parents and explanation of why you were coming, so they had a plate the food ready for you when you arrived. You weren’t that surprised to see the rest of his family was kind of like him. He had a brother who was like a little jock in training, and a Dad who was like a veteran jock. The conversation was pretty similar to what you’d expected – nothing really substantial, with each of them nodding dumbly every time one of them said something equally dumb.

Once dinner was done you headed upstairs with him.

"So, there's a guest room, but there's also a bed in my room that used to be my brothers. I think you should sleep in that one. It'll be a lot more comfortable."

"I dunno-"

"C'mon man! It'll be just like at school! Plus, there's a bathroom in there. Otherwise you have to share with the rest of my family," he said with a big dumb grin. You sighed. He was just so oblivious, but he had saved your ass letting you stay here, and you didn't want to be rude.

"Alright, fine," you said, heading into his room with him. You saw a picture of him and his brother on his dresser. They were identical. A gold chain necklace was draped over the frame.

"You guys were twins?"

"Yeah..."

"Where did he go?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Fell in love with some girl from another country. Out of the blue, he told us he was moving there with her. Had a big fight with me and my parents over it, and hasn't talked to anyone since. It really sucks. He was my main gym bro."

"Ah, that sucks," you said, not sure of what to say.

"Anyway, lets get to bed," he said, sliding his shirt and pants off. It was a shame he was so dumb, because you would have thought he was so sexy otherwise. He'd been right though- this bed was really comfy. You drifted off to sleep after a few moments, exhausted from packing.

He slid out of bed, opened the closet, and pulled a pair of his brother's old gym shoes out. They were so rank he could smell them from a couple feet away. He slid them under your bed quietly and stepped back, watching the smell seep into you. Your nose wrinkled at first, but he smiled when you started to draw slow, deep inhales of the scent. Then, he pulled his sweaty gym clothes out from earlier, wringing them out into a cologne bottle he left on the bathroom counter.

"Night night, future gym bro," he said, getting back under his covers.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and lethargic. When you opened your eyes, you saw him in the bathroom with the door open, doing the same morning routine he did at school. The thing was, you never really saw him do it that much, because you always avoided using the bathroom when he was in there, otherwise he'd start talking your ear off. He was washing his face. His thick muscles shifted with every slight movement. You knew he was showing off, but fuck was he sexy. It was early and you were still pretty groggy and horny and half-asleep, so much so that you found yourself staring at him, unable to look away. You felt like an asshole, suddenly. He'd invited you here in an emergency, and you'd been rude and judgmental the whole time. His chiseled abs contracted as he bent over the sink and scrubbed his face.

He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned over to you. "Hey man," he said, "Yo. c'mere. You gotta smell this cologne I just got."

You rolled your eyes, but instead of being annoyed, you smiled. He was so cute, in a dumb way. You got up and walked into the bathroom, pulling your boner into your pants elastic so he wouldn't see it. It was good you did, because you felt your cock surge as he raised his arms and sprayed the cologne into his muscular pits.

His biceps peaked as he did. He looked like a model. And the cologne smelled amazing. He noticed you watching him flex and smirked. "You like those, huh? Haha," he said with a laugh.

"Uh- yeah man, really cut... ha ha" you said, trying to play it cool.

"We could get your like that I think," he said, gripping your tiny arms with his big hands.

"Haha, no thanks," you said, stepping back. Still, the scent of the cologne drifted over to you. You had to admit, it smelled pretty good. Kind of familiar, too.

"C'mon man, why not?"

"The gym really isn't my thing."

"Have you ever even been?" he asked, giving his pits another blast of cologne.

"No. Just really not my thing," you said. You got another huge whiff of the cologne just as you turned away from the door. You stopped suddenly. Damn, it smelled good- like it was getting better and better by the second. You took a deep whiff. You didn't want to walk away from it.

"Yo, what brand is that?"

"It's an off brand," he said, "i dunno really."

"Can I try some?" you said, taking another deep inhale. The smell was invigorating. It made you feel like you were bursting with energy- energy you needed to release.

He smirked. "If you come to the gym with me, maybe."

You were about to say no, but you really, really wanted to try that cologne. Plus, you had so much energy now, you needed some way to burn it off. And what else would you do all day? Sit around with his weird family?

"Ok, fine," you said, "But I'm just doing the treadmill though. Maybe an eliptical."

He shrugged. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere. What matters is, we're finally gym bros dude!"

"I don't know about all that," you said with a laugh, going to put your shoes on. He was so dumb and easily pleased. Like, who gave a shit if you went to the gym with him or not? Why did it matter so much?

You frowned down as you tried to put your shoes on. For some reason, they seemed smaller. You could barley fit them on, like your foot had grown overnight or something.

"Hey man, i got you," he said, reaching under his brothers bed. He pulled a pair of gym shoes out for you. "These should fit."

You picked them up. They smelled familiar and nice, kind of like the cologne. You were really excited to wear them for some reason, and after you put them on, you felt even better about your decision to go to the gym. You rocked your legs back and forth, bursting with energy. "You ready dude?" you said.

"Lets get it," he said nodding you out the door. "Oh wait. Almost forgot." He reached into his bag and tossed the bottle of cologne over to you. "All yours, man," he said with a grin.

"Thanks bruh," you said, spraying a thick coating under your arms. You wondered why you were talking like that, but as the cologne filled your nose, the thought faded away.

You'd stayed on the treadmill for a while at first, but even there, you were shocked at how fast you could run without getting tired. His brother's old gym shoes were so broken in and cushioned that it felt like you were running on air. But you'd been watching him while he lifted, watching him while the cologne you drenched yourself in seeped into your nose. Running wasn't enough. You needed something to release more energy. You headed over to him, asking if you could join.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. He was drenched in sweat that got all over your clothes. "Here, hit some curls with me," he'd said, handing you a dumbbell. It felt weird but... right in your hand, like you'd finally undergone some masculine right of passage you'd been putting off. You lifted it, but with terrible form.

"Nah man, like this," he said, springing up, and before you knew it he was behind you, his big frame dwarfing yours, and gripped your hands with his own, pushing them up into a proper curl.

"See man? Just like this. Up.... and down," he said slowly into your ear.

He did it a couple times. It felt nice, having him show you. He was a real nice guy, you thought, feeling his hands gripping you own. Your eyes started to glaze over- but when he left go, you immediately started overcompensating with your back. In a flash, he was behind you again.

"Nah bro. You're thinking too much," he said slowly. "Stop. Thinking." he said, gripping your hands again. You were about to tell him to fuck off, but the thought faded away suddenly as his skin touched yours. All your thoughts did, Your head became an empty vacuum.

"Up," he said slowly into your ear, lifting your arms.

Up. Yes. Up. The single directive rushed in to fill the entirety of your empty mind. Up. Up. Up.

He lowered them slowly, maintaining the tension. "And Down."

And Down. Yes. The other two words entered your brain, filling any gaps missed by Up. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

"Up. And Down.," he said in your ear. "That's all that matters. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down."

Your lips began to say the words slowly, matching your movements. Your eyes became totally glazed, and this time, when he let go, you didn't stop. You kept moving with the perfect form he'd just programed into you while he picked up his own dumbbells and lifted next to you moving in sync... it felt so.. nice... moving up...and down....up... and down...

You hadn't remembered much more after that till you were both in the locker room, drenched in sweat after a full workout.

"Great job, man," he said, pulling you in for a high-five hug again. Your sweaty bodies and pumped muscles rubbed against each other in the exchange.

"Thanks bro," you said, still invigorated from the workout. It felt fuckin great. And he'd been so great, showing you proper form for every move, correcting you, adjusting the weight for you. As you both left, you once again felt like an ass for being so rude to him all these months...

When you got home and showered, you felt something itchy under your arms. Checking it out, you noticed your pit hair had gotten a lot darker and thicker. You shrugged. You were almost a year younger than most of your classmates with the way your birthday fell. It must've been the final strokes of puberty, or something.

You headed into your roommate's room for bed. He was propped up in bed in just his underwear, massaging himself with a theragun, nearly moaning. You laughed as you looked at him. He smirked, realizing how funny it looked.

"Laugh all you want, dude, but if you tried it, you'd feel the same way."

"Lemme try then. I'm pretty sore from today already. I still can't believe you convinced me to do weights."

"Haha. I knew you had it in you bro," he said, walking over to you with the theragun. "Aren't you glad you did?"

"Yeah," you said honestly. It had actually felt surprisingly good.

"Letssss gooooo, man!" he yelled excitedly, pulling you in for a bro hug. "Good shit bro. The treadmill is for pussies. You gotta pump these guns, otherwise you're wasting time."

You were about to argue when the theragun hit your sore tricep. The thought slowly faded away as bursts of pleasure rippled out from your muscles. You fell onto the bed, overwhelmed by the feeling, but he kept the gun on you steadily the whole time, watching you squirm and moan. It didn't just feel like a massage, it felt like a whole other workout. You felt the blood pumping into your arms, felt them getting warmer as they bulged and swelled. It felt incredible. He moved around to your bicep, then shoulders, then upper back. He lifted your arms to get underneath them, and you thought you saw his eyes linger on your hairy pits, smiling at them, but you were too preoccupied to think about it. You weren't sure how long he kept at it, but by time he was done, you felt amazing.

"Woah, thanks brah."

"Anytime. Why don't you wash up? We gotta be up early to hit the gym."

"For sure bro," you said, standing up and heading to the bathroom. Yeah, you'd hit the gym again tomorrow. It wasn't even a question, really.

Your eyes widened as you stared in the mirror. You arms looked huge! They hadn't looked this big when you'd gotten out of the shower.

He noticed you admiring them. "It's the theragun, and the uh.... the hot shower. Gets the blood pumped into them. It'll probably be gone in the morning," he said.

"Oh...makes sense," you said, brushing your teeth and sliding into bed.

Once he heard you snoring, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his shaving cream, heading into the bathroom. He whipped his thick cock out and stared at a couple of bimbos getting fucked on his phone, shooting a hot, huge load right into the cream. He swirled it around with his finger, mixing it, then dabbed a bit onto his hand as he headed over to you. He gently spread it over your face, smearing the extra under your pits. Smiling, he went to bed.

You woke up the next day feeling sore and... itchy. You thought it was the pillow, but no matter how you moved, the feeling never went away. Blinking, you scratched at your face, where the feeling was coming from. Your hand met a rough surface. You felt around your face until you realized it was... stubble? But you'd only really had that above your lips. You felt more and more, but it was definitely there.

He looked over to the bathroom. He was up already, shaving in the mirror. He caught your eye again “Hey man. Sleep good?“

“Yeah man, but it looks like some of my facial hair came in overnight or something. It's all itchy.”

You scratched it again, but then thought another itchy, feeling coming out from under your arm. Lifting your arm, you noticed that your pit hair looked even thicker and darker than the night before. And despite what he said about the Theragun and shower, your arms still looked huge. You stare at your body, confused. That late puberty really was hitting you like a train.

"Hey bro, that’s just what happens when you get that testosterone pumping. Come here, I’ll take care of that for you. Just let me finish up.“

You approached as he lifted his chin, showing off his thick neck and sliding his shaver across it. It was strange to watch. You were the same age, and he looked so natural doing it, but it was something you'd never done before. You never had enough facial hair to.

He turned to you, lifting your chin up with one finger, inspecting your stubble. He looked pleased for some reason. He grabbed a jar of shaving cream and opened it- but he hadn't used any? With his razor, he could shave dry, so why-

He smeared the shaving cream on your face, and the cool, minty feeling wiped the question from your mind. Your eyes drooped to his beefy pecs and six pack in front of you as he moved the razor softly over your skin. "You just go nice and slow, just like this," he said, shaving you delicately. Your heart beat faster. It felt weirdly... intimate. You guessed this was something Dad's or older brothers showed youhow to do, but you hadn't had one. You watched intently, trying not to shudder where his fingers grazed your skin. What was weird was, even as the razor removed the hair, it seemed to leave more stubble behind.. but... you liked it. You almost looked... hot. He kept going, till you had a thick 5 o clock shadow just like his.

"I'll let you finish up," he said, sliding you the shaved and shaving cream. "You should shave your pits too, brah. Makes lifting easier. Less irritation."

"Sounds good man," you said, smearing a thick coating of shaving cream onto your hairy pits. It tingled like before. Just like with your face, even though it removed the hair, it seemed to leave more hair follicles behind. You squinted at it. Probably just a trick of the light.

"Ready to hit the gym again?"

"Hell yeah," you said. "But I just have to check flights first-"

"Ah, you know, I was gonna check for you earlier, but our Wifi was acting up."

"That's cool. I can just check on my phone."

"Alright. But just get dressed first," he said, handing you his brothers shoes again.

You were going to tell him to just wait, but the sight of the shoes got you excited. You'd felt really good wearing them.

"Alright," you said, taking them and eagerly sliding them on. The second you tied them, you stood up, pumping your legs one after another. You felt ready to go!

"Oh. and don't forget the cologne. You don't wanna smell like sweat, ya know," he said with a laugh as he tossed you the bottle. It excited you, just like the shoes. You sprayed about ten or eleven sprays on you, letting the scent fill your nose. It smelled even better than the day before. You felt filled with energy, invigorated again, like you needed to get out and release it. But first you just had to... had.... to... look... at...... you................had................to..........look..........at......f....???

"Yo, was I gonna do something man?" you asked, brow hunching in the same confused, dumb way his usually did.

"Yeah. You were gonna wear my gym clothes since you don't have your own. You just asked like a minute ago, man, haha. Remember?"

"Ah, my bad," you said laughing. You'd really zoned out there, haha. You threw on the muscle tee and thigh shorts he tossed you. They must've been from a three pack or something, because he put on the same exact ones.

"Lets get it, brah," he said, slapping you on the back.

"Lets gooo!" you said back, and you guys headed out.

It was the same as the day before. You were doing shoulder presses awfully at first, feeling awkward and self concious, but then his hands were under your arms and his voice was in your ear.

"Up and down, bro. Up and down. That's all that matters. Let all those other thoughts, other things you know about go. They're just weighing you down. You only need to know three things, bro."

You nodded, eyes glazing over again. "Up. And Down," you said, pressing the weight overhead cleanly. "Up. And Down," you repated, sinking into a smooth rhythm of presses. He stood next to you again, lifting at the same time as you. You felt yourself sweating all your thoughts out, getting dumber by the second. You knew you should stop but- buuu- u- up....

Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

He took you through a bunch of other exercises, reminding you whenever he saw you lose focus. Up. And Down. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.

You both got home an hour or two later, still panting and dripping with sweat from your lifts.

"That was sick, bro," he said, peeling his wet shirt off and bouncing his pecs in the mirror.

"Yeah, I feel great," you said, starting to peel the muscle tee off. It was tight, even before your pump, like it had been clinging to you throughout your workout, warming your chest. Now, it was tight because your chest seemed a lot bigger.

"Chest day best day!" He inhaled deeply. "Ah, you smell that bro? I missed that smell. When me and my twin would get back from the gym, this room would stink up in like 30 seconds and reek for days. Its been a while."

"Damn, it does reek in here," you said with a dumb laugh.

"Breathe it in. That's the smell of hard work, bruh."

You both took a deep inhale, laughing. It was so good having a friend to be a stupid guy with.

"Yeah, man," you said, finally managing to peel the shirt off. Your chest looked huge, wide, and puffy. Almost exactly like his... that was... weird....but they looked so... so... good... just like your shoulders you'd hit that day... and your back.... your lats looked like... like wings... wings..... flight.... wasn't there something you were supposed to do with a fligh-

You let out a gasp that turned into an "ahhhhhh" as he hit your sore muscles with the theragun. Part of you was realizing what was happening. You were still smart- somewhere in there. You were... you were somehow turning into him, literally. You tried to think about how, but it hurt. All the blood your brain was used to was flowing into your shoulders and chest as he massaged them. Thinking felt... bad... but... what was in the mirror looked... good.... yeah. You looked fucking good, like this. Yo.... you looked so good haha. Thinking.... bad.... lifting.... good... blood in... muscles.... not in.... brain.... lift.... more... get... sexier.

You felt energy surge through you again. Instinctually, you flexed in the mirror the way he did in the morning, grunting and scrunching your face. Toned muscle bulged under your skin as more and more blood and oxygen left your brain and poured into your muscles. You looked big, but you still felt small. You needed to get bigger... it felt.... urgent... like any time you spent not working out was time wasted. Your thoughts faded as he moved the theragun over you and your chest. It almost was like an exact replica of his.

Your eyes moved to him.

Gym.... bro.... love my.... gym.... bro.... love my..... bro.... wanna.... workout.... with my... bro

"Yo, it's still pretty early bro. You think we could lift again tonight, after dinner?"

"That's what I'm talkin about man," he said, slapping you on the back. "Love seeing you finally motivated to get in the gym and work on yourself."

"Feels great, dude," you said, hitting another pose in the mirror, staring at your muscles. Bigger.... need to.... get.... bigger...

"I told ya so."

"I know. I should've listened earlier. You're so smart, man."

"Haha, thanks man. Lets go get our protein in so we can get out there again. I'll go make our shakes. You shower first man- you stink," he said with a laugh.

"Haha," you said, lifting your pit and taking a big whiff of it. You did reek, but it smelled good, in a way. Like a sign of your hard work.

"Damn bro. I'm gonna need a gas mask in here," he joked, laughing as he walked out.

You laughed back. Joking with your bro was the best. You got into the shower, feeling all the new muscle in your body move under your skin. Feeling its power. The hot water just exacerbated it. You felt big- strong- but needed to get bigger- stronger- the thought was constant.

But- this wasn't... you?

You didn't... care about this stuff.

No.

This was all wrong. What were you doing lifting, focusing on superficial shit like this? What were you doing hanging around with this idiot? No- you had to get out of here. You'd be polite to him, but as soon as you got out of the shower, you'd book a flight for the next day. Enough of this! You'd been getting swayed by a pretty boy being nice to you, and it needed to stop.

He came in with the protein shakes just as you got out of the shower.

"Here you go man," he said, handing it to you. "Gave you a little extra," he said with a wink. Your glass had a little more in it than his did.

"Thanks dude," you said, putting it down. Fuck him and his protein shakes! "I'll have it in a minute. I just remembered I need to look up flights."

"You should really drink it first," he said, handing it back to you. "It's best to drink it as soon as possible. You don't wanna stay small, do you?"

Small? Small? No- never small- big- need to be big- big- huge- need- protein-

"Fuck no," you said suddenly, and before you could stop yourself you were grabbing it and gulping it down. It tasted good. Creamy. Really creamy.

"Damn that's good," you said, cheersing with him when he finished his. It was like you could feel the protein seeping through your body, repairing you. It felt so good. You felt confused, though.

"Yo, was I about to do something?" you asked.

"Yeah man. We were gonna do our meal preps for the rest of break. I'm so glad you decided to spend break here to focus on working out instead of going home with your family," he said.

"Huh? No, no, something with my phone..."

"Yeah man, remember? You were gonna tell your family you weren't gonna make it home this year. You really wanted to see them, but you didn't wanna waste a whole month away from your gym bro when you could be learning from me & making gains. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah yeah," you said. That made sense. Why else would you be here "Hell yeah man! Three solid weeks of nothing but lifting with my bro. No stupid classes or reading to distract us from what matters."

"Exactly man," he said, "C'mon, lets go make our meals for the week. Chicken broccoli and rice city!" You did, then headed to the gym.

You did legs this time.

"Just remember," he said as you got under the squat rack.

You nodded vacantly, feeling your mind slowly emptying again of everything except those three words. Up. And Down. Up. And Down.... Up ... And.... Down....

The next thing you knew you were grunting and dripping sweat as you boosted the 6 plates on your last rep up. Your legs were throbbing, bulging, and felt amazing. They looked bigger already, and you'd only done 4 sets of one exercise. He nodded approvingly.

You both got back from the 2nd round at the gym a couple hours later, scarfing your meals down out of your microwavable meal prep trays.

"Yo, did you see all those pussies on the treadmill staring at us?" you laughed.

"Of course man," he said, laughing back. "That's all they can do," he said as he flexed his huge, pumped muscles. "Stare and wish they were us."

"Feels good," you said, scarfing down your food. Both of you ate like pigs, spilling rice and shredded chicken all over your laps and the sides of your mouths. He went to get your protein shakes, and came back a few minutes later, once again with yours a little bit more full and creamy than his. Extra supps, he told you. When you were done, you cracked open the six pack his Dad had bought for you guys and started slamming them down while watching Family Guy, both laughing dumbly every couple minutes at it. You used to hate this show... but it was so funny! You'd just never given it a chance.

About 2 hours later, with empty beer cans strewn all around the room, you guys decided to get to bed. He went into the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and whipping his dick out to take a long, hot piss in the toilet. His eyes flickered over to your toothbrush, and he smiled. Grabbing it, he dropped it in front of his stream of piss, making sure to soak it thoroughly before putting it back in the holder.

You came in once he was done and started brushing your teeth. Your toothbrush felt warm and tasted kind of funny, thank you, fuck it. You instinctually swallowed it as the taste hit your tongue, sucking it deep in to your stomach. It felt like your stomach was rumbling, then tightening, then pushing out, then tightening again. When you were done brushing your teeth, you lifted your shirt up to reveal a nice set of toned abs just like his. You smiled. Damn, he was a really good coach.

You stared into the mirror, reflecting on how much you'd changed over the last few days. You smiled dumbly, hitting pose after pose in the mirror. In pretty much everything but your face, you looked just like him now. Your arms were thick and corded, your pecs sat nice and high, your legs were ripped, stomach shredded. Even your feet had gotten bigger, going from a size 8 to a size 13, just like his, and you'd grown a few inches, too. Wait... taller? You didn't get taller from the gym...

...

...and why were you his exact height?

You threw open the bathroom door.

"Yo, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean, bro? Chill."

"Nah man. Are you like, turning me into you or some shit? This isn't cool, bro," you said, struggling to talk like how you used to, before "bro" and "man" and "bruh" were every other word?

He smiled. "Into me? Of course not. You could never be me. But I am making you into my twin brother, bro. Haha."

"Well it stops now, weirdo. I'm outta her-"

He grabbed your arms, pulling them towards your head, forcing you to flex. You let out a moan as blood pumped out of your brain, into your sore muscles. It felt so good. So warm... so.... relaxing. But, no, you had to leave – he turned you towards the mirror, showing you your reflection as you flexed. You gave a dumb smile at the hunk staring back at you, at all your hard work- no, he wasn’t gonna get you like this again---

"Just look at yourself, bro," he said slowly massaging your thick traps. Waves of heat flowed over you- no– you had to- leave. He bent down, lifting your leg onto the ball of your foot. Your thick calf muscles contracted, stealing more blood from your brain, pumping more down into your body. It felt so good after a long workout. So good. So waaaaarm, you thought while he bent you into pose after pose like his mannequin and you stared in awe at what you'd become. You were.... hot.

"You’re telling me you don’t like this, bro? That you'd rather be a little nerdy bitch like before?"

It– it felt so… Good... you looked so… Good... you look like… Someone you would’ve thirsted after for months before .. you... loved it. It felt good. Before you knew it, he'd taken his brother's chain off the dresser and fastened it around your neck.

Your mind instantly blanked as he did it. What the fuck were you thinking? Leaving? When he was fucking turning you into a god for free? What kinda ungrateful piece of shit loser was the old you? Nah, he wanted nothing to do with that shit. You were lucky to be here.

"I was gonna wait until we were done to do this to you, but since that nerd in you has so much fight apparently, we can just get it over with now. It doesn’t really matter," he said.

"You want to act like a fag? I’ll treat you like a fag, boy," he said grabbing your head and rubbing it against his bulge. His big. Warm.. bulge... Your eyes glazed even more. "That's right, broski. Tell me how you really feel."

He was fucking sexy. You tried to lie to yourself all year and tell yourself that you didn’t like him, that he was annoying, that he was an idiot. But still, you stared at him whenever you could, every time he'd come into the room with his towel... take a peek every time he was in his boxers. Pretended you didn’t like him and denied it. But you did. You hated the girls that he brought back to the room because you wished it was you in there, getting pounded out by him, or maybe you wished you were him, getting to be such a stupid fucking asshole and still getting all the ass you wanted. He must’ve felt like a king.

You suddenly realize'd that you said all this out loud. Your mouth dropped open in surprise- but- how...

"Good, good. Now tell me, wouldn’t it feel nice if someone felt that way about you, boy?" Your eyes lit up.

"Me?"

"Yeah you. You’re going to be a God just like me boy. And I get the gym bro! Everyone wins."

You nodded slowly as he pulled his cock out, rubbing it against your face. Yeaaaaaah. Jock cock. You'd always loved jock cock when you'd been.... gay? No, you weren't gay... you'd never been gay. This was just bonding with your bro, haha.

Your tongue lapped up the precum off the tip of his dick. He shuddered, his cut, muscular hips thrusting instinctually. Your mouth opened just as automatically, sucking his cock. It felt so easy to hold yourself up with your new, big muscles as he pounded your mouth. His balls slipped out of his boxers, slapping you in the face as he thrust into you. They smelled great.

"Ahhhhhh yeah," he said, grabbing your hand and placing it on his tight ass. You gripped it, feeling the power from years of squats in it. "We got one more step left, broski. Tomorrow we're gonna put my facecream and gel on you and fix that busted face and wack haircut of yours. You’ll look just like me, bro. And you'll love it. I want that nerd inside of you watching while I snuff the last of him out- well, while you do it, really. He'd hate you so much, now," he said, pulling you off his dick and turning you towards the mirror again. "Look at you now, just a dumb jock big boy."

You smiled goofily in the mirror, flexing again at the sight of yourself. "Dumb jock big boy". The words resonated in your brain. Yeah, dumb jock big boy you thought, flexing harder. Hahaha. No- you weren't a jo- dumb jock big boy. Hahahaha. Yeah, you were just a dumb jock big boy- no- no- you were smar... just a dumb jock big boy. No matter what else you tried to think, it was the only thing your mind would land on. You flexed even more. You couldn't help it. Your body looked... so.... fucking... good. You felt like a ... man. Brutish. Powerful. You had muscles... big... muscles.... you couldn't stop staring... you fely so... powerful... needed... more powee. Needed... to get bigger. Needed... to be a msn not a cyck beta loser.

"That's it. Who's my dumb jock bro?"

"Me," you said proudly.

"I thought you were too good for that shit tho? Too smart?"

"Nah," you said.

"Damn boy, I trained you good."

"Yes. Showed me what matters. Need to get bigger," you said in a trance. Any resistance felt far away now. You couldn't really talk in complete sentences anymore. "Bigger. Stronger. More powerful."

"We will get you there, bro," he said, sliding your mouth back onto his cock. We're going to get you there, together. Plus, then we can be reeeeaaal bros! Like, bros for real. We can tell my parents my bro came back. You can just enroll in school and come back with me. It'll be like he never left. And you actually get to be something, instead of being a dumb nerd. Everyone wins!"

You nodded. Real bros. He was like your brother already, kinda. Yeah.

"I love you bro," you said.

"I love you to bro- ahhh- AHhhhhhh"

You felt his legs tense and back arch a little, and a blast of his cum shot down your throat, then another, then another. The necklace got hot around your neck as you swallowed them. You gulped each down, feeling your body absorbing them, feeling him seep into you, take you over, and crush any chance you had of turning back. Yeah. Good. You didn't want to turn back. You didn't want the nerd loser in you to take control. This was you now. You were in control.

He thrust into you a couple more times as you licked the last of his cum off his cock. He tapped the back of your head twice approvingly as you finished him off and slid his cock out of your mouth.

"See you in the morning, bro. You won't remember this part tomorrow. You'll just wake up, see my putting my moisturizer on and gel in, and come to do the same. Like I said, I want that nerd inside you watching while we complete your transformation, wanting to stop it, but unable to. Because this," he said, placing your hand on his bicep, and placing your other hand on your own bicep, "just feels too good."

You nodded dumbly. "I love you, bro" was all you could say.

"Love you too, bro. Goodnight!"

You woke up the next morning, just as he said, to see him putting the moisturizer all over his face and styling his hair. You walked over, asking him if you could use some. He looked so good. You just really wanted to use whatever he used.

"Sure thing, bro. What's mine is yours."

He passed it to you. You took a thick glob out, smearing it on your face. It tingles a little bit as you put it on, like the shaving cream head. Part of you was yelling, no, that you didn't like this, that you wanted to keep your old life, that you didn't want to be his twin and give up everything you had, but that voice was quiet now. It was drowned out by the demands of your big, hulking body, your shrinking brain, the testosterone pumping through you, and the burning desire you know how to get bigger and look good, constantly. The old you needed to go. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn't stop you from rubbing the cream in deeper and deeper. Had... to... look.... good... you thought as you ran a big glob of his white gel through your hair.

You both watched, smiling, as your face bubbled and changed and your hair lightened and shortened, perfectly matching his, erasing the final part of you. His brothers Your chain got hot around your neck as a bunch of his brother's your old memories floated into your head. All the details of his your life, everything you needed to know to convince his your parents that he'd you'd come back home.

"It's so great to have you back, bro," your roommate brother said. "I been so lonely at the gym," he said flexing in the mirror.

"Good to be back, bro," you said, hitting the same pose.

His real brother never did end up coming back. You lived happily ever after as a dumb jock big boy, hitting the gym with your bro everyday.

#gay sub #gay domination #gay mind control #gay dad and son #gay submission #good boy #muscle daddy #submission #alpha worship #mind control gay #mind control #jock worship #jockification #jock transformation

1K notes · View notes

teencopandthesourwolf · 7 months

Text

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts.

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon.

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him.

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip.

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive.

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek.

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony.

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.”

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!”

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek.

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

398 notes · View notes

embodyingchaos · 1 year

Note

Hello beautiful person, how are you? , I saw that you had open requests for rodrick heffley, And I wanted to know if you could make a request where y/n (a pink girl) and rodrick are playing in his bed and at one point rodrick goes overboard and accidentally hits her and makes her l Cry, please 💗💗

❥ hello to you too, darling! i'm doing fine, and i hope you're doing good as well! i didn't know what was a pink girl, but mother google helped me so i hope i got reader's personality just right, i hope you like it! this is my first ever request so i'm very nervous T-T (also, sorry if it's too short!)

band-aid pairing: rodrick heffley x fem!reader genre: fluff, light angst(it really isn't angst lmao) warnings: pillow fights(gasp), rodrick accidentally elbows reader in the face muahahhaah word count: 466

headphones covering his ears and eyes closed, rodrick was at peace. however, his girlfriend was not. as she rolled into him, she grumbled. "roddyyy!" she whined, shaking his arm. "i'm bored." y/n pouted, laying on her back beside him. "what do you want me to do about it, bunny?" he asked without opening his eyes, halfway drifting off to dreamland. y/n glared at him and sat up, crossing her arms. suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

she cautiously grabbed the pillow next to his, holding it up high before wreaking absolute havoc on her ever-so clueless boyfriend. she slammed his face with the pillow, making rodrick's eyes shoot open and his headphones fall off. "you little brat!" he exclaimed, quickly grabbing the pillow he was just laying his head on and hitting her with it.

y/n squealed as they started to pillow-fight like a couple of children, chasing each other around his bedroom that was definitely not big enough to be running around in. rodrick tackled her onto the bed when she wasn't paying attention, and started tickling her. "okay! wait! i'm sorry-" y/n was cut off by her own fits of laughter, trying to get her boyfriend to stop tickling her until she felt like peeing her pants. "please stop!" she exclaimed, pushing his hands away. rodrick smiled at her and finally halted his movements, "okay, okay, bunny. i'll stop." he told her, laying beside her. "just kidding!" he shouted, springing up from his bed and grabbing her by the waist. y/n yelped as rodrick threw her over his shoulder, accidentally elbowing her face in the process.

being ever-so sensitive to the slightest of injuries, the girl could feel tears well up in her eyes before they fell down rodrick's back. when tiny sniffles were heard, the emo drummer placed her down on the bed.

"hey, hey, hey. why're you crying, sweetheart?" rodrick whispered, kneeling in front of her and gently grabbing the sides of her face, now stained with tears. he wiped them away with his thumbs, "i-it's nothing. you just elbowed my face on accident.” she muttered, rubbing the right side of her jaw. rodrick’s gaze softened, “i’m sorry, bunny.” he apologised before a lightbulb in his head lit up.

he walked on his knees towards his bedside table, rummaging through the mess inside only to pull out a band-aid. he made his way back to y/n and sat beside her on the bed, “this should make it feel all better.” he muttered, focused on taking the plastic off the band-aid and placing it on the right side of her jaw. he gave the area a small peck and y/n beamed at his actions, “yeah, all better.” she whispered, booping his nose with her own.

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley masterlist #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fic #rodrick heffley oneshots #rodrick heffley oneshot #rodrick imagines #rodrick oneshots #rodrick heffley imagines #rodrick heffley imagine #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid oneshots #fluff #angst #rodrick x fem reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick fluff #rodrick heffley fluff

571 notes · View notes

mutedkisses · 11 months

Text

head over heels !!

cameron james x fem!reader !! best friends to lovers !!

warnings : swearing , fluff , cameron being so so so clueless.

synopsis ; in which cameron’s best friend writes a poem about a mystery boy for an english assignment and he is determined to find out who it’s about.

a/n:divider made by @cafekitsune <3 also ik that cameron is in a military family and moves around a lot but we’re gonna ignore that for the sake of the fic. lower case intended !! also i got all of the french from google translate 😶

it was a warm autumn wednesday at padua high school. you had been working restlessly on a poem you had been assigned for mr morgan. many hours had been spent to perfect it.

you were getting your book of shakespeares sonnets out of your locker, when all of a sudden non other than your best friend cameron came up beside you.

“hey y/n/n!” cameron smiled as he stood by your locker.

“hey cam.” you smiled. you had liked him for a while now. well, a while being three and a half years, since your freshman year.

“i brought you this.” he smiled giving you a caffeinated beverage (your choice). you smiled softly taking the drink from his hands, taking a sip.

“thanks cam. i really needed a pick me up.” you told him.

“i can tell.” he teased. you shove him lightly, as he lets out a soft giggle.

“cmon the bells gonna ring soon.” you told the boy, as he nodded, following you as you made your way to mr morgan’s class.

once you two got situated in your seats, mr morgan started class. “okay for the assignment i told you guys to write love poems, like shakespeare did. would anybody like to share? it coulda been about your couch for all i care” nobody had raised their hand. “fine, i’ll pick.” you sort of zoned out not paying attention to mr morgan until you felt a light nudge coming from beside you.

“ow!” you harshly muttered, looking to see cameron trying to get your attention.

“mr morgan said your up to present your poem.” he told you. you looked up to see mr morgan with his eyebrow raised and his arm crossed.

“are you just gonna sit in wonderland, alice? or are you gonna get up here and read your poem?” he asked sarcastically.

you muttered a soft apology as you grabbed your f/c binder and walked up to the front of the classroom. truth be told you were very nervous because the poem you had wrote was about cameron. but you didn’t want him to know that secret piece of information.

you cleared your throat and looked around the room, your subtle but nervous eyes meeting cameron’s soft brown irises. he gave you a reassuring smile as you returned it with a soft tight lipped one.

“we’re waiting.” mr morgan said impatiently. you quickly opened to the page and began to read aloud.

his moon , my sun , together we are one.

he is the ocean breeze to me , and one may not ask why.

it’s the coffee in the morning and tea at night.

and the way he gives off a mysterious light.

the snow falls down , and you’re still around.

my thoughts are present too. i would much rather be visited by you.

two lovers on the road , with no destination.

is what i would like to be without hesitation

my only words to that sweet question is “yes.”

you finished and shut the f/c binder as cameron grinned giving you a look of “you better explain.”

“well done nicholas sparks.” he remarked, moving on. all you felt was the sporadic glances that cameron would give you during class. you shot him glance and threw him a note telling him to drop it. in return he just rolled his eyes playfully.

after the class was over , you were fast to rush out not wanting to be faced with cameron’s interrogation. that was until he caught up with you.

“you need a ride home, remember.” he reminded you. in your mind , you mentally facepalmed yourself. “don’t worry i’ll go easy on you.” he teased.

“just let it go cam, it’s just a silly crush.” you muttered to him. cameron had a look of shock. his hand to his heart as he walked to his car.

“y/n/n if it was just a silly crush than you wouldn’t write a full romance novel about them!” he told you dramatically. alas, you signed knowing the brunette was right. “is it joey “eat me” donner?” he asked her. “because if it is you know i’ll try to be supportive but-“ you cut him off.

“cameron it is NOT joey. that’s ridiculous.” you spoke matter of factly as he opened the door to his car.

cameron started the ignition and head over heels by tears for fears was playing softly on the radio.

“what about jimmy? michael? brian? patrick? you know if it was patrick, i would 100% understand he is a pretty boy.” he muttered.

“cameron no.” you told him after shaking her head after all the previous names. “just drop it.” she sighed. there was a moment of silence.

“is it kat?” he softly spoke as he looked at you.

“CAMERON!” you exclaimed. a small chuckle left your lips at his determination. cameron figured he would drop it for now and move on to a separate subject.

“anyway, you promised to help me with my french homework remember?”

“yeah, don’t worry i didn’t forget.” you smiled softly, knowing french was cameron’s worst subject, but he tried managing a solid C- in the language.

as you two arrived at the james residence, you trudged your way upstairs and flopped onto cameron’s bed after putting on a tears for fears cassette , playing softly in the background. cameron followed as he sat down beside you, kicking off his shoes.

“mkay, salut! je mapelle y/n , comment allez-vous?” you spoke. cameron listened as you spoke in the language.

“hello, my name is y/n. how are you?” he repeated in english. a bright smile was displayed on your face.

“oui! très bien!” you praised him. he smiled sheepishly. “i’m beginning to think you don’t even need my help.” you teased him.

you two continued to do french homework until cameron spoke up. “give me a harder one.” he challenged. all of a sudden you were feeling pretty gutsy.

“okay cam.” you said, “tu es très jolie et je veux être plus que des amis.” you continued, a regretful feeling in the pit of your stomach as his gaze averted to figure out what you said. you could tell when it clicked.

“aww y/n/n i think you’re pretty too, but we are more than friends, i’m youre bestfriend silly.” he smiled. you’re eyes widened slightly, how did he not take the hint?

“no cam, not like that.” you informed him. you could practically see the question mark over his head. he pondered for a couple of seconds.

“like what?” he muttered. that feeling of confusion melted away once your lips were on his in a state of impulse. he melted into the kiss, as his hands grabbed your face and your hands grabbed each one of his shoulders.

once you two broke apart he was awestruck. “mamma mia.” he mumbled. his eyes as big as dinner plates and his mouth agape.

“wrong language cammy.” you teased.

“but…but that poem? that was about..” he trailed.

“you.” you calmly stated. he looked up to you softly.

“wait…how long?” he asked.

“since freshman year.” you told him.

“and you waited that long to do that?!” he asked, doubfoundedly.

“well i didn’t know if you felt the same way, and you went through that whole thing with bianca and that whole spew to get her to like you back and-“ you continued to ramble until cameron cut you off with another kiss.

“it’s always been you y/n/n. bianca was just to get my mind off of you because i was too scared to think of us as anything more than friends…i didn’t want to ruin that.” he mumbled, looking down at his homework.

you smiled softly at his confession. “well is it that hard to imagine with a visual?” you asked him. he looked up with a confused look, and those puppy dog eyes you adored. you kissed him once.

“i think i can see a picture in my head now.” he said against your lips.

all that was heard was head over heels playing softly in the background.

fin

a/n: help i feel like this lowkey sucked but like cameron my boy ): <333 also the poem is something i just made up on the spot 😭 anyway lmk what you think!!! reblogs w/ comments are always highly appreciated <333

sincerely yours , mars <3

french terms :

oui! très bien! - yes! good job!

tu es très jolie et je veux être plus que des amis. - you are very pretty and i want to be more than friends.

#10 things i hate about you #heath ledger #patrick verona #julia stiles #cameron james #kat stratford #bianca stratford #cameron x reader #cameron james x reader #ttihay #ttihay fanfic #ttihay imagine #ttihay oneshot #cameron james oneshot #cameron james fluff #he is so clueless 🥺🥺🥺#french

465 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

Note

not a req but i was js thinking: imagine the boys w a famous s/o (could be an actor, sports, wtv) and like they see an edit of their s/o on tiktok or sum and they show their s/o like “LOOK. ITS U. THE LOVE OF MY LIFE”

idk man this was so random lol but what do u think they would be like if smth like that happened

You say "not a req" and yet I will TREAT IT AS A REQ

The 141 with a Famous Spouse: Edits.

TW: Some NSFW stuff under the cut (m!masturbation).

You and Simon/John/Johnny/Kyle have been very private about your relationship. Both a mix of you being in the public's eye and his career, it just makes sense to keep it secretive. He doesn't even *tell* anyone he's married and you never say his name in public, only ever referring to him as 'my husband' in interviews, leaving your fans to wonder.

John: I think John isn't as active on social media to find edits easily... But there was that one time where he watched an online interview of yours on youtube and they had you reacting to fanfiction and edits and he did a quick google search and... That man will 100% download every tiktok with an edit of yours he can find, so he can watch them in the field when there's no reception. One time he texts you a link to one he particularly loves and adds: "Look at how talented your fans are. They somehow make me love you more with each one of these I find."

Simon: You'd never expect it but he *loves* to watch your interviews on tv/online, and read the tweets whenever something relating to you goes viral. It's only a matter of time until he stumbles across edits. And, let me tell you, he's not even shy about it. He'll watch them while you're both at home lounging. You'll just hear some music coming from his phone and then your own voice reciting that one line from that one interview that one time. "Are you watching videos of me when I'm literally lying on top of you?" "Yes I am. They're very well edited."

Kyle: Boy has known of edits being a thing for ages, watches them for other actors and athletes, so why would he not watch them of their spouse? He especially loves the ones where they ship you with some other celebrity you posed with one time after a movie premiere or a song release or what have you. Like, he cackles at them, knowing your fans are so clueless, he's so proud of himself for 'bagging' you... Sometimes he turns the phone over for you to see them and you always groan at the shit-eating grin on his face. "You're cheating on me with that actor, huh?" He always jokes.

Johnny: Is an ABSOLUTE degenerate. He'll be watching those borderline NSFW edits of you. He's not ashamed about it. Sometimes he jerks off to them too. The man has you on his bed more often than not and yet somehow he still finds time to rub one out to an edit of you in a movie/music video/interview/red carpet and the dirtiest, filthiest song lyrics overtop. He'll also lose it if it includes a scene from that one time you were wearing something sheer, showing off your whole body. The one time you caught him, you heard him murmur a "God, I'm so fuckin' lucky to have ye." under his breath while watching the same edit on repeat.

#asks #moots #reqs

57 notes · View notes

pupgawa · 8 months

Note

Hello😁✋, I saw your work and I wanted to see if I can request fyodor, Nikolai, and my bbg sigma fluff

Can it be a fem reader and Hispanic (Nicaraguan if possible) and she likes to say random phrases in Spanish like: quieres casarte conmigo , mi amor ( would u want to marry me, my love) just random times of the day. So out of nowhere he learns Spanish and starts responding😭🙏

Sorry its really specific😭✋

Leaning their darling's mother tongue

୨♡︎୧ a/n: hello lovely ! Thank you so much for requesting and I love this scenario so much I find it both hilarious and adorable!

That being said that I am not Hispanic myself so I have no clue how to speak the language , I am just using Google translate which may not be 100 percent accurate, so please forgive any mistakes I may have made (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but I hope you enjoy anyways !

୨♡︎୧ pairings: Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader, Nikolai Gogol x reader , Sigma x reader

୨♡︎୧ Genre: fluff ! No content warnings at all lovelies <3

Fyodor Dostoevsky 🩸

so being as smart as he is, I whole heartly believe that Fyodor knows multiple languages, anything stemming from English to Russian and everything in between, but you know he was smart, but you never knew that he actually knew what you were saying, he loves to tease so he acts clueless to your sudden language switch, seeing your surprised face is all worth it ♡

you and Fyodor decided to spend the day at home, finding that it was a good day and neither of you wanted to ruin it with blood and gore, you decided to relax at home, it had been a while since you two had.

Fyodor was reading a book and you sat there and admired him, Fyodor was the literal definition of a pretty boy, soft facial features and an even softer voice, it made it hard to believe that this man was a terrorist.

“ Eres tan bonito , mi amor ” ( you're so beautiful , my love ). You didn't even notice your language switch until Fyodor looks away from his back with a head tilt.

“ what did you just say ? ” he asks with a gentle hum. You let a sly smile take over your expression as you wave your hand dismissively. “ oh nothing, dear, it wasn't anything bad, don't worry about it ”, you reassure, Fyodor eyes you skeptically and returns to his book.

gosh he was so pretty you felt like you were falling in love all over again. You open your mouth to speak, intending to use English, but something else came out.

“ ¿Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” “ por supuesto ” ( of course )

you blink, once, twice, three times, your face goes hot in embarrassment.

“ fyodor … you ?- ” he cuts you off with a laugh. “ of course I do ”

you were absolutely embarrassed, all this time you were speaking in your native tongue thinking that nobody could understand you, yet here your boyfriend was, knowing everything you were saying.

“ Eres linda cuando estas sorprendida ” ( you’re pretty when you’re surprised ) “ shut up … ! ”

Nikolai Gogol

similar to Fyodor I think Nikolai knows a bunch of different languages, but unlike Fyodor he isn’t completely fluid in them. So when he heard you talk in your native language he did some research on how to speak it. He’s not completely fluid in Spanish, but he understands a good amount of it ! He especially likes to flirt or tease you in your own language.

| You two were out on a date, out at a fair. You were enjoying yourself, but when you found yourself unable to beat a game for a plushie you had wanted, Nikolai stepped in and won that game for you !

| He hands you a giant white bear stuffed animal that held a plush heart in it’s paws, “ for you, darl’ ~ ” he coos lovingly.

| “ gracias amor ” ( thank you, love ) you were so happy that you didn’t even notice how you went from English to Spanish.

| “ De nada, querida ~ ” ( you’re welcome, dear ) he links your arms together and gives you a peck on the crown of your head.

| you let out an appreciative hum and you continue on with your date.

| the night was quite for most part, asides from the casual conversation of some people, but neither your or Nikolai paid them any mind.

| you two were sharing a plate of food since you had been getting hungry. Starting up small talk and casual conversations.

| “ thank you, for this ” Nikolai blinks and shakes his head with a small laugh. “ no need to thank me, darl’ ”

| there’s a silence between you two, before you break it “ Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” you suddenly, not even noticing you said it until Nikolai responded “ por qué por supuesto ! ”

| you let out a snort of laughter at his enthusiasm. “ I’m glad you agree ” you peck his lips, Nikolai returning the kiss.

| “ Entonces, ¿cuándo planeamos la luna de miel? ” ( so when do we plan the honeymoon ? ) he asks. “ Nikolai ! ” your face flushes softly.

Sigma

Unlike the other two, He didn’t know much until you came along, hearing you talk in Spanish made him motivated to learn. So he picked up any resources he could. He wanted to surprise you, well no he wanted to impress you, actually.

| you had just come off of work, annoyed and stressed out, having to deal with annoying customers and a asshole of a boss.

| the house was clean and dinner was already made, thanks to your boyfriend, sigma who had spent all day making sure you had come home to a meal and a clean house so you could properly relax.

| “ dear ? ” he starts “ what . What ! What do you want !? ” you snap, whipping your head back to see Sigma’s surprised expression.

| your gaze softens a little “ mi amor … I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to yell at you like that- ”

| “ rough day at work ? ” Sigma asks, you nod your head with a soft sigh. “ still it doesn’t give me a right to yell at you like that, I’m sorry ”

| Sigma dismisses your apology “ it’s alright, let’s get something in your stomach and then you can tell me all about your day ” you don’t argue with him.

| After dinner you sat at the edge of the bed, Sigma sat besides you, massaging your shoulders. He was surprisingly good at it too.

| you let out a sigh, relaxing underneath his touch “ you’re too good to me, my love ” Sigma lets out a laugh. “ nonsense, dear, you deserve this after the day you’ve had ” he responds.

| he cooked dinner, he cleaned and made sure the house was clean, all to make sure you could relax properly.

| and now he was listening to you vent while he gave you massage.

| he would make the picture perfect husband, you thought and you unconsciously voiced it too

| “ Quieres casarte conmigo mi amor? ” you asked, not realizing what you had just said yet. Sigma takes all the months of learning he had and puts two and two together, it takes a moment for it register but once he realizes, his face goes red.

| “ si me dejas ” ( if you let me ) he responds, his pronunciation could use a bit of work but you were able to put together what he said.

| “ sigma when … ” “ are you impressed ? I’ve been learning for months ” you smile fondly at him and nod

| “ buen trabajo, mi amor ” ( Good job, my love ) you respond with a laugh. Sigma looks away to hide the smile on his face.

#babydoll♡︎#bsd🍡#nonniesthoughts🧸#nonniesorder🧸#sigma🍪#sigma x reader #Nikolai🧁#nikolai x reader #fyodor x reader #Fyodor🍮

114 notes · View notes

bruh-anator3000 · 1 year

Text

CAT-astrophic

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

A/n: *pushes rock I live under over and peeks out of the black abyss* Hey, have you guys seen a Car Wash Miguel fic anywhere? I don't know what happened to it but it's no longer here. Might've escaped... anyways, watch this cat for me while I look? Thanks. And don't mind the hot homeless dude who talks to him, they're bonding. *returns into the depths of the void*

Summary: A hot dude won't stop talking to your cat, it's kind of freaking you out.

WC: 1.7k, edited by google docs...

Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack fic, Spider-cat's real name is Sir Jeffords bc i said so, clueless reader, pro outdoor cat (i'm not actually, keep ur cats safe pls), future-ish?, accidentally snuck in some world building, in Lyla we trust 🙏, Miguel in tight clothing bc I also said so, and wait wtf are you doing with a dead rat miguel, AND WTF IS THIS WHITE STUFF DUDE?!

Also no Spanish bc I've done some research and those who do speak it have asked non-native speaker to avoid it, to prevent bad google translations and maintain respect!

Okay, enjoy~

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

You were about to head in for the night when you were not tripped by your cat for his dinner. After a quick search around your apartment, you sighed upon realizing he was still outside. Shrugging on a coat, mismatched slippers, and grabbing a flashlight, you went out to look for him.

Plenty of people told you to keep your cat inside. That it was vital to their health to keep them safe indoors. There were plenty of articles stating the cons of letting a domesticated cat roam freely outside with no supervision. They were also written 80 years ago. The world has changed since then, drastically.

Sure, it would still be smart to keep Sir Jeffords inside. Less late night searches for him, no more worrying if that scratch on his right paw was from running too fast along pavement or something worse. But he came from the life of an alley cat, and no matter what you tried, he had to be out there for a few hours a day. Last time you tried to stop him, he went under your radar for three days. You had a panic attack, worried he didn't love you anymore, but he did eventually come back. Chipper and eager, and he made sure you left his cat door unlocked.

The streets were cleaner than 80 years ago. The people were kinder. The city more accommodating to everyone, even stray animals. Sir Jeffords was mirco chipped, and even if it didn't work for tracking half the time, the shelter folks could scan his neck and drop him back home.

There were no pounds or pest controls anymore, just volunteers who helped poor animals stay warm. And find whoever left them in the streets. It was a crime to leave them now, resulting in 6 months of detention if caught dumping your animal friend into the alleys.

Jeffords was a smart cat. He knew what he was doing. You trusted him. In the event of something bad happening, you made him swore he would come find you right away. Though he couldn't speak, his tail wrapping around your pinky seemed solid enough.

You called out his name, followed by a few 'pspspsps's to really seal the deal. Your flashlight shining in the darker corners of the streets he may be hiding in. Cats and their dark, unreachable corners, Sir Jeffords fell victim to any cozy spot he could barely tuck himself into.

It wasn't until a few blocks away, a little past the bank, when you heard a meow. Very similar to his, you quietly sped your pace, wanting to grab your kitty and go home. The closer you got, it seemed more like he was responding to someone else more than you.

"-and your service is always appreciated." You heard a deep voice whisper. Their voice a grumble echoing through the alley they hid in. "You're one of our best." Your brows pinching together, you turned the corner of the bank, flashlight illuminating your fluffy orange cat. Who was rubbing up against the shin of a random man.

He looked up at you, eyes darkened as he blocked your flashlight with his large hand. They almost seemed red as he stayed squatted, Sir Jeffords head butting his knee. His face pure sharp angles, with a scowl permanently in place. His black shirt a tight, compressing fit. Clinging to each muscle and vein in his arm, stopping halfway down his bicep. His calves just as impressive. His shorts doing nothing but making him look even hotter.

Wait, no. This was a random man, he wasn't hot.

You lowered the light and gave an awkward smile. Seemingly unimpressed, his hardened gaze turned back to your cat. "He's yours?" He asked, voice rumbling low in his chest. With a nod, he added, "He's... cute."

Okay, maybe he was a little hot.

"Right?" Your smile smoothed into something more natural. "He's the cutest cat to ever exist." You lowered yourself down onto your knees with a soft baby call. Sir Jeffords trotting into your lap happily, orange fur swaying with his steps.

Your hand ran through his silky fur. Tension easing from you as you held him close again. Though his three day disappearance had yet to happen again, you still worried. He was your precious baby, after all. The one you shared everything with, and he never once judged.

Your fingers caught on something sticky, stopping short of his lower back. Pulling your hand away, strings of white followed, sticking to your fingertips. The feeling moist and far too clingy for comfort. A disgusted shiver ran up your spine at the horrible sensory.

The man stood then, tossing a tissue at you as he did. His gaze stayed on your cat, never faltering. He pushed his dark hair away from his face, still scowling.

Glancing between your hand and the man that now towered over you, you almost gagged. This wasn't... his, right?

"It was the rat." Like he read your mind, the mysterious stranger held out his other hand. A dead rat laid in his palm.

"That... doesn't make me feel much better." You suppressed another full body shake, quickly wiping your hand off. This guy may be extremely attractive to look at but the longer you stayed there, the more uncomfortable you got. "How would a mouse... And what is this?" You felt yourself getting sick as you held the tissue out, the white stuff now sticking to the paper instead

"Webs. And, it's a rat." He stated with a straight face. More angry at your confusion than anything. "Chased him through some spider webs."

You let out a soft 'oh.' But that didn't explain why he was holding onto the dead rat.

And he let it stay that way. Instead of reading your mind like he had been this entire time, he just... walked off. With a dead animal in his grasp. Without a word.

Your confused gaze turned to your cat, knees beginning to ache from the pressure of concrete beneath. Sir Jeffords purred into your stomach loudly.

"You're not allowed to hang out with that guy, ever again."

...

"Christ!" Miguel tossed the rat at the wall, hearing him curse. The small animal glitched into a grown adult, body morphing sickly. "That..." The villain panted, rubbing at his neck. Bruises from how tightly he was held already forming there. "... was not what I was expecting."

Miguel squatted back down, balancing on his toes as the hologram of regular clothes shifted back into his suit. "You chose to become a rat, in a world whose Spider-Man is a cat." He slammed down a disk, red netting encasing the fool. "That was your own fault."

"It was the only way I could get into the bank!" The villain squeaked. Miguel tuned out almost immediately, eyes turning to his watch. Setting the portal to his universe, and making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere. He entertained the villain in a tacky grey suit with distant hums and 'oh, yeah, uh-huh's. It was best to just let them get it out of their system then try to shut them up.

"And I would've gotten away with it, too! If it weren't for you and your cat!" The shape shifter writhed in the nets.

"Sound like a damn Scooby-Doo villain." Miguel stood up with a huff. He would never admit it, but Hobie used the term so often, he had to look up what he was referencing. Only to end up watching the first few seasons. He had to stop around the third season, a sick sense of deja vu hitting him with a bat. The cartoons reminded him too much of the daughter he never really had.

With a sigh, "Lyla," He called.

The AI appeared before him, wearing a shit eating smirk. He opened his mouth to command something else when she beat him to it. "You should've asked for their number."

"What?" Miguel's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"They were cute, should've asked them on a date." She glitched to his side with a teasing laugh.

"Lyla, I... no." He grumbled, flicking at his watch.

"Oh, you know?" Miguel tried to smack her away, only for her to reappear on his left shoulder. "You should go back, then."

Miguel glared at her, ignoring how the tips of his ears began to burn. "I can't, its-"

"Not a canon event." They said at the same time. Lyla rolling her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses, Miguel focusing on creating a portal. "You're such a loser, you know that?" She huffed and puffed, spawning with her back turned to him.

He tried to reach out with a heavy breath, but she moved further away. This time sitting with her arms crossed and pouting.

"They were cute." The villain nodded from his fetal position on the ground. Earning a glare from the two. Shrinking further into himself, the shape-shifter apologized.

Miguel thrust his forearms forward, his mantis blades catching on the fabric of time. Ripping them apart with a grunt. Orange and purple twisted in front of him, and he grabbed a hold of the red netting the anomaly was in.

"Meet me back at HQ," He spoke to his AI with a nod. Foot already in the portal, he turned to cast a menacing glance at Lyla. "And do not try anything."

She held up her hands in defense, watching the portal close behind him. It wasn't like she even had to do anything - not anymore. She already slipped his multiversal number into the collar of Spider-Cat. All that needed to happen was you either found it, or it fell out. Lyla just had to wait to see which option would be canon.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Check out my Masterlist!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara fanfiction #bruh writes #spiderverse fanfic #x you

221 notes · View notes

kn95-blog · 1 year

Text

one thing i feel like (disappointingly) wasn't elaborated on enough in mp100 is reigen's own loneliness.

sure, we got that whole episode with the separation arc, but that never really resolves reigen's loneliness. that doesn't change the fact that even down to the end, he has only one adult friend and the rest of them are a gaggle of teenagers that like to hang out around him. and sure, that's not inherently a bad thing necessarily, it's probably the most friends he's had his entire life and that's why he cries when they get him a birthday cake.

but i feel like he's the kind of guy who does actually want adult friends to talk about adult things with. someone at the same stages of life that he's at, or even older.

reigen is so used to helping other people and giving other people advice that i feel like HE needs someone to be there for him, to give HIM advice. someone to scratch HIS back for once.

but another thing is that i feel like part of him thinks he doesn't deserve it, because of all the lying he does.

there is not a doubt in my mind that reigen has so much guilt stockpiled inside himself about all the lying, and (in my own personal headcannon) part of the reason he can so easily jump into danger at times is because he quietly hopes that maybe if he punishes himself enough with enough injury, or even with death, that'll somehow make up for it.

obviously that's not how it works, and reigen is a good person because regardless of the lying, he is still on some level helping people with their very normal problems by giving them very normal solutions, and is just attributing everything to spirits and exorcisms. not to mention everything he has done for mob (despite initially using him for his buisiness). he's a lot more of a grey person than he thinks he is.

i think he really needs some good adult friends, but he just can't really get ahold of any because deep down, as much as he gets on mob for being socially awkward, i think he's just as socially awkward, deep down.

i mean, the guy had to google how to ask someone out to help mob figure out how to talk to tsubomi. i don't think he's as great with people in a social context as he thinks he is. in a business context, sure, he knows exactly what to say because he has all the scripts and all the excuses in the world, but in a personal, social context, i think he can be quite clueless.

he doesn't really know how to talk to people or where to find friends as an adult, so his only friends are any coworkers he potentially has, and half the time he didn't even want to be friends with his coworkers (hence no mention of friends in his previous office job). it's different at spirits and such though, because he has mob, and later, serizawa.

i think for a long time, he considers mob "enough" of a friend, even though he still understands his role as the adult in the relationship and thus can't *actually* discuss adult things with him or treat him like an adult friend, as it would probably be inappropriate. he considers mob a friend even though he's more his student, because mob is one of the only people he sees on a regular basis until serizawa starts working there, and that's when things get a little different.

he realizes that he doesn't have to treat serizawa the same way that he treats mob, because serizawa is an adult, even if he's an extremely, openly awkward one who doesn't know how to socialize very well. but that's okay, because reigen can work with that, he's also very awkward deep down, even if he won't admit it. not to mention that mob, reigen's other friend, is also socially awkward, and reigen successfully navigates conversations with him all the time.

i think once reigen realizes that he doesn't have to hold back as much as he normally does around mob, he finally understands that his best friends can't all just be a million still developing teenagers who aren't on his level with life, and it gives him a kind of emotional release to finally have an adult friend.

serizawa also feels the same way, having only had exactly one friend in the past like fifteen years, and it was his previous boss, who was evil, and told him to attack and kill people. now he has a boss that is his friend, and has him helping people, and frankly i think it gives him much more peace of mind.

anyway i think they're besties.

#post.#mp100 #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #serirei #serizawa/reigen

287 notes · View notes

outro-jo · 11 months

Text

new moon, new vibes

pairing: bang chan x gn reader

type: one shot

warnings: practicing witchcraft, mentions of deities, use of florida water, kinda spicy alluded at the end but nothing at all in detail… i can’t think of anything else 😂

notes: this is how i would practice but this is not a tutorial nor am i teaching you how to do things. if you want to practice witchcraft, please do your own research! this is just a self indulgent piece of writing and it is fiction 🫰🏻don’t come to me for questions lmao i’m sorry but i’m not a teacher. i just study for myself and incorporate things as i see fit. there are practitioners who teach, i am not one of them for my own idk… safety isn’t the right word bc like i’m protected but like mental health… i’m in and out of my practice sm it feels hypocritical to teach so just don’t ask 😂 i can give resources tho and google is ✨free✨ 🤍 also, i wouldn’t really request another one of these. the new moon in virgo said, “bitch, do something” 😂 sorry for the long disclaimer

please read info before requesting!

masterlist | info

—————————————————

chris tracks the moon better than you do sometimes. never for any reason in particular other than sheer curiosity but this time it all just worked out. yes, he’s like three albums ahead in recording with bonus 3racha songs that will never see the light of day, but he was feeling the need to start working on a new album too. the boys creativity was spiking as well and they were getting restless. in other words, it was time to get to work, but chris needed a refreshing in his work space. normally he loved his studio, it was all you could do some days to get him out of it. sucked into his kaleidoscope hole of creativity until it finally set him free once the album was done. but the vibes were stale. he felt trapped lately, like his mind was racing with ideas of lyrics and melodies but none of them were clicking.

that’s where you come in.

nothing felt better to christopher after he just helped clean the house and then you banish the negative energy and cleanse the space. he knew it was time for some of that in his studio or he was gonna go insane.

your spirituality was nothing you hid especially from him. he grew up in the church so he kept his distance but was quietly observing. he still remembers the first night he watched you work.

the living room was dimly lit, windows open with the moon cascading light into the living room on your makeshift work station on the coffee table. the air swirled with smells of incense, oils, and herbs and you sit quietly as you worked. your playlist of music softly played in the background. chris didn’t say a word but he was enthralled with everything you did, almost attempting to ask what each thing was and how it worked but you seemed to be in a zone.

“ask, christopher.” you spoke up, not bothering to glance his way.

he awkwardly shifted in his seat on the floor as he cleared his throat, “what’s that do?”

he cringed at himself a little for sounding like a child but you couldn’t help but smirk at how adorable and clueless he was.

“well, this is a pretty basic banishing spell.” you continued into detail of your work and the reasoning, which worked out well for you because then you could further set your intentions into the spell. eventually that’s just how you would do your spell work, explaining things to him in detail and why you were doing things.

also, it always blew his mind how you always seemed to know things before they happened but you were never super obvious about it. one time you had warned him about a presence at work. his questions at the time went unanswered but then he came home in shock.

“how the hell did you know about Beomseok?” he was in utter disbelief.

you simply shrugged, “you have family on the other side wanting to protect you.”

ever since he thought there might be something to what you do and after some time of thought he came to you and said that however you wanted to use him in your practice, he was willing. you started out slow and decided that apollo would be a good fit to work with for him and his music. it started with regular cleansing and a sun charm you enchanted for him, but now chris was feeling the pull for more to be done.

“i need your help.”

you glanced up at him from your spot on the couch to give him your full attention as he moved to take a seat next to you. he seemed nervous as he shifted a bit.

“so, the moon is moving into pisces tonight and the guys and i are feeling a shift in our creativity and it’s a new moon but the energy in my studio is awful. so i was wondering…” chris stopped looking for you to finish the sentence as he wasn’t quite sure what he was even asking for.

you mimicked his head motions, trying to pick up what he was putting down. “you want me to cleanse your space?”

“i think so…” he breathed out a chuckle. “something, i dunno. whatever you do in here when we clean the house.”

you let out a laugh, finally understanding what he was trying to ask. “ok, yeah, so some incense, crystals?”

“yes! i like crystals.”

fuck, he was cute.

“yeah! let me get some stuff. oh! and by the window over there, grab a water bottle.” you pointed as you walked down the hall.

“one of these?”

“yep! it’s moon water. it’ll cleanse you too.” quickly you rushed out, stopping in front of him as he drank and showed the spray bottle in your hand. “florida water. gets rid of bad vibes. if we’re gonna do this we should cleanse ourselves.”

“oh! uh-ok.” he stood up straighter and squared off his shoulders in preparation.

“close your eyes and take a deep breath in…” you paused as he complied. “and out. good! now imagine a bright, warm, golden light surrounding you.”

after a minute, he nodded, “ok.”

“keep your eyes closed, and i’ll spray this now, ok?”

he nodded.

“perfect. keep drinking your water. do you remember what incense you liked best?” you rushed off again to gather supplies.

“ummm… oh! the dragon one!”

you giggled to yourself, “dragon’s blood?”

“yeah! it sounds cool.”

god, his intuition is insane.

you finished packing up your essentials and as the sun was setting you were able to head down to his studio. immediately when you walked in, you could tell exactly what he meant by the energy being off. the room, while not having any physical changes, felt stagnant and almost moldy without having the physical smell, but nothing you couldn’t fix.

“ok, top to bottom clean. dusting, clearing out trash, everything.” you told him.

chris nodded and immediately got to work. he was thankful to start with something he understood. while jype had regular cleaners, chris usually told them not to bother cleaning in here since he has things a certain way and he always intended to clean himself… he never did. the room already started to feel better with just a deep cleaning.

“what next?” chris asked eagerly.

“cleanse with some florida water and incense.” you explained, pulling it out of your bag.

this time when you used the florida water, you explained the history of the perfume to him and explained the use of herbs and ingredients, since you usually made it yourself. next was the incense and the properties of dragon’s blood, saying that it’s good for courage in pursuing creative projects that might be out of his comfort zone and that how there’s even science to back how the essential oils have increased activity in the left hemisphere of the brain.

“next, crystals. we charge them in the moon or sunlight.” you told him, raising the first one too him. “citrine, it’s heat treated amethyst that changes the color. it banishes negative energy and keeps you focused. also brings in abundance.” you finished him with a wink. each crystal you pulled out of your bag you gave an explanation and finally set everything up. finally you pulled out a golden stick candle with some herbs. “final thing, we’re gonna ask apollo for some help.”

“oh! the music guy! that’s a good idea!” chris exclaimed as he took the seat next to you at the desk.

everything felt different from the first time he saw you practicing your craft. before he was quiet and timid, afraid to ask questions and even participate. now, he was getting fully involved by helping make sigils with his intentions, carving them into the candle then applying herbs and oils. the two of you watched the candle burn down and chris already felt the energy in the room shift dramatically with new ideas for music pouring into his head. he couldn’t wait to get started but it was still a new moon and you two had other rituals to attend to.

114 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 1 year

Text

cause you’re my flower

pairing: non-idol!seungkwan x gn!reader, ft roommate!dk

word count: 9.3k~

warnings: angst, no happy ending. usage of the hanahaki disease trope + mentions of surgery (& hospitals). heartbreak, depictions of illness (via hanahaki), reader struggles with breathing some. vernon says ‘dude’ but its unclear whether its aimed at reader or toward chan (it can be easily read either way). minimal proofreading, my bad.

daisy’s notes: ok google play flower + fallin’ flower by svt. in my heart theres a sequel of reader n joshua + jeonghan (or just reader and seokmin tbh, both could work) slowly falling in love lol but i doubt anyone wants that fic

It all started with a tickle in the back of your throat in early winter.

In your defense, you’d just thought you were coming down with something. From the corner of a cozy cafe, you waited for Seungkwan with a burning hot cup of tea in a to-go cup between your hands. Maybe you’d make another cup when you went home--black tea, maybe, with honey for your health. Seokmin would probably give you a soup recipe if you asked and help you make it, too (the perks of having a lovely roommate). But that could wait, as you saw Seungkwan walk into the cafe. He spotted you, smiling and waving before he went to order his Americano. He’d asked you to meet him here, and yet you’d arrived before he did. You’d tease him about it later: you always seemed to be the one who showed up to places before he did (out of habit for getting places early, to be fair).

Soon enough, Seungkwan had sat across from you, making small talk while he opened the plastic. You’d been talking about work when you noticed the way he fumbled the straw, the plastic hitting the table.

Was he nervous...?

“Everything okay?” You tilted your head, as if it’d give you a better look at him. His eyes flickered up to meet your own, and you smiled. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Seungkwan let out a sigh a moment later, annoyed that his nerves had triumphed over his attempt to act casual. “I went out on a date.”

For a second, your smile faltered. “Oh?”

“And it went well,” he said, pushing his straw into his drink. The ice clinked as he picked it up, taking a long sip before setting it back down. “She wants to go out again, but...”

“But?”

He met your gaze again. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

In another life, you’d probably laugh at him. Tease him over being clueless before asking what they’d agreed on. But that damn tickle in the back of your throat made you cough, smile falling as you reached for your drink. Seungkwan, kind as he always was, had immediately moved to push it into your hands. He waited, watching you take a long sip of your tea until your throat felt soothed.

“Are you sick?” He frowned, brows drawing tightly together. “I should have asked before asking you to meet me--”

You waved him off. “I’m fine, Kwannie,” you forced your voice to stay lighter, as if nothing was wrong. “Don’t worry about me.”

Yet he pouted, “Have you been taking your vitamins? It’s cold out. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll get sick...”

Again, you dismissed the thought. “I’m fine,” you pushed further. “So... Do you like her?”

His face flushed at the question as he averted his gaze, taking another long sip through his straw instead of answering your question. “She’s... really kind,” he settled on a moment later. “I think she really likes me.”

Who wouldn’t like you? You cast that thought aside. “That’s good,” you kept your tone even. “So... You’re telling me all of this because...?”

“I want to buy her flowers,” he said. “And I want someone to go with me, and Vernon can’t--not that I’d ask him. You know flowers. So...”

Despite that same damn feeling in your throat picking back up, you swallowed hard and nodded. “Of course I’ll go with you,” you said. “You didn’t have to ask me out to coffee to ask that.”

Seungkwan’s face flushed once more. “I...” He knew you had a point. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so wrong?” When you began to cough again, Seungkwan frowned, “I’ll get you some napkins. You should go home and rest,” he stood up. “Seriously...” He huffed, “We’re friends. You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

Truthfully, you didn’t know you were coming down with something. You’d been fine up until he asked you to come meet him, and even then it had only been that tiny tickle in the back of your throat. With napkins pushed into your hands, you bid Seungkwan farewell before leaving--but not without him saying he’d text Seokmin and demand that he take care of you. He was your close friend, that’s what friends were for (and Seungkwan could probably recount the times he’d helped Vernon and Chan when they were feeling awful, albeit from a distance with a mask on and a bag of medicine held as far from himself as possible to minimize the risk of getting sick himself). You’d promised him that you’d let him know when you were home safe and sound, because Seungkwan was a worrier when the people he cared about were struggling, and that had been enough for him to finally let you go.

When you came home, Seokmin had been looking through the fridge. “Seungkwan said you’re sick,” he called out without looking up. “I think I have a recipe--”

“Oh my god, it’s not that serious,” you said, slipping into your house slippers. “I might be getting a cold. I’ll make some tea and rest--it won’t be a big deal.”

Seokmin looked up. “Are you sure? I’ll make us soup tonight,” he turned his attention back to the fridge. “I might run to the store--”

You immediately began to sputter and cough again, something in your throat moving upward with each hack. Seokmin immediately rushed over to you, wide-eyed as he hit you between the shoulder blades as you leaned over the sink. Gasping for air, you continued to choke until something finally fell from your mouth: a wet glob of petals, bright yellow standing out against the stainless steel. You stood there, heaving as Seokmin wordlessly rubbed circles into your back as you caught your breath.

Fuck.

Hanahaki Disease. Of all the things your family was saddled with, this was the absolute fucking worst. While not purely related to genetics, there were the rare families that were more prone to the stupid disease. You’d never win the lottery, but you’d win this shit. Your mother had it once when she was a teenager, and so did her father, and her father’s grandmother because not every bitch in your family has been saddled with this shit. You’d hoped that you’d lucked out.

Considering you were sitting on an examination table and the plastic bag of those stupid yellow carnation petals you’d coughed up, clearly you had not. Seokmin had brought you to the doctor, insisting that you have someone out in the waiting room. And since you knew exactly who these feelings were linked to, you refused to bring Seungkwan or Vernon or Chan into this: two of them would spill shit because this was too big to keep secret.

“Surgery is an option,” the doctor said to you. In your pissed state, you almost wanted to snap back that you knew that because of your family history. But she hadn’t done anything to you, and you bit back any bitter comments as she continued to talk about how the procedure was entirely safe.

Your parents, luckily, had already agreed to pay for the procedure before you even brought it up. You’d called them after spitting up the flower, and your mother had said they’d pay for it to save your life. What you hadn’t told them was that you weren’t entirely sure about the procedure at the moment. You’d heard the horror stories both from family and people outside of it. Your mother had woken up and gone back to school a few days later, and she felt... nothing when she saw her former crush. He used to be her friend, and the surgery had been what led to their friendship ending. Your grandpa told you that he hadn’t regret itted in the slightest: the young man he’d been smitten for had moved on, he never saw him again, and he recovered well.

But you? Seungkwan was your friend. One of your close friends. How were you supposed to face him after surgery and feel nothing? At the worst, you might not even remember him since the recovery period differed for plenty of people. Your grandpa had told you that: his grandpa had told him when he was a boy that he forgot her face entirely, and that it was for the best. Better to live without remembering them than die gasping for another breath and choking up flowers. How were you supposed to tell Seungkwan that you couldn’t get close to him again? That this would be it between the two of you because if you stayed around him too much, you held the risk of it coming back?

You couldn’t. The idea of hurting Seungkwan was... hard to swallow. Or maybe that was also the petals you started coughing up again, your doctor quickly pushing a paper towel into your hands.

“Luckily we have medication that’ll help slow the process,” she told you, already jotting something down. “A surgeon will get in touch with you to help you figure out what comes next, alright? I’ll give you a call in a day once we get those x-rays back.”

You mumbled some sort of thanks before gathering your things. Seokmin rose once you re-entered the waiting room post-payment for your visit, and made his way over to you.

“I’m fine,” you said, continuing past him. “Gotta stop by the pharmacy.”

Seokmin’s gaze softened. “Well? What did she say?”

You waited until the two of you were outside. “I guess I’m getting surgery.”

“You guess?! You have to get it,” Seokmin said, “you’ll die if you don’t! You aren’t considering not--”

“I don’t know!” You hugged yourself tight. “I just--I don’t know. How am I supposed to tell Seungkwan I can’t see him anymore?”

Seokmin slowed to a stop, staring at you. “It’s Seungkwan?”

... Fuck, you weren’t supposed to say that. No one was supposed to know. But if you had to pick a person, Seokmin was trustworthy. He wouldn’t tell. Not until later, at least. And if you went through the procedure, you’d at least have someone who could keep him away, if not break the news for you...

Seokmin said your name, pity in his eyes. “You should tell him.”

“I can’t.”

Seokmin reached for your hands, gently curling his fingers around them. “You should,” he pushed further. “I’ll be there with you if you want me to be. But you should tell him. What are you going to do if you don’t? Just stop seeing him?”

Honestly, it didn’t seem like such a bad plan. A dick move, definitely, but cutting him out entirely and letting the news get to him secondhand? He’d never want to see you again after that heartbreak. It’d do the job.

“Don’t,” Seokmin said, knowing the look on your face. “We need to go to the pharmacy, right?”

You nodded, pulling your hands free from his. You started forward, only to feel the telltale feeling in your throat of flower petals again. With a tissue pushed into your hand from Seokmin, you coughed up a few petals before curling your fingers around them tight, hands shaking. Seokmin came back to your side, leaning forward to see that tears were brimming around your eyes.

Your name fell from his lips, and before you knew it, Seokmin had enveloped you in his warm embrace. “It’s okay,” he promised. “I’ll help you. You’re not in this alone.”

At least you had Seokmin. In the end, he’d be all you’d have, and you knew it. But you could manage with just Seokmin for right now.

“Seokmin said you went to the doctor.”

Seungkwan stood a little further from you, happily looking over the different flowers on display. True to your word, you’d come with him after promising that you were fine. The medication was working at temporarily slowing down the disease’s progression (thank you, modern medicine--you only choked up flowers every once in a while now), and you hadn’t felt anything. Maybe a little numbness in your chest, but nothing major. That was a normal side effect, apparently, to help with the whole flowers-growing-in-your-lungs thing. You side-eyed the stupid bouquet of yellow carnations, though.

Seungkwan called your name, and your attention snapped back to him. He’d come over, looking down at the flowers. “These are pretty.”

“You don’t want them,” you pushed past him. “If you’re going to pick carnations, you should pick the red ones. Or the pink ones, if you want.”

He’d stayed right where he was. “I don’t know,” he said. “These are pretty.”

“There’s better yellow flowers,” you said. “If she knows anything about flower language, you’d be telling her a big ole “nope, not interested.””

Seungkwan immediately turned away. “This is why I have you here,” he made his way back to you, already latching himself back onto your arm. “You’re the expert... What do you think? I want to give her something bright and pretty.”

You were far from an expert. You just... looked up flower meanings sometimes. Maybe it came from a morbid curiosity when your mother told you, after your badgering, what flowers she had (purple hyacinth--sorrow, a beg for forgiveness). You had looked up your own: of course loving Seungkwan would give you something pretty and bright like him. At least they were better than the red spider lilies (death) that your grandfather had coughed up.

“Are roses off the table?”

“Aren’t they too serious?” Seungkwan frowned at you. “This is our second date... I don’t want it to look like I’m moving too fast.”

“Then go for tulips,” you said, guiding him over to where a bouquet stood of pink tulips. “The pink ones would work.”

“Are you sure?”

If you didn’t know that Seungkwan was anxious, you would have rolled your eyes. He... really seemed to like this girl. There were legends that said if you could convince him to love you back, the flowers would go away on their own. But if doing that tore him away from someone else he already liked...

“Of course I’m sure,” you smiled at him. “She’ll love them.”

Seungkwan had smiled at you, squeezing your arm. “This is why you’re my best friend,” he said. “Besides Vernon.”

The disclaimer there made you smile. If he didn’t specify, you would have texted Vernon immediately. You turned your attention away from him for a moment, gaze caught on a bouquet of white lilies kept in a case. Seungkwan followed your gaze, his grasp on you easing up. He quietly excused himself to go speak to the florist, and you made up something about needing fresh air.

Standing outside the shop, you watched people trudge past. The paint on the bench was beginning to flake off, pieces of dark green and pale white petals coming off onto your fingers. You dragged your hand along the leg of your jeans, and pulled out your phone. You’d need to take your medicine in another few hours, before you went to bed. Once in the morning, once at night: the nightly dose kept you from waking up with petals in your throat (as well as knocked you out pretty well). It worked. It wouldn’t work forever, not when the disease became worse, but at least you had a little more time before you needed surgery. It gave you time to think about what really mattered now.

“Is something wrong?” Seungkwan had exited the store, bell still jingling as the door shut behind him. He held the bouquet in his arms securely, yet gentle enough to keep from crushing a single flower.

Tell him. You could practically hear Seokmin urging you to do so. “Seungkwan...” You felt your hope dwindle in your chest. Guilt. Don’t ruin this. Leave him with good memories of you. “What would you do if something happened to us?”

He frowned, settling into the spot next to you. “Did the doctor say something?”

“No! No, just...” You frowned. “Theoretically... if we couldn’t be friends anymore... Would you move on?”

Seungkwan watched you with careful eyes, mouth slightly agape as he struggled to answer the question. How would you answer that kind of thing? “You’re scaring me,” he said a moment later. “If something’s wrong--”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you insisted. “It’s just--I dunno, I watched a stupid movie the other day,” you lied, hoping he would buy it. “And I just kept wondering about what would happen if we couldn’t be friends anymore. It’s stupid.”

He let out a sigh of relief, back falling against the bench before he immediately smacked your arm. “You scared me! I thought you were dying!” He huffed, “You shouldn’t talk so seriously about a movie. Seriously...”

“You didn’t answer the question,” you pouted at him. “Would you move on?”

“No,” he said, “because you’re stuck with me forever.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Uh-huh.”

“You love me,” he laughed, one of his arms slipping through your own. His cheek pressed against your shoulder. “Right?”

... Right.

Seokmin sat behind the wheel, fingers drumming against it as he slightly bobbed his head to the music. He still hadn’t told you where the two of you were going--only that you had to go with him because this was important. Important enough that he was driving to a different part of the city, listening carefully to each instruction from his phone’s map service. He told you that he’d explain when you got there (which was what he told you after he told you he’d explain in the car). Despite your slight demand that he take you out to dinner at a casual place in the area that Mingyu had been raving about, you trusted Seokmin enough to blindly follow him like this.

He pulled the car into a spot, quickly shooting a text to someone before he turned his attention to scrounging up the change to pay for parking. “Okay,” he said. “You said the surgeon called for an exam before setting the date.”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you told me that you were still on the fence about it.”

Stupidly, you had. Although, when you thought about it, it was good that you told someone. Your parents were completely set on it without giving you space to decide: Seokmin at least listened to you.

“I’m going to help you make up your mind,” he said. He pointed up to a higher apartment on the building. “My friends live there. I’ll introduce you when we get there.”

Once he’d paid the meter, Seokmin took your arm and guided you into the building. Soon enough, the two of you were standing in an elevator. You ignored the worried look Seokmin gave you when you coughed up petals into another tissue (this time your own--you’d stolen one of those pocket packs from Seokmin so he wouldn’t have to dote on you so heavily). The elevator whisked the two of you higher and higher before chiming, and Seokmin gestured for you to follow as he looked back at his phone. Wordlessly, you followed him down the hallway until he finally arrived at a door.

Before he could even knock, the door opened. A pretty man stood in the doorway, hair pulled back into the tiniest of ponytails as he warmly greeted Seokmin. Then his gaze met your own, and that warm smile fell a little.

“Is this them?”

Seokmin nodded. He said your name, before turning back to his friend, “this is Jeonghan. We were in a choir together in college.”

Jeonghan stepped out of the way. “I’ll let him know you’re here,” he said. “Just a warning that he doesn’t really remember too much, so... Please don’t stress him out too much.”

The two of you stood in the entryway as Jeonghan left, calling out for someone named Joshua. With a curious glance to Seokmin, you began to pull off your coat to leave behind as Jeonghan returned with another man--equally handsome in looks, with the gentlest eyes you thought you’d ever seen on a person.

“Hi,” he said, voice warm already, “so, uh... You’re the one with Hanahaki?” When you mustered up a nod, he extended a hand to you. “I’m Joshua.”

You introduced yourself in turn, giving Seokmin another weird look. “And... I’m here because...?”

“Hanahaki nearly killed me,” Joshua told you outright. “And Seokmin said you’re considering not getting the surgery. I’m supposed to tell you why it’s a really bad idea before you make up your mind.”

You immediately glared at Seokmin. “I thought you said you wouldn’t force me to change my mind--”

“And he’s not,” Joshua said, gently guiding you forward. “I wasn’t going to get them removed either. But things were... really, really bad. So I just want to tell you what you’re signing yourself up for.”

Jeonghan made a comment about making the two of you some tea, and you followed Joshua out onto the balcony for some privacy. He brushed a hand through his hair, settling into a cozy chair. There was an easel set up in the corner, empty of a canvas but stained with paint. Joshua followed your gaze to it.

“Do you paint?” He asked, and when you shook your head, he smiled. “I don’t, either. It’s Jeonghan’s.”

“And you two are...?”

“Friends,” he clarified easily. “Really close friends. Look... Seokmin told me a little about you. You’re in love with your friend, right?”

It felt weird for a stranger to say it out loud. But you settled into your chair, nodding. “Yeah. His name is Seungkwan,” you said quietly, “and I didn’t mean to fall for him, but I did, and now...”

The conversation died as Jeonghan stepped out, setting two mugs between the two of you. You thanked him, and waited until the balcony door slid shut again before reaching for your own mug.

“And now you’re coughing up petals,” Joshua said, taking his own mug. “I get it. I didn’t think it’d happen to me, either.”

“What happened?”

Joshua opened his mouth to speak, only to wince for a moment. “Shit--” He lifted a hand to his temple, rubbing at it before setting down the mug. You watched the way he went quiet, eyes squeezing shut. “I--I don’t know,” he said. “Jeonghan told me that there was a girl. I fell in love with her, she rejected me, and then I started coughing up flowers.”

You raised a brow. “He told you?”

The pain began to subside, and Joshua opened his eyes again after a moment before nodding. “He told you, right? I don’t remember all of it. Her name, her face... her favorite color.” He stared off for a moment. “Nothing. I’m apparently a rare case, but the doctors said it’s because I let it progress too far.”

“You didn’t see anyone?”

He shook his head. “I told Jeonghan I wasn’t going to. He’ll say I was being dramatic, and maybe I was, but... I didn’t want to lose her. I loved her,” his gaze didn’t meet yours again. “It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love me. Not all cases are fatal, I mean. Jeonghan says I had this stupid hope she’d change her mind because the guy she liked was a dick. My mom kept telling me that I needed to see someone. I think...”

He took a deep breath. And then he slowly exhaled, curling back up in his chair. The thick sweater he wore fell down over his hands, and those pretty pale brown curls were rustled by the cold breeze. But neither of you moved to go back inside.

“I think I was punishing myself. I don’t remember why, or how I came to that conclusion, but it makes sense. I was the one who fell in love with her when it wasn’t going to happen. I was the one who deserved to suffer for it.”

Something about the somber way he spoke shook you. Like he had resigned himself to death there, the heartbreak of a love so powerful not being returned had broken him. Maybe that was why you still weren’t sure about the surgery. It’d be admitting you were stupid enough to fall for someone who never liked you.

“So it got worse,” Joshua continued after a moment, lidded eyes staring down into his tea. “And worse. And then Jeonghan came home one day, and found me collapsed and gasping for air. He called the paramedics, they managed to clear my airway of the blood and flowers, and I was taken in for an emergency procedure to remove the flowers. If he hadn’t come home, I would have died...”

He didn’t need to say more. You understood the feeling well. If Seokmin hadn’t pushed you to see someone, you’d probably be in the same boat. A morbid part of you had to wonder if you’d be the same way: lying on the kitchen floor, cold tiles under your fingers as you gasped for one last breath of air.

“I’m a rare case,” he said, eyes meeting your own again. “Most people who get the procedure done before it progresses too much still retain all their memories. And I know there’s research still being done on whether Hanahaki always returns if you stay around the person, since a lot of people are reluctant to break ties when they’ve fallen in love with their friend. But if I could go back in time... I don’t think I would hesitate.”

“Have you met other people?” The question pushed out of you before you could process it.

He smiled at you warmly. “I’ve met you.” But then he laughed softly, “A few. No one I’ve liked yet, but I have hope. I started seeing a therapist once I was released from the hospital, and she’s helped me with everything. They say it’s really rare for Hanahaki to take hold twice in the same person--something about the antibodies created, I’m not sure.” He set his mug down. “But... I think Seokmin’s worried you’re trying to punish yourself, too. Just because you fell in love with your friend.”

You said nothing, arms curling back around yourself to hug yourself tight.

“It’s not a crime to fall in love with someone,” Joshua said slowly and clearly. “Just like how it’s not a crime he doesn’t love you back. I know you don’t want to cut him out of your life, but you need to do what’s best for you. You’ll love someone else one day. But if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t live to experience it.”

Not all cases are fatal, you wanted to point out to him again. It goes away in rare cases.

Rare. Just like the disease itself.

He began to reach into his pockets, pulling out his wallet. “The therapist I see is a grief counselor, but she apparently did some major studies in helping people like us recover after the surgery. If you tell me your room number, I’ll send you a bear.” He slid the card across the table to you. “I figured you’d be tired of flowers.”

The thought made you smile. Without a word, you accept the card, pushing it into your own wallet to consider later. “I didn’t say I’d go through with it.”

“I know. Send me your room number. I’ll give you my number when we’re back inside,” he pushed back his chair. “It’s freezing out here.”

You scooted your own chair back, about to stand when Joshua turned back to you.

“When you tell him,” Joshua said, “make sure you tell him that you still treasure him. Okay?”

You stared at him a moment, brows drawing together.

“Jeonghan didn’t get to do the same before his own procedure,” he said quieter. “She was his friend, too."

(It wasn’t until then that you noticed the top few buttons of Jeonghan’s shirt were open, and you could see the faint incision scar up the center of his chest.)

Seungkwan had invited you over to a movie night--just the two of you. With your medicine kicking in, you’d agreed. Saturday night movie nights were a longstanding tradition, sometimes including Vernon if he wasn’t busy (and occasionally Chan, ever since you unbanned him from them (he had bad taste in college)). But tonight would just be the two of you, and you’d had a long day at work, so something about curling up with Seungkwan and watching something stupid seemed more appealing. At least the petals weren’t a huge deal. You could hide them if need be, but they hadn’t been acting up too badly yet. Maybe you coughed them up a bit more, which wasn’t great when you had to answer phone calls at work, but people were usually understanding when you made a quick apology and went straight back into that mask of professionalism. You’d fully be off while you recovered from surgery, taking off a few personal days leading up to it as well, and hopefully be fine to return soon enough. But you kept tissues on your desk and had grown better at coughing up the petals and immediately tossing them away before anyone could see or be bothered by it. Even Seokmin rarely noticed when it was acting up again.

And yet the universe seemed to have the absolute worst fucking timing.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Seungkwan said from the other end of the couch as he watched you shift uncomfortably, coughing into your elbow while searching for your pack of tissues. “If you aren’t feeling well, you should be resting. I don’t know why you’re even at work right now. Your doctor should have given you the written excuse to get your boss off your back.”

“She did, I just didn’t use it. I’ll take off next week.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the drama on the screen--something he’d been meaning to watch. “I have extra vitamins you can take with you. Remind me and I’ll give them to you before you leave.”

The female lead had begun coughing up flowers dramatically on the screen, and you felt a sense of bitterness at the sight of it. You had seen this one already. She’d die in the end, right before the male lead could confess that he fell for her instead. It was the dramatic tragedy of someone suffering for their love. Talking to Joshua had been enough to push that thought out of your mind: you’d get the procedure done to remove your own flowers. The harder part, and maybe the part people didn’t talk about often, was the way to cut someone out. You’d read articles both for people like you and for people trying to get out of toxic situations in general.

They said that you didn’t owe anyone an explanation. To do it publicly to keep yourself safe. That this was a process you had to go through, too, and that it was okay to dwell... except for the timer you had on your own situation, but you still had a little more time. Some lists even said to block them entirely once everything was over, just to keep them away for good. Other people said to have a real talk with someone, to explain the situation to them in order to ensure your health in the future. Everyone said it was the hardest thing to do to tell someone that you loved them and that them not reciprocating meant you were struggling worse all because of stupid flowers in your lungs, but to make it clear that it wasn’t their fault (although you’d seen people bitter and angry on both sides, some claiming it was guilt-tripping, others claiming that it technically was their fault). There was a mature way to say “I love you, I know you don’t love me back, so we need to end this so that I can live” according to plenty of people. Some people said the distance helped once the conversation was over.

But every time you looked at Seungkwan, you felt an ache in your heart and a deeper one in your lungs.

“Does this ever bother you?” He said, not looking up. He picked up another piece of popcorn. “Seeing it treated like this?”

“It’s dramatic,” you shrugged. “People use illness all the time for stuff.”

“Still...” He sighed. “I can’t imagine what it feels like to be physically hurting like this. Heartbreak is hard enough. But coughing up flowers? Isn’t that worse?”

“It is,” you hummed. “That’s what my family said, at least.”

He sighed. “If this ever happens to you, I’m taking care of you until you recover. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kwannie.”

He looked at you, offended. “I would be a great nurse! You know that,” he huffed.

You wanted to respond and say he couldn’t keep that kind of promise to you. But instead you turned over, watching the secondary male lead in a scene with his own love interest and the actual male lead eavesdropping. “What would your girlfriend think, hm?” You settled on teasing him, if nothing else but to shove your own feelings aside. “Taking care of someone else...”

“She knows I love my friends,” he said. And then you felt him smack your leg. “She’s not my girlfriend yet!”

“Yet.”

He looked sheepish at his slip of the tongue. “It feels a little too soon,” he said, turning back away from you. “I’ve known her for a while, but...”

“If you love her, you shouldn’t hesitate.” You curled up into yourself a little. “Life is short. What if something happens? You shouldn’t wait forever to tell someone how much they mean to you.”

“I know that,” he said, casual as could be. “That’s why I tell you all how much I love you.”

You cracked a small smile, almost telling him that he only did that because he was a big softie who loved all his friends (and liked being told in return that he was loved, too). Seungkwan was always the most physically touchy of your friend circle: that was why he was either hanging off of you or Vernon most of the time, more than content to be snuggled up to your arm or hugging you from behind during casual moments. It’s something that’s made both of you be mistaken for Seungkwan’s partner, sure, but you were always able to laugh it off both before and after you developed feelings for him.

(There was one instance of the two of you playing up the dramatics when someone tried to tell you that your boyfriend was cheating on you with the other person. Vernon had mouthed for you to slap him, and you’d stormed off only to meet back up in the car with a incredibly flustered Seungkwan who swore he couldn’t take the two of you anywhere anymore.)

“Yeah,” you said, half-heartedly as realization hit you again that these moments were fleeting. Soon you wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, not for prolonged moments. You couldn’t risk the flowers coming back once they were gone. “Love you, too, Seungkwan.”

Maybe one day you’d tell him just how much before you lost the feeling entirely.

You’d set the date. You’d gone in for the visit your surgeon had requested, which was primarily for them to take a new x-ray to check the progress. In another world, you’d be looking at the flowers on that results sheet and thinking that it was a pretty art project. But the reality of the situation was that the disease had progressed, and you’d be going in on Friday to have them surgically removed. Your parents had already come into the city with a hotel room booked for the week (the downside of your apartment with Seokmin being so small: you sure as hell weren’t going to boot him from his own room despite his offer, and your parents would rather stay somewhere closer to the hospital). You’d had dinner with them yesterday night after your appointment, talking through everything with them. Although your father would never know the feelings your mother described to you, he had been supportive as he could be while she talked you through the procedure for the third time since that first phone call.

Which was why you were now, on Wednesday, waiting for Seungkwan... and Vernon and Chan. Seokmin was sitting next to you, happy to play moral support as you broke the news. You’d figured everything out: you’d tell them about the procedure, and then ask for a day with Seungkwan tomorrow in order to experience something nice before you were stuck in the hospital for your recovery period. Except for the past where you broke the news that you could never see him again, that you loved him, and that you treasured your friendship and would never hold it against him that he didn’t reciprocate. Maybe Vernon and Chan would never speak to you again, too, but that was a fallout for later you.

Except you could see Vernon and Chan walking up to the restaurant without Seungkwan, and you knew for a fact that they would have come together.

“Seungkwan couldn’t make it,” Chan had said as he took his seat. “Didn’t he text you?”

(He did: his sister was in the city for the day and he rarely got to see her, so he apologized and said he’d talk to you tomorrow. You just hadn’t heard your phone go off, or you would have left with Seokmin far earlier and figured out something else.)

Seokmin could see the panic on your face. He said your name, hand grazing your arm as you pushed it away.

“I’m fine,” he said.

He lowered his voice, albeit it was useless considering how close the other two were, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy now. Panicking only makes it worse--”

“Makes what worse?” Chan asked, looking between the two of you. “Wait. Are you dying?”

“No--” You said, and at the worst fucking possible moment, you began to cough. “Shit.”

Seokmin reached for the napkins as you shielded yourself as best as you could, flower petals falling in a thick clump into the white napkin. The petals, while on your medication, were rare. Not gone entirely, and of course they’d pick this moment to act up.

Vernon stared at you, hand groping through the air until it hit Chan’s arm. “Dude.”

You could practically see two bulbs light up above each guy’s head. “Don’t tell Seungkwan.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘don’t tell Seungkwan’?!” To your surprise, Vernon had raised his voice a little. He immediately lowered it after nodding in apology to the other patrons, “you have Hanahaki! You could die if--”

“My surgery’s on Friday,” you said, “so technically I won’t die.”

“That’s beside the point!” Chan stared at you. “You’re--Why didn’t you tell us sooner?! How long have you known?!”

You said nothing. Seokmin only looked at you.

“A few weeks,” you finally confessed. “But I’m fine and I’m getting them removed, so I’ll be fine. Just... I wanted to tell Seungkwan myself.” I needed to tell him I love him before I don’t remember feeling it anymore.

Vernon knew you, though. Chan might be a little oblivious at times, but Vernon had observed you and Seungkwan enough to know. He tore his eyes away from your own, and you could hear him mumble something about how this was awful timing. The thought made your chest ache.

This was awful timing? For who? For Seungkwan? Sure, you were pretty much dying right now and having to make sure you didn’t choke to death on flowers in your sleep--But, fuck, this was inconvenient timing for Seungkwan apparently. If you had it your way, you wouldn’t have ever developed feelings for him. But Seungkwan was sweet. He was your close friend. He was the one who came over and nursed you back to health a year ago when you had the flu, even if he scolded you for not taking better care of your health.

He’d probably scold you now, too. Seungkwan would have told you off for not telling him sooner, and then he would probably have let you cry in his arms because of how terrified you were underneath everything. The procedure itself was safe: the aftermath could be anything. Meeting Joshua had confirmed that for you. What if you were like him one day? Still living with your roommate, unable to remember the reason behind the scars on your sides (or down the center of your chest--you shivered to imagine what that would mean for you, and you refused to bring that topic up to Jeonghan who clearly would rather not talk about it) without pain? You’d looked it up before: the pain was a psychological thing... or, at least, that was the leading theory. Joshua was rare, people were still researching it in full, but they said it was in the same vein as people who lived through trauma only to not remember a thing because they blocked it all out. A safety measure out of your own control.

(Sometimes you wonder whether Joshua even wanted to remember.)

Hanahaki tore people apart. The fact that you were more prone to it only made you angrier at the world, at the stupid flowers stuck in your lungs. At yourself for being so foolish to fall for Boo Seungkwan when he was only ever going to be your friend.

Vernon’s gaze softened as he watched you, so quiet and acting so much smaller. Like a child, almost: uncertain of what would come next, but with only so much guidance that you could fully understand. The swelling, the stiffness, the different feelings around your incisions. But what about what really came next? The empty feeling when you saw Seungkwan again unless you pulled yourself together to tell him that he couldn’t see you again. Not for long, not without risking yourself. He’d heard the stories and was lucky enough that his own instances of unrequited love were met with plenty of chocolate and nights with his friends, watching movies and giving him a space to feel and breathe and think.

“So what do you want us to do?”

You lifted your gaze from where you’d begun staring down into your lap, meeting Vernon’s eyes. “I...”

“We’re not gonna tell him,” he promised, despite the look Chan gave him. “I mean, that’s your thing, right? It’s your thing to tell, unless you want us to tell.”

You shook your head. “I’ll meet up with him tomorrow,” you said. “And I’ll tell him everything.”

Chan looked between the two of you, realization slowly swallowing him whole. “We’ll come visit,” he said quietly. “Is that okay?”

“It’s not a huge deal,” you shrugged. “I mean. It’s surgery, but they’ll probably keep me in for a few days of observation before I can go home. Just... Don’t send me flowers.”

It’s a weak joke, but it earned a smile from Chan. With that, you decided to shove the conversation aside for a meal with your friends instead. It felt comforting to pretend that everything was okay, as much as you wished Seungkwan was there with you. It’d be nice to hold his hand under the table for a minute, just to know that he cared about you still. That, even after you walk out of his life for good, he’d still care for you in the future.

It wasn’t until you were back in the passenger side of Seokmin’s car that you called Joshua and asked if he was busy. That night, the two of you were sitting in the Hong-Yoon apartment so you could have a cozy night. As much as you wanted to go out for dinner with your parents, you needed to stay away from surgery talk (and, unfortunately for you, that was how your mother calmed herself down: going over the procedure out loud to try and reassure both of you that everything was going to be fine). Joshua had an arm draped around your shoulders, blanketing you in his warmth as the four of you were watching some drama they’d found on Netflix.

Seokmin left to use the bathroom, and Jeonghan shifted over so that he’d be resting against Joshua’s other side. A moment later, he lifted his head, eyes meeting your own. “It’s going to be okay,” he reached out, hand finding your own for a reassuring squeeze. “I recovered well. You’ll be okay.”

Wordlessly, you snuggled further into Joshua’s chest now that you didn’t have Seokmin anchoring you from the other side, still holding Jeonghan’s hand for a moment longer. You shut your eyes for a moment, just listening to the sound of Joshua’s heartbeat. “Which one of you was first?”

Quiet. The sound of the movie felt so distant, a mere mumble of background noise as Jeonghan let out a long sigh.

“He was,” Jeonghan said. “I thought I’d be okay. Then we had to call our friend, Seungcheol, to help us.”

Joshua wrapped an arm around you. “Do you want me to be honest?”

You nodded.

“They still hurt sometimes,” he said. “The incisions. I can barely see them, but they’re still there.”

Suddenly, your stomach turned at the thought. You squeezed your eyes shut a little more. “I’m sorry--I know I brought it up, but can we drop this?”

Neither said anything. You merely curled up closer to the two people who’d been strangers until days ago, yet already felt so safe to be around. They felt like an escape from what you knew would come tomorrow. Even when Seokmin returned, curling up close to this bundle of limbs and shared trauma, you only felt safer.

Seungkwan had asked her to be his girlfriend. You only found out because he’d blasted it on every social media platform he was on, only tagged with the caption ‘day one ❤️‘ alongside a picture of the two of them silhouetted with the sunset in the background. Any other life and it’d be sweet. In this one, you merely felt bitter as you finally sent the text you’d been sitting on all day.

it’s really important. can we meet at the usual spot?

The moment he gave you his confirmation, you left your apartment. The park wasn’t too far from where you lived, although you’d always prefer to take the bus to it instead. With your coat pulled over your hoodie, you made the trek by foot instead. This used to be your picnic spot with Seungkwan, although you could easily see him going on dates there instead. As much as you wanted to be happy for him, the stupid ache in your lungs and the tickle of petals that eternally seemed to be plaguing you (at least it would be until you took your last dose of medicine before surgery--a smaller one than what you usually took to avoid complications, but enough that you’d be able to sleep easily) served as a cruel reminder of what would never be. That this would be the end.

Yet you saw him sitting on that stupid bench the two of you always met at, the glow of a streetlamp bathing him in light and making him look stupidly radiant. Or maybe that was what love could do to a person. The moment he saw you, he stood up, coming to hug you tight.

“Vernon said you’re having surgery tomorrow,” he said once he stepped back, hands holding your own. “Is it true?”

... At this point, you couldn’t be surprised Vernon would at least let that slip. Maybe he’d been debating coming to see you, and Vernon told him outright how important it was.

His fingers tangled with your own as he brought you to the bench, sitting down next to you. “Is it serious?” He paused, and then vaguely gestured toward his mouth and throat, “is it... you know?”

Seungkwan knew of your family history. You’d lamented it to him forever ago, saying that you hoped you’d be lucky enough to be spared by it. When you nodded, his gaze softened tremendously.

“Do they know?”

You don’t, you almost wanted to say. It’s you. I’m sorry. “I don’t know if I want to tell him.”

“Do I know them?”

You shook your head, unable to verbally lie to him.

He stared ahead, visibly upset. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t notice it sooner. I’ve just...”

He’d been falling for someone else more and more with each day. Deep down, you couldn’t blame him for that. If you didn’t know someone was going through it, you’d probably be blissfully doing the same.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he said a moment later. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified.” You tucked your hands into your hoodie pockets, leg bouncing. “I don’t know how I’m going to react.”

Seungkwan was good at faking smiles when things were rough, just to try and instill some confidence into someone who needed it. “You’ll pull through,” he squeezed your knee gently, and he left his hand there. “You’re strong. And... and when you get out, we’ll go out. Just the two of us. I’ll pay for our meal, and you can pick, and... and it’ll be thanks for helping me while you were struggling.”

Something about how genuine he sounded squeezed your heart tight, almost as if it’d pop with just a little more pressure. You looked up, “Seungkwan, I...”

I love you. I know you don’t love me back, and it’s okay. I’m sorry our friendship has to end like this.

And then he smiled at you, a little more genuine than before, just to reassure you. “It’ll be okay,” he said again, clueless to the storm inside of you.

Your words died in your throat. Instead, you just bit back your tears as you dove forward, hugging him tight. “I love you,” you said, a confession you couldn’t make directly to his face. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

His arms wound around you after a moment, squeezing you tight. “You’re not going to die, you know,” he said, laughing just a little. “It’s a safe procedure. I’ll see you when you wake up. Okay?”

Drifting back from him, you lied again, “Yeah. I’ll... I’ll see you then.”

With one truth spilling from your lips about going home and getting proper rest, the two of you parted ways. Despite the fact it only served to make your lungs ache worse, you jogged the way home. The sooner you were inside, the better. With the door shut and secured behind you, you let out a long sigh and then a groan of frustration at backing out yet again. You’d been pulling your jacket off when you heard Seokmin call out your name.

“Did you tell him?”

You sniffled hard, already feeling those tears welling back up. He opened his arms to you, and you almost tripped over yourself rushing to him as you broke down crying.

“I-I couldn’t,” you said between sobs.

And Seokmin could do nothing else but hold you tight, head resting against your own as he sheltered you through your storm.

Everything felt fuzzy.

The anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off by the time you were a little more awake. You’d answered their questions as best as you could while your head still felt full of clouds, but the procedure had been a success. The flowers were gone to good, likely going to get tossed out with the other waste and burned. Your mother recognized how completely out of it you still were, but you could see the relief on her face that you were okay. It took the sound of your dad gently coaxing her for her to agree to come back when you were far more lucid and well-rested.

At some point, Seokmin came in to see you. You barely remembered the encounter, but you stared at the teddy bear that sat nearby with a card being held between its plush paws (thanks to Seokmin’s efforts). It wasn’t from him, you’d later discover, but from Joshua and Jeonghan wishing you well (and making promises to see you again once you were discharged, maybe while you were recovering if they could make it during visiting hours).

Three days into your stay, you were fully aware and alert... and also recognizing the annoying tinge of pain that came from your incisions every single time you moved or even breathed. You could breathe clearer now, sure, but the ache was annoying nonetheless. Your doctor had been kind to you, understanding how tiring it could be to recover from the procedure. Your nurse, a tall kind man named Wonwoo, had taken your vitals. So when you heard a knock on your door, you were sure it was either whatever breakfast you were getting (you barely remembered your own order now), or your parents.

And after you called out for whoever it was to come in, you were met with Vernon’s face. He stopped where he stood, staring at you for a moment before apologizing and saying he wasn’t sure what to do. Chan was with him, too, hugging a big teddy bear that was clutching a ‘get well soon’ heart.

“You said not to send you flowers,” Chan said as he made his way over to you, and you accepted the stuffed animal with a thanks. “It was my idea.”

“Our idea,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Then he stopped, looking at the open door. “You wanted to see them. They’re awake.”

The guy that Vernon had been talking to walked into the room, pushing the door shut with an apology for hesitating. He started rambling about how he didn’t know whether you’d want so many people crowding you at once, sitting down at the edge of your bed as he started asking how you were doing. Were the flowers gone? Was the staff taking care of you? If you needed someone to speak on your behalf while your parents were gone, he would happily do it for you.

Vernon noticed the confused look on your face as this guy--friendly as he might be--kept talking to you. You’d answered his questions, sure, but you could see the way this stranger’s heart was visibly breaking in his eyes. His smile fell, and Vernon nudged him out of the way so that he could sit and talk to you for a few minutes.

“Is there anything we can do for you? I mean, we were gonna pool together for one of those edible arrangements, but I wasn’t sure if your doctor was gonna restrict any of it...”

Chan had apologized, saying he needed a cup of coffee--it was too early for him--and he left with the other guy.

Vernon pushed himself back into your field of vision, and you felt yourself flounder a little for words. “No restrictions,” you said, brain still catching up as you had questions. “Sorry, Vernon, do I know him--”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just, uh... Rest up,” he patted your thigh. “I’ll see you when you get out, yeah?”

When he stepped back into the hallway, it was to the sound of Seungkwan sobbing. Chan had already gone to him, holding him and waving off any concerned staff that had probably seen this kind of thing before.

One of his best friends didn’t recognize him at all. He knew that that meant when it came to Hanahaki.

Chan had patted his back gently. “It’s not your fault you moved on,” he said quietly. “You didn’t know. None of us knew they liked you back--”

Vernon could feel his heart sink in his chest as he made his way over. His own future with you (as well as Chan’s) was in the air--both knowing the weight of keeping you in their lives could lead to future pain for both you and Seungkwan. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I told you--”

But Seungkwan shook his head, the weight of his own decisions beginning to suffocate him. “You were right,” he started to walk away, his heart breaking all over again. “I shouldn’t have come.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune @wonuziex

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen angst #seungkwan angst #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x you

231 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 8 months

Text

It's officially Spooky SZN!!! It's been a minute since I've added another installment to The Hearteyes Zone, but it's finally time. I do believe this is the 8th story in the series. Check out the others if you haven't already.

The Hearteyes Zone Series | Spooky SZN Masterlist

Finnegan Road is haunted, but not by a spirit or a ghost. It's something more sinister. Sometimes, human beings are the most horrifying apparition of all.

Human Beings. They'll make you think you were much better off... in the Hearteyes Zone.

Heads or Tails

30-year-old Mezca was all dolled up and on her way to the annual Halloween party hosted by her best friend, Gina. Having a successful podcast dedicated to True Crime cases, Mezca was given clearance to host a storytime at the party for entertainment, and she had the perfect true tale...

Dressed as Presidential Barbie, she took to the stage in the highly decorated city banquet hall with masked and unmasked faces filling the venue.

"This one's pretty fresh... Some of you may have heard about the string of recent murders in this city. If not, then listen up. A quick Google search will confirm all I'm about to tell you."

Mezca looked into the masked and painted faces before her. They were settled in, ears open.

"Show of hands. How many of you have heard of the Heads or Tails killer?"

A few hands were raised, but for the most part, people were clueless. It was a clean canvas for Mezca to begin her story with a description of the first known victim, a Jamaican American woman in her late 20s by the name of Andra Beach.

"Andra had a husband and three sons under the age of 5 who were all in Maine when the crime occurred, and boy was it messy. She was stabbed 32 times in the chest. Initially, police thought it was a crime of passion. They questioned everyone close to her and her family, but something was strange. They found a quarter in a puddle of her blood. 48 hrs later, another body was found. This was also a black woman, early 30s. The m.o. was the same. 48 hrs later, another victim. Hannah Ayad. Same m.o. She was getting tires from a shop only 29 miles from here when he was blindsided by a stranger and murdered in cold blood. Hanna was discovered with 16 stab wounds and a quarter laying in her blood. After 3 more identical deaths within the course of the next week, the quarter in the pool of blood became a calling card that signaled to detectives that this was a serial killer. But what was the significance of the quarter?"

The audience was captivated, but Mezca hadn't even begun to cook.

"A week ago, a woman, mid-20s, was spotted stumbling and bleeding down Finnegan Road."

The tension in the room rose.

"Yes, OUR Finnegan road. 8 miles away. She'd been stabbed 3 times. According to her report, she met a guy at her Waffle House shift. He came back on the backend and grabbed her on the way to her car. Can you guess what he did next?"

Crickets.

"He produced a quarter, put it in her hand and told her to call it. If she didn't, he'd kill her. 'Heads,' she called, not knowing what would happen. 'What happens if it's tails,' she asked him. You know what he said? 'You better pray it's heads.'"

Mezca took the moment to revel in the attention, keeping everyone on edge with anticipation.

"It was tails... Unfortunately for her. He stabbed her three times as she grappled with him until she fled on foot and hid in a dumpster until morning. She was found walking the street and taken to a hospital. So far, she is the only known surviving victim of a man who's now referred to as the Heads or Tails killer. And yes, he's still at large. Police have no clue who he is. So be careful out there... and Happy Halloween."

Mezca smirked as she left the stage, feeling the paranoia around her. Gina was the first to grab her, eyes serious and fearful.

"What the fuck? He's still around? Did they say what he looked like?"

"6'0-ish black male, brown eyes, and a muscular build. He could be anybody."

"What the hell? Why didn't you mention this before? I wouldn't have invited half the people here! Now I'm eyeballing everyone." Gina was paranoid as she looked around the room, staring extra hard at the people in masks, head coverings, prosthetics.. the tall ones, the built ones. Unfortunately for her, she'd invited a SLEW of handsome and tall black men based on her preference and social media. No one stood out.

"You're paranoid," Mezca's face angled down, making her eyes look nefarious. She was enjoying the effects of her story too much. "Besides, it's better to know what's going on around you now than not at all. Don't let it stop your fun! You're a black she-devil. You look great, and you should have a great night. Don't think too much."

Gina downed a cup of strong knee buckling jungle punch, nodding anxiously. "You're right. I need to chill. What are the odds right? I'm tripping. I'm big tripping. I'm a enjoy this party like I planned and I'm a stay where it's lit. I ain't got the energy for that dark shit."

"That's the spirit. Go dance. Shake it off."

"I'm a shake it off," Gina sighed, shaking her arms and heading toward one of the many 6'0 snacks. "I'm a dance on him, take the edge off, then I'm going to pee."

Mezca chuckled and followed suit, dancing with a few good partners and trading numbers. She disappeared into the crowd after dance three, hunting out food and waiting on the drunken costume contest. That was when she came across a convincing Spiderpunk, masked. He was instantly her pick to win.

"You gonna drink that with your mask on? Let me show you how it's done," she teased, chugging the strong punch. He peeled off his mask, revealing a handsome face that she would be honored to sit on.

"Now how you gonna question my abilities and life choices without telling me your name?"

"You can't tell? I'm Presidential Barbie, mothafucka."

"A Black republican, I bet," he sat his cup down, crossing his arms. "You heard me," he smirked.

"Funny. You know, you never know who has a death note these days. Gotta be extra careful."

"Heads of Tails killer probably got one. I can't believe you got in front of this party and scared the everloving shit out of everyone in here by reading the news. Nigga..."

"Mezca."

Athough Gina said it when Mezca was introduced... but she didn't expect him to remember.

His brows rose. "Erik."

Mezca nodded, taking in his features and running them against the killer profile in her head. He hit all the marks as a match, but he wasn't the only one.

"Usually," she picked up, "Killers pick a victim or victim type and stick to it. A lot of women here fit the type to a T. The odds are actually fair that the killer would be here tonight. What do you think?"

"You probably ain't wrong," his brow raises once more. Mezca had a strong feeling this was the guy, but there was no way to prove it. He hadn't done anything. 'Well, Mezca, or Barbie... this party has Spiderpunk's protection. Toss a hat in the air if you need assistance."

He left the table with a full cup. Mezca did the same and then joined some familiar faces. They, too, were nervous about the serial killer potentially roaming their grounds for his next victim.

"Damn. The true crime story actually did scare the shit out of the entire party," Mezca muttered. "Guys... Are we the only black people having a party on Halloween? Come on. Be real! Chances are slim that any of you need to worry."

Despite her words, she knew different. It was very possible that someone would die, and she'd be there to live the moment and witness the investigation that she was so fascinated with. It was screwed up how she looked forward to it. She only hoped it was no one she knew personally. She kept eyes on women she knew just in case.

"Shit! Where's Gina?"

She took the solo walk to the restrooms, a gun in her pink purse. Gina did mention that she had to take a leak. The bathroom was empty. Since she was the only one, Mezca decided to go. She made it quick, wasting no time in the stall. Then she went to wash her hands, and something small on the counter caught her attention. It was just a penny. Her heart nearly stopped. She left the bathroom quickly, but something didn't sit right.

Hesitantly, Mezca backed up and re-entered the bathroom. She pushed open every other stall door until she got the locked disability toilet. She was hesitant. Finding the courage, she kicked the door. Nothing.

She released a breath and went back to the party, searching for the host, not finding her. She did bump into Spiderpunk once more.

"Erik! Have you seen Gina?"

"Gina? Last I saw, she was with someone. A guy."

"Did you see where they went? Something isn't right. She'd never come back."

"And you want ME to help you? You trust me like that? I saw you eyeing me sideways."

"I know you better than I know these other guys. You're my best option. Besides, I got a little something-something in case you get outta line."

"Aight then... Let's find your friend."

Mezca kept a small distance as she followed Spiderpunk from the banquet hall into the long and empty hotel conference hall. It was an entire hotel floor. Sure enough, she heard the familiar sound of Gina's giggling at the end.

"Excuse you?! I was worried for nothing," she growled, meeting her friend. "You know you just went missing?!"

"Huh? Oh, Mezca! Mezca, Mezca. Meet David. David's a fitness trainer and look at this," she pulled up his shirt, rubbing her hand down his abs. "AHH! Okay, okay." She lowered it. "Ain't he fine? He's got 8% body fat. Say Hi Daviiiid."

"Hi David." Mezca turned quickly back to Gina. "Can I talk to you?" Behind the fake plant, eight feet away, Mezca whispered, giving Gina a piece of her mind. "Are you crazy? We just talked about the shit going on, and you disappear!?"

"Hm? Well, no. It's just- it's a party... I took your advice, not to worry about it. What are the odds?"

"HIGH, BITCH, I WAS LYING!" Mezca held her face, fully stressed. "I was scared shitless looking for you. You can't do that shit. Not now!"

"Wow. Well," Gina glared briefly, "We'll talk about that later... in detail... I guess the important thing is you found me alive and well... AND I see you're not doing too bad yourself," her head tilted toward the 6'2 Spiderpunk.

"Erik," Mezca remembered. "He's the one who helped me find you and now he's, I guess, chilling... waiting to escort me back so I don't get murdered. What the fuck is this reality we're living?"

"I don't know, but he doesn't seem like a bad guy."

Mezca sighed. "Not a bad guy at all." Hesitantly, she left Gina there in the empty hall with her fitness trainer and walked with Erik back toward the banquet. A little slower this time as they talked.

"You suspected me," Erik looked up.

Mezca had to admit. "I did... Only because you fit the profile. But so do nine other guys here."

"I noticed. Maybe a Halloween party wasn't such a good idea this year."

Both heads turned at the sound of Gina's shriek. They went running back to find her and David in a frozen state. There was a woman's body behind the escalator they hadn't noticed until now.

The scream that left Mezca's throat when she saw it was out of her control. She knew the dead girl. They'd gone to the same university. She'd wanted to witness shit when it went down, but not like this. Mezca stumbled backward from the sight and ran back to the party to snatch the mic from the DJ.

"TAMRON IS DEAD! THE KILLER IS HERE!"

No one moved, choosing to stare in confusion.

"SOMEONE CALL THE DAMN POLICE," she shouted, pushing them into action. The police arrived within 5 minutes, ending the party. Fear was at an all-time high.

Mezca, Gina, David, and Erik were made to give statements of what they witnessed while the body was taken for examination. Mezca couldn't look now that she knew the victim, and she was too frazzled to think about details. There wasn't much she could offer to help.

"At least we know now who it's not," David commented when it was all over and time to part ways. In a way, that was true. He looked at Gina. "Walk you to your car?"

"Sure," she followed beside him.

He left up the escalator with Gina. Meanwhile, Erik escorted Mezca to her car while she vented about the bad luck.

"You mind sitting with me? Just a second?" She unlocked her doors for Erik to sit instead of standing outside of the car to talk. "This was not how I saw the night going," she admitted. "I'll be honest, I was screwed enough to wanna see a case go down in real time, but not with Tamron. That's complete bullshit. Tamron?!"

"Did you see anything else weird tonight? Anyone acting suspicious?"

"Everyone was suspicious."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess it's a stupid question. I do have a better one... Hey," he leaned, suddenly more curious. "I've been meaning to ask you... Heads or Tails?"

"What?" Mezca glared. "That's not funny. Why would you do that?"

"You have a 50/50 chance of survival," he whispered, a knife materializing in his hand. "No. No," he took her purse with the gun. "Scream, and it becomes 0." He sat a quarter on her dashboard. "Pick it up."

Chills came over her.

"Pick it up, or you'll forfeit the game. I'm sure you know what happens then. You damn near came to it on stage."

"That wasn't-"

"So damn eager to see some carnage. What about becoming it? Yeah?... Yeah, I think so. Pick up the coin, and this is the last time I'm giving you this option."

Mezca cautiously picked up the quarter.

"Now I'll offer you two roads because we did have a little connection. If you're lucky, you'll get what you wanted at the start of the night to see some real shit go down that you can tell your followers about. It not... then you know the drill. You know how it is."

Mezca was hesitant, wondering how she would get out of the shituation.

"Flip it."

"I will, I swear, but could you give me some reasoning so I understand?"

"Flip.. the damn.. quarter, Mezca. Just flip it. Now."

With no choice and at knife point, she flipped the jcoin. He covered it immediately.

"Call it."

"Tails." She could feel the sweat beading on her face as he revealed the coin.

"Tails," he smirked. "You really are lucky. Come on, I'll show you exactly how I do it. You're getting a front row seat as my number one fan.

Mezca remained silent as they switched places, him taking the wheel. She observed anxiously as Erik stalked through the night, creeping searching.

"There," he pointed at an open diner. When Mezca was confused, he explained that he could tell by cars approximately how many women were inside. He also knew when they closed and when shifts ended.

"Stay right there and be a good lil president," he muttered, looking back as he got out of the car. "And keep your eyes on that alley," he pointed.

Mezca watched him, immersed in eerie vibes. She didn't like feeling responsible for this kind of thing going down. She called 911 to alert them to quietly ambush him, explaining that if they hurried, they could stop a murder. She was putting her own life in the line as well to call.

The police came quietly with their lights off, finding Mezca in her car and taking her into theirs for protection.

When Spiderpunk emerged from the diner with a woman, he was quickly apprehended.

"Wait," Mezca stared through the glass, "That's not him. It's his costume, but it's not him."

The police searched the diner, but didn't find Erik. Mezca was now terrified for her own safety and afraid to be alone. The went to the police station, but there wasn't much they could do but keep eyes on her neighborhood and building.

Once out of the station, she got a call from an unknown number. She thought of going back, but answered it outside instead.

"Hello?"

"I'm always watching you. Don't make me change my mind about you, Mezca. Go straight home. Follow the speed limit. Have a good night."

How many people had survived his game and then kept their mouth shut because they were terrified he'd come back? There had to be more than a few out there. Mezca did just what he said for the night. She went home, and after hours lying awake, fell asleep. She waited a full week before she went to the police again to tell them about Erik's threat. By then, he'd killed eight more.

Luckily, with her in-depth description, Erik was captured days later. She still double-checked her doors and lied awake at night.

Some things you don't get over.

Sometimes life is such that you can only lie down at night and HOPE that in the morning reality has changed... into the Hearteyes Zone.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #the hearteyes zone #heads or tails #spooky szn

62 notes · View notes