#I am not really very confident that I understood this recipe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pet-pet-peet · 3 years ago

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Could i request the dorm leaders reacting to their m!s/o who turned into a f!s/o due to a potion mishap? Thank you ❤🥰

Oh my~ I really wonder lolol

100 follower event

200 follower event

Masterlist

Tw: I headcanon them to be pansexual for the sake of these fanfics, so please understand that I’ll write them as being attracted to anyone for any reason. I am not trying to support the false idea that gay men have to find “the right woman” to not be gay, and if you are gay I support you 100%. I am also wanting to make it clear that this is a crack post and is NOT in ANY WAY meant to be harmful to anyone who is trans, I support you and your identity 100%.

That was a lot, but I want to make my and Anon’s intentions with this post very clear. If you think it will be offensive to you, or triggering to you, please do not read it. Taking care of your mental health is the most important

* This is male reader, but I generally don’t use many gendered terms in my writing..just know that I’ll opt more for masculine ones if I add any (aka, probably good for anyone, but the occasional gendered term will be male)

Whew..all that out of the way...Here you go!

Pairing(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x male reader who accidentally get affected by a gender changing potion (separate)

He didn’t really notice what happened to you-

He was focusing on his project during lab, and then all of a sudden there was a puff of smoke from where you stood

He panicked, moving through the smoke and swatting it away while covering his mouth as he tries to reach you

When he does, he blushed as he stared at your rosy cheeks

Your form looked more feminine now, which made him..incredibly confused

I mean..you look great! It’s just shocking

He starts looking at the recipe you were assigned to replicate, trying to figure out if it was mislabelled or if you accidentally made a mistake when mixing them together

He couldn’t find anything, however..so he asked Trey if he could figure out a way to change you back

Trey gets his science club together to look through all the recipes and try to find a reversal

Riddle is relieved when they can change you back; he loved you regardless of your gender, but he never wanted you to be in an uncomfortable situation like that again

He skipped class when the transformation happened, so you got to see his first reaction when you calmed down

He knew right off that your scent was..odd, and that made him slightly concerned

When he seeked you out and saw a girl instead of his boyfriend, he was so confused..

He stared at you for a bit, analyzing your eyes, face shape, height, etc.

Then asks if you’re an unknown twin sister, lmao

You explain the situation to him, hoping that he understood it was just temporary and wouldn’t affect you for too long

He didn’t like that, though, so he swallowed his pride (only for you) and asked Vil if he could help

It might take a little bit of convincing, but, since Vil likes you, he decides to help you out

Has a potion for you in no time and you’re all set!

Leona says that you’re never going back to that class, and you’re gonna just ditch with him from then on so it doesn’t happen again

He was trying to help you figure out the ingredients..but you had accidentally, confidently, added an ingredient that didn’t belong-

He didn’t notice, he was reading through the recipe to figure out what to do next..only to find his handsome boyfriend had turned into a beautiful girlfriend-

Was...definitely shocked-

He immediately turned around and started looking for a recipe to switch you back, not wanting you to be uncomfortable

He didn’t realize that you’d notice how flustered he was at your state-

Tease him, omg he gets so flustered but pretends not to be

Him trying to whip up a potion to help save you while you flirt dramatically, for some reason that’s very entertaining to me-

He makes the potion, but asks if you really want to take it

Your transformation isn’t permanent, but if you’re having fun he doesn’t want to take that away from you-

Holds onto the potion anyway, just in case you change your mind (assuming you said no)

He accidentally threw the potion at you-

And the poor thing was so scared- he thought you were hurt

When the smoke cleared, though, he smiled brightly

Immediately says you look beautiful, and compliments galore

Then he asks if you want him to find a way to change you back

He will, just to be safe, but Jamil’s probably the one really doing all of the work ^^;

In the meantime, he hangs out with you and does the same stuff you two always do

When Jamil brings you the potion to help you, he lets you or Kalim keep it, not really wanting to keep it

Kalim will love you regardless, and honestly just appreciates you no matter how you look

Though, he will laugh this incident off and tell it’s story all the time

It’s unimaginable..he messed up a simple skincare mixture?

He wanted to help you with skincare and self care in general..but he messed up the recipe

Feels very guilty and makes you new skincare products and tries to look into the incident to help you

He asks if you’re uncomfortable in your new body, and asks if there’s anything he can do to help you

He has a potion to help you pretty quickly, so you don’t have to wait too long

You do try to mess with his Magicam audience while he’s at it, though-

You’ll post selfies with him working in the background and pretend to be your twin sister-

He has a whole plethora of notifications with confused comments and scolds you when you change back

He makes you apologize to his poor fanbase, how could you lie to them like that? Shame

Lowkey finds the reaction funny, though, and it gives him a lot of traction, sooo-

He wasn’t in class, deciding the event on his game was wayyy more important

Does get a glimpse of you getting absorbed into a cloud of smoke through his tablet, though

Poor bean is so scared for you immediately

He even abandoned his game for you, running to make it to the classroom with Ortho close behind

He became so flustered when he found you standing normally...almost

Your feminine appearance was unexpected..and made him blush since he wasn’t expecting it

He doesn’t really know how to help..and is really awkward when talking to you-

He wants to, though! It’s just..very hard for him to wrap his head around at first

When he gets himself together, he finds some help from other dorm leaders and teachers to change you back

He would’ve been more involved, you just caught him off guard!

He forgot to come to class

Honestly, the day just kinda flew by for him

So he just visited you in your dorm that night

Uh- or..he wanted to..who’s the strange girl there, though?

He hums as he realizes the situation and you explain everything to him

He smiles and pats your head, saying to leave everything to him

Then asks about your day, like- Malleus, dear..he just told you about his day?

Stays with you for the night, but is gone the next morning

Comes into your class with Lilia, who’s holding another potion for you

Well...he did say he’d handle it, he really wasted no time-

*All Images are official art from Twisted Wonderland and do not belong to me. They are the Lab Coat Groovy card art

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carletes · 3 years ago

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Omg I also was thinking about hgiftbn today! I have a question about it if that’s ok? Food and cooking have such a significant meaning for carlos obv, so would lando ever try to cook something for him? Like call carlos’ mum for a recipe that carlos loves to surprise him with? Regardless of if he’s gonna succeed making it or not, would he even try?

*SCREAMS* ANON. @chilinorris and I talked about this VERY recently. And this is actually set in a world alone, not in hgiftbn, though I can imagine it happening in p much any universe.

Carlos missed his mother's cooking. Lando couldn't blame him; he hadn't grown up with her cooking, yet he missed Reyes' cooking as well. And even though Lando thought Carlos' approximations of Reyes' food were pretty goddamn good, Carlos did not think so.

It was with that thought, then, that Lando called Reyes a few days before Carlos' birthday one year and begged her to walk him through her paella recipe and an assortment of tapas.

"Ay, Landito, you are such a good boy. I am sure he will love it no matter what!"

For some reason, that didn't inspire much confidence in Lando. Still, he got all the groceries required (multiples, actually, of each amount needed - just in case he fucked up that bad) the day before, and sent Carlos off on an absurd chain of chores so that he'd be out of his hair for a long time on his actual birthday.

Carlos shot him a look like, really? Really? On my birthday? and then shot him another look along the lines of Ohhh, I see what's going on. Regardless of all the looks shot, he kissed Lando's lips quite sweetly and went off on his adventure.

Once the house was secured, Lando got Reyes on FaceTime, sighed deeply, and said, "Okay. What could possibly go wrong?"

He immediately regretted tempting fate. Despite Reyes' detailed instructions, he burnt a whole head of garlic, started a small grease fire, and nearly sliced the tip of his thumb off. When he was ready to give up and order in sushi - to make Carlos happy and for Lando to serve penance - Reyes, uncharacteristically sternly, said, "No, Landito. You are nervous. That is why you are making mistakes, no?"

Lando bit his lip and nodded. Reyes smiled warmly at her son-in-law and said, "Ah, mi hijo, you must relax. Food can sense emotion. And what emotion do you want Carlos to feel when he eats your food, eh?"

Lando thought about it. Then, quietly, he said, "I want him to feel like he's back home. With all of us."

Reyes' smile only warmed further, and Lando longed to hug his suegra. "Then you must remember what it's like when you are in Madrid with us, and use that to cook. Sí?"

How did it feel, being with the Sainzes? It felt like Reyes' smile: warm, supportive, endlessly loving, patient. It was the closest thing to being with his own parents. And when they were all together...

Lando nodded. He understood. "Sí."

They began anew, and this time, cooking went a lot better. He was actually on a roll and quite nearly done when the front door opened. Lando yelped and whipped around to face Carlos, trying to hide the stove top with his body.

"What are you doing here?!"

"This is my home," Carlos said, grinning. Then he yelled, "¡Hola, mamá!"

"¡Hola, mi amor!" Reyes replied, and Lando charged over to Carlos and hissed, "You're not supposed to be home yet!"

"You said 6:30-"

"I don't care what I said! You need to go away!"

"Ay, Lando, that's very mean of you," Carlos teased, leaning in for a kiss. Lando dodged Carlos' lips and started pushing him back out of the house.

"Go get some gains!"

"I did!"

"Go find some more!"

From behind them, Reyes chimed, "Yes, Carlos, you must leave! Go! Go!"

Carlos laughed and turned around, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay! Okay! Have fun!"

With Carlos dispatched, again, Lando clapped his hands and rushed back to the kitchen. "Is anything burning?!"

"I don't know, Landito, you have me on the counter."

It took another half hour and then everything was complete, plating included. Lando showed Reyes the display and she seemed so proud, he couldn't help but internalize some of it. He kissed her goodbye over FaceTime, and then texted Carlos.

-ok u can come home now

-thx for the permission

And then within seconds, Carlos walked back in through the front door, and Lando glared at him. "Have you just been sitting out in the car?!"

Carlos shrugged and flapped a book back at Lando. "I never get to read," he explained. "This was good. And," Carlos said, walking closer to Lando. He set his hands on Lando's hips and kissed his nose. "You look good. And everything smells good."

Lando beamed at him, his annoyance evaporating. He took Carlos hand and brought him to the dining table, then declared, "Happy birthday!"

Carlos stared at the feast, his eyes wide and his mouth parted in a big smile. "Mi vida," he breathed, before turning to Lando, scooping him up, and spinning him around. Lando laughed and clung to him. "This is amazing!"

"Yeah?" Lando asked, feeling shy. Carlos nodded and kissed him over and over. Lando laughed and wriggled out of his husband's arms.

"Well then go on and eat! I don't want it to get cold!"

Carlos grinned widely and said, "Yes, chef," and Lando's heart warmed desperately. He watched Carlos eat with great interest, savoring every delighted noise, each sigh and moan, each appreciative exclamation of, "Lando!"

Lando wondered if this meal was his greatest accomplishment. Definitely top ten, for sure, with marrying Carlos being number one. Then, then, at the end of the meal, Carlos gazed at him silently for a long while before saying, "Lando. Don't be mad."

Suddenly, Lando's heart fell. "W-what?"

"I don't want you to be mad."

"Oh, Jesus, Carlos, is it actually bad?"

"What? No, no, dios, no. It's just that-" and he stopped, and smiled, and reached for Lando's hand, and said, "I can tell that this was made with love."

Food can sense emotion.

Lando teared up and let Carlos pull him into his lap, even as he said, "Carlos, that is so gay I could fucking kill you."

They kissed for a few moments as Lando shored himself up. Then he said, "I'm sorry it's not the same as mamá's."

"Ay, Lando," Carlos murmured, half-chastising, half-comforting, "Mamá has her food, and you have your food. And I love Lando's food."

Oh, Jesus. Lando knocked his forehead against Carlos' stupid shoulder a few times, hissing, "I hate you. You're so fucking sweet."

And then, because that wasn't bad enough, Carlos started hand-feeding Lando because Lando hadn't been eating, so nervous was he about Carlos' opinion. And- well, it wasn't exactly like Reyes'. It wasn't as good.

But even Lando had to admit, it was still pretty fucking good.

Later, Carlos insisted on cleaning the kitchen (a huge mess) with Lando, even though it was his birthday.

"Ay, what am I supposed to do? Wait for you to finish? By myself?" he had said with a serious expression on his face.

Lando sighed and kissed him and acquiesced. Carlos could do whatever he wanted on his birthday, he supposed. And it was one of the better experiences he'd had washing dishes, with Carlos' arms around his waist, his lips on Lando's neck and cheek and hair, murmuring sweet words about what a good husband Lando was and how much Carlos adored him.

Lando couldn't help it. He turned his head once the dishes were done, kissed Carlos' lips, and whispered, "Mi vida."

Carlos' eyes turned watery, deep with emotion. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and turned Lando around to face him properly. "Now," he said, their noses pressed together, "You are mine."

And as Carlos picked him up and whisked him up to their bed to kiss him and touch him and make love to him, Lando agreed: he was Carlos'. Always.

Maybe he'd start cooking more.

#hibi answers #hibi writes #carlando #carlando fic #carlando headcanons #a world alone

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aquaquadrant · 2 years ago

Text

nature’s productions - chapter six

Rated T for: Strong language, violence, mild blood/injury

Summary: Three years after the disaster at Jurassic World, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady are contracted for a mission to save as many dinosaurs as possible from the impending eruption on Isla Nublar. But when they arrive, they experience an unexpected complication; six teenagers who were left stranded on the island when the park closed.

Surviving has left the campers scarred in more ways than one, and they’re pretty sure that their would-be rescuers have less than good intentions. But with a volcanic eruption at their heels, they’ll do whatever it takes to get a ride home- and save the dinosaurs while they’re at it, because that’s kind of their thing.

A/N: Ohhh y’all have no idea how excited I am for these next couple chapters. It’s bout to get REAL GOOD. Hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

(Read on A03 for full tags and previous chapters)

~*~

chapter six - instinct

~*~

They make it back to the truck in record time.

With all six of them on high alert, there’s no chance of them getting snuck up on, and Darius retraces their steps fairly easily. Brooklynn’s willing to bet that Ben also memorized the path from the truck, even if subconsciously, based on the way he keeps anticipating all their turns. It’s good that more than one of them knows the truck’s location, in case they have to split up.

And if Brooklynn knows Darius, his plan is definitely going to involve them splitting up at some point.

Luckily, the truck hasn’t been disturbed in their absence, and they quickly pile inside. Yaz manages to climb up unaided, which is a promising sign that her ankle is starting to recover from all the recent activity. Sammy and Kenji tuck themselves on either side of her, and Ben wastes no time moving towards the front. He leans over the seats to grab the mirror, snapping it off its mount, before ducking into the back again. Only when he sits against the back of the seats, holding the mirror up to look at the reflection, does Brooklynn realize what he’s doing; he’s giving himself a way to keep watch through the front windows without being spotted, himself.

With that in mind, Brooklynn positions herself in the very back of the truck, to keep an ear out by the canvas flaps. She’s starting to get used to the ambient noises on the ship- the groaning metal and rushing ocean- and she’s confident she’ll hear if someone approaches them from behind. With her listening and Ben keeping watch, they should be safe here for the moment.

Darius is the last one inside, looking everyone else over with an approving nod as he settles on the floor. Brooklynn can instantly tell from his expression that he’s already thinking about their next move, fingers twitching with nervous energy as he figures out the best way to articulate his plan. But at the same time, he’s still on edge from… well, everything.

They all are, truth be told. Running from dinosaurs is nothing new to them, but the volcano was a completely different story. It’s humbling in the worst of ways to confront a natural disaster like that, something that no force on earth could have any hope of stopping. Add that on top of their conflicted feelings about leaving the island, hiding aboard a ship full of dangerous criminals, and the unexpected falling out with Claire’s group, and it’s a recipe for a total breakdown.

Part of Brooklynn understood where Owen was coming from, she really did. But who is he to try and tell them not to help? Who is he to think that he knows them, knows what they are and aren’t capable of? It was ignorant at best and insulting at worst, but either way, it was more than simply treating them like helpless children. This was a drastic misunderstanding of who they are and what they stand for. What they fight for. And if he isn’t willing to do what it takes, then they can’t trust him.

It’s as simple as that.

But Brooklynn doesn’t want to face it all, not yet. So when Darius finally opens his mouth to speak, she gently pulls him into a hug. “Just take a minute,” she murmurs. Then she peeks over his shoulder at the others and adds, “All of us.”

She can feel Darius’s surprise in the way he goes still, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax into the embrace. He lets out a soft breath, the tension draining from his body as he whispers, “Thanks.” Brooklynn’s heart tightens; she can only imagine how hard it must’ve been, to be separated from them for so long.

The rest of the herd quickly follows suit. Sammy practically pulls Yaz into her lap as she wraps her in a bear hug. Humming contentedly, she tucks the shorter girl’s head under her chin in a familiar embrace. Yaz stifles her laughter by hiding her face in the crook of Sammy’s neck, though the tips of her ears have darkened in a tell-tale blush. She’s earned her reputation as one of the toughest members of the herd, and she still has trouble letting them look after her. Even if it’s Sammy. But in moments like these, after everything they’ve been through, Yaz couldn’t care less.

Ben doesn’t take his eyes off the mirror in his hand, but he does allow himself to lean against Kenji as his free hand reaches down to twine their fingers together. When Kenji turns to press a kiss to his temple, his focused expression doesn’t change; though there’s the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Kenji is well-attuned to Ben’s mannerisms and moods, and he knows that even if Ben can’t always outright express it, he’s loved.

As Brooklynn watches her herd, absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles on Darius’s back, she feels herself come out of a tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. Despite the terror that still lingers in their minds, and the danger that still surrounds them, her heart is full. This is exactly what they needed.

For a precious few minutes, they simply exist together. Breathing together, checking in on each other with soft murmurs and gentle touches, reassuring looks and gestures. Reminding each other they’re still alive, still together. It’s something they never take for granted, with how dangerous their lives are, but it’s always nice to take the time to appreciate it properly.

Once the tension has dissipated and they’ve all settled again, Brooklynn quietly fills the others in on her and Ben’s leg of the journey, how they saved Owen. She summarizes quickly and efficiently, not wanting to linger on something that doesn’t matter anymore.

(Considering the betrayals they’ve experienced in the past, Owen’s really wasn’t that bad, but it still stings.)

Darius finally gets the chance to praise them for catching onto his idea with the disguise, which Brooklynn is quite pleased about. Then Kenji takes over, describing their escape from Chaos and the security building, with Yaz interjecting every now and then to keep his story straight and unembellished. Brooklynn picks back up with the stampede and their race to the docks, taking the chance to praise Darius for leaving the truck for them. Then he praises them all for their work, and Yaz decides the mood is far too wishy-washy for her taste, and asks Darius what his plan is.

Darius is quiet for a moment, brows furrowing. “I- I should do s- s- some recon,” he decides. “Scope o- out th- the uh, the bridge. Wh- Wheatley knows I- I’m h- here, so he c- can… um, v- vouch f- for me.”

Brooklynn frowns. She knows where Darius’s mind is at; if they’re going to stop this ship, they’ll have to take control of it, and the only way to do that is by taking control of the bridge. But she doesn’t like the thought of him being on his own again, on a ship full of mercenaries and dinosaurs.

(The mercenaries are the more immediate threat, but she can’t forget the dinosaurs- sedated or not. She’s aware of their presence like a field mine that's just waiting to explode.)

At the same time, she also knows that Darius’s plan is the best plan they have. Moving as a group will draw more attention to them, and Darius is the only one who actually has a reason to be on the ship. So as much as she doesn’t like it, she doesn’t argue.

“Alright,” she says. “Straight to the bridge and back. Have an excuse ready. Only stay long enough to figure out our entry point. Be quick and careful, okay?”

Darius grins; he knows all that already, but is touched by her concern. ‘Careful,’ he signs in agreement. Then he adds, ‘Stay, quiet, safe.’ Which Brooklynn knows, of course, so maybe they’re both guilty of worrying too much.

He looks over them all again, offering a reassuring nod, before slipping out of the truck. Ben tracks his movement in the mirror until he disappears, signing, ‘All clear’ just as Brooklynn can no longer hear his footsteps.

Taking a steadying breath, Brooklynn settles in to wait.

~*~

Darius thinks he might be getting the hang of this.

The hold is big, but it’s still an enclosed space, and he’s starting to become more comfortable navigating through it. Even now, as he takes a moment to pause by a stack of crates, he has a good sense of where Zia’s trailer and the herd’s truck are. He can also see, over the vast ocean of vehicles and shipping containers, two spots of light towards the front of the hold; ramps that must lead up to the deck.

All of Darius’s senses are on high-alert, but he doesn’t let his anxiety show. He’s supposed to be on this ship, and no one is going to suspect him of doing something wrong unless he gives them a reason to. So he rummages through the piles of cargo until he finds a clipboard, with what looks like pages of inventory on it, and starts making his way through the hold. He keeps his gaze down and focused on his clipboard, so he’ll look busy if anyone happens to pass him.

Fortunately, it seems the hold is still sparsely populated, and he reaches the ramp without issue. Footsteps light on the metal floor, he climbs up to the surface.

The ocean is much louder out here, waves lapping against the ship’s sides, salty water in the wind. A warm orange glow bathes the deck as the sun begins to sink over the horizon. There are more people out here, standing in groups or jogging across the deck as they go about their business. Two military class helicopters are secured towards the front of the ship, along with more shipping containers tied down in neat rows.

It’s an unexpected relief to be outside again, even if it’s all so unlike the island. Already, Darius is feeling nauseous from diesel fumes.

He takes in the scene quickly, not wanting to linger. Towards the back of the deck, on either side of the large tower in the middle of the ship, are stairwells to the upper levels. Eyes on his clipboard, he moves towards the nearest one with purposeful steps.

The most direct path takes him past a group of mercenaries, but he doesn’t swerve- that’d be too suspicious. Without letting his steps falter, Darius continues past them… and breathes a silent sigh of relief when no one calls after him. At the top of the stairwell, he finds a door that leads inside- presumably to the upper levels, and therefore, the bridge.

Tucking the clipboard under his arm, Darius wrenches the metal door open and slips inside.

It takes a moment to adjust to the dim fluorescent lighting. The hallway is narrow, almost claustrophobic, and there are doors placed at random intervals on either side. Trying to picture the ship’s exterior in his mind, Darius reasons that since the bridge is centrally located, he should stay on the main path instead of going through any doors, which would likely lead to dead-end rooms.

Worse comes to worst, he might be able to ask someone for directions without raising any alarms. It’s a big ship, after all, and he’s young enough that his inexperience won’t be questioned. Considering this operation is all sorts of illegal, Darius wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t able to be very selective with the crew they hired. The qualifications probably started and ended with ‘is willing to break the law.’

As he continues down the hallway, it quickly becomes apparent that this is indeed where the rest of the crew has been. He can hear voices behind nearly every door he passes, loud conversations and laughing and arguing in equal amounts. He even encounters a few mercenaries on his way- but stepping aside so they can pass him while muttering an apology seems to be enough to avoid a lengthy interaction.

All the while, Darius is careful to keep track of his steps. There are a couple times where the hallway splits off in two directions, and he has to go with his gut, selecting the one that’s more likely to take him to the center. And after a few tense minutes, his methodology is rewarded with a tall, spiral staircase with a sign that indicates it leads to the bridge.

Darius’s mind is racing as he climbs it, mentally going over what he’s going to say. He’s counting on Wheatley being at the bridge, seeing as how he’s leading this whole expedition, but Darius has prepared back-up plans in case he isn’t. His goal is to identify the captain and determine the best point of entry to the bridge- they’ll figure everything else out later.

The passageway outside the bridge continues around either side of it, but it’s narrow and completely devoid of cover. There’s little chance to conceal himself, and he doesn’t want to risk getting spotted doing anything suspicious like hiding. So Darius walks right up to the door- it’s thick metal with a small window- and knocks.

After a few moments, there’s a dull clicking noise, and the door swings open.

Wheatley doesn’t look happy to see him. “I thought I told you to stay in the trailer!” he scolds.

Darius puts on an appropriately chagrined expression. “Sorry, s- s- sir. Zia sent m- me.” As he talks, he directs his gaze up at Wheatley’s face, but really, part of his gaze is looking past him, into the bridge. “She n- needs to- to know, uh, how l- long until we…” He can see behind Wheatley, on the opposite side of the bridge, that there’s only one other door. But it has a heavy bolt lock on it- no way they’ll get through those. “Um, d- dock. Needs s- special supplies f- for- for the uh…” There’s a ventilation shaft on the ceiling- he might be small enough to fit, if they can find an exterior access point. “Th- the raptor.”

“That’s none of your business,” Wheatley snaps, clearly short on patience. “We’ve already given her all the medical supplies we have on the ship. Tell her to figure it out. And don’t let me catch you outside that trailer again, understand?”

“Yes, s- sir!” Darius risks a glance towards the front of the bridge, making eye contact with the man standing before a wide control panel- there’s the captain- as if apologizing for disturbing him. At the same time, Darius notices that there isn’t anyone else in the room. “S- sorry!”

Wheatley shuts the door in his face, the lock sliding into place with a thud. Darius wastes no time turning back the way he came, holding back a pleased smile.

Already, a plan is starting to take shape in his mind, his body mostly on autopilot as he doubles back through the ship. He’d had a rough idea of how they could accomplish their goal, but now that he’s seen what they’re working with, everything’s falling into place. Wheatley’s biggest downfall is assuming there’s no one out to get them- no guards at the bridge! Darius can hardly believe their good luck.

Of course, that doesn’t mean this will be entirely without risk. Wheatley has a gun, after all. So the first thing they’ll have to do is get him out of the bridge. As the leader of the mission, any large problem will demand his attention. Once Wheatley is gone and the captain’s alone, it should be pretty simple to gain entry and take over. Then they just lock themselves inside, radio for help, and wait it out. There’s a lot of evidence that this is a retired military ship, so the glass should be bulletproof, and there’s no other way in.

The only major snag is that they’re working with an unknown time limit. Darius has no idea where the ship is planning to dock. He knows that Lockwood Manor, the estate of the man Claire claimed to have sent them, is located in Northern California. It’d probably take a ship this size quite a while to travel there, maybe even days. But of course, they could be headed to a different drop-off point. Maybe they aren’t even heading back into U.S. waters.

The safest course of action is to assume they could be reaching land at any minute. Not that Darius sees any land nearby when he crosses the deck again, but still. The longer they wait to strike, the higher the chances are of them- or Claire’s group- being discovered, and losing the element of surprise. It’d be in their best interest to stop this ship in its tracks, both to keep it away from shore and to make it easier for the authorities to find.

Darius has a plan for that, too.

Before he knows it, he’s arrived back at the truck. When he ducks inside, the others are expecting him; either Ben or Brooklynn must’ve been alerted to his presence.

‘Okay, safe,’ Darius signs, reassuring them before they can ask.

Brooklynn quickly looks him over anyways. “Did you find the bridge?”

Darius nods. “J- just Wheatley and uh, a- and the c- captain,” he informs them.

“What’s the plan?” Sammy asks, leaning forward.

Darius counts off on his fingers. “Stop th- the ship, d- distract Wheatley, take o- over the uh, th- the… the bridge.”

“I like it,” Kenji says decisively, putting on a contemplative expression. “It’s simple, elegant. Not bogged down by too many pesky details…”

Yaz rolls her eyes at his teasing. “Shut it.” She lightly smacks him on the shoulder before nodding pointedly at Darius. “Continue.”

Darius grins good-naturedly. “A-List, s- sabotage. Find th- the engine room a- a- and… and cut the p- power. B-Team, dist- distraction. Find Bumpy, m- make… um, some n- noise. Draw Wh- Wheatley into… the h- hold.” He puts a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “After he- he uh, he leaves to s- see what’s g- g- going on, we’ll st- storm the… the bridge, use th- the radio to c- call f- for help.”

Yaz frowns. “Wait, I don’t know anything about boats,” she points out. “I doubt they’ll have a convenient ‘cut engine’ switch. What if we accidentally blow something up? We could sink the whole ship.”

Darius glances over at Kenji, expectant.

Kenji’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Hey, my dad’s yacht is one thing, okay? But this is a super-sized cargo freighter and I’ve never even been in an engine room before, I’m not gonna know what we’re looking at.”

Darius blinks, taken aback. There goes one prong of his plan. He’d really been banking on Kenji’s self-proclaimed experience with boats to handle that part of the mission, but he should’ve considered the possibility that Kenji had been embellishing his expertise-

“I can do it,” Brooklynn speaks up. “I did a lot of research on boats for Brooklynn Unboxes the Titanic.”

Darius knits his brows together, mind racing. “Okay, um-”

“We split up, then,” Ben says, still keeping watch in the broken mirror.

“What?” Darius looks over in surprise.

Ben shrugs a shoulder. “Look, Kenji and Yaz shouldn’t split up, and Brooklynn has to go with them. I can go get Bumpy alone.”

Darius shakes his head. “Sammy c- can go w- w- with you-”

“Storming the bridge isn’t exactly a one-person job,” Ben says firmly, meeting Darius’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll be fine. Once I get Bumpy free, it won’t matter anyway.”

Darius hesitates, weighing the different options. The two pairs can’t just swap jobs, because although Bumpy knows all of them, she really only takes directions from Ben. Especially since she spends so much time with her own herd these days. But Ben’s right that the A-Team should stay together; they’ll have to make a hasty retreat after sabotaging the engines and Kenji’s the only one who can reliably carry Yaz if her ankle gives out. And Brooklynn definitely has to go on the sabotage mission because these are diesel engines and one wrong move could be disastrous-

“I’ll be careful,” Ben says, his voice softer. He seems to have sensed Darius’s uncertainty, and has made the decision for him. “I promise.”

“Alright,” Darius finally relents. He hates that Ben has to be put in such a dangerous situation, but if his herd’s taught him anything, it’s that they’re not willing to let him be the only one taking risks. “Wait f- for them to… t- to cut the en- engines, so w- we have uh, t- time to get in- into- into position b- before… you um, you d- draw Wheatley out.”

Ben nods, returning his focus to surveilling.

Darius turns to the others. “Once th- the engines a- are off, come to uh, to the b- bridge. We’ll ma- ake an announce- m- ment as s- soon… soon as we’ve c- contacted the um, the a- authorities. H- hopefully the m- m- mercenaries will… will uh, b- bail when th- they r- realize the mission’s c- compromised. You j- j- just have to… t- to hold o- out until then.” He emphasizes his point by signing, ‘Safe, fast, stealth.’

Kenji breaks into a wide grin. “C’mon, bro, this is us we’re talking about,” he says, clapping Darius on the shoulder. “We’ve got like, a 100% survival rate.”

Sammy gives him a dubious look. “What about Hap?” she asks quietly.

Kenji winces. “... Hap was an outlier and should not be counted,” he amends.

“Really killing the mood here, guys,” Yaz huffs.

Darius sighs, but privately, he’s glad for their antics. It’s the last shred of normalcy he has, as they’re about to kick off a mission that will ultimately- one way or another- determine their fate. They have a real chance to get rescued, and save a cargo ship’s worth of dinosaurs, too. Failure will surely mean death.

But Darius is something of an optimist, and he knows what his herd’s capable of.

“Be s- safe, be smart, d- don’t die,” he tells them, wanting what might be his final words to be spoken instead of signed. “I l- love you g- guys.”

Inevitably, that triggers a group hug with lots of similar sentiments, but Darius hardly minds.

~*~

Ben slowly peeks over the crate, checking that the coast is clear before making his move.

After the herd split up, he immediately set out to find Bumpy. He’s being extra careful like he promised he’d be, doing frequent checks of his surroundings so he won’t get snuck up on. As a consequence, his progress is slow. He’s only been able to check five transports so far, and of course, none of them were holding Bumpy.

He doesn’t know for a fact that she’s still in the transport they took her away in, but it’s the most likely option. He can’t imagine them taking the time to move her into a different container, unless they felt they’d be able to make another trip before the ship departed. It’s a calculated risk, only looking through the transports. If she’s in one, then he’ll find her faster. But if she’s not, he’ll have to double back and check every other trailer and shipping container, which will take him longer than if he’d checked them all in the first place.

It’s a lot like that concept of cost-benefit analysis Darius once told him about, related to foraging habits of birds. A mother bird has to decide how far from her nest she’s willing to fly in search of adequate food. Too close, and the competition from neighboring birds may leave her with nothing. Too far, and her chicks could starve before she makes it back to them. But if she flies far and still finds no food, it’s a lose-lose scenario. It might be safer to stay close and bring what little food she can back, instead of taking the risk by flying far.

In this scenario, Bumpy represents the food, and the chicks represent a successful mission. Or wait, maybe Bumpy’s the chicks, because Ben’s her mama bird?

… Ben’s lost his train of thought.

Pushing that to the back of his mind, he quickly scans his surroundings again- now more of a meerkat than a bird- before finally darting over to the next transport. Hopping up onto the back fender, he rises onto his toes so he can peek through the tiny, tinted window on the side of the transport.

He’s greeted by a familiar armored plate of turquoise scales.

Relief washes through Ben, and he lets out a heavy breath. He can’t make out much from this angle, but fortunately, Bumpy seems to be standing upright. Which would mean she’s still conscious, as they wouldn’t have had any reason to sedate her. She isn’t moving around much, but the transport is quite small for her size; the spikes jutting out from her sides are practically scraping the walls.

Ben’s heart aches. Even though he knows it was to save her life, he feels guilty for letting this happen to her. He can only imagine what she must be thinking, and can’t wait until she’s free and by his side again.

Dropping back to the floor, Ben does another quick check of his surroundings while his mind races. They need to be ready to go as soon as Brooklynn and the A-List stop the ship, so he’d better get working on a way to free Bumpy.

Walking around to the back of the transport, Ben examines the door handles and gives them a cursory tug. It’s locked, as expected, but the lock seems to be completely internal rather than external. That means it’s unlocked by an internal mechanism instead of any kind of key. And if it’s unlocked by an internal mechanism, it’s probably controlled electronically by the front cab.

Ben circles back around to the front of the transport. There are no doors up here, which seems to be a continuing trend. Why do none of these tactical vehicles have front doors? Does it really slow them down that much? Don’t they know how unsafe these kinds of jeeps are? Especially for this specific terrain; most dinosaurs that are strong enough to tear through a car door are too big to actually get inside it, so it’s the small ones you have to worry about.

In any case, it makes Ben’s job a little easier, because he can study the inside of the cab without having to close himself in. Aside from the usual buttons associated with cars, there are numerous switches- all unlabeled, of course. But he supposes it doesn’t matter. Without keys, he has no way to turn the vehicle on. And without power to the vehicle, he won’t be able to unlock the transport doors in a traditional manner.

For a moment, Ben lets himself wish that Brooklynn was here. She’d probably know how to hotwire the transport, using knowledge from some obscure unboxing video, and he’d be able to keep a proper watch instead of casting paranoid glances over his shoulder every ten seconds.

But he doesn’t wallow for very long. He promised Darius he could handle this. And although he might not know how to hotwire a car, there are easier ways to bust a lock.

Ben pulls his spear from its sling and snaps it over his knee, a few inches away from the spearhead. That leaves him with a handle he can comfortably hold and maneuver with one hand, and fit into the tight space in front of the driver’s seat.

It’s not the first spear Ben has broken. The spear is his weapon of choice partly because he can easily replace them. All it takes is a sturdy reed, a sharpened stone, and a bit of vine. He’s lost several of them during his years on the island; sometimes because they break during a fight, and sometimes because he can throw them to discourage a charging dinosaur, and there isn’t always a chance to recover it.

Admittedly, this situation makes him a bit nervous because he doesn’t have the means to make a new spear anymore. But if their plan works, he won’t need to. He just has to do his part, whatever it takes.

With a dagger-sized spear now in hand, Ben crouches next to the vehicle and- after remembering to check his surroundings again- ducks his head into the space in front of the driver’s seat. There’s a flat panel underneath the steering console, and he digs the spearhead into its seams, prying it open. It takes a bit of effort before the panel finally falls away, dropping to the floor of the vehicle and revealing a forest of wires.

The vehicle is off, so there really isn’t any danger in Ben slicing wires. He does them one by one, hoping he’ll cut the right one before his spearhead is too dulled to tear through the insulated wrapping. And only because his ear is basically pressed to the floor of the vehicle does he finally hear a low clank echo through the undercarriage. Satisfaction flickers through him, but he doesn’t celebrate yet. First, he has to make sure it actually unlocked the-

A hand grabs his arm. “Hey, what-”

Ben’s body reacts before he’s even fully processed the sound of the man’s voice. Whirling around, he slashes a wide arc with the spearhead. The intruder is a mercenary- a gruff man in combat gear- so the blade only cuts harmlessly through the front of his kevlar vest. But the shock of it makes the man stumble backwards, his sentence morphing into a shout, and Ben seizes the advantage.

Springing forward, he swings his free hand up to punch the man in a swift undercut. The man’s head snaps to the side with a pained grunt. But when Ben strikes out with the spearhead again, the man’s ready; he catches Ben’s wrist in his much larger hand, trying to bend it backwards in his crushing grip. Ben swings his other fist at the man’s face, but that gets caught as well. For a moment, they’re in a stalemate as Ben’s taller, stronger opponent attempts to overpower him.

Then Ben drives his knee into the man’s gut.

That makes him release Ben involuntarily as he doubles over, wheezing. Wasting no time, Ben whips his leg around in a kick that throws the man to the ground.

But before Ben can jump him, there’s movement at the edge of his vision- another mercenary running at them. His voice reaches Ben’s ears a heartbeat later; an angry shout. Clearly, the idea of a sneak attack never crossed his mind.

The second man charges straight at Ben, swinging the butt of his rifle at Ben’s head. Ben sidesteps around him, lashing out with the spearhead to carve a wide- but shallow- gash across his arm and sending up a spray of blood. Howling with pain and rage, the man tries to hit Ben again. Ben ducks under his arms and slams his head up beneath the man’s chin.

Crack!

The slight ache of his forehead is worth it when the man staggers back a few steps, clutching his jaw. Eyes blazing with rage, he ducks his head as if he’s going to charge again. Ben adjusts his grip on the spearhead, bracing himself-

Something presses into Ben’s back.

“Hands up,” a third voice says, “or I shoot.”

Ah. Apparently, at least one of them knows about sneak attacks; Ben never heard him coming.

A very large part of Ben wants to keep fighting anyway. The smaller, more reasonable part of his brain tells him that would almost certainly get him shot. And he did promise Darius he’d be careful. So he swallows back the urge to turn and slash at the man’s throat, and instead slowly raises his hands.

“Drop it,” the man orders.

Gritting his teeth, Ben lets the spearhead slip through his fingers and clatter on the floor. For a moment, everything is still and silent, save for the mens’ heavy breathing. The first man has gotten back to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth and eyeing Ben warily.

“Who the hell are you?” the second man demands, clutching his bleeding arm.

Ben glares up at him and says nothing. But inwardly, he’s kicking himself- it hadn’t mattered that he was careful. At the end of the day, he just hadn’t heard them. If this had happened back on the island with a dinosaur, he’d probably be dead right now.

The first man frowns, grabbing the radio that’s clipped onto his belt. “Hey, sir? There’s a weird fucking kid here, trying to get into one of the transports.”

Ben can’t make out the reply that comes back, garbled with static, but the man blinks in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. Then he listens for another moment before nodding. “Copy that.” Lowering the radio, the man smirks down at Ben. “The boss wants a word with you.”

Ben’s heart jolts. This wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to bring Wheatley here, not the other way around! But before he can do anything, the man behind him grabs one of his arms- without moving the gun that’s pressed against his back- and the second man moves to take Ben’s other one. Based on their vice-like grips, Ben’s chances of getting free are practically zero.

“But before we go,” the first man says, strolling forward with a sinister grin, “I’ve got something for you.”

Ben’s already anticipating the punch to his stomach, but it still hurts. He manages not to completely lose his breath, breathing raggedly through his nose as he looks up at the man.

“Thank you for that,” he says loudly, baring his teeth in a fierce grin. “Do you feel less emasculated now?”

That earns him a slap across the face, unsurprisingly. But Ben doesn’t regret it; the angrier he can make them, the better. None of them have thought to check what, exactly, he did to the transport. The doors are still closed, but likely unlocked- assuming he did manage to cut the right wire, that is.

Calling out to Bumpy would redirect their attention towards her, and thus, alert them to his plan. But just hearing his voice should be enough. And with the doors unlocked, he trusts that she’ll take care of the rest. Even if he’s not with her, Bumpy will be able to cause quite the distraction.

“Let’s go,” the first man huffs, turning to lead the way. Evidently, he’s decided that being first on the scene makes him in charge by default.

“This should be good,” the second man says to the third.

And as they drag Ben away, he can just barely make out the sound of Bumpy calling after him.

~*~

Claire clutches the still-warm bag to her chest, pausing to catch her breath while Owen peers around the corner.

Her heart is still pounding from their encounter with the T-Rex. She’d woken up halfway through their blood collection, and although the space was too tight for her to do much, Owen had nearly gotten squished a few times. Worse was when someone happened to wander by and close the cage door. Claire had to climb out through the top and unlock it so Owen could make his escape- which he did by jumping through the T-Rex’s roaring jaws.

How this man is still alive, she’ll never know.

In any case, they got what they needed, so they wasted no time in heading back to the trailer. Owen’s making sure they proceed cautiously, though, checking that the way is clear before they dart from cover to cover. The hold doesn’t seem to be very busy, but as they well know, all it takes is one person coming along at the wrong time for someone to get eaten by a T-Rex. Claire would like to avoid that, and any other similar mishaps, if at all possible.

They’re not far from the trailer when there’s a sudden shout from elsewhere in the hold- a man’s pained voice echoing off the metal walls. Very quickly, more voices join in, along with the tell-tale sounds of a struggle. Claire glances over at Owen in alarm, and he holds a hand up, indicating they should wait.

So they wait, crouched behind a truck. The sounds stop after a couple seconds, and then there’s silence. But just as Claire is about to ask Owen if they should move on, they hear footsteps start to approach. Loud, angry footsteps of at least three people.

Wordlessly, they shift around to the side of the truck that’s hidden from the footsteps. For a heart-stopping moment, Claire thinks the footsteps are headed to the trailer where Zia and Franklin are… but then they pass.

The footsteps depart, moving towards the ramps that lead out onto the deck. Claire and Owen carefully peer around the truck just in time to see the retreating backs of three mercenaries, with large rifles slung across their shoulders. The one in the front is speaking on a radio and sounds very annoyed. The two behind him are dragging Ben.

The teen must’ve put up a tremendous fight; one of the men is holding a pistol to his back, and yet the hands wrapped around his arms are gripping so tightly, it’s turning his skin white. Clearly, they’ve learned the hard way not to underestimate him. Claire doesn’t get a good look before they’re out of view, but she thinks one of their sleeves is stained with blood. She turns to Owen to ask him what they should do, but is alarmed to find he’s already moving to follow them.

Claire grabs him by the arm, yanking him back. “What are you doing?” she whispers frantically.

Owen makes an exasperated noise. “We’ve gotta help him!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Claire says, her mind racing. A sudden thought occurs to her. “What if this is part of their plan? Maybe he got captured on purpose so they’d take him to Wheatley?”

“To do what?” Owen asks incredulously, his brows shooting up. “Kill him with his bare hands?”

“I don’t know!” Claire protests. “But Darius said they had a plan, if we interfere we could screw them up.”

Owen crosses his arms. “Plans can go wrong, it happens all the time.”

“What are we supposed to do about it?” Claire demands.

Owen falls silent at that, his jaw clenched. Even if he’s not convinced this was part of the teens’ plan, he seems to have realized there isn’t much they can do. It’s not like they’d stand a chance against three armed mercenaries, especially with Ben in such a precarious position. They could very well get him shot.

Claire swallows, putting a hand on Owen’s arm. “We still have to get this blood to Blue,” she reminds him gently. “Then we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

That gets through to Owen. “Okay,” he relents, turning towards the trailer.

Claire sends up a silent prayer before following.

~*~

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #jurassic world fallen kingdom #jwcc #camp cretaceous #my writing

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representshinjuku · 4 years ago

Text

Matenrou Picture Drama

I translated the picture drama from volume four of the rhyme anima blurays but twitter broke just as I was trying to post it so congratulations tumblr, you get it first.

A preview was originally posted on the aniplex yt channel, but as that’s now region-locked, you can view the back half of this picture drama reuploaded on nnd here.

[Contains Spoilers for all of Rhyme Anima under the cut!!!]

Hifumi: Ha… We can finally take a break, Sensei!!

Jakurai: We can. This has certainly been quite tiring. To think we’d have to continue battling right after the Championship…

Hifumi: ‘S right! We fought Secret Aliens, got chased around underground, then had to fight Secret Aliens again, then fought as four Divisions! How many times today did we have to fight anyway? That’s way too much!

Jakurai: You must be tired too, Doppo-kun. ...Doppo-kun?

Doppo: Ah, I’m sorry. I was just lost in thought…

Hifumi: Heheh, you feelin’ down again, Doppo-chin?

Doppo: No, it’s just, shouldn’t I have been able to do more for you two? (spiraling) But if you ask me what could I have even done in that situation, my answer is ‘nothing’... After we won I thought I could be of use, but I’m nothing but a water flea so I was getting ahead of myself and all that motivation of mine just scattered and I realized that I’m useless, even though I should have known that from the start and so all I can do is be embarrassed of myself for forgetting… Ah…. I’m just…

Jakurai: Despite winning, Doppo-kun is as humble as ever. How intriguing.

Hifumi: Nah, Sensei, the problem’s not that he’s humble. Anyway. We, Matenrou, won, so let’s just be happy about it!

Doppo: Happy?

Jakurai: Yes. Let’s leave our personal reflections aside and celebrate our victory together.

Doppo: T-That’s right. I truly am happy that I was able to win with you two.

Hifumi: Arright! Doppo-chin, back in action! Everybody hold up your glass and…

Jakurai: Ready… Cheers.

Hifumi and Doppo: Cheers!

Doppo: This drink tastes good!

Jakurai: It goes down unusually smoothly, very easy to drink.

Hifumi: ‘Cuz we’ve been rapping all this time. I used honey, which is good for your throat and made an energy drink! Sensei, do you like it?

Jakurai: Very much. I’ll have to ask for the recipe.

Hifumi: No prob! All that experimenting was worth it.

Doppo: That’s the good thing about you. You usually never take anything seriously.

Hifumi: Hey, Doppo-chin. You don’t think I take things seriously?

Doppo: Cut it out, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. It’s amazing how much you change just by putting on your jacket.

Jakurai: It is. I’m always interested in the way you transform.

Hifumi: My jacket? This?

Doppo: Yeah yeah, that one! If I put that on, will my personality change too?

Hifumi: Huh, I wonder. You wanna try it on?

Doppo: Eh? Can I?

Hifumi: Sure! ‘S no big deal!

Jakurai: Oh? Doppo-kun is going to wear Hifumi-kun’s jacket? How intriguing.

Doppo: So, here we go…

(Doppo tries on the jacket)

Jakurai and Hifumi: *noises*

Doppo: How do I look?

Jakurai: I… might just be unused to seeing you like this, but…

Hifumi: Doppo-chin… That looks so bad!!

Doppo: Don’t just say it straight!

Jakurai: (laughing) It doesn’t suit you.... (composing himself) Or rather, this is the first time you’ve worn this jacket, so… (resumes laughing)

Doppo: Even Sensei says so!? But, I’ve never worn something this flashy before. I’m a little nervous.

Jakurai: That must be why. You’re holding yourself prouder than usual. This could be a good way to avoid hunching over.

Hifumi: Right, right! You look good when you stick out your chest and act all confident! Real cool!

Doppo: It’s true my personality didn’t change at all, but… I feel better. You really can change your attitude just by wearing a jacket. Thanks, Hifumi.

Hifumi: Since we’ve got the chance, you wanna try too, Sensei?

Doppo: Hey, Hifumi! Don’t be rude, that’s--

Jakurai: I think I’ll give it a try.

Doppo: You’ll do it!?

Hifumi: Here ya go!

Jakurai: Then, let me just…

(Jakurai tries on the jacket and begins to glow with holy light)

Hifumi: That’s Sensei for ya!

Doppo: I think I need to pray.

Jakurai: I understand what Doppo-kun meant. I feel a bit kinder than usual.

Doppo: Is it even possible for you to become any kinder, Sensei?

Hifumi: If you work at my club, you’d be popular, no doubt!

Jakurai: Haha! It’s an intriguing thought, but I don’t have the confidence for that. Hifumi-kun, thank you. I’d like you to wear it last.

Doppo: Yeah. I want to see the difference between you and us.

Hifumi: Huh? You see it all the time. Just wait a sec…

Hifumi: My apologies for the wait, kittens.

Doppo: A dramatic transformation, as always. He’s on a totally different level.

Jakurai: Yes. Truly intriguing.

Hifumi: Now, let us drink the night away! Doppo-kun, another round of drinks, please.

Doppo: R-Right! Understood!

Hifumi: Now, Sensei. Let us return to celebrating our, Matenrou’s, victory.

Doppo: I brought another round of energy drinks!

Jakurai: Thank you. And that’s right. Luck did play a part in our victory, but there’s no disputing the fact we overcame tough enemies. Let’s consider our plan for the future, too.

Hifumi: You’re right, Sensei.

Jakurai: Then, once more--

Everyone: Cheers!

Hifumi: Here, here--

Doppo: So tasty…

Jakurai: It is quite tasty, but… do you have any alcohol?

Doppo: Uh, Sensei, alcohol’s kinda…

Hifumi: We have none!

#hypmic translation #hypnosis mic #rhyme anima #matenrou #koutranslates #they're... in love....

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years ago

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snake primary (lion model?) + snake secondary (rapid fire bird model)

I am pretty sure I am a snake/snake sorting, with my primary (burned snake) as a rock solid certainty. I am not doing so well on figuring out how models work, and if I have them. It makes me doubt my secondary sometimes. Let me give you a few examples:

Last autumn, I was making a lot of soup from scratch. I started with recipes, but pretty soon I was just throwing things together.

Definitely sounds like an improvisational secondary.

(I'm a Badger secondary, and my baker friends make fun of me, because I treat recipes like spells I follow them so exactly. I only recently learned that the reason you put put in salt in water is to make it boil faster. I'd been doing it, but I might as well have been putting it in there to banish the bad spirits.)

But I always made sure I had some kind of home-made broth to hand, and some kind of soup magic stuff (heavy cream, milk, cream cheese, etc.)

This could be rapid-fire bird (or a rapid-fire bird model.) You feel comfortable improvising, but only because you already know a lot about soup.

I only went back to recipes when I wanted something new or specific. Then I went and posted a kind of improv instruction for soup making (take some meat, any meat, sear it and and pair with some veggies, any veggies, etc.).

So far, I'm agreeing with you. Improvisational secondary, maybe some kind of bird model to give extra structure and support.

I train new colleagues. When I start with a new group, I like to have all the prep-work done so I can concentrate on the social aspects and not get bogged down finding the right worksheets, or shit like that. I plan my first few words, and if there is no better opening, I use them and go from there. I have a general structure of what I want to teach them, what methods to use and in what order. It is adapted from experience, and the more rigid guidelines we are given by our client. I am constantly tweaking it when I'm not training. If I feel my group needs something different, I will abandon the plan, let them guide me on a detour, and bring them back when it feels right. Somehow, it still works out 95% of the time, especially now that I have found my confidence and know it works^^

This sounds exactly like how I teach. And for me, what is going on is the bird model prepwork making me comfortable enough to just vanish into my Courtier Badger. I've only recently been learning that I can... relax on the prep, a little. That sometimes too much prep gets me in my head, and sabotages me a little. Like I can just trust myself in the moment, and things work out just fine.

I have found the shc system a week ago, and I have been obsessed ever since. I got curious because a friend mentioned it. They were really into it, and I like sorting people if the system makes sense. I dug in, got hooked, and finally found words to describe everything I had figured out so painfully about myself in the last few years. Especially my snake primary was such a surprise and relief, let me tell you.

It's a good system. And it's... uniquely able to talk about certain kinds of things.

I am thinking there is at least some sort of bird model here, giving my improv some structure?

Took the words out of my mouth.

I was flirting with rapid fire bird as a secondary, but now I have put it into words, not a chance. I like my (contained) chaos too much^^

So far, I don't have too much to add. It's all very well laid out, and well understood. I do like the dramatic structure that happens when someone writes in convinced their a Lion and I start going into why they're actually a Snake but hey. This is nice. This is mellow.

Let's talk about badger secondary model instead. Just to get the elephant out of the room: I hate hard work, it feels slow, dull, and like there should be a better method somewhere. But I know that sometimes, you just have to do it if you want to build a reputation, or you know you need to rely on the goodwill of your community in the future.

This is so like... Rapid-fire bird processing Badger. Just the grudging respect of SURE badger secondary can be a useful tool I GUESS.

I feel awkward keeping shallow contact with my colleagues, I forget if they have kids, and I have been experimenting with discreetly taking notes on what they value.

This is so Bird.

It's not very successful because I can never remember them when it's necessary, so I nod and figure it out by asking "knowing seeming" questions, anyway.

This is so Snake.

What does resonate with me is the part of "becoming what they need" making myself into the tool I need, making myself seem reliable by being relatable. I mostly start a one-on-one conversation by mirroring the other person's mood.

Courtier Badger and Snake secondary can look very, very similar - especially from the outside. This right here could be a description of either.

It is only recently, and only with people I know well, that I have found the seductive power of railroading them instead. I can now cut short a friends whining by summarising what they're saying in a blunt and charming manner, and make them smile instead. Not always, but now I know it works, I use it more and more often.

... but this could only be Snake. Doing this sort of thing consciously and on purpose is so huge and so key. Courtier Badgers do have to believe it, and so they have a way of vanishing that Snake secondaries don't.

And I think I am exaggerating my "go and figure shc out, and be loud and open about it on tumblr" part, because it's what feels right at the moment, but also because the friend who got me into it is a burned lion secondary. They like me charging in, taking it for myself, and they admire anyone who can be honest and vulnerable in public.

Very Double Snake. Using a specific approach, specifically for your friend. Also you say your primary is burned... but I'm not getting burned primary from you. But you're also not really writing about your primary, so.

I guess I am making myself appealing, not just relatable like before.

What a perfect way of describing the difference between Snake and Badger secondaries.

Huh. Fading badger performance as snake gets confident? With another badger performance for work that I do grudgingly.

Performance is right. Just a shallow thing you wear over the top, that barely seems there anymore. You work like Bird, not a Badger.

Now lion. Well, lion is... difficult and easy at the same time? I have to take charge, be the boss, and make split-second, straightforward right-and-wrong decisions when I am leading my group: Call out anyone who doesn't play by the rules (though I usually don't care much if it is not annoying). Decide on, and hand out, the appropriate punishment for someone being late, again. Deal with brewing conflict in a head-on manner. But that is something I am still learning, and I am not very good at it.

Some of this is primary stuff - WHAT you do "be the boss, hand out punishments" versus HOW you do it. It's sounds to me like you're building a Lion primary model over your Snake primary, which is normal. Snakes with safe people almost always model something else. (And I already know you've got a friend that's a Lion primary... Snakes do like to match their People.)

It's possible that you're also building a Lion secondary model, or that one of your Snake secondary masks looks a little like a typical lion secondary, but my take is that most of this is coming from a primary model.

I tend to let conflicts slide, trusting they will work it out among themselves.

I feel that this speaks to the water-like nature of the Snake secondary, and a desire to always go around the problem.

or at least be professional about it and not bring it into the training. Definitely a lion performance here, and one I get frustrated with fast because I am not very good at it.

I have my lion moments, like I described with my way of being open and vulnerable about shc here on tumblr. But I wouldn't do it if it didn't feel right, or more specifically like something I need to heal and get better. I know I need to be vulnerable to heal, and it's relatively safe here, in the anonymity of my internet persona.

Hmm. Interesting. I'm not getting Lion from you... if this is a healing exercise, maybe you're practicing existing in your Neutral state?

I have to write it all out, and some of it just happen to come out as advice for other people's asks. It would be nice if I get some recognition for it in the community, and I love the fact that my friends reads it and tells me they like it.

My take on that sort of thing is going to be annoyingly Badger, so I apologize in advance. For me it's all about consistency. Lay a foundation and then build, one brick at a time.

Now that I have written it all out, I think it's probably the most snake way of arguing myself out of any secondary model I could come up with^^ I guess I don't have one, or if I do, I am dismantling it because I need things to be simple for a while. I am tempted to post this on my own blog, but I know it will get a bigger audience with you.

Yeah, no Lion secondary here.

and maybe help someone in a similar situation. So I will be patient, and I thank you for inviting us all to use you as a sounding board for our own shc issues. I have to stop going through your likes, I'm ruining my obsessive fangirl/shc vibes tumblr with beautiful rl-things and creative human interactions^^

I do what I can. I hope I help. :)

Thankyou, @sevilemar for the submission.

#sortinghatchats #sortme #double snake #snakepri #snakesec #rapid fire bird #lion primary model

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caxsthetic · 4 years ago

Text

Just Fine

Miya Osamu x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: Sometimes no matter how long you have loved them, if they don’t want to stay, they wouldn’t stay.

Part 1 ⇛ Pt. 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes focused on the television in front of you, the screen was the only thing that lit the dark room you were in right now. You felt safe as you laid there on the couch with huge amounts of blankets wrapped around your figure.

It calmed you down and made you forget about everything that happened in your life recently.

You didn’t bother to check your phone, knowing for certain who’s name would pop out on your notifications. You really didn’t need a reminder that someone just broke you into a million little pieces.

To be loved was something that not every human being could feel. You knew that, and the fact you actually believed that someone would love you was one thing that you would regret as you wake up every morning.

And you fall to the mirage, for the past ten years in your life.

You and him always belonged in each other's side, everyone that saw the two of you could even see how the future would unfold perfectly. They always said that you and him would end up in marriage,

And tragically, you believed in every word that they said, since it boosted your confidence that someone like you could actually have someone as majestic as him to be your significant other.

The Miya Osamu, one of the most successful entrepreneurs below thirty three, the one person that had your heart since you were sixteen,

And the one who broke your trust.

It was Saturday night, both of you were laying together on the couch in your shared house. The house that used to be empty, a house that was so cheap that the two of you could afford right after graduating from college.

But little by little, the house turned into a safe haven, renovated with all the contemporary detail as the two of you poured your blood and sweat into this house,

A house that has now become a home, the place that made the two of you believe everything would be alright. Just the two of you together, and maybe someday, filled with another little Miya.

His arms wrapped loosely around your figure while you rested your head on top of his chest. He would occasionally caress your hair gently, and you would close your eyes to feel all of his affection.

It was your weekend break when the two of you soaked in each other’s warmth; the time when the two of you closed yourself from the universe, when everything just rotated around you and him.

The atmosphere that surrounded the two of you was so serene. Though, it all changed when he appeared on the television screen all of a sudden. Your eyes lit up immediately, realising that it was your fiancé who was now being interviewed on screen.

You sat up, straightening your posture as your body leaned towards the television. Proudness welled up inside your heart as you heard him answering questions after questions that were being thrown at him.

He always told you everything about Onigiri Miya. About all the events, all of his interviews, a new branch that he opened, even all the commercial plans. He did that, because he knew you would be so proud of him. Having someone that constantly praised you was addicting to him.

But what you didn’t notice as you were so excited to see him on the screen, was the horror on his face as he remembered the reason why he didn’t tell you about this interview.

“And how about you and your fiancée? Is the wedding bell around the corner?”

“Babe, this is embarrassing, let’s just change the channel.” He pleaded, but you were too focused on the television, your eyes never leave the screen as a wide grin plastered on your face, “Babe, please-”

“Unfortunately no, please don’t ask about my personal life.”

But then, your smile was replaced with a confused look as you heard his answer.

Your name was known as the woman behind the Onigiri Miya, the support system that everyone wanted to have in their life with how loyal you were towards the one that you loved. And as your fiancé, he always answered questions about you with pride lingering on his face.

So when you saw him averting his gaze to the corner while answering the question, you knew that something was up.

“Samu, has something happened?” You finally turned towards him, “Do you want to talk about it, love?” Your eyes locked onto his face, wondering why he stayed silent and just looked away from you, “You know that I am always up to talk about anything with you, right?”

Yet the reason behind his unusual answer was something that you could never prepare yourself for. You could feel your breath hitched once he met your gaze. His eyes were filled with sadness, orbs glistening with tears as he finally dared to look up at you.

Then just like that, he averted your gaze once again, and that’s when you knew that he was hiding something from you.

“Samu,” Your hand gently wrapped around his much larger hand; you could feel how the man was trembling. Your fiancé's skin felt as cold as ice compared to yours, “Love, what is it? Please look at me, I am worried for you, Samu.”

Your fiancé let out a sigh, squeezing your hand a little before pulling away from you. You eyed him as he stood up from the couch, eyes staring down at you with remorse evident on his face.

“I-I am sorry,” His voice trembled as he couldn’t look straight into your eyes anymore, “I did something. Something bad,” Tears were streaming down his face as he sobbed.

By that, you immediately stood up, wrapping your arms around him to give some comfort,

“Sshhh, Samu, it’s alright…” You didn’t know what was it about, but the only thing in your mind right now was to make sure he would be alright, “We can talk about it-”

“But that's the thing. We can’t!” Osamu suddenly snapped, pulling himself away from your embrace as he realised that he didn’t deserve any of your affection, “This is something that we cannot talk about, (Y/N).”

“Samu, you don’t know about that-”

“I'm cheating on you!”

And at those four words, you swore you could hear your heart break. You immediately took a step backwards as you wrapped your arms around your own body, feeling the temperature dropping.

You bit your lip, mind still trying to process the words. Cheating. That was something that you never thought someone like Miya Osamu would do. Hell, it was something that you never thought any of your family or friends would do, let alone your fiancé.

“W-with who?” You were always there for him, and you knew damn well no matter who it was, the answer would tear yourself apart. However, you needed to know. You needed to know what they had that you didn’t that could make him did this to you.

“(Y/N)-”

“With. Who.” Your eyes bored into his with a look that he couldn’t fathom as you hardened your voice, “I deserve to know the whole sto-”

“It’s Rintarou.” But you didn’t expect your brother’s name to be leaving your fiancé's lips. “We happened to meet up a lot when I planned the branch for Onigiri Miya in East Japan, I-”

“That was six months ago…” You muttered under your breath when the realisation hit you. Osamu could feel the lump in his throat as he still decided to either speak or stay silent.

Although just like what you said, you deserved to know the whole story.

“We have been meeting each other ever since.” He gulped down, his voice beginning to break, “Every week, when you are busy in your office.”

Never once in your life have you thought you would be in this position right now. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up to the man that you sacrificed everything for.

“What kind of meeting?” Right now, your voice betrayed you as it cracked a little. “How far have two of you gone?” By the forlorn look on his face, it was enough for you to know, “For god sake, Samu!”

You chuckled bitterly, dazed by the fact you have been betrayed by the two most important people that you had in this life. Right now you couldn’t even think straight. The feelings you felt right now were all too much. All that you wanted at the moment was just to vanish.

Your fiancé walked up towards you, regret evident inside his beautiful orb, glistening with tears. Because he knew, he just broke one person who was always there for him from the start. The women who supported him through thick and thin. From when he was still nothing.

You were someone who was there when the spotlight was only rotated around his brother. You were there during every breakdown, every failed recipe, every declined partnership. You were always there for him, patiently supporting him through everything.

“I am sorry, (Y/N).” His voice wavered, both hands timidly extended towards you. Solicitude struck him to the core as he wanted to pull you into his embrace, but at the same time Osamu knew he had broken you beyond repair. “I didn’t mean to do it… It just happened.”

You snorted in between your tears when you heard his words. From all the movies and television series that you have watched together with him, you always heard the same sentence numerous times already. The words that popped out...

From the lips of the character who cheated.

“Having sex with someone- no. not just somone,” You coated your pain with a snarky remarks, trying to act tough in front of the man who broke your heart, “When you have sex with your fiancé's brother everytime she wasn't around can't be excused with 'it just happened', Samu.”

Osamu knew the second he captured someone else’s lips, he could never turn it back around. He just cheated on you, someone who didn’t deserve to be treated like this. You, who would leave everything behind if that means he could be happy.

Even if that means you would never have your own happy ending.

Cheating is a taboo relationship that was made by two people who agreed to get into it, and he understood that what he had with the professional volleyball player could never end up well. Yet he did it anyway, for the last six months. With your very own brother.

It was more like a neverending nightmare for you. To have someone that you gave your whole heart to, the same someone who you spent your whole early life with, only to stab you in the back.

Two people who broke your heart were the two people you trusted the most. And each one of them was someone who you held dear inside your heart.

The buzzing sounds from your phone brought you back to reality. You groaned because once again, you fell to the unwanted memories that you were trying so hard to forget.

To have the only relationship you ever had falling apart was something that you never prepared yourself to. Up until now, you never knew how it felt to get your heart broken. From all the fights that you had with Osamu, none of them could crack the strong bond that you two shared.

The bond that was now all broken when he decided to get in bed with your brother.

You unconsciously touched your face, feeling the warm tears cascading down your cheek as you wiped it all away with your sleeves. You hated yourself because you felt so blind believing in every word that people said about how you and Osamu would last forever.

Your hand reached for your phone, wondering who in the right mind would call you this late at night. There was no way it was your ex-fiancé, because he always gave you space and only called you in your free time.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you saw the name on the screen. It was Atsumu.

Every time you saw his name, your mind would only think about his twin brother instead; you cursed yourself for even thinking about Osamu all over again. Even when the said man just broke you apart.

Without thinking, you declined the call and decided to turn off your phone for tonight. Your eyes bore into the now black screen, looking out to the reflection of your face. There used to be a glimmer of joy and warmth, but now it was just a blank expression as it stared back into your soul.

“I am sorry,” You were so tired of hearing the same sentence over and over again. “I shouldn’t have been selfish.” Your brother was a man of silence, yet here he was right now in front of the new house you were staying in, repeating the words that he said over the phone since last week.

“There’s no need to say sorry, Rinrin.” You bit your lips, eyes never leaving the ground, “You love him, it’s not your fault to fall in love with… With the same man that I l-love.” You could see how he clenched his fist, and you knew that he felt guilty over it.

There were a lot of things inside his head at the moment as he stood in front of the woman that always had her faith in him. You were the best sister that anyone could even ask for, that one family who he wanted to live the happiest life because you deserved it all.

He felt like a hypocrite because he knew he was the one who took the happiness away from you.

“I broke it off with him,” He muttered under his breath, afraid to see your reaction from the news. Right now, the realisation that he just hurt you was more painful than the fact he just broke up with his lover.

He expected you to be angry at him, saying it doesn’t matter anyway because things already happened and he couldn’t change the past. Maybe you would even curse and punch him; he would be okay if that was your reaction.

Then again, he forgot that it was you who stood in front of him.

“Why?” Your voice was calm as you looked up at him, “Don’t you love Samu, Rinrin?” His breath hitched from the question. Today was supposed to be the day he finally faced you, apologizing for all the heartbreak he put you through. So why was focus suddenly thrown at him?

“I do,” He hesitated to answer that question at first, but he knew too well that you already knew what was inside his heart. Then his eyes widened as he saw a sincere smile plastered on your face.

“So don’t break it off,” You whispered the words so easily as you reached for his hand, “I-I know how much he loves you,” For now, you really hoped his feeling was real, “He is a loyal man, and he would never do such a thing if he wasn't really in love with you, Rinrin.”

Your hand felt so warm as your thumb grazed on the back of his hand. With that little gesture, your brother broke down in front of you, hiccuping from the immense guilt that brewed inside his heart.

“I am sorry, you don’t deserve this.” He sobbed, and you couldn’t help but bring his head to your embrace anyway, “I am sorry, I am sorry.”

People told you that you were too kind for your own good. You have been wrecked by them, torn apart by them. None of them deserves to be treated right, and society would not even be surprised if you wanted to cut everything off from them.

But you were not like that, you could never act like that.

“It’s alright, Rin…” Your hand fell on his hair, holding back your own tears as you realised what it would mean to let them together, “It will be alright,” They would, but not you. Not now, not in forever.

No matter how many times you tried to shake away all of the pain, you couldn’t just undo your love that you felt for Osamu as easily as you want to. Your feelings have been there since the first year of your high school days, it was always there, since your brother asked you to watch his game.

Since the two of you broke off the engagement-for an obvious reason-, you only saw him on the television. Sometimes you still look back at all the messages that he had sent for you; laughing over the joke, smiling from his sweet words, but ended up with tears as you remember there would be no more messages like that.

So you could only stare at the blank screen of your phone, the reflection showed how your eyes glistened with tears once more.

“Oh! That’s Miya Osamu!” You jerked your head back to the television, heart beats a lot faster by just the mention of his name, “Come on, make sure you got a good angle of him.”

You chuckled, a little smile adorned your face as you saw him looking as gorgeous as ever with a black suit wrapped around his torso. He was in some kind of red carpet gala, and of course, invited there as he was one of the most successful entrepreneurs of the century.

He received a lot of invitation, but he would usually turn it down if you couldn’t be his plus one due to how busy you are with your own business sometimes. So when you realised what does it mean for him to be there, you dropped your phone to the ground,

Right when your brother appeared on the screen.

“You look so good tonight, Osamu!”

“Thank you, I couldn’t do it without his help.”

You thought you were ready to see them on the same frame. Their eyes glimmered with something that the camera could even catch,

“The two of you looked so good together, I am jealous!”

“Really? I guess we do, huh?”

From the look on his face, you knew that Miya Osamu really fall in love with the man in his arm,

“Is the wedding bell around the corner?”

It was the same question, the same question that he received a year ago at the night he confessed what he did to you,

“Yeah,”

But the answer was so different, nothing like the time when he was still yours.

“The wedding bell is around the corner for sure.”

He kissed the man beside him, a loving smile adorned his face as your brother chuckled with blush spread around his cheek.

It used to be you, to be in his embrace as he showed the world how much he loves you. It used to be you, to be the one who received his kiss and affection. It used to be you, who wore the match engagement ring with him.

Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you never gave them permission to be together. You wonder if any of you still get hurt, or maybe by time all of the broken trust would be healed, and the three of you would have a beautiful future with someone else.

Your friends told you to walk away from your past, telling you that your ex fiance and your brother didn’t deserve to be together, since both of them stabbed you from behind.

For six months, without you knowing. For six months, as you laid in his embrace with his heart belonged to someone else. For six months, you kissed the lips that had captured another.

Then again, you love them, a little bit too much that even though they were the one who took away the smile from your face, you couldn’t just let them suffer. Either from guilt, or from the heartbreak that would haunt them.

You knew how it felt since he decided to love someone else other than you, you were damn knew how it felt to love someone, but couldn’t have them anymore,

So who are you to stop two people in love from being together?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thanks to my bby @iwaixiumi for being my beta reader!

Tagged Lovelies:

@vventure @heccingdead @muffins-puffins @miyuswriting @nanashinanashi @vlovers-world @proplayer-kenma @kashika @cuddlyasahi @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @of-heroes-and-dreams @for-ests @giyuwu-san @oli-imagines @lordeofthunder @miyatsunami @analyze-hq @benewol @allywritesimagines @iwaixiumi @hihiq @gulfwanq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @dear-green-tea @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @daiseukis @fitriiaw @macaronnv @verbluehte

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu scenario #miya osamu drabble #miya osamu oneshot #haikyuu miya osamu #miya twins #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #miya osamu x suna rintarou

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

dinner dates and twilight books

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ spencer finally confides in the reader about what happened to maeve.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ a small argument.

word count ↠ 2.3k

“some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. from what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favour fire, but if it had to perish twice. I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice, is also great. and would suffice.” — Robert Frost

Y/N looked around her as she stepped over the threshold of Spencer’s apartment. It looked how she imagined it would, brown and green colour scale and books piled high everywhere she looked. Though it was obvious he had cleaned for her, evident by the faint scent of bleach she could smell, but she didn’t let it bother her, she thought it was sweet.

The two had been dating for 2 months now, and were yet to become an official couple. Though they’d been on as many coffee and movie dates as his job would allow with his limited free time. The prospect of their new relationship excited Y/N. She really hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time. Spencer felt the same, so when it looked as though he was finally going to get a weekend that was uninterrupted by a case from work, he invited Y/N over for a home-cooked dinner date.

Of course, only after he’d asked her did Spencer remember he was utterly useless at cooking, thus enlisting help from Rossi, memorising recipes of Y/N’s favourite foods.

The door shut gently behind Spencer as he offered to take Y/N’s coat like the gentleman he was, and she handed it to him with a grateful smile and a small “Thanks.”

“Uh, so, make yourself at home. I’ll just be in the kitchen. Can I get you a drink?” He asked, trying desperately not to show his very obvious nerves.

“I’m alright for now, thankyou.” She smiled, and Spencer returned the gesture, before scattering off to his small kitchen to begin cooking the food he’d prepared earlier before she could notice the blush on his flustered face.

She turned her attention back to her surroundings, and found herself walking over to his bookshelf. It went from floor to ceiling, completeley covering one of his walls, each shelf absoloutley packed with different novels. She noted the piles of books that sat next to the shelves, and giggled a little. He’d literally run out of room for his books, he had that many.

She folded her arms in front her as she smiled at the collections. She wasn’t a massive reader, but she had read some of the classic novels she saw on his shelves. She was more so just intrigued by the vast collection he owned.

“So, just how many books do you have?” She spoke a little louder so he’d hear her from the kitchen.

“1,274.” He called back. She should’ve been surprised by his precise answer, but then again she’d come to realise that he always gave answers like that. It was one of the things she liked so much about him. Her fingertips delicately grazed the spines of some of the novels she recognised. The Merchant of Venice, Catcher in the Rye, even an original copy of Alice in Wonderland, and then of course, the Magic of Quantum Physics. Obviously.

Spencer left the kitchen to join her, smiling as he watched her gaze in awe of his collection.

“and you’ve read all of these?” She asked, her voice showcasing her amazement.

“Yeah, I guess I have.” He laughed at how shocked she seemed. He noted how her nose crinkled slightly and her head tilted as she read the the different titles, smiling that perfect smile when she saw one she recognised. He really liked this girl. There was something about her, something he hadn’t felt for anyone in years. Spencer already knew he wanted to keep her around for as long as he could.

“Do you read much?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Sometimes, I really prefer works of fiction more than anything else, but-” She gasped, stopping herself mid-sentence. “No way.”

“What is it ?”

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, own a copy of Twilight?” She teased, but her smile was joyous.

He simply shrugged his shoulders and gave her a smile. “It came up when I was on a case a few years ago, and I guess I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I still don’t get it.”

“You’re kidding, right? The Twilight Saga is one of my favourites. I could talk about it forever.” She sighed happily. “The first book isn’t bad, but Eclipse is easily the best-” She reached out to take the book from the shelf, but the books were so tightly pushed together in the small space that when she pulled the book out, another fell from the shelf and hit the floor with a thud.

She laughed, and bent down to pick it up. Before she could even touch it, Spencer swooped down and grabbed it first. “Don’t touch it.” He sneered at her, holding the white hardback book tightly in his grasp. She frowned. His tone of voice was a severe contrast to the kind, warm tone he used with her just moments before.

She brushed off his harshness and gave a small smile as she apologised. “I’m sorry, I’m awfully clumsy at times-“

“Could you not be a bit more careful?” He snapped, in a tone she hadn’t heard him use before. He looked down at the book, seemingly checking it for any scrapes. The smile dropped from her lips and she stumbled on her words, shocked.

“It’s- it’s just a book Spencer, I’m sorry.” Was he really that upset about a book? it wasn’t like she’d done it purposely.

With the way he looked at her, you’d think she’d stabbed him or something.

“Just a book? You wouldn’t understand. I know you said you were clumsy but really? What if you’d damaged it?” He was practically yelling now, and Y/N could feel the tears welling in her eyes. Where had the awkward and shy boy with the pretty smile gone?

She tried to blink the tears away but instead it made one fall down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry. Thankyou for having me but I think I should leave. Sorry, again.” She apologised profusely, grabbing her jacket from the coathanger and turning to leave.

“Wait- No Y/N, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry I snapped.” His calm voice had returned, and he gently gripped her wrist to stop her from leaving.

She turned back to face him, and forced a smile that contrasted the tears in her eyes. “Honestly it’s fine. It was my fault, I’m so clumsy and now I’ve upset you. I’m really sorry.” She turned again. His grip on her tightened.

“No, Y/N. I’m sorry I called you clumsy. I didn’t mean it I just-.” He paused. “Can I at least explain myself? and then if you still want to go, you can.”

She turned to face him, giving him a small nod and allowing him to pull her to sit next to him on the sofa. She placed her bag and coat down by her feet, and gently pulled her hand from his, settling both her hands on her lap. If he hadn’t just snapped at her, Spencer would’ve been hurt that she’d pulled away, but he deserved it.

She prepared herself to listen. Spencer placed the book down on the table and looked down at his hands as he began to speak.

“2 years ago, I had these awful headaches. I went to numerous doctors, none of themcould seem to find anything wrong with me. Finally, I got in contact with another doctor, and with her help the headaches started to fade. Her name was Maeve, she was a geneticist. We spoke on the phone every Sunday, first just about my headaches, but once they’d gone away, we just kept talking. Slowly it began to be something more.” He smiled, like he was fondly remembering.

“She wanted to meet in person but- but Maeve had this stalker. She didn’t know who he was, but he threatened her, made her scared to leave her apartment without a disguise.” Spencer continued, telling Y/N how they’d been supposed to meet for the first time at a resteraunt, but Spencer thought her stalker was there, and so told her not to come inside for her safety.

“After she was gone, the hostess came to me with a little gift bag, saying a woman had left it for me. It was from Maeve, and in the bag was this book.” He looked at the white hardback book on his little brown coffee table. “I’d actually bought the same one for her, funnily enough.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. Y/N was beginning to understand, but could see Spencer wasn’t finished yet.

“One day I called her and when she answered, it wasn’t her on the end of the line. The person said one word, Zugzwang. ” Spencer’s words wobbled as he spoke.

“It’s a chess term, right? It describes the point in the game where the player realises they will inevitably be checkmated.” Y/N spoke, and Spencer seemed surprised she understood, but nodded and continued with his story nontheless.

“That’s how I knew something was wrong, that she was in danger. The team and I, we finally figured out where her stalker, who turned out to be a woman named Diane, was holding her. I got there, and it was the first time we saw one another in person. She looked so scared I-“ He choked on his words, tears brimming in his eyes. Y/N slowly reached out to take his hand, but just before she did she looked to him, as if asking permission. He nodded, and she took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

Spencer was grateful for her warmth and compassion.

He took a deep breath. “I tried to talk Diane down, but I failed and she-“ He stopped before forcing himself to continue. “She shot herself in the head, killing Maeve as well.” A single tear fell from his eye and his chest heaved with shaking breaths. Y/N hesitantly pulled him into her arms in a comforting hug, but he welcomed it, wrapping his arms around her.

“Spencer I am so sorry.” She whispered. She couldn’t imagine a pain worse than losing the person you loved.

He shook his head, pulling back from her. “It’s not your fault, and it was years ago now.” He glanced at the coffee table, reaching over to take the book from it.

He opened it to the first page, and it didn’t take a genius for Y/N to guess that it was Maeve’s writing on the first page.

“This was all I had left of her. In the weeks after she died, I clung to this book for dear life. Even slept with it cradled to my chest.” He laughed humourlessly, as if it was a silly thing to do.

He wiped his eyes, his breathing returning to somewhat a normal pace. “I’m sorry I shouted. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. None of what I just told you excuses me mistreating you like that.” He sighed. “I want you to know it’s okay if you’d like to end this- I mean, us - now, now you know what emotional baggage I come with.”

Y/N was quick to shake her head, which surprised him.

“Don’t apologise. I completely understand, but Spencer if you’re not ready for a relationship, I’m happy to be your friend. You’re incredible, and I’d rather have you as a friend than not in my life at all.” She smiled sadly. She’s not sure if she believed the words leaving her mouth, she really could see herself falling in love with Spencer, but if he wasn’t ready, she would bury her feelings down and survive with just his friendship. He’d become too important to her for her to lose him from her life completely.

He frowned. “No, no it’s not like that Y/N. I loved Maeve, but that was two years ago, and whilst the pain is still there it gets less and less everyday.” He tried to explain. “Since we started dating you’ve really helped with that. I want you in my life. Today, and for a long time after that, if that’s okay with you.” He paused. “That’s actually what this whole home cooked dinner date thing was about.” He laughed nervously. “I wanted- I want to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“Are you’re sure you’re ready to move on, Spencer?” She whispered, unsure. She didn’t want to force him into anything, and if he wasn’t over Maeve, she didn’t want to end up hurting herself.

“I promise I am, it still hurts at times but I know she’d want me to. Y/N, Maeve was my past, but I think you might be my future.” He smiled.

That was all the reassurance she needed. She beamed back at him. “Then yes. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers in a short but loving kiss. However, they were interrupted by Spencer’s fire alarms going off. Spencer jumped up at the sound.

“Oh shit, the food!” He scampered off to the kitchen, leaving a giggling Y/N on the couch.

Sure, Spencer had some emotional baggage, and the relationship wasn’t always going to be easy, but with her love and affection, Spencer’s heart would eventually heal. They would be okay.

The pair enjoyed a slightly burned but still nice dinner before they retreated to his couch, and cuddled next to one another, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. As their conversation died down, a frown settled on her face, and Spencer frowned back, his thumb tracing along her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.

“I was just thinking, now you’ve read Twilight, I have to ask you a very important question.” She smiled, and Spencer raised his eyebrows in confusion and a bit of worry. “Are you team Edward or Jacob?”

Spencer laughed, any worry he held leaving him instantly, before delving into a ramble on how Jacob was so obviously better for Bella than Edward, which Y/N wholehartedly disagreed with. They laughed together as they continued their playful disagreement.

Yeah, they were going to be just fine.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #mgg x reader #mgg

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

After Midnight pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part 1 | Part 2

Uhhh this is kinda long and took me FOREVER to write which was v annoying. Disclaimer: stole a line from Grey’s Anatomy what’s new

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~Feyre~

I’m aware that pacing is one of my bad habits. My ex told me all the time how it drove him crazy to watch me go back and forth, back and forth. Most of the time, I can catch myself doing it and stop.

But right now, I think I’d find a way to pace even if I were chained to a tree.

Because I’m so freaking nervous about Rhysand coming over that I’m practically coming out of my skin.

Which is ridiculous, because the man has seen me naked, for gods sake.

He’s done more than just see, too.

And yet the thought of him staying here, sleeping next to me all night, has me ready to run for the hills. Somehow, sharing a bed is more intimate to me than having sex to me.

It’s fucked up, I know.

But the last man I shared a bed with...

There was a level of trust there, and it was broken. And knowing that this is the only way to rebuild the ability to give that trust doesn’t make it any easier.

I also know that if I go downstairs, I’ll end up drinking myself stupid to make this easier, so I’ve asked Rhysand to just meet me up here. And to make myself even more miserable, I’m early.

I mean, I’m always a few minutes early, but I somehow forgot we decided to meet later than usual and got here an hour ago.

Which gave me plenty of time to start freaking out.

A knock on the door snaps me out of my nerves-induced pace, and I tiptoe to the door and look through the peephole, both excited and anxious when I see Rhysand there.

Just like last week, he's wearing dark pants and a thin white shirt that does nothing to hide the body underneath. I think he does it to drive me crazy, honestly, because the sight of all that tattooed muscle-

“Are you going to let me in?”

Shit.

I swing the door open, already blushing, and say, “Sorry.”

He looks down at me, full lips pulling into a smirk. “Hi, Feyre.”

The way he says my name is somehow so full of innuendo it threatens to send my cheeks scarlet, but I say politely, “Hi, Rhys.”

He walks into the room, dropping a backpack I refuse to acknowledge on the floor. “How was your week?”

Well, I spent the entire seven days fretting about what might happen tonight and was barely able to eat anything, so not that great. “It was fine. Yours?”

His lips twitch. “Also fine.”

Then he gives the biggest, fakest yawn I’ve ever seen--throwing in a stretch, too--and says, “Well, I’m exhausted. Want to go to bed?”

He’s so damn nice, it makes me want to slap him. “Okay,” I agree, walking to one side of the bed and pulling the covers back.

I’m already dressed in my sleep shorts and a tank top, but grabs his bag and heads to the bathroom.

I can do this, I tell myself, not at all believing it. He’s nice, and it’s just sleeping. Most women would kill to sleep next to someone who looks like him.

The last part of that thought is confirmed a second later when Rhysand steps out of the bathroom in low-hanging shorts and nothing else.

His tan chest is on full display, and even though I’ve seen and touched every inch of it, I find myself studying it once again.

I suddenly wish I had a paintbrush and an empty canvas.

The urge shocks me. I haven’t thought about painting, haven’t yearned to pick up a brush, since before everything happened. If I’m being honest, long before everything happened.

“I thought we weren’t doing anything sexual tonight,” he murmurs, voice a little deeper.

“We aren’t,” I confirm, forcing my eyes to his perfectly innocent chin.

“Well then put your horny eyes away,” he scolds with a smile, walking over to flop on his half of the bed.

I smother a laugh with my hand and get in the bed next to him, trying to ignore the warmth leaking from his skin to mine.

Neither of us move to turn the small lamp off, so we lay there in the soft light, perfectly silent.

I’m lying down in a nice hotel room with a good looking man. My body is relaxed, and I am calm.

Rhysand is a very nice person, and even though I’ve known him for only three weeks, I don’t think he’d ever hurt me.

But his soft, even breathing is a constant reminder that he’s next to me, and the weight in the bed is too familiar, too close. Pressing my eyes shut doesn’t help, because it just allows me to think about the past two years and everything that happened in them.

My heart’s beating so fast and hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it, and a cool, horrible sweat breaks out over my back.

Tears threaten to spill over, and I’m discretely trying to take deeper breaths and force myself to calm down.

It doesn’t work in the slightest, so I throw the covers off, turn on my side away from him, and pretend he isn’t there.

Which becomes pretty damn impossible when a warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Feyre?”

“I’m asleep,” I lie.

His hand gets a little firmer, turning me on my back so he can see my face. Soft, understanding eyes notice everything written so painfully clearly on it, and he says, “You know what? I’m actually not that tired.”

I think I could love him for that sentence alone.

He rolls over and leans to reach into his bag. Sitting up, he throws a deck of cards on the bed between us and asks, “Fancy a hand of cards?”

Thank the gods above for warm, compassionate hookers.

“Sure.”

I sit up across from and diligently ignore the sight of all those tattoos as I watch him expertly shuffle and deal the cards. He looks so serious that it comes as a surprise when he murmurs, “I’m going to cheat if you start beating me.”

My lips curve into a smile. “That probably won’t happen. I’m horrible at cards.”

“Good. I’m a sore loser.”

One hand in and I see that he was serious. He completely kicks my ass without a shred of hesitation or mercy, but I don’t even care because I’m finally starting to relax. It’s easy to when he’s in front of me, making jokes and laughing and smiling.

He deals another hand without asking, somehow reading me well enough to know I need it. “If I win this hand, you have to answer a question.”

Oh, gods.

This is a recipe for disaster, because if I were him, I’d want to know why exactly I’m so fucked up.

But I can’t exactly turn him down when he’s been so kind and easy-going about everything. “Okay. Same if I win.”

“You won’t, but okay.”

Cocky bastard.

A few minutes later, I realize his confidence was well-deserved because once again, he beats me. “I think you might’ve cheated there, but you can ask your question.”

I’m mentally praying it’s nothing serious, because I don’t know if I could handle opening up to him while looking into his pretty eyes and-

“If you were arrested for a crime, what would it most likely be?”

I find myself laughing as I look to see he’s completely serious. “That’s what you want to know?”

He smiles back at me and just shrugs.

“Probably tax fraud,” I admit, laughing again when his eyebrows shoot up. “And before you ask, no, that isn’t why I’m well-off. I just have never understood those stupid forms, so I’ll probably mess up and end up in prison one of these days.”

Rhysand chuckles, grabbing the cards to deal another hand.

“What about you?”

Putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward like he’s telling me a secret, he whispers, “Road rage. I’m a really angry driver, and I find screaming at people helps.”

He says it without any remorse at all, so it’s pretty believable.

“Same deal?” I ask, looking at the cards in front of me and knowing without a doubt I’m about to lose again.

Almost an hour later, we’ve asked each other the most ridiculous, absurd questions we can think of. I now know he’s afraid of sharks, doesn’t believe in black holes, and was voted most likely to succeed in high school.

He’s also found out about my sisters, my strong dislike of cilantro, and my dream of moving to France and working in the Louvre.

My stomach hurts from laughing so much, and there’s a quiet kind of peace inside me I haven’t felt in years.

We’re laying down, propped on our elbows, when we finish yet another game, and he puts his cards down and looks at me with unusually serious eyes.

I know he’s about to break our unspoken rule to not ask any personal questions, but for some reason, I don’t stop him.

“Why don’t you paint anymore?”

His tone tells me that if I want him to drop it, he will.

But... I want to tell him. I want to tell him what I went through, how it changed me. How it both broke me and made me stronger.

So I do.

“The last time I painted was over a year ago. I know it sounds cliche, but my art... it comes from a place inside of me that just isn’t there anymore.”

Rhysand nods, even though what I said didn’t make that much sense. “Do you think it’ll ever come back?”

“Yes,” I say, blushing and looking at his shoulder. I have no idea why I tell him, but I can’t seem to keep my fat mouth shut. “I actually wanted to paint earlier tonight.”

“Oh?” He gives me a knowing smile. “So those weren’t your horny eyes, they were your artist eyes?”

“Of course, you pervert.” They were both, to be honest, but I’m not about to tell him that when he’s looking at me like he just won the lottery.

“Well, you can paint me anytime you want.” He gives me a wink and waggles his eyebrows. “I posed nude a couple times in college.”

He says that so casually it takes me a second to really hear and understand his words. “You went to college?”

Rhysand freezes, and I think about how I asked that question and want to smack myself. I didn’t have to sound so damn surprised, even if it did catch me off guard. “I didn’t mean to sound like that, I just... I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Feyre, it’s okay. I just didn’t really realize I’d said that.”

“Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he says something that completely surprises me. “I actually have a PhD.”

My mouth drops open, and he laughs. “In what?”

“War and Maritime History.”

For a few seconds, I just lay there and stare at him, mouth swaying in the breeze. “You have a PhD in history?”

It’s almost impossible to imagine this insanely handsome man sitting in a dim, dreary classroom, talking about something as dull as history.

“I do.” His tone goes a little despondent as he murmurs, “I don’t use it, but I have it.”

He presses his lips together and reaches for the cards lying forgotten between us. I know I should listen to the silent cue, but I can’t stand seeing him like this.

“Why don’t you use it?” I ask, making sure to keep my tone casual and inviting. I want to give him the same opportunity he gave me.

He shuffles and deals, then looks at his hand and shakes his head, snatching up my cards to re-deal. At least he was honest about the cheating.

I hardly even notice, though, because he says, “I did for a few years. I was a professor at UVelaris.”

Now that, I can imagine.

Him standing in front of a body of students, driving all the females crazy, lecturing and being the cool, funny professor everyone wants to have.

“Not anymore?”

Rhysand shakes his head. “Didn’t pay enough.”

Something about his face tells me it’s time to drop it and change the subject. Which I guess makes it my turn to share.

So as I start to lose once again, I tell him, “I can’t go to sleep next to you because one day I woke up and my ex-fiance had locked me in our apartment.”

It’s blurted and quiet and a terrible way to spring that on someone, but he just says, “My hand is absolute garbage. You might actually win this one.”

“About time,” I mutter, weirdly relieved he didn’t start asking questions. Or worse, getting angry.

It should probably concern me that he somehow knows and can read me well enough to find the perfect response, but I’m too busy marveling at how easy this all feels with him.

Every minute of therapy is like a punch to the gut, but with Rhys... I feel like talking to someone who won’t judge, who won’t ever tell me what I should’ve done.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I actually concentrate on our game, and when I finally defeat him, I stick my tongue out at him and smile.

He grins back, but something about it makes mine fall away.

Because it’s his turn, and even though I’m prepared for the worst, I don’t know what it is until I hear it.

“My cousin has a rare form of leukemia, and the university didn’t pay enough for me to cover her treatments.”

He says it quickly and quietly, just like I did, but it still carries a heavy punch that knocks the air out of my lungs.

Because he... I don’t have the words to describe him.

He gave up his dream job and does something he probably hates for his family. It’s the most selfless, heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard.

But I want to give him the space to say things at his own pace like he is for me. “Let’s play another hand. I’m feeling lucky.”

Rhysand nods, eyes looking relieved, and starts to deal again.

My turn.

“My ex was really paranoid and thought I was cheating on him, and he had to go out of town for a work trip. That’s when he... I was locked in there for five days, and he took my phone and laptop, so I didn’t have a way to call for help.”

Rhys is silent for a long moment, jaw clenched tight. But when he speaks, it’s in the same calm, easy tone as always. “There’s not enough luck in the world for you to beat me this time.”

I laugh despite the heaviness of the words I just spoke, and even though it’s his turn, I keep talking. “I went a little crazy. I tore the place apart. I tried to break a window to get out, but we lived on the eighth floor and had Plexiglas windows.”

Our game is long forgotten at this point, and I know I should shut up, but talking to him... I can’t stop. “By the time he got back, I was... different. I was having panic attacks all the time and couldn’t bring myself to eat, and then he just strolls through the door like nothing happened.”

“And he was angry with me. For making such a mess. He hardly noticed I was a shell of who I used to be. Over time, he’d broken me down so completely he was used to it.” Taking a deep breath, I shrug and say, “So I left. I didn’t take the time to pack a bag, I just saw the open door and ran.”

“How long ago was that?” he asks, the first time he’s said something besides his endless taunts about cards.

“A year ago. I was with him for three. It took me a long time to leave him because he wasn’t always emotionally abusive and harsh. There were times when he’d be so sweet and good to me. I wrote it off as mood swings for a long time since I loved him so much.” I take a deep breath and push away the memories threatening to drag me under. “But I got out.”

I say it to him, even though it’s as much a reminder to myself.

Rhysand smiles, reaching to slowly tuck my hair behind my ear. “And now you’re free.”

“I’m free,” I say, proud of myself for telling someone besides my shrink what happened.

It’s the first time I’ve ever opened up about our relationship willingly, and even though it was a brief, abbreviated version of the full story, I’m happy with myself.

But it’s a bittersweet moment, because I can’t forget what Rhys told me.

I can’t forget why he’s here, what he’s been through.

“I wish you were free, too,” I whisper.

And gods, is it true. Even though I’m happy I found him, even though I’m grateful he’s helping me, I wish he was free to go back to teaching. I wish he didn’t have to carry this burden.

I wish he wasn’t looking at me with enough sadness in his eyes to make my chest hurt.

He doesn’t respond, and I don’t want him to feel pressured, so I say simply, “I’m tired.”

Rhys nods, sweeps the cards up, and tosses them back into his bag. Then we’re laying there staring at each other, and I’m noticing the way the light turns his skin a deep bronze and lights up his eyes.

Something feels different between us now that we know the dirty details of each other’s lives. It feels less like a transaction.

It feels like he cares about me.

I scoot forward and put my head on his chest, grateful he turns on his back so I don’t feel too trapped.

His hand is on my hip, the other tucked behind his head, and as I put one leg over his, I think that I’ve never been this comfortable in my life.

Which surprises me, but I’m not complaining. Especially not as the hand on my back starts moving across my back in small, soothing circles that make my breathing slow.

Sleep comes for me quickly, but right before I close my eyes, I press a kiss to his chest and murmur, “Goodnight, Rhys.”

His response is the last thing I hear before I go to sleep, warm and safe in his arms.

I don’t really remember where I am when I wake up. My eyes stay shut as I wiggle around a little, finding myself very warm and comfortable and happy.

It’s only when someone’s breath brushes the back of my neck that I remember where I am, and who I’m with.

Rhysand is behind me, warm body wrapped around me. One arm is under my head, the other is mingled with mine, and his legs are tucked behind mine. His head is in the hollow of my neck, stubble tickling my skin slightly.

It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up in a man’s arms, and I’ve forgotten how good it feels.

Careful not to move too much, I stretch my legs and arms out, enjoying the weight of his body on mine.

He must feel be stirring anyway, because next thing I know, his mouth is pressing against my neck in a soft, sleepy kiss that makes me smile.

It’s natural and easy and it feels like we do this every morning.

I trust him, I realize with a slight start.

It’s insane to trust someone after such a short time of knowing each other, but I do. Especially after last night.

He listened to me and made me feel heard without being overbearing or giving me pity. He’s been there for me through panic and sadness and somehow managed to make me smile regardless.

And I want him to know how much it means to me.

So I turn my head and meet his mouth with mine.

Rhysand doesn’t hesitate, sweeping his tongue into my mouth in a rich, hazy kiss that makes me immediately want more. His hand cradles my head, arms loosely wrapped around me.

I turn around so I can put my hands in his hair, and I’m so lost in him I don’t even realize we’re violating our nothing-sexual rule.

I don’t want you to touch me unless you want to.

I attempt to pull away, but his mouth follows me, pressing kisses across my upper lip, the corner of my mouth. “Rhys,” I breathe, putting a hand on his shoulder to give myself room to think.

He pulls away, violet eyes heavy hooded and happy. “Feyre.”

His voice is scratchy and his hair is ruffled and he looks so goddamn edible I can’t resist anymore. “I want to touch you. Please.”

It’s almost comical how quickly the drowsiness fades from his eyes.

His full mouth opens and shuts, then repeats the process once again. And then he murmurs, “You never have to say please.”

Taking that as permission enough, I cup his face with my hands, running my thumb across his cheekbone. He leans into my touch, eyes drifting shut.

I feel like I’m in a dream as I run them lightly down his neck, across his shoulders.

I trace the lines of his tattoo until they stop, then my fingers explore his abs, the muscle tightening under them.

And then I slip my hand past the loose waistband of his sleep shorts.

Both of us react immediately. I completely stop breathing, mind going probably-permanently still at the feel of him in my hand, and Rhys’s eyes snap open so fast I watch as the dilate.

We’re both staring at each other, the only thing breaking the utter silence in the room his shallow breathing.

I run a finger over the length of him, then the tip, and he hisses my name.

“Please,” I repeat, ignoring the fact that he said I didn’t need to ask.

His jaw clenches as I wrap my hand around him, and he’s almost glaring at me as he says, “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Fighting a smile, I start to move my hand and shrug. “This is about me, remember?”

He still wears a serious expression, but his lips twitch, so I keep going.

I’m moving so slowly I think we’ll both be insane by the time this is over, but I can’t bring myself to speed up. His hips are moving slightly, pushing into my hand, and it’s addictive to watch him react to me.

Rhys makes a low sound, then bites his lip as if to keep it in.

Which is a mistake, since now I want to do it, too.

Leaning in, I take that lip for myself, nibbling and sucking on it until he can’t take it anymore and starts kissing me again.

I scoot a little closer and move my mouth to his neck, and all I can breathe or taste or think about is Rhys.

A hand in my hair tells me this situation is unacceptable, and then his mouth is on mine again, desperate enough I take pity and move my hand faster.

His body is tight with pent-up energy, like he’s determined to keep himself still and let me have my fun.

One hand still between us, I run the other through his hair, pulling on it until he groans. I run my thumb over the end of him, and he mutters my name, voice holding a touch of warning that makes me smile. Even as I do it again.

He curses, and then he’s falling apart in my hands, and I pull away to watch, just like I know he did with me.

And it really is a sight to see.

His muscles bunch tight, jaw even tighter, and his eyes drift close as his head goes back and a moan falls off his lips. His breathing is heavy and there’s a heavy, satisfied look to him that I can’t get enough of.

Eventually, his eyes open again and find mine.

Rhysand kisses me softly, then pulls back enough to smirk and say, “You’re welcome.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and then the room falls back to silent.

And I realize I’m laying in bed with him, laughing, and practically begging to give him pleasure.

Fuck.

He gives me a strange look, cuing me into the fact that my panic is probably all over my face, so I smile, then roll out of the bed. “I have to go.”

“Interesting,” he states, tone making it clear he’s a filthy liar. A very amused liar.

I just roll my eyes and grab my bag, hoping that when I come out of the bathroom, he’ll be gone.

No such luck.

Ten minutes later, I’m fresh-faced and dressed, and he’s still lounging in bed, arm tucked behind his head. And the sight of all that beautiful, muscled, tattooed-

“You have your horny eyes on again.”

“You’re delusional,” I shoot back, mentally making a note to wear sunglasses around him at all times.

“Come here.”

I shake my head, knowing where that’ll lead even without the look on his face.

Because after last night, things feel different.

They feel casual.

Which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I did this so I could find someone unattached and easy and... not him. He understands me better than I do, for gods’ sake.

And he’s caring and gentle and so understanding, and my brain is just having a hard time keeping up.

He opens his mouth to argue, but I throw a pillow at him from my safe spot halfway across the room. “I have to go to the museum.”

Technically, this is a lie. We’re on schedule for the next event. But I could go and get ahead. Which sounds like a great idea.

“That’s not even remotely believable, but alright.” He rolls smoothly to his feet, remind me once again how comfortable he is in his skin.

I look at the ceiling, and he makes an amused sound. “No self control. It’s sad, really.”

I hate him.

Even though I’m grinning because it’s true.

He throws on a dark shirt from his bag and steps into some jeans, all while I adamantly study my very interesting, unpainted nails.

And then we’re walking down the hallway to the elevator and standing across from each other. If I had a knife-

No. If I had a spoon, I could cut the tension in there with ease.

He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking, and I almost weep with relief as the doors open to the empty morning lobby.

Rhysand moves to get out, but I’m going down another floor to the garage, so I stay put, firm in my resolve to appear unaffected.

That plan goes out the window pretty quickly, considering he narrows his eyes at me, marches across the small elevator floor, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me.

I kiss him back without hesitation, both of us only pulling away when the door bings unhappily.

What the hell was that?

Did he just... kiss me goodbye?

What the hell was that?

I don’t have time to ask, because he steps into the lobby, looks me up and down thoroughly, and says, “See you next week, Feyre.”

Oh, gods.

I have to see him again.

Because even though I know I shouldn’t, there’s absolutely no way I’ll cancel.

I’m a stupid, stupid woman.

But I replay last night and this morning in my head, and as the elevator starts dropping to the garage, I realize I don’t even care.

_______________________________________________________

Part 4

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#feysand #feyre #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #rhys #acotar #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

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couchpotatoaniki · 4 years ago

Text

Gentleman (A Valentine’s Special)

A mysterious stranger ends up at your door, looking for a place to stay. But is he who he says he is? More importantly, what is he doing to you?

Pairing: Special Agent!Jungkook x Famer! Fem!Reader Genre: Greek God AU, 1950s AU, fluff, minor angst, suggestive, suspense Warnings: Creepy behaviour, slight yandere behaviour, coercion (?), implied smoking Word count: 5k+

NOT EDITED

14th February 1955 Britain Ten Years After World War II

“Hey! Come back here!”

Your yelling could be heard throughout the massive coop as you chased one of your rebellious chickens. The hen clucked back at you, running away--talons ready to fight--as her wings beat the air with such vigour, some feathers came off her body.

Clutching your knees and holding the side of your waist tightly, you paused where you stood to catch your breath. Intense pain began to subside slowly, but you thought it would be better if you do not push yourself, seeing as though toady’s activities were more taxing than usual.

Making eye contact with the devilish chicken, you glared hard at her. “You may... have won the battle, Leslie... but you will not... win the war.” Stretching your back, you began to walk out of the coop--but you turned around to give one last warning. “I’ll get you one day.”

She clucked in response, as if the bird was taunting you. You decided not to go further and left, making sure to lock the coop well so she didn’t escape.

Looked up at the setting sun to see that it was almost six-ish, meaning that your own dinner was about to start... right after you feed the rest off the animals.

Thankfully, you saved the best for last. You own pet--a Scotch Collie with kind eyes and fuzzy fur. She was actually your parents’ parting gift before they had to leave for the war. Called her Pepper because she always made Papa sneeze badly, from his terrible allergy.

She barked, running in a circle in anticipation for her meal. You never really understood why dogs were o excited to eat the same food for the rest of their lives--especially now that you had begun to appreciate different foods after rationing for years.

That’s why you were thoughtful enough to try and at least mix things up, feeding Pepper diverse foods with flavour since your farm definitely had the facilities to do so.

Leaving your dog outside in her doghouse so she could play for a bot after her food, you went inside to start making your own dinner with almost every ingredient grown at the farm.

Chicken tetrazzini, Mama’s recipe.

Best part about it, was that it had made enough for a midnight snack too, as well as covering for tomorrow’s lunch and dinner. After all, it was made for four people.

Everything was set--the food on the table, plate and cutlery set out, even went one step further and put some fresh flowers in the clear glass vase. Huff escaped past your lips as you sat down, finally feeling the stresses of the day melting away.

Apparently someone else had a different plan, since when you were just about to take a bite of the meal you had spend almost two hours cooking, a knock on the door had interrupted.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! What can a woman do to get some peace?!”

Another knock beckoned her, hast in its rhythm, begging for attention.

“Alright, alright,” you signed, chair screeching against the hard wood of the floor and you pushed away and stood up.

Was a short walk from the table to the door, but it felt long now that your body had gotten a taste of relaxation before it had to move again. Obviously, you would be grumpy. Who comes this late in the evening anyway?

Opening the oak door, it revealed a dashing young man, around your age, in an expensive-looking black suit with a matching hat and beige trench coat, small leather suitcase in his hand.

Almost blended in with inky night sky, a full moon already high in the sky.

His expression was blank as he held up a badge--an officer’s badge. Golden surface sparkled under the soft lightbulb, displaying letters that spelt ‘National Crime Agency’.

‘Straightforward,’ was the first impression you got.

The ring on his left hand, which he used to hold the badge up, did not go unnoticed either. Gold with diamonds sewn into the thick metallic band.

‘Filthy rich,’ was the second impression.

His hair was ebony, silky and smooth--as was his skin, by the look of it. To say he was handsome was an understatement, not like you paid much attention to such trivial matters.

“I am Special Agent Jeon Jungkook,” he introduced, voice deep and soothing. Took you off-guard, for a reason you did not know, but your tiredness took over.

“Usually, you'd greet a person with ‘hello’.” Jungkook grunted under his breath--now just as annoyed as you were, from your brazenness, but was about to comply until you sucked in the air through your teeth, making your chest rise and fall. “What can I help you with today, Agent?”

Glancing inside your abode without seeing too rude, he glided his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I need to stay here for the night.”

The sudden request frim the stranger took you by surprise. “Pardon?”

He clicked the muscle in his mouth and sighed, “you heard me, Ma’am.”

“Why can’t you just stay somewhere else?”

“Because, when you’re out here in the countryside, you don’t find many places to stay nearby. The only only inn around here told me to stay here since they were full.”

You suppose it made sense--the nearest inn was usually swamped with tourists passing by, not to mention the owner was your brother’s brother-in-law. Seeing someone as important as a special agent, well it would be common sense for him to send the important an to you.

A notice would’ve been nice, however.

“Okay then.”

Sliding to the side, you let your home become subjected to a stranger who had an air about him you couldn’t shake off. Each step of his as he glided behind you gave you a heavy feeling.

Like every single time his polished obsidian shoes collided with the wooden floor, her heart pounded along side it.

Something was wrong about him; it was a feeling you couldn’t shake off. Even your soul was sending off warnings that this man was not who he claimed to be--not entirely.

He was perfect... too perfect.

Though his personality was horrible and manners, close to non-existent, he held himself with confidence and elegance. Even spoke in a way that had her knees quaking ever so slightly--

You scolded yourself mentally. No. This was not okay. Jungkook is a married man so having such scandalous thoughts were wrong.

But you had never felt anything close to this for a man you had just met. Naturally, you suspected him.

Luckily, your brother worked in the same place--the National Crime Agency. Could check if he is who he says he is.

“Would you like something to eat? You look famished.”

He paused in the middle of the living room, dropping his suitcase in the corner after taking his hat off. Nodded slightly, his onyx hair bouncing ever so gently. “Where’s the master of the house?” he inquired as you made your way to the dining table in the kitchen.

Jungkook sat patiently at the foot rather than the head, kind enough to assume that it was a taken spot that was not for him. Despite the fact that you had faced inequality all your life, you were still irked by this question. “I’m the master of the house.”

You opened one of your cabinets and took out another ceramic plate that matched your own. As you put in some food for him, he continued his questioning. “So you own this whole farm?” Curtly, you nodded. “But what about your parents?”

“Mama and Papa died in the war,” you causally dropped as you set his place like a good host. Despite your delivery, the event was in no means trivial.

You could still remember the day Hoseok came knocking on your door with a grey, ashen face. The day your older brother had to tell his little sister that their parents were never going to come back home like they promised.

The only reason he could even deliver the news himself was because he worked at the NCA HQ in London for his ‘excellent skills’ and ‘brilliant mind’. That was the reason he was not drafted. That was the reason you were left in charge of the farm.

Not that you hated it, no; you loved these animals you grew up with, the sense of home and of childhood. Familiarity.

Mama and Papa were part of that warmth that made it bearable to run the place and when they had turned cold, you cried up a storm. Damaged your health to the point Hoseok and his wife had to nurse you back to health for a month and help around.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Jungkook mumbled, snapping you out of the trance you were in. “If I may be so bold as to ask...how? I understand your father would have been conscripted, but your mother...?”

“Mama was a nurse out in the battlefield.” Thinking about it made you chuckled a little, a small scoff laced within it. “Stayed together throughout the war and died together. Always said they loved each other too much to live without the other. Looks like God made that wish come true...or the Germans. Whatever one you believe has more power.”

He too laughed at your little venomous comment, very much amused by the way his smile grew and eyes crinkled at the corners. “Germans are still somewhat powerful, and so is God... or Gods and Goddesses, depending on beliefs.” Elbows on the table with one hand enveloping the other, Jungkook rested his chin on his knuckles and cocked a brow. “So which one applies to you?”

You let out a long exhale, you returned to you seat to take that much needed bite while you thought on it. “I... The Germans aren’t all bad. A lot of them were brainwashed or threatened.” You toyed with the food on your plate, finding that you were not feeling all that hungry anymore.

“As for ‘God’... Well, I gave up that belief a long time ago,” you whispered, painfully taking in another morsel. anything to full you mouth with anything other than bitter words that burned your throat.

“And ‘Gods and Goddesses’?”

“I’d be open to the idea, though I’m not very fond of it either from my studies of them,” you mused. “Religion just isn’t my thing. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Humming, Jungkook took a sip of his water. Failed to notice that he was already halfway done with his dinner. “And your husband?”

“Never had one,” you answered nonchalantly, like it was normal for a 25 year-old woman to be single and living in a household all by herself, working too.

This would have been a shocker to the agent had he not known about your status. You were a woman with much potential, who could have anyone in the world if you wished. Even him.

Especially him.

Only him.

“So, why are you here?” You figured it was a good idea actually ask the man why he was staying in your house in the first place.

But Jungkook was not biting. “Classified.”

He bit his lower, plump lip softly, the simple action having your mind run around. Exploring the idea of a touch from the pair against your skin, having your own lip to be between your teeth instead.

You shook the thought the moment you realised it had entered in your mind. He’s married, he’s married, he’s married.

Breaking the intense eye contact you had, you quickly excused yourself, needing to check who this person was. Never had you felt an attraction to someone you never met and that itself had set off alarms in your head.

You trudged up the creaky stairs to your bedroom, where the rotary dial telephone was out of Jungkook’s earshot. Once you put in the number, you had the earphone pressed against your skin, fingers tightening around the red handle.

“Come on... pick up,” you muttered. Your payers heard by the click that was followed by the high-pitched voice of your sister-in-law.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Elise? It’s Y/N.” Your volume was still kept relatively low, despite no one being around you.

The voice at the other end sounded very pleased to hear from you. “Y/N! It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Good, good. What about you and the little baby bump?”

“Both of us are as fine as dandelions in spring!”

“That’s wonderful!” Your eyes sifted momentarily to the door. “Listen, I’d love to continue chatting, but I need to speak to Hoseok. Urgently.”

“Oh! Okay, let me catch him!”

“Thank you, you angel.”

As Elise went to retrieve her husband, you couldn’t help but think about your wonderful friendship with her. How perfect she was for Hoseok and vice versa. Unfortunately a forbidden thought--’forbidden’ by your standards--creeped in.

What if you yourself had found such perfect love?

What if it was with Jungkook?

The weird sound in your head was not familiar or normal. Beyond odd. The mere idea of being with a married stranger sent shivers down your spine. Ones you did not like.

Something was awry.

“Y/N?” your brother’s joyous voice spoke from the other end. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Hobi,” you giggle a little, forgetting your worries momentarily. Between your tiring day and his busy one, time for themselves was rare, nevermind calls.

This felt like a wonderful opportunity to talk to him, one you had to sadly decline due to a more pressing matter that you believed was sat at your dining table downstairs.

“So, Hoseok, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know anyone called ‘Jeon Jungkook’ where you work?”

Silence overtook the line for a few seconds. “Yeah... Cold but kind. Massive flirt, though. Wears a ring but isn’t officially married to anyone. In fact, no one’s ever heard him talk about a significant other... weird.”

For some odd reason, happiness began to swell in you chest upon hearing that. No matter how hard you tried to push it down, it was still there.

“N-Nothing. Just... he showed up at the house. Wanted to check in to see if he was telling the truth.”

“Did he not show you his badge?”

“He did, but I wanted to double check.”

A soft hum could be heard, then the tone of your brother’s voice became much more serious. “Quick question. Why is he at the house?”

“Wouldn’t you and I both like to know... but a part of it is that apparently John’s inn is full.”

“...Alrighty, then. Was there anything else?”

“N-No...” you trailed off, eyes shifting to the door. She could feel a presence on the other side, listening in. Must have been Jungkook, though you certainly would have heard him coming up the creaky staircase. “Call you later.”

“O-Okay, b--”

You immediately ended the call, focus narrowed on the strong wood as you crept towards it, careful not to make any noise. Fingers wrapped around the doorknob, blood rushing from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, heart pounding. Swinging it open, the hinges squeaked from the sudden movement.

Empty stretch of corridor.

When you returned back downstairs to the dining room--stairs creaks as they normally did--you found Jungkook sat in the same position you felt him in, plate empty.

“You should really fix those stairs,” he smiled, having your heart somersaulting in your chest. “Don’t sound very safe.” Running his tongue over his lips, which was of no help to your current condition, he stood to place his plate in the sink. “May you show me to my room?”

You moved to grab his suitcase, ready to bring it upstairs, until his hand reached out quicker, grabbing it. How did he move so quickly? More importantly, why was he so close?

And that scent of his, strong, like bourbon, but a citrusy hint to it. Faint scent of cigarettes on his breath that brushed against the nape of your neck.

It feels warm.

Tumbling away, you sucked in a sharp breath, too aware of the dangerous proximity. Jungkook simply chuckled at your reaction as he lifted the suitcase, muscles popping beneath the fine material of his blazer.

You could not help but notice it, nor could you help but imagine seeing it without the cloth in the way. Even toyed with the image of that very arm holding you up as the pair of you did unspeakable things. Things that--if others found out--would have your respectable position within society lie in tatters.

“What’s happening?” you whispered to yourself, trying to get a grip, yet Jungkook managed to catch it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” you waved off, subtly narrowing your eyes onto him with suspicion. You kept silent after that, walking up the stairs with him following shortly behind you. Under the weight of both of you, the stairs did, in fact, groan loudly, showing that there really was no way he could have come upstairs without you hearing.

What if you were hearing things? What if you were going mad?

The two of you stopped at the end of the corridor, the window behind you letting the moonlight in. Jungkook did not mention it, but the soft glow illuminating your figure made you appear like an angel.

You were his angel.

You opened the door to your right, letting him see inside. Quaint, nice décor, homely. “This is your room. Sorry if it’s a little dusty, I haven’t had a guest in a long, long time. This door opposite is the powder room.” You pointed down the hallway, to the door at the end. “My bedroom’s over there. Don’t be afraid to knock if you need anything.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Corners of your lips quirking for no reason, you remarked, “name’s Y/N.”

“Okay then, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning...”

Nodding, you watched as he took his suitcase inside. Eyes locked onto each other, only breaking when the door finally separated the two of you.

You looked out the window, shoving both hands in your back pockets as you looked out the window. Harsh winds and dark clouds rolling in fast.

Rain looked likely... and heavy.

“I should probably get Pepper inside.”

What you did not know, was that Jungkook heard you, was looking out into the same scenery as you, then down to the dog house, fenced up with a fuzzy dog inside.

You turned around and walked downstairs, old boards still whining under every step you took with your brown boots. Opening the back door, you were met with a surprise; Pepper was already waiting in front of it.

You never forgot to lock the fence around the dog house, not when a person had tried to steal her shortly during the war.

Regardless, you moved back to let the dog in. “Sorry, girl.”

You pet her fur, a little cold from the vast wisps of air travelling at a faster rate than usual. Shut the door, then beckoned Pepper to follow upstairs, not like she needed to be told twice, since the eager animal sprinted tot he second floor, all the way to Jungkook’s room and started barking aggressively.

“Pepper, you can’t...” you trailed off mid-sentence when seeing your dog’s behaviour. Crouched--ready to pounce, ears bent and pointed down, two perfect rows of sharp teeth in a snarl. This was beyond the norm; she was usually very friendly.

The brass doorknob twisted slowly and retreated.

An unpleased Jungkook stood in front of her with dishevelled hair and in a plain black shirt paired with plaid pocketed pants, scowling.

You had to admit, he was exceptionally... good-looking in his night-wear. All you wanted to do in that moment was to run your finger through his dark locks, wanting to feel him beneath the tips of your fingers. Finally, you got to see his veiny arms in the short-sleeved top and faintly see this well-built torso under the tight fabric.

Snapped out of it when you saw how Pepper heeled in submission as she whimpered once she saw his annoyed face. Made Jungkook grin and stroke the fur atop her head, going down on one knee. “Good dog...”

Never had you seen such a drastic change in the behaviour of Pepper, and you actually began to worry.

As if hearing your thoughts, Jungkook looked back to you once he stood up. “I’m good at making things like me.”

With a final smile, he shut the door and you took that as the que to retire for the night yourself. Tail wagging, your Scotch Collie happily trailed behind you and settled at the foot of your bed.

You locked the door, double checking that it was secure since, at the end of the day, there was still a stranger staying under the same roof as you. No matter how attracted you were, you could not ignore that fact.

Nothing sat well with you, your mind running wild as you tied your hair into a braid and changed into your nightgown. Was a little showy, but it was fine since no one would come in, not to mention that it was comfortable too.

All of a sudden, a headache formed. Felt like your brain was being torn into two, but the pain spread to your heart as well.

Why is it so warm?

Stumbling, you sat down on your bed and gulped down the glass of water that was on your bedside table. A bit of water dribbled down the corner of your mouth from how hastily you drank it, but it did not help the extreme discomfort you were in.

Heart almost jumped out of your chest from the phone’s loud ‘ttttrrring’ out of nowhere. “Hello?” you said, trying not to make the panting audible.

“It’s me, Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“N-No. I was just about to hit the hay,” you whispered into the earphone, not wanting Jungkook to hear through the walls, no matter how thick they were. “What happened?”

Eyes darted around the room, suddenly more paranoid than called for.

“I thought it was a little weird that Jungkook went to the farm instead of finding another place to stay.”

“He said he couldn’t.”

“I know, but something felt... off.”

You could feel it again, that presence behind the door returned. Pepper got up, couching as she had done earlier and growling at the door. There was someone there. It was not just your imagination. “So? What did you do?”

“I called John and asked him if he met someone from the NCA. He said he didn’t.” You gulped, now feeling the presence behind you, in front of you, all around you. “Then I asked him if he had any rooms available.”

“And?”

“Apparently he did. A few, actually. Been vacant for weeks now. not peak travelling time because of the storm that’s hitting tonight, and front he look of outside, it’s here. So what I want you to do, is I want you to be very damn careful around him.”

“I thought he was your friend.” You still had difficulty trying to process it, especially from how you were feeling, but you tried your best to pay heed to your brother’s words.

“He's a colleague and besides, he lied. I can’t get there for two days since the storm’s really bad. Be wary of him and everything he does until then. He tries anything, you leave immediately and go to the inn.”

“Is he really that dangerous?”

“Yes.”

So you had to spend two days with a man you barely knew, a man whose intentions you did not know. “Okay,” you breathed, starting to get a little light-headed. “Than y--”

In an instant, you stopped talking. You could not hear any growls anymore. You shifted your line of sight to the door, only to find your furry companion gone.

You felt a pressure on your shoulder.

A hand.

No one was in front of her, so they must have been behind her.

“I’ll... I’ll have to call you later.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“Okay. Bye--”

Another hand pried the earphone away for your frozen body and ended the call within a second. Warm, cigarette-scented breath fanned over your exposed neck, triggering goosebumps to erupt all over.

One large hand rubbed up your arm, while the other squeezed the side of your waist. The touch felt familiar despite the fact you had never been touched like this before.

A name came rolling off your tongue so naturally, as you tried to supress an unholy sound. “J-Jungkook...”

“Call me Eros, my love. That’s my real name.”

Confusion and pleasure twisted your face, his lips hovering over the crook of your neck, over the one spot that gave you the most... feeling. He knew it just like that, like he knew your body better than you did.

“Wh-What?” Took all the strength you could muster not to slur your words.

Clearly, it failed.

Your body had detached itself from your hazy mind with nothing commanding it but Jungkook, your neck stretching to the side to grant him better access.

“It’s true.” His head lowered further in, the soft skin of his lips doing wonders. “I’m Eros.”

You tried so hard not to make a noise, your breathing heavy heavy to try an stabilise your palpitating heart. Thighs pressed together for some friction to ease the burning need in your lower body.

“My Psyche... my beautiful Psyche...”

You snapped up, trying to gain control over yourself once more. Turned to face him while he sat on your bed, licking his lips as his eyes racked over your figure, once again basking in the glowing moonlight that entered through your window.

“Did you wear that for me, my love?”

Your face turned as red as a tomato as you tried to cover yourself from his preying stare.

But why did you like the attention?

“No, I didn’t,” you cleared your throat, relaxing your muscles as you recalled Eros and Psyche’s story from your personal studies of mythology.

Seeing as how strange the entire evening was, how nothing was as it was meant to be, you certainly had believed it. Especially when the pain had began to subside only when Jungkook was touching you.

“Wait, I though you had a child; that you were married to Psyche.”

“First of all,” he got of the bed, “that never stopped a God or Goddess. Secondly, what the humans teach is wrong. I never had a child.”

He began taking slow steps towards you, like you were his prey.

“Thirdly, what the humans didn’t tell you, is that when Mother--Aphrodite--granted immortality to Psyche, she only gave it to her soul. The ability to be reborn.” Jungkook looked saddened by it, though the feeling momentarily flickered through his eyes, it was gone just as quick. “Now that I have finally found you, my love, I will grant your body immortality too. So you can stay with me. Forever.”

By now, there was no such thing as personal space, your bodies so close that there was no room left to breathe. Not like this man--or God, technically--had granted you ‘breath’ from the moment you laid eyes on him.

His hand slithered with no shame up the side of your hips, your waist, your chest, and around the back of your neck.

“I know you want to, my love.”

Your mind went blank, numb to everything but his words and his warmth.

“I know you can’t think when you’re with me like this.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, bringing down your defences with Hoseok’s words long discarded.

“I’ve always had this affect on you, you know? From centuries ago to even now.” Jungkook’s lips hovered over the lobe of your ear, soft air very gently stroking the skin as his tongue lightly caressed the skin to make you shiver.

Chuckled to himself as he saw how responsive your body was.

His face moved to the front, to see your heavy-lidded expression, eyes clouded with lust.

Hair dropping over his forehead, bundled-up stands casting a shadow over one eye with the over glimmering under the moonlight that peeked through the raining clouds which pattered against the window.

“Do you love me?”

What little bit was left of your conscious tried to say ‘no’. Tried to protest, that you were your own person and not his long-lost love. But something inside you kept silent.

Jaw tightening, flexing ever so slightly under the soft beam, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Movement against each other was so familiar, like you had done it before. But you had not, not with him or anyone else, for that matter. His tongue against you own was like a dance you knew from your heart.

Jungkook broke away--too quickly, in her opinion.

“Tell me. Do you love me?”

The only thing that came out of your mouth that second was, “yes.”

Your eyes were glazed over, like you were now an empty shell, yet not empty in any way whatsoever. Brainwashed, yet full of free will.

“I love you.”

Jungkook grinned at you, holding tightly onto your waist to make sure you were not dream. “I love you too.”

He stepped backwards, taking you with him. Just before he reached the bed, he sup you around so that you were the one walking backwards. The mattress hit against the back of your knees, making you fall; your arms tangled around him brought him down with you.

Faces an inch apart, Jungkook dug something out of his pyjama pocket.

A gold ring with small diamonds encrusted onto the thin band in a beautiful and intricate way. The matching pair to the one wrapped around his ring finger.

Jungkook slipped it on you, and it fit so well, like it was mean to be there.

“There. Now you’re almost complete. We just need to do one last thing, my love.”

With that, he kissed you much more roughly, hungrily, than before as he slipped of the straps of your nightgown.

Pepper, still quiet and hidden in the other room, watched the rain hammer hard and fast against the glass of the windows for the rest of the night.

#jungkook fanfic #bts #bts fanfction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #oneshot #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #jeon jungkook oneshot #valentines #valentines oneshot #jungkook valentines oneshot

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fridasfantasy · 4 years ago

Text

The Girl in the City

A/N: First one-shot, imagine thingy. And it is Avatar: The Last Airbender. No one saw this coming, especially not me. I went through the tag the other day and saw someone say that there’s a desperate need for more Sokka x Reader fanfic. And I agree. So, here is my contribution. I hope you enjoy! <3

Word Count: 2198

Pairing: Sokka x F!Reader

Summary: During their stay in Ba Sing Se, the Gaang luckily meet their neighbour – a brave and outspoken teenage girl. From the very first day, she tries to help them with information she knows as a member of the Upper Ring society. Sokka just happens to stumble into her one day while in the city and enjoys getting to know her. Very much.

~o~o~

Something is rotten in the city of Ba Sing Se. After a whole day spent walking around the city and trying to get any kind of information about Appa, all they managed to get was a sinking feeling in their stomachs. Sokka had a hunch that it had something to do with that Joo Dee woman and her strained smile. How was it possible that no one would talk to them about the war?

As soon as Joo Dee’s carriage pulled away, Sokka noticed two faces watching them through the window from the house across the street. When he locked eyes with one of the curious culprits, they both slickly hid away.

“Hey, come with me,” he said to his friends.

They made their way to the house and knocked. A grey-haired man hastily opened the door and greeted them with a wide smile.

“You’re the Avatar. I heard you were in town. I’m Pong,” the man said.

Those words were followed with quick footsteps, as the teenage girl who Sokka caught peeping through the window made her way back to the door and joined her father at his side.

“So it’s really true,” she added and bowed, hitting her father lightly and urging him to do the same. “I’m Y/N. We’re honoured to have you here.”

“Oh, there’s really no need for… That,” Aang said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “It’s nice to meet you, though.”

Y/N sent them all a confident smile when Sokka quickly interrupted the pleasantries, despite being temporarily distracted by her beaming eyes.

“So, Pong, Y/N. what’s going on with this city? Why is everyone so scared to talk about the war?”

“War, scared? What do you mean?” Pong replied nervously, while Y/N stiffened next to him.

“I can feel you shaking,” Toph said to him.

“Look, I’m just a minor government official. I’ve waited three years to get this house. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Get in trouble with who?” Katara asked.

“Shh, listen, you can’t mention the war here. And whatever you do, stay away from the Dai Li,” Pong said and slammed the door shut. Sokka saw Y/N flinch and shoot her father a reproachful look.

As they turned back to go to their house, he could hear their muffled voices behind the door and noted how Y/N’s quickly overpowered her father’s.

After dinner, the group’s chilled evening was interrupted by an unexpected knock on their door. Katara went and answered it, only to find Y/N standing there with a nervous smile and a tray of baked goods.

“Hi, again,” she greeted. “I’m sorry to barge in, but my mom and I thought you might enjoy some dessert after dinner. She’s a baker in the city and brought these traditional cakes home from work, I’m sure you’ll enjoy them. The recipe is one of Ba Sing Se’s greatest secrets,” she shot Katara a meaningful look.

Katara looked at the tray and saw a piece of parchment poking out from under the cookies. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she seemed to understand the girl. Thanking Y/N, she took the tray and called for her friends so they could find out what this secret recipe was all about.

~o~

Y/N’s note helped them understand that the Earth King won’t be the one to help them. It is silently understood in her father’s work circle that all the orders they have to deal with don’t come from the Earth King, but they do not know for sure who the string-master in this play is. This lead the group of friends to work out a plan to go to the King’s party, where they made the unfortunate acquaintance of the grand secretary Long Feng.

A few days passed with no sign of Appa or any hope of an uprising against the Fire Nation. Sokka found himself one evening walking along the streets of Ba Sing Se, when he suddenly heard a somewhat familiar voice.

“Through all the long night. Winter moon glows with bright love. Sleet, her silver tears,” the voice read in a lyrical tone.

“What is this?” Sokka asked himself once he detected the window from which the voice was coming from.

There he saw Y/N standing on a small stage, reading to a room full of girls their age and a middle-aged tutor. He noticed how calm and collected she looked in comparison to the other times he saw her nervously fidgeting. She was wearing a fancy kimono, one of the fanciest he saw in Ba Sing Se, actually. And the lights were highlighting her soft features and his face took on a dreamy expression as he watched and listened to her voice.

“Ah… Poetry,” he sighed.

Before he could realize what was going through his mind, he felt a kick on his behind and ended up painfully hanging from the window, for everyone to see.

“I am so sorry,” he blushed. “Something struck me in the rear. I just… Wound up… Here?”

He heard slow laughs around the room, the loudest one coming from his right. Only then, he noticed he was already on the stage, just a few feet away from Y/N. He sent a glance her way, accompanied by a smug smirk on his face.

“Hi,” she mouthed and gave him a small wave.

Who knew that soon after that whole scene one of the most important battles of his life would take place. It was only him and the teacher, going back in forth in a haiku battle while the girls in the audience, including Y/N, laughed at Sokka’s antics, much to the teacher’s displeasure. But then, Sokka did the unspeakable and miscounted his syllables. Y/N almost felt sorry for the guy, letting out a hiss as she knew what was about to happen. She gave him a small shrug as he looked at her for help before the guard basically sent him flying out.

The last thing Y/N expected was to see Sokka outside after the lesson, casually leaning against a building. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and made her way to him.

“Um, waiting for someone?” she asked him.

“Yeah, actually,” he said as he straightened up. “You.”

Y/N looked even more confused than before.

“I figured I could sit and wait for you, so neither of us has to walk alone,” he explained, still rather surprised at himself for actually deciding to wait for this girl.

“Oh, well, that’s very kind of you. Thank you, -” she paused. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name back there.”

“Sokka,” he said and smiled awkwardly, realizing how weird it must have been for her to have almost a complete stranger wanting to walk her home. However, she still seemed confident despite the weird situation.

“Want to get going then? I kind of need to be back home soon,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go,” he started walking straight down the street.

“Sokka, it’s actually this way,” Y/N called after him, pointing to the opposite direction.

“Oh, right. I just went to check out those… Cabbages,” he said, trailing off.

“What do you have in that weirdly shaped bag?” she asked him suddenly once they started walking.

“This old thing holds my trusty boomerang,” he answered enthusiastically.

“Your boomerang?”

“Yup. My father gave it to me a long time ago and ever since then it has been my weapon of choice.”

“Well, interesting choice,” she bit her lip to hide her smile.

“Hey! What have you got against my boomerang?”

“Nothing! I just got to say, I’ve never met anyone who’s chosen a boomerang for their weapon of choice. I actually don’t think I’ve ever met someone who even owns a boomerang.”

“Then all those people are missing out. What do you even know about boomerangs? Or weapons for that matter?”

“Excuse me?” she scoffed. “I actually know my fair share about weaponry, thank you very much.”

“Oh, is that so?” he teased her.

“Yes,” she answered with determination. “I’m in a rush to get home because I have class with my sword master. And my weapon of choice just happens to be a ninjato sword, if you happen to wonder.”

Sokka’s mouth was wide open, showing how he truly didn’t expect that answer.

“How come you’re walking around unarmed then?” he asked her.

Y/N stopped where she stood, deciding to just look down at her outfit and letting the boy figure it out by himself. It took him a minute, but-

“Right, poetry-haiku-thingy you were just at. Dress. Make up. All that,” he mumbled uncomfortably

They continued their walk down the streets of Ba Sing Se’s Upper Ring while making small talk. Finally reaching their street, Y/N suddenly turned to Sokka.

“Say, Sokka, would you like to join me in my sword fighting lesson?”

“What?” he asked with wide eyes.

“You heard me. Come on. Join me today. It would be nice to train with someone new, more challenging. Besides, I’d love to see how you fight with that thing,” she nodded towards his boomerang.

His face still showed a stunned expression and he looked at the girl in front him. She shuffled a bit, fixing her expensive-looking kimono that began to feel uncomfortable. There was no need for him to be shocked by any of this. The girl did risk her and her family’s position the other day by giving him and his friends a snippet of information the Dai Li and Long Feng would rather have concealed. And after the Kyoshi Warriors, meeting a brave and armed girl such as Y/N should not have surprised him.

“I would appreciate it if you would stop staring at me like that and try giving me an answer instead,” Y/N said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Okay. I’ll train with you.”

He enjoyed just watching her lesson and marvelled at how agile she was with the ninjato sword. He never saw anyone wield that weapon back home. Her master was very gifted, but it soon became evident that the student had surpassed the teacher some time ago. Sokka got to show off his boomerang; to the master, to Pong, and to Y/N as well. She even admitted that the weapon had more to offer than she had initially thought. And after a small misaim that nearly cut half of the girl’s hair off, Sokka put it neatly away in his bag, smiling innocently.

Now, she was standing in front of him, both of them unarmed. They were ready for a sparring match to finish her lesson off. She was the first to attack, which he kind of expected at this point. He began figuring this girl out. Or so he thought. She may have started the fight but her blows were noticeably weaker than she had displayed just moment ago during the training session. He easily blocked her and soon began to strike back. She wasn’t tired, he could tell that by how fast she was able to react. So what was she playing at? Soon enough, he found himself desperately trying to be quicker than her but somehow couldn’t even match her pace. All it took was just one sloppy and tired hit for Y/N to grab his arm and twist him into a yielding position.

“Yeah, it figures,” he mumbled. She pulled the age old trick of tiring him out at the very beginning and took advantage of a single moment of weakness. She knew he would overcompensate.

She loosened her grip on his arm but left her hand linger on his upper arm as he turned around.

“This was great! You’re so good!” she said excitedly.

“Wha-? But, I lost,” he was once again confused.

“That doesn’t matter at all. I had so much fun,” her other hand found its way to his other upper arm. “We have to do this again another day! Please?” she sent him a hopeful look, squeezing his arms lightly as she jumped slightly in the air from excitement. He couldn’t help but smile as a fleet of butterflies made their presence known in his stomach.

What? Where did that come from?

“I-I would like that very much,” he smiled softly and she returned it, suddenly feeling shy.

~o~o~

A/N: A few things, if I still have your attention. If not, that’s okay too lol I am bad at action sequences. I am bad at titles. Actually, I am new to writing all together. This might be really bad and I’d appreciate if you’d let me know what you think. Also, anyone interested in a second part? This is a F!Reader imagine, I will try to make my other ones more inclusive, universal so to say. I just really wanted to post this to get myself motivated.

Okaaay, I’m done now. Have a nice day/evening/night ^_^

#sokka #atla #atla sokka #sokka x reader #sokka x oc #avatar #avatar the last airbender #sokka imagine #sokka one shot #avatar: tla #avatar sokka #avatar fanfiction #atla fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #sokka fanfic #sokka fanfiction #atla fanfiction #avatar fanfic

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 5 years ago

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i would kill for some fail bros headcanons

[Hey, Anon! I'm kind of passionate about these three, so I'm giving you a heads up that this one is kind of long. Hope you enjoy~]

From a “nation” standpoint, England is the eldest of the three. He recognized his spark of sovereignty when King Ecgberht ascended to the throne of Wessex in 802, who would later go on to claim Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Essex as part of his kingdom; Ecgberht is often regarded as the “first king of England.”

For Denmark, his sovereignty came with the crowning of King Harald Bluetooth around 950, who completed the goal of unifying the region into a single state. Before that point, Denmark existed more or less as a smattering of small communities led predominantly by local chieftains.

Prussia didn’t fully recognize his sovereignty or nationhood until around 997, when the Aesti- Old Prussians- slayed Adalbert of Prague, a missionary who had been sent by Polans to try to convert the “heathens” to Christianity. It was only one of many attempts to conquer the Prussians, but with Adalbert earning a martyrdom, and such a blatant show of sedulous autonomy, the first spark of nationalism truly ignited.

Not that much of this mattered in regards to their friendship though.

Through the Saxons, Arthur and Gilbert had been friends since the 700s at least, and Arthur and Mathius had known each other for even longer, the Jutes having first made an appearance on the Isles around late 400, when Arthur was still part of Rome’s territories. Mati and Gil were practically next door neighbors; I wouldn’t be surprised if Germania had pretty much raised them together.

Despite a lot of shifting borders and conflicts of interest- like Denmark ruling England from 1013-1042, or how Denmark lost both Holstein and Scleswig to Prussia in 1864, and England and Prussia’s on-again, off-again alliance- they’ve remained fast, firm friends for centuries.

Truth be told, I think Mati was the one to get Artie so addicted to sailing, most likely dragging him on a few coastal raids back in the day.

Hamburg is one of their favorite meeting places. Initially, it was more convenient for Gil and Artie, as it was one of the central cities in the Hanseatic League, but the real draw came with the 1500s, when there were over 500 breweries for them to sample. These days, it’s more nostalgia that keeps drawing them back.

Actually, this is part of a tradition that still stands to date; with some rare exceptions (like this one tavern on Bornholm that’s been serving the same Brennivin recipe for the past 463 years), they rarely go to the same pub, distillery, or brewery twice. There are just so many of them.

These three try to meet up at least one weekend a month, if not more. Gil has it a lot easier working out his schedule these days, for obvious reasons, so normally he will crash with either Mati or Artie and the other will show up when they can.

Friday nights are usually their “drink nights,” and they’ll usually bicker for a good hour about which pub or club they want to try; all of these nerds had lists ready of venues they had looked up in advance. They also spend another hour or so bickering about which of them has the best beer.

When they’re together, they completely shrug off their more responsible images- Arthur in particular seems almost a 180 degree shift in personality. Around most nations, he tries to keep that prim and proper persona, but… Mathius and Gilbert are not most nations.

These three have crusaded to the Holy Lands together, harassed most of Northern Europe together, even spent a few precious months pretending to be humans and traveling the world together. They’ve sworn blood oaths under scarlet skies, literally sewn each other back together on occasion.

They really share most everything with one another- from matters of the heart to political problems to those dark desires they really can’t tell anyone else about- knowing that anything shared among them will never be discussed outside of their circle.

Usually, they don’t let themselves get drunk. But really- They don’t need alcohol to become total hooligans. Mathius is naturally high energy, and with Gilbert’s simmering competitiveness and Arthur’s pride keeping him from ever backing down from a challenge…

The shenanigans these three get up to can range from pranking Mati and Artie’s former colonies to strip karaoke to sometimes, quite literally, painting the town, and then some.

They have a few reprimands for breaking and entering, and perhaps there were one or two cases of arson, or a few protests that got a tad chaotic…

Despite having more than enough beds for each of them, they usually end up falling asleep in a giant heap.

Arthur is loath to ever actually admit how safe he feels knowing the other two are there to watch his back, though Mathius is always very open about actually expressing the exact same sentiment.

Gilbert is usually the last one to drift off and always the first to wake up; he mastered some killer hangover remedies a few decades ago, and while he knows the others are perfectly capable of making breakfast without burning the house down, it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

Sometime after they’ve nursed the remnants of their hangovers, they usually go shopping for food together, all of them chipping in on a big dinner for that night.

Said shopping trips go about as well as you’d expect: Artie usually pretends he has no idea who Gil and Mati are as they piggyback through the aisles, Arthur and Mathius bicker constantly about the proper ways to eat eel (which always traumatizes Gilbert), and Prussia constantly is making bad puns with England about the different brand names, much to Denmark’s irritation because he can’t quite keep up.

Just fucking getting to the store was a quest on its on; buying themselves actual food before getting kicked out is another challenge entirely.

They absolutely are down for cultural and music fests, theatre, boating, or even just reading together.

They totally do LARPing together, and try to attend either ConQuest or Drachenfest each summer.

There is often an attempt to play football when they have an hour or so to kill, though it typically ends up as a brawl with two of them (usually Mati and Gil) starting a giant game of keep away against the other (usually Artie). They’ve lost count of how many grass stains they gained in the process.

They’re each hella supportive of the others’ interests, and often you can find them laying on the grass or a roof somewhere having long-winded discussions about the arts, literature, science, philosophy, and on one particularly snowy night in 1989- what happens when they die.

In fact, the only two people Gil ever really confides in about his fears are Artie and Mati. With Ludbug, he just can’t risk the thought of hurting him or burdening him, and with Fran and Toni, he’s scared they’ll- He can’t always handle how open those two are with their worry for him.

He knows that Mathius and Arthur won’t pity him, per say. Bleeding hearts the three of them, but they know when, and when not, to show it.

Arthur and Mathius made it their goal through the entirety of the 1990s to make sure Gilbert understood just how damn important he was to them, stealing him away as often as they could get away with, doing everything from a sailing trip around the Orkneys (and annoying Alisdair to no end) to camping in Scharbeutz for two weeks straight to trying (and horribly failing) to form a band around ‘94.

The band didn’t work out mostly because they all have different music tastes- Artie fell deep into the punk scene and never climbed back out, Gil’s taste falls somewhere between heavy and folk rock, and Mati is very passionate about symphonic and alternative rock. Also, meeting up for practices as frequently as they needed was nigh on impossible. Still, sometimes they do get together just to jam for a bit.

Mati and Gil are the only two people actually allowed to call Arthur by “Iggy" and not get a black eye.

They love playing board games with each other, everything from Cards Against Humanity to Crazy Cat Lady to Risk. They tend to avoid the latter however as they all get rather… intense with their gameplay.

Really though, all they need is a deck of cards and they’ll easily get invested into a game of Slap Jack or Go Fish.

I am willing to bet they swapped parenting tips through the ages, each of them freaking out because "holy fuck I am not qualified for this!"

They have several dozen inside jokes at this point, the kind that if one says anything they all eventually will succumb to tears of laughter.

No one else really makes Arthur laugh as quickly as those two, no one else really sees Mathius as pensive and philosophical, and no one else really sees Gilbert completely letting his guard down.

With each other, they are, have been, and always will be Arthur, Mathius, and Gilbert.

They trust each other unconditionally, and know that, no matter the politics, they’ll always be there to support one another, no matter how silly the shenanigans or serious the situation may be.

[This was so long, omg. Thanks for the ask, Lovely!

If anyone is interested in any sources for further reading on their own, let me know! I got quite a lot of this from textbooks, articles, and encyclopedias ^_^; ]

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star-birthmark · 5 years ago

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hi hi can i have some (secretly) needy Jotaro who misses his s/o while he's on a trip? What does he miss about her/thinking about gift ideas/etc etc. And their reunion if possible!! (she/her pronouns) thank u v much uwu have a nice day c:

Anon, thank you, this is the exact ask I need right now. Not gonna lie, I’m feeling pretty fucking down right now, not doing well mentally, so any chance to write/read anything with Jotaro (my f/o) is welcome. Today has not been a good day, at all, here’s hoping this makes it better.

Anyway, side note, the reference to the ring is here.

Without further ado: Missing you: Jotaro x Reader (2k words)

Jotaro had had enough. He even didn’t realize how much he missed you until he found himself in his American office, meanwhile, you were a fifteen-hour flight away in Japan. The scientist grumbled, unable to focus on his work. Putting it aside, he instead turned and stared out the window, looking out at the beautiful Florida coast. He understood why the Speedwagon Foundation needed him there in Florida, to inspect the whereabouts of any stand arrows or followers of Dio, as well as to continue his research. But he also understood why they needed him in Italy... and then in Britain... and then in Egypt... and then finally in Florida, each trip one right after the other.

Jotaro began tapping his fingertips along the wood of his desk, a nervous, angry tick he’d developed in his travels. Including all these damn business trips together, he’d been gone from you for a collective 2 months now. Sure, you two have called each other, but no amount of hours over the phone could equate to coming home to you, and resting close to you in shared bed as you melted away his anxieties about his coworkers expecting so much from him, and how he feels he might not be good enough for his job. But you knew better than to let him feel that way, and you always managed to make him feel loved and cared for.

But you weren’t here. And Jotaro missed you more than he’d openly admit. The tapping on his desk continued the more upset he got.

He had two days left in Florida before he’d be able to go home, and he could not wait. He wondered what he’d do with you when he finally got home. He wanted to do something special with you since it’s been so long. There was a fancy new restaurant that had opened up near you two in the city, but you’d both been too busy, and he had been dying to take you there. It was a very black tie place though... The thought of you in a beautiful dress, looking as beautiful dress, looking as beautiful as ever, had the young man grinning shyly to himself. Inwardly, Star Platinum was doing backflips at the idea. A chance after so long to spend time with you, to have a relaxing evening with you, and not his stuffy, older coworkers who didn’t understand his hard travel and homesickness. Jotaro tipped his white hat over his darkened eyes. A nice dinner together, a walk in the park afterward, a kiss under one of the street lamps. Jotaro smiled wider and Star Platinum immerged from his form. The two of them shared a knowing look.

“Ora...”

“Yeah yeah... I know. I love kissing (y/n) too...”

Jotaro slapped his stand on the arm after such a lovesick comment. But oh man... a kiss from you right then would have been heaven on Earth. Jotaro hadn’t even liked anything romantic until he met you. Then when you first kissed, he finally understood why everyone else in the world loves it so much. Jotaro knew he wasn’t the most romantic of boyfriends, but you were the only one on Earth that could bring out his soft side like this. He wanted to do so many things with you, all of them impeded by the distance between you two. Kiss you, go on a date, laugh together, cuddle, and even go one step further-

“Dr. Kujo? Your meeting with the senior donors is in five minutes.”

Jotaro stopped his tapping on his desk, having realized that he should have been preparing for this meeting instead of being distracted by thoughts of you. Jotaro thanked his assistant and stood up from his desk, his mind still racing the more he missed you.

He should get you something.

You’ve been so patient with him and his constant travel, but now that his most recent study was coming to a close, plus he’d managed to track down another arrow, Jotaro figured he should reward you for your patience. Walking the hallways of the SPW compound, the young scientist pondered what gift to get you. Star Platinum floated beside him, easily phasing though the none stand user employees. The stand and user discussed possibilities together, the other staff playing Jotaro no ming. They knew he was talking to his stand, even if they couldn’t see it.

Star Platinum thought on potential gifts for you while Jotaro walked across the company campus to his meeting.

“Ora?”

Jotaro thought about it. “No... too flashy. (y/n)’s more relaxed, you know that.”

“Ora...Ora?”

“How am I supposed to fit that on the plane?!”

“Ora ora!”

“No...not doing that...”

“Ora... Ora! ORA ORA ORA!”

“Oh yeah? What’s your brilliant idea star?”

“...Ora.”

Jotaro stopped in his tracks, turning to his stand, who was now giving him a big, giddy smile.

“A ring? You think so?”

Star nodded. “Ora.” Jotaro blushed more while walking to the meeting.

“An engagement ring?! Really?!”

“Ora ora!” The stand said gleefully, nodding until his head hurt,

“Wow... the thought never occurred to me to ask (y/n) to marry me...” Star rolled his eyes and punched Jotaro on the arm. Jotaro huffed.

“Alright alright, good grief. If you’re thinking it, that must mean I’m thinking it too. You’re me. I get it.” The moment the thought of proposing to you came to his head, Jotaro simply couldn’t get it out.

“I mean... I have all day tomorrow to get a ring. And I already know what size she is...”

Well... that was it. That was what he was going to do. Jotaro Kujo was going to propose to you. The young man walked into the meeting with new confidence in his step, despite his face being bright red with smitten embarrassment. Star Platinum was even more excited, barely able to contain himself. Jotaro kept waving for him to go away until he was interrupted by a senior professor at the meeting.

“Umm... Dr. Kujo? Could you please introduce yourself to the group now that you’ve entered the room?”

Jotaro looked around, now unbelievably anxious as he rushed to sit down. “Yeah.. of course. Hello everyone.” The meeting continued, Jotaro’s fingers tapping on the table as he thought what kind of ring to get.

- - -

The day finally arrived that Jotaro would return from two months of travel, and you were so excited you could hardly contain yourself. At that point in your two’s separation, your patience was wearing very thin, and you were ready for Jotaro to get here so you could jump him and make up for the lost time.

You did everything to make sure he was coming back to a peaceful home. You’d already finished your work at your own lab, so you found the time to clean the house, hang up a “welcome home” sign, and even call up Mrs. Holly for a recipe on what Jotaro would like best to eat for dinner when he arrives. Everything was set. You were anxiously waiting in the living room near the front door and Jotaro was anxiously waiting in the cab to get home to you. The ring box was hidden under his mountain of papers and files, and he was itching to finally pop the question, even if he was a little nervous about it all.

Finally, he arrived at the front door, standing on the porch and calming himself down enough to open it. He went looking for his keys in his briefcase, unable to find them after so long of not needing them. However, this problem didn’t really present an issue when you swung the door open in front of him. Jotaro looked up part his hat to see you standing there. He gulped. You looked beautiful.

“...Hi dear, long time no see-”

“Jotaro!”

Even Jotaro was surprised when you managed to tackle him in a tight hug, the two of you landing on the front lawn, the fall broken by the soft grass. You stared into his shocked face before leaning in to give your love a deep, fulfilling kiss after two lonely months. Jotaro let out a heavy sigh, melting into your touch as you rested on top of him, both of you oblivious to your neighbors seeing everything. When you two finally broke your contact and stood up, Jotaro turned to you with a small grin.

“How’d you know I was outside? I wasn’t making any noise so I could surprise you.”

You chuckled a bit. “Well... I could see Star jumping up and down through the window.”

Both of you turned to see your stands happily reuniting with one another with kisses of their own as well. Jotaro groaned in embarrassment before you reminded him that you two were the only ones that could see the stands, and you all went inside. You could barely contain your excitement, Jotaro could barely contain his nerves. You turned to him, bouncing off the walls with a smile on your face, and rushing around between the kitchen and the living room, taking his suitcase from him.

“Come in, come in you big lug. Give me your suitcase, we’ll wash everything tomorrow. I made dinner for us, your favorite too. A-and there’s a Columbo marathon waiting for us and then I also wanna just relax with you and um... well, you know. Umm... and I’m sorry that I don’t look better than I do. I was wearing the outfit that I wanted to wear while I was cooking but it got dirty so it’s in the laundry so-”

“(y/n).”

You stopped your rambling and moving about and turned to your boyfriend as he remained standing in the front entrance of the house. Jotaro calmly took his white hat and jacket off, hanging them up on the coat rack, before turning to you with a shy smile, small tears in his eyes.

“... I’ve really missed you.”

You felt your heart soar in your chest as you approached Jotaro once more, your own vision now clouded with tears as well. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head in his chest and sniffling a bit.

“I’ve really missed you too...” Jotaro smiled and looked down at the top of your head, giving you a soft kiss, and taking in your scent and warmth, both of which he’d missed more than anything.

“I love you so much (y/n)...”

“I love you too...” After several minutes of you two standing there, Jotaro finally spoke up.

“Alright... come on. We’re going out for dinner.”

You turned to him confused. “But what about all the stuff I cooked?!”

“We’ll eat it tomorrow.”

“But what about Columbo?”

“Columbo’s not going anywhere.”

“But-”

“(y/n). You’ve been so great and patient with me these past two months, just let me spoil you.”

You pouted before sighing and reaching up on your toes, you give Jotaro a quick peck on the lips.

“Alright, I’ll get ready. Is this place fancy?”

“Yeah... wear the purple dress?”

You smile. “Sure dear.”

Jotaro smiled, watching you head back to the bedroom to change. After not long of waiting, he looked up at the sound of your heels clicking on the floor. You finished fidgeting with your gold stud earring before turning to him.

“How do I look?”

Jotaro stood up from his seat, in awe, a big grin on forming on his face.

“If we didn’t have reservations, I’d jump you and carry you upstairs right now.”

You smirked at him. “We could cancel...” You said flirtingly.

Jotaro shook his head. “Nope, no chance.”

You smacked his chest playfully with a pout and turned towards the exit to get your coat. Seeing that your back was to him and he was out of sight, Star Platinum quickly handed Jotaro the ring box having gotten it from the biologist’s briefcase. Jotaro opened it and smiled at the star-shaped diamond at the center of the rose gold band. Once you turned around though, Jotaro quickly hid it away.

“Ready to go?” You asked, holding out your hand. Jotaro took it in his.

“Yeah... let’s go.”

#jjba #part 4 #jotaro kujo #Diamond is Unbreakable #jjba writing #jjba hc #jojo writing #fluff #this is just what I needed #hopefully a better day tomorrow #anyone wanna help a girl out? with a good 4taro fic #eh... idk

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lokisrare · 5 years ago

Text

our story

A/N: Just in case you don’t know I’m a hardcore Harry Styles fan and Fine Line belongs to a museum so I thought of this (I’ll list the songs at the end) if you haven’t listened to it yet I recommend you to do it, it’s really a masterpiece. I won’t put any warnings because there aren’t any, except some angst anyway I hope you all love it, if you do, let me know! Had to repost because the links weren’t working and I didn’t know how to fix it so yeah lol

WORDS: 2071.

PLOT: George recapitulates his life with Lola as she walks down the aisle.

PAIRINGS: George Mackay x ofc.

She (she)

She lives in daydreams with me (she)

She’s the first one that I see

And I don’t know why

I don’t know who she is (she, she)

Maybe it was the pink hair that had completely grabbed his attention towards her or maybe the different flowery jumpers she used to wear almost every day; the thing is, George realized as days passed by that she owned a lot of them, with different colors and patterns, not because he stared at her all of the time like a psycho -or maybe a little-, but because she just outshined everyone wherever she was by the way she dressed and how spontaneous her personality seemed to be.

It was a Monday morning, it was really early and everyone looked like crap including him, except for her, she was doing one of the girls’ hair while looking effortlessly beautiful, now the locks of her hair were violet and a nose piercing made its first appearance; George was mesmerized by her and only realizing how much he was staring when someone hit his head in the back. Really hard.

“Careful! You idiot.” He said while massaging the back of his head.

He was about to get up to follow Andrew, who was already walking off while laughing but a little giggle stopped him in his tracks; turning around, he directed his attention to the make-up section where she was looking at him with a funny expression on her face, her cheeks blushed when she realized he heard her. George smiled at her and when she smiled back his heart stopped for a moment. Cheesy. But it was a start, he thought at the time, he still didn’t even know her name but it was a start. Definitely.

Sunflower

My eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

“Lola please, it’s just a coffee. If you hate me after it, I won’t talk to you or even look at you” he pleaded.

He had finally gotten her name, it suited her, he thought. George had reached out to her one night while she was organizing her stuff, after that, they started to talk almost every day on set; early in the mornings when no one really wanted to talk they’d be laughing at some stupid conversation topic.

But George wanted more, he wanted to know other things rather than the superficial stuff, he wanted to really get to know her.

Lola crossed her arms and huffed, George thought it was funny how intimidating she was even when he was way taller than her, it was like she was always the one in control, and he found himself already liking this side of her.

“I told you I don’t like to get involved with people from my job, I’m still working my way into this industry and I don’t want to fuck it all up” she said, very serious and looking really concerned about her place at the time and George almost instantly regretted being so insistent.

“I’m sorry, you’re completely right,” he saw Lola’s face transform into a look of surprise and relieve, maybe it was the first time a boy actually listened to her and understood her reasons; “but, please, keep doing my make-up, Rose makes me look like a Ken doll whenever she gets her hands on my face and I creep myself out when I look in the mirror.” He tried to ease the moment with a not-so joke.

Lola let out a laugh and nodded. He smiled at her and started to leave not before leaning in and kissing her on the cheek, before turning on the opposite direction he caught a glimpse of her blushing and smirked.

Before he could cross the door, he heard her let out a curse under her breath and a heavy sigh right before she called out his name, asking him to come back into the room.

“Fine, let’s grab a coffee, but I get to choose the place.” Lola said with a shy smile. It was the first time she didn’t look as her confident self, he thought.

“It’s a date, then” George smiled satisfied and she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Not a date, it’s just a coffee.”

Tastes like strawberries on a summer evenin’

And it sounds just like a song

I want your belly and that summer feelin’

I don’t know if I could ever go without

Watermelon sugar high

Every day it passed he realized how much of a free old soul she was. Lola loved exploring and finding places; like one time in England when she found an abandoned theater with a little museum inside and made him spent the night, it wasn’t creepy at all because they also found out stray dogs lived there. Maybe if he made a top three of their dates, it would’ve been number two because now, as he stared at the ocean right in front of him while he seated on the top of a rock he thought this date would be placed in number one for sure.

Not only because he loved the beach and how private and intimate this place was, but how beautiful she looked with that loose white dress she was wearing, her hair up in a messy bun, and her cheeks red because of the sun.

“I could stay here forever,” he said mostly to himself as she was eating a piece of watermelon, she nodded, her mouth full. It made him laugh at her, she looked like a little girl doing a mess.

“I wouldn’t though, this place gives me the creeps during night because those rocks there look like a skull when its dark and some friends say they heard a woman crying once.”

“Oh, we are not staying then. Definitely not.” Lola nodded agreeing with him while she cleaned her hands, once she was done she laid her head on top of his thighs.

George smiled down at her and looked straight into her eyes and then down to her lips, Lola grabbed the back of his neck leading his lips into hers.

The kiss was soft but loving, her lips tasted sweet and he thought how he could never get tired of her.

Lola was something else.

But I can feel it take a hold (I can feel it take a hold)

I can feel you take control (I can feel you take control)

Of who I am, and all I’ve ever known

Lovin’ you’s the antidote

Golden

“Lola, sweetheart, would you help me over here?”

“Of course!”

George looked at Lola as she helped his mother with some recipe for a dessert she had found on the internet.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop staring at her, maybe the fact that it was the first time in four years -five almost-, he saw her with her natural hair color and she looked absolutely stunning, her nose ring was still there but her factions were way more mature.

Or maybe it hit him how much they had grown together, how many moments they lived, great and not so great, and how much he loved the way his family adored her.

He loved her. Lola had him since the first moment he landed his eyes on her and then never let him go. She was his treasure, his gold, his everything and he was so happy knowing he was the exact same thing for her.

It was then when he looked down at his pocket and felt the little delicate ring his grandmother gave to him. He never felt more ready.

There’s things that we’ll never know

You sunshine, you temptress

My hand’s at risk, I fold

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

We’ll be a fine line

(…)

We’ll be alright

The apartment was dark and silent. It felt as it was completely empty. Yet it wasn’t. George was sitting at the end of the hall, his back against your shared bedroom door, it was long time ago when he last heard you sob, he figured you’d be sleeping by now but still it didn’t felt right to come in.

He hurt you, he was well aware of it, yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He knew he had no control over this part of his job, the traveling.

He knew Lola liked to pretend she was doing fine, she didn’t like to be seen as fragile or dependent, she was raised that way, he could never blame her, but it was hard sometimes when George wanted nothing but to know what was hurting her, it was so hard to get Lola to open up about how she was feeling.

He would feel like she didn’t trust him, and distance fucks things up most of the time when trying to talk things through, she was stubborn and he wasn’t patient.

George got up and slowly opened the door, she was facing him and he could tell she was peacefully sleeping by her calm breathing.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Lola, her nose was still a little red, he noticed her eyes had gotten a little swollen too, it broke him because he hated being the reason behind her suffering.

George caressed her cheek, then her arm, slowly and lovingly; he looked at her hand, his grandmother’s ring decorating her finger. George felt his chest getting heavy and his sight getting blurry from the tears so he closed his eyes letting them fall, it hurt him too, he hated to leave her for so long, he hated not being there for her accomplishments or her difficult times and vice versa. Sometimes he felt his love wasn’t enough.

George opened his eyes startled as he felt her hand cupping his face. Lola was looking at him, her sight holding sadness and tiredness but yet he could feel the love on her delicate touch.

“Come here” was all she said.

George laid beside her and she hugged him, their faces inches from each other, he kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes.

“We’ll be alright” she said before falling back asleep, and George held to that promise.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

All this moments, the good and the bad, the really low times when they had nothing but each other to hold on to and the happiest of times when they also had each other to share their joy.

It all came to flashes to George’s mind as he saw her walking down the aisle to him, her white gown with little golden flowers decorating it perfectly, she had her hair up but he could still see the pink on the ends of it falling loose from her hairdo, just like the first time he saw her.

And maybe, he thought, he wouldn’t be able to promise her a perfect marriage but he could promise her his devotion and all the love and adoration he felt for her.

Because he loved Lola since the first time he saw her, when she still had a baby face with round cheeks and so many doubts about her future and he loved her now as the successful woman she had become, so confident, so smart and so beautiful.

When she finally arrived to him, he realized he was crying when she laughed and cleaned his cheeks with her fingers.

“Oh please George, you’re going to ruin the Ken doll make up” she said jokingly.

“Yeah, joke all you want. Look where just a coffee leaded us too” George said and Lola looked at him with a confused look, he smirked at her and then she gave him a look, realizing what he meant.

“God, George, can we please get married before I regret it” she said making the priest laugh.

“You had 8 years for that” he bragged, “fine, let’s get this done milady” he took Lola’s hand winking at her as the priest started speaking.

He stared at her. She was perfect. This day was perfect.

________

from Fine Line(2019): She, Sunflower, Watermelon Sugar, Golden, Fine Line. from Harry Styles(2017): Sweet Creature.

(CLICK THE ALBUM’S NAMES IF YOU WANT TO CHECK THEM OUT)

#george mackay #george mackay imagine #george mackay x reader #1917 imagine #1917 fanfic

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