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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years ago

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Wedding Days

Inspired by this prompt from @mingcheng-prompts

Jiang Cheng groans when he hears Wei Wuxian’s excited laughter and then he mentally curses himself for it, because it’s Wei Wuxian’s wedding day. He’s allowed to be excited and happy. Required even.

It doesn’t change the fact that Jiang Cheng got dumped a day before the wedding happened and he had to show up alone to this, but it is what it is. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t even change it in hindsight and he’s kind of glad that relationship ended, but still.

He deserves to get another drink, right?

Jiang Cheng is just about to knock back another shot when a hand settles on his arm.

“What the hell?” he snaps out, ready to tear a new one into whoever dares to interrupt his drinking, but the words die on his tongue when he locks eyes with the most gorgeous man he has ever seen.

“Drinking alone is no fun,” the guy says and lifts his own shot to Jiang Cheng. “Want some company?”

“Depends on why you are drinking?” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he could never simply take anything that was offered and the guy huffs out a laugh.

“I was dumped. Like, ten minutes ago. It feels like a good reason to drink,” he says with a shrug. “You?”

“Dumped yesterday,” Jiang Cheng mutters and clinks his shot against the other. “It’s a perfect reason to drink,” he says and then downs the shot, watching the man do the same.

Jiang Cheng is absolutely not itching to get his teeth into his throat.

“Nie Mingjue,” the guy introduces himself once he swallowed and it takes Jiang Cheng an embarrassing long moment to tears his eyes away from his throat.

“Jiang Wanyin,” he replies and he wonders if he can pretend that his voice sounds rough like this because of the alcohol.

“Wei Wuxian’s brother, right?”

“And you’re Huaisang’s brother,” Jiang Cheng gives back, distantly wondering how they went all these years without meeting even once, but he shrugs it off. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Nie Mingjue says and then waves the barkeeper down for another round of shots.

~*~**~

Jiang Cheng feels pleasantly warm, a tingling spreading out from his stomach to all his limbs and he likes to pretend that it’s the alcohol finally putting in some work. It has nothing at all to do with the way Nie Mingjue kisses a scorching hot trail down his throat.

“No, stop,” Jiang Cheng breathes out, because this is monumentally unfair. He wanted to kiss Nie Mingjue’s throat, not the other way around.

“What?” Nie Mingjue asks, pulling away immediately and Jiang Cheng takes that opportunity to get his own lips on Nie Mingjue’s skin.

“Wanted to do that since the first shot,” he says between kisses and Nie Mingjue makes a noise in his throat that Jiang Cheng can almost taste.

“Gods, you’re so unbelievable hot,” Nie Mingjue says and reaches around Jiang Cheng to grab his ass in his huge hands.

“You’re one to talk,” Jiang Cheng groans out when Nie Mingjue simply lifts him up the ground and Jiang Cheng is quick to sling his legs around his waist. “Fuck, you’re one to talk,” he repeats as he grinds into Nie Mingjue.

He doesn’t get to say much more when Nie Mingjue claims his lips into a searing hot kiss and Jiang Cheng doesn’t quite remember how they end up in his bed, but he surely won’t complain about that.

Not that Nie Mingjue gives him a chance to even form a coherent sentence now that a mattress is below them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng wakes up alone. There’s no note to find anywhere and Nie Mingjue doesn’t contact him, even though it would be easy for him to get Jiang Cheng’s number from Nie Huaisang.

Jiang Cheng tries to not let that get to him and he goes on with his life as usual.

~*~*~

It keeps happening. They keep meeting at weddings of their families or friends, always alone, sometimes recently dumped and sometimes not, but they somehow always drift to the open bar, where the other is usually waiting.

Drinks lead to kisses, which lead to making out, which lead to them leaving the reception early to put their booked rooms to good use.

Jiang Cheng normally wakes up alone. Nie Mingjue still hasn’t contacted him.

~*~*~

It’s the ninth wedding in the last year and a half and Jiang Cheng finds himself in the same arms that he always finds himself in during these things.

“Why didn’t you drink tonight?” Nie Mingjue asks between kisses, because of course he had picked up on that and Jiang Cheng tries his best to shrug, while also not to dislodge Nie Mingjue’s lips from his skin.

“No reason,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and hopes that Nie Mingjue will just drop the issue.

It’s the ninth wedding in one and a half years and Jiang Cheng is scared that it will be the last for a while yet. Their families and assorted friend circles are big, but not that big and the next wedding will be a while off yet.

So Jiang Cheng decided to do something stupid and he can’t afford to be drunk for that. Well, drunk on alcohol. He’s perfectly drunk on the hot feeling in his gut, on the kisses Nie Mingjue presses into his skin, on the feeling of his arms around him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think there will ever be a way to not get drunk on this, but then his head hits the pillow on his bed and like always Nie Mingjue makes thinking impossible for him.

Jiang Cheng leans fully into it. No matter how his plan works out, it will be the last time for a while, after all.

~*~*~

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, he is not alone. He takes a moment to let out a relieved breath and then he spends long, long minutes simply staring at Nie Mingjue.

It’s the sole reason he didn’t drink even a drop of alcohol yesterday; he tends to oversleep when he is intoxicated and for once he wanted to wake up before Nie Mingjue.

He has a plan, and no matter how stupid that plan might be, he has to try. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to wait an undetermined amount of time before he sees Nie Mingjue again, and simply reaching out for him seems strange, especially with all the time that has already passed.

But for now, Jiang Cheng enjoys waking up to Nie Mingjue still in his bed. He’s breathing softly and evenly, his face turned towards Jiang Cheng and he has to fight the urge to reach out and trail his fingers over the slope of his nose or his cheekbones.

He doesn’t want to wake Nie Mingjue yet.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that he will never get to watch his fill of Nie Mingjue, but he tries his best now anyway. If this goes wrong, it might be the last time he gets to do this, after all.

He is aware that he could be labelled a freak for staring at Nie Mingjue like this, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t care much about that right now. He settles back into bed, head propped up on one hand, so he gets a clearer look of Nie Mingjue and then he stays that way until Nie Mingjue shows the first signs of waking up.

Jiang Cheng is never going to admit to it out loud, but the way Nie Mingjue scrunches his face right before he wakes up is the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” Jiang Cheng whispers as Nie Mingjue blinks his eyes open, and then he decides to fuck it all and he leans in and brushes a kiss over Nie Mingjue’s cheek.

“Wanyin, you’re—awake,” Nie Mingjue says, his voice still sleep rough and while that sends a shiver of heat down Jiang Cheng’s spine, his words make a pit open up in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

“I feel well rested,” he lightly says, untangling himself from the blanket to get up. “Maybe you didn’t put enough work in yesterday,” he tries to joke, but he knows it falls flat, especially when Nie Mingjue sits up and immediately covers himself with the blanket.

Jiang Cheng already knows that he made a monumentally big mistake here, but he’s in too deep now to simply call it quits.

He would rather Nie Mingjue tells him to his face to not be stupid than to live with this uncertainty for longer.

“Stay for breakfast,” Jiang Cheng says, his back turned to Nie Mingjue as he puts on his pants. “There’s no rush to leave, right?”

Jiang Cheng tries his best not to think about the last eight times when Nie Mingjue clearly couldn’t get away from him fast enough, but he soldiers through it.

“Your stomach grumbled in your sleep, you surely must be hungry.”

He turns around, once he buttoned his pants and Nie Mingjue’s face is answer enough for him. Bitterness sweeps through Jiang Cheng, and he can do nothing to stop it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nie Mingjue says, much like Jiang Cheng expected, and turns away from Jiang Cheng to get dressed.

It looks like he’s in a real rush to get away from Jiang Cheng and he didn’t expect that to hurt so much.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says. “I’m good enough for a drunk fuck but not for breakfast. Got it.”

He feels bad for his words afterwards—it was always clear that this was no-strings attached sex and nothing more—but he can’t take them back and he’s not going to apologize either. Nie Mingjue can deal with that, while Jiang Cheng deals with his stupidly broken heart.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to hear his excuses or his explanations.

“No, that’s—” he can’t bring himself to say ‘alright’ because it’s not and he doesn’t want to lie to Nie Mingjue but he can’t find any other words, so he simply trails off.

He’s glad he booked a bigger room for this wedding than he normally does, because it lets him step away from Nie Mingjue and the bed, even though the distance is barely anything.

Jiang Cheng busies himself with his phone, but in all honesty he is listening for Nie Mingjue gathering his things, wondering if he’ll even say goodbye to him or if this is just going to be it.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Nie Mingjue simply walks out on him after Jiang Cheng’s stupid and clearly unwanted attempt.

What he didn’t expect was for Nie Mingjue to step up behind him and pull him into his chest, his arms tightly around his middle.

“It won’t just be breakfast, if I stay,” Nie Mingjue whispers into the space at Jiang Cheng’s throat. “If I stay for breakfast, I will want to stay for lunch and dinner and movies and dates and sleeping together and every second of every day that comes after. If you ask me to stay for breakfast, I’ll never leave you alone again.”

It sounds like a confession and Jiang Cheng’s eyes immediately feel hot with tears.

He turns around in Nie Mingjue’s embrace to sling his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck and he hides his face much like Nie Mingjue just did.

“Stay for breakfast,” Jiang Cheng croaks out, hating how his voice breaks with hope and happiness and a shiver runs down his spine when Nie Mingjue presses kiss after kiss into his skin.

“I’ll stay forever,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng nods his head.

“Please,” he says, beyond caring that he’s basically begging Nie Mingjue and even that thought leaves his head when Nie Mingjue pulls away just far enough to be able to kiss Jiang Cheng.

“You never said,” Jiang Cheng breathes out when they part and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Well, you didn’t either, and I thought—you could have reached out. And then every other time I met you you just came out of a relationship so I didn’t know what to think to be honest.”

“You didn’t reach out, either,” Jiang Cheng gives back, just a tiny bit angry over that. “And I didn’t—I haven’t been in a relationship since that very first time. I made them all up, because I thought I needed that excuse for you,” he admits, hiding his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder when he can feel himself blush. “But you always recently broke up before a wedding, too.”

“Ah,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then he laughs. “Same lie here, to be honest,” he explains before Jiang Cheng can get really angry at him and Nie Mingjue takes his face into his hands.

“Let’s exchange numbers now, so that this misunderstanding can never happen again,” he says and Jiang Cheng leans up for a soft kiss before he nods.

Breakfast is much more comfortable than Jiang Cheng dared to hope for, but that’s probably because Nie Mingjue keeps him tucked into his side and Jiang Cheng can hold his hand all morning.

He’s not inclined to ever let go of Nie Mingjue again, so the fact that he wants to stay, too, fits perfectly well.

(Jiang Cheng was right; there were no more weddings for a terrible long two years. He would have died if he hadn’t gotten to see Nie Mingjue at all during that time, but when they are told that they can kiss now, Jiang Cheng figures it’s better to attend a wedding with his husband now, anyway. Especially his own.)

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#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #hook-ups #getting together #hurt/comfort #fluff #marriages

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ac3id · 4 years ago

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Hawk’s eye| 18+

pairings: hawks [keigo tamaki] x female! reader

summary: hawks is in his rut, desperate for some relief. his annoying secretary won’t stop irritating him so he decides to take his pent up frustrations on her. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

anonymous said:

hi!! so while the requests are still open, could you write some headcannons for Hawks x reader when he's in rut? maybe the reader is a bit clueless and doesn't even know he goes through stuff like that? dirty details are welcome 👀❤️

this was high-key inspired by @tainted-wine‘s this fic. (i hope u like my take on it !! 💓)

a/n: aaaa this took so much longer than i thought it would take 😭, also thanks @the-grimm-writer for proof reading this! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) also this is porn w plot so if u just was to skip to da porn. skip to this ‘◌’ bhai

ALSO THANKYOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS LMAO WTF FOR REAL 😭

tagging: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @koiibito, @reinawritesbnha, @shorkbrian

warnings: noncon, hate fucking, one slap, she bites his dick at some point, scumbag hawks.

word count: 5862

navigation

The sound of your phone buzzing on the side table with a loud, irritating noise jolts you awake. You roll around on the bed, your fingers reaching to turn the vibrating device off. Groaning, you sit up straight. The warm mattress under you threatens to lull you back to sleep but you shove the thought away instead choosing to stretch your arms over your head and yawn endlessly. You were tired, so goddamn tired. Rubbing your temples lazily you start thinking about the dreadful day you have ahead of yourself. You think about your boss: Hawks, the man who makes you hate your life and job. He has trapped you into a never-ending nightmare which starts the second you open your eyes till the moment you fall asleep and even then he still manages to haunt you in your dreams.

Cleaning up after his messes, obeying his ever so pliantly. He has turned you into his little pet slave. He says that it’s your job as you are his assistant, his little helper there to make his job a little less hectic. You must listen to his needs and wants and to some degree, you do agree with him: it is your job, it’s what you signed up for after all but you can also sense him misusing his title when he is with you. He never listens to your suggestions which results in him calling you late after work hours to help with his problems knowing damn well you had already warned him beforehand. And, oh his flirty, suggestive comments which borderline sexual harassment. Hawks is a difficult man to work with and you often find yourself wondering how much calmer your life would be if you never worked for him but you do not have that luxury of leaving the job. It pays ridiculously well and you have bills to pay, your family to support. No, you cannot afford to lose this job. So you sit through his torment and hope for the best.

Seconds later after you have gathered your will to live you start scrolling through your phone, skimming through the morning news lazily. Your eyebrows furrow and eyes turn into angry slits as you glance upon a displeasing, astonishing article.

‘No. 2 Hero Hawks spotted partying with strippers–’

Your heart stops for a moment.

What the fuck was this?

You hesitantly read through the article, your heartbeat increasing every second that your eyes focus on the led screen, reading the details of the damned article. Eyes widening as panic settles in your nerves, you realize the gravity of the situation you had found yourself under as Hawks’ manager. Hawks had been spotted partying with strippers in a nightclub with a bunch of celebrities. The crazy stalker who had managed to follow him succeeded in capturing exclusive pictures of Hawks dressed in an expensive suit, his hair styled to perfection dancing under the dim lights of the club with women in basically their underwear shamelessly grinding upon him. You honestly couldn’t have given a single fuck about what Hawks did in his free time but since he had managed to get a paparazzi to tail him and now that his career was at risk; it became your problem. Your first and foremost instinct was to call Hawks and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Not being careful enough, he had managed to taint his entire reputation. The people of Japan now probably viewed him as a reckless party animal rather than the No. 2 Hero!

Before you could call him, your phone’s screen lights up illuminating a contact you dread. ‘Hero Commission’ it’s written in bold letters, your face drops. Your fingers shake, filled with anxiety as you accept the call. Inhaling and exhaling, you try to calm your nerves. If it is a call from the Commission, you know it’s bad. Bad.

You pick up the phone and instantly regret it, “What were you doing?” an angry, masculine voice snarls through the screen. You open your mouth to answer but are not given a chance too. “How did you let him go to a strip club during patrol hours?” you bite your lip thinking of an acceptable excuse, “He had to go there for work! It’s a misunderstanding. He went down to the strip club undercover to meet up with a crook to get some intel– that’s what he told me. This is a misunderstanding, I–” your explanation was cut short as the person on the other end of the call deemed it enough. “Whatever it is, fix it and never let this happen again.” he sneers a warning before cutting the call. It wasn’t a complete lie, Hawks did tell you that he was investigating a case on his own and that he would be gaining information from shady people but you did not expect him to go to a strip club out of all places. The worst part: he never even told you in detail anything about this case neither did he notice the paparazzi tailing his back. You sigh in frustration, rubbing your forehead, you quickly ring up his number only for it be sent right to voicemail. You almost scream. Where the fuck was this bastard?

Managing Hawks was not a walk in the park. The hero commission had sent you down especially to be Hawks’ secretary. You had a reputation: you were known to be responsible, diligent, and punctual. You were one of their best, entrusted with the responsibility to manage Hawks and you did a good job but it was Hawks who just made the job so hard.

Creating problems he could never solve by himself; on lucky days you would get a call from him at three in the morning, him begging you to come to help him. You want to say no, deny him any help. Let him suffer by himself but you cannot do that. If he screws up and you are not there to fix it. You lose your job, you can’t afford that. You give your 100%, you do but it’s Hawks. He has a problem with you, well, he has a problem with everyone in the commission but projects it mainly at you. He does not respect you.

He chooses to ignore your decisions and suggestions, diminishing them with a cruel chuckle, “Look, I need you but just not now.” He would say with an apologetic smile, “just let me work at my own pace, I will call when I will need you. After all, I love seeing your cute face.” You would always have to force yourself from not slapping his smug face before he took off into the bright, blue sky.

The truth untold, it wasn’t his fault completely either. He was just so fast. It was hard for anyone to keep up with him and since he did his job right; bringing peace to the nation you could not deem him worthless. But it still was a bother at times like this when you were left completely in the dark while Hawks ruined his hard-earned reputation.

You got into the building earlier that morning to wait for Hawks in his office, you needed to talk to him. This was not his first mishap. Not long ago, another article about him shamelessly flirting with a fan had been published. It had said the fan was visibly uncomfortable with him but Hawks didn’t seem to care, he kept presting. You had managed to cover it up as the two being close friends who were publicly joking around, there was no real harm done. It was a lie though, you had to pay the fan a large check to keep her mouth shut. She accepted the money and the story was lost and forgotten but you had no idea how you were going to cover this hell up.

The clock struck nine as the day began, people rushing into the building all tensed but there was no sign of Hawks. You tried calling him on his number but the call directed to voicemail yet again. You were growing impatient, did something happen to him? Sure Hawks fucked things over sometimes but he never disappeared like this. It got you genuinely worried. Something horrible could have happened to him. After all, he was on a case.

You waited for another thirty minutes and there was yet no sign of him. His sidekicks came knocking on his office door only to be surprised to see you there instead of their boss. You told them to continue with their day and not worry about Hawks, he was just awfully late. Not a big deal, he will be here soon. Soon.

Another hour passed by, no sign of Hawks and about now your phone was blowing up with angry calls from his sponsors and business partners, screaming at the top of their lungs frowning upon the scandal. Heck, even Endeavor called you after he couldn’t reach Hawks himself. The call made you nervous as anxiety crept in yet again. Hawks wasn’t answering to Endeavour something bad must have happened. Getting tired of the wait, you make up your mind to drop by his penthouse and to go see him for yourself. His silence was driving you crazy and worried at the same time, you just hoped he would be there well and safe. You could not imagine the ruckus that would create if something were to happen to him.

You walked out of his office after waiting for an hour. Rushing down to the basement you got into your car and before driving away to his house. Just before leaving, you decided to test your luck by calling him. Hoping, praying he would answer this time and luckily he did .

“Hawks!” you cried, a wave of relief washing over you, “Where are you? What are you doing?” you began pestering him with questions, not letting him answer even once. Hawks, tired of waiting, interrupted your monologue of questions with a chuckle. “Aw, you’re worried about me, baby?” his tone was low and mischievous, the sentence slurring almost into a moan at the last word. You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists in irritation, you weren’t new to his teasing. Hawks thought it was appropriate for him to casually flirt with his secretary. Send unasked comments about your figure, perverted implications about what he would do to a ‘cute little thing like you’ which made you very uncomfortable being around him at times. But it wasn’t that what made him get on your last nerves. It was the fact that he could even think about joking at a time like this which made you furious.

You screamed into the phone, giving him a piece of your mind. Degrading him for not taking care of himself, complaining about how he had managed to put you in such a tight spot.

“Once again I am asking, where the fuck are you. Hawks?” you ended your speech with spite in your words. Hawks sighed, “I am in the office,” he says your name with an edge in his voice, instantly shutting you down, “Where the hell are you?” The smugness in his tone remains and you can tell he is smirking on the other side of the screen as if he’s won. You hang up abruptly before walking out of your car and into the building, hurriedly making your way towards Hawk’s office.

You slam the door open glaring upon hawks as he sits behind his table. Dirty boots resting pliantly on the shiny, polished wood. His wings out, stretched to their fullest, filling up the room standing on high alert. They have a deeper hue to them, they look darker– a darker red. How did that happen? You find yourself wondering. Is he on drugs? His face is tilted upwards, facing the ceiling. Eyes screwed shut. They open as he hears you enter and walk towards him, his wings falling back behind him calm and collected.

“You’re late,” he says with a smirk, you bang your fist on the table beside where his feet rest, making him flinch and bring them down instinctively. His eyes widened in shock, he was not expecting you to be this furious. Sure, he knew he knew he had gotten you mad but he was not expecting you to be this angry. Without any hesitation, you start scolding him again. He watches you ramble in ominous glee. A poker face masking his expression, he watches you trot about how much trouble he is in. His job is to protect meek and weak citizens who cannot fight for themselves, what he was doing in a strip in the name of business is something you cannot grasp your head around. You repeat your lecture which you had already tortured him over the phone while the entire time Hawks drums his fingers underneath the table, waiting for you to get over with your dumb speech. His eyes trail on your lips, watching it move. Plump, pillow-like features tinted dark red ramble on about how much of an irresponsible person he was. Complaining about how much trouble he puts you through daily. Honestly, he doesn’t quite catch what you were saying. His mind busy imaging you shutting the fuck and letting him get through the day– or better yet how pathetic you would look underneath him while he shoves his dick down your throat. The thought makes his cock throb. His eyes change from an unbothered, bored look to something sinister as they start trailing all over your body. His eyebrows slightly furrow as he catches up on the few degrading terms you throw at him.

You talked too much. Way too much, do you realize how much better you would look if you keep your pretty, little mouth shut? The entire time, it’s always: Hawks don’t do this, Hawks don’t do that. Don’t you ever get tired? He wonders whether your dumb little brain had any thoughts other than the ones which tell you to irritate him all the time. You should shut up, really stop talking. He might do something bad, he’s already stressed enough as it is being in his rut and having no way to relieve himself, he is going through a rough time here. The other night he escaped to a strip club in hopes of relieving some stress and it had worked but it had also brought along a mind splitting scandal.

The entire morning, Hawks was busy avoiding people. Whether it be his fans, reporters, or even someone he knew; he paid no mind to them trying to get to the office as soon as possible to deal with the mess he had created.

It wasn’t his fault entirely, he was in his rut and needed sexual relief which he was finding very hard to receive. With his work piling up and you breathing down his neck, he couldn’t even take represents as they slowed him down. He couldn’t risk falling asleep on duty. A stupid, little headline about what he does in his free time was much more favorable than a failed mission in which he would let countless innocent lives slip by his fingers.

He watches you ramble, his eyes trailing over your body locking on your tits. He stares at them intensely, watching them bounce slowly every time you huff out of irritation and frustration. Your work shirt works him favors, the white almost translucent material shows off the slightest shadow of your black, lacy bra. It’s enough to get him going- imaging how your soft mounds would feel in his hands. How you would whimper under his touch as he tugs and pulls on your perky nipples, you probably wouldn’t sound as monstrous as you do right now. Your moans would be girlish, small whimpers would leave your lips as you would try your best to cover them up. You would try to hide your face under his assault but he wouldn’t let you, pinning you down instead and forcing himself on you while you cried for him to stop. Beg for his mercy.

He can feel his jeans tighten.

“So please, Hawks. Just be a little more responsible.” you finish, your voice turning into a plea. He hums and apologizes for his impulsive thinking, like always, he is not sorry. “Let's fix this mess, what do you say?” he asks with an apologetic grin, trying to be polite. You on the other hand don’t even spare him a glance, walking right out the door instead. It leaves him very offended.

◌

“Ah! What a troublesome day it was,” Hawks chimes in walking into his office with you closely following behind, “It was all your fault.” you spit making hawks chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens for the good.” he says, a scoff leaves your lips, “What was good about that?” you ask annoyed. “I get to have you alone with me now~” Hawks winks at you making you roll your eyes dramatically. Both of you stand together in Hawks’ office after hours. The day is done, everyone in the agency building has taken their leave excluding the two of you. It had been a long day fixing up after Hawks. You were tired and all you wanted was a warm bath and some sleep.

“Do you want to know why it happened?” Hawks asks out of the blue, “What happened?” you question, “Why was I at the strip club?” you sigh, “I don’t give two shits about your personal life, Hawks.” replying sternly. A look of disappointment arises on his face, “It’s actually more than that, really, I u-uh have this condition- it gets very hard to work during these times-”

“What are you even talking about?” You interject confused and clueless. You turn to him, a glare evident on your face you stare at him sheepishly. What was he on about now?

“I am serious, I went into my rut, and that's why I went to the strip club-” “Into a what?” Hawks’ eyes widened, were you really that clueless? “A rut, [y/n],” he says like it is a matter of fact, something everybody is aware of. “A rut. You know like how some animals go into heat and they-” your face scrunches as he explains his rut to you, you visibly grow more and more repulsed. Hawks studies you face, his heart genuinely breaking at your expressions. “Why are you telling me this?” you screech, “jeez Hawks, I did not need to know any of that!” you continue.

Hawks is hurt, he accepted a reaction which showed more concern. Maybe he went a bit too far imagining that you would offer him help but seeing you so disgusted by him shattered his heart and made him lose all his respect for you. You were a terrible human being, no different from those villains he put behind the bars every day. “I am telling you all of this because- this actually happens! Many- fuck- millions of people like me actually suffer from this shit! You should be a little more emphatic.” he reasons. He accepts you to understand at least now but you gloriously manage to disappoint him yet again. A rude snarl leaves your lips followed by a scoff, “What are you really trying to tell me Hawks? That you don’t want to do your job and to justify your laziness; you are making lame excuses now?” you shove a finger to his chest, it pushes him off the edge.

Something in his snaps, he looks down where your fingertip touches his chest. You are smaller than him, he’s at least a foot bigger than you. Where does your bratty, puny self get all this confidence from? His eyes darken as something sinister floats within him. He stares down at your finger, wanting to rip it off. He wants to see you cry. He wants to see you in pain and misery, suffering a great deal while nobody comes to help you.

“Hawks, you know what? I am so done with your bullshit. I am leaving.” You turn away from him, heading to the door but before you could move a step. Hawks grabs you by writs, caging your delicate hand into a bone-crushing death grip, “What the fuck?” you question, “Hawks?” you continue. You wait for his response, turning to him. He is facing the floor, his hair scanning over his eyes making it impossible for you to read his expression, not that you could read what was going on with him normally but now; it’s even harder. “Are you going to let go?” you ask again only to be met by him squeezing your wrists even tighter. You bring your other hand over him to pry yourself free from his clutches but he doesn’t want to let go.

“Hawks wha-” you don’t get to complete your statement as Hawks pushes you down on the floor making you fall on your butt. You let out a loud hiss. You frown, yelling out “What is wrong with you!?” You try to stand back up but his hands settle on your shoulder pushing you back down. You try fighting but it’s to no use. Did you forget he is the no. 2 Pro- Hero? He is much stronger than you, he brings down villains twice his size daily. What makes you think your weak kicks and punches will be enough to beat him?

You keep struggling under him, screaming how you were going to report him and ruin his career, how he is going to be sorry for messing with you.

“Shut. Up.” he finally speaks, he brings his gloved hand to your perfectly styled hair. Pulling tightly on your roots he stretches your face upwards, making it easier for him to look down on you while you cry in agony, “Stop crying.'' His voice is deep and raspy, much different from how he usually talks. You look up at him, fear swimming in your eyes as tears prick at the corners of your sockets, lips trembling. If you already weren’t terrified enough, your horror becomes tenth fold when you see his boner raging in his pants, “Come, on. Hawks..” your voice is small and weak, it's a broken cry. You know what he is going to make you do. He was going to violate you, break you beyond repair.

This was so wrong. As much you hated Hawks, you never would have thought he would do something like this. Hawks was a hero. He is meant to fight for justice, punish evil. Why is he doing this? “Hawks no. Please. Was it something I said? I take it back I didn’t mean it-”

“You know, y/n, you are not so different from those villains yourself,” if looks could kill, you would be dead. The pure, anger, and hatred he looks at you with bothers you. It makes you hate yourself, there is something sinister in his eyes which makes you sure about the fact that he is not afraid of hurting you. He has given up on you, after all, his polite gestures, generosity you always ignored- he’s fed up with your sheer ignorance and your ego. He hates you. He does and heck if he wasn’t in his rut; he would never bring his dick anywhere near you. He does not respect you as a human and in no way does he have any romantical attachment to you. All he ever saw was a walking alarm clock, bugging him every second, and now all he is going to see you as is his cocksleeve whom he can stuff his fat cock into whenever and however he seems fine. To him you are just a walking hole he can ruin whenever he wants to, you have managed to get on his bad side and he is going to show you his bad side.

He undoes his belt, his pants falling to his thighs displaying his expensive boxers and his growing hardness. His cock is throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His free hand pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. It stands long and hard, the tip blushed red and angry, tiniest bit of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit. He pumps his cock in his hand before forcing it against your mouth, pressing it to your lips smearing his pre all over your lips. You whimper in protest, moving your head the littlest you can under his tight grip. “Bitch open up. You had this coming for a long time,” his dick slaps your cheek while his fingers try to pry open your mouth. Pushing his gloved digits forcefully into your mouth, the rough fabric feels disgusting on your tongue. His fingers capture the lower part of your jaw, tearing your mouth apart with deranged strength. A loud cry escapes from you as he stuffs your empty mouth full of his cock, “Yeah, that’s more like it. Fuck.” he bottoms out into your throat, his shaft hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “get on with it. A slut like you would have the experience, right?” he taunts you. You do as he says, puckering your lips firmly around his length, your hands resting on his exposed thighs while you stroke him with your tongue. You feel his chiseled thigh muscles flex under your fingers as he melts in pleasure, tiny moans leaving his lips shamelessly.

As Hawks drowns in overwhelming pleasure, a criminal idea crosses your mind. Your eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are screwed close, he bites his lower lip softly. Carefully and slowly, you graze your teeth over his cock. Clamping down on it lightly, you hold your position. Your heart beats faster when Hawks stiffens and in a quick flash, he pushes you off his cock throwing you into the ground before backing up, squealing in pain.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!” he screams, you sprint to the door. Trembling fingers try to unlock the doorknob while Hawks cries in agony behind you. You can feel him loom behind you, ready to come for your neck. A part of you tells you that you will not make it but the adrenaline rushing in your veins calls to be hopeful. Just open the door and just run.

Your cold, quivering fingers almost unlock the heavy wooden door but before you can push it open. Hawks appears right behind you, pushing his body onto your back. You feel his cock poking at your ass, his hand grabs your head pulling you, prying you off the door. You scream and cry trying to break free, grabbing his hand clawing on it to let you free. Hawks chooses to show no mercy as he drags you by your hair to his desk, your scalp hurts from his grip. You can feel tiny strands breakaway. He turns you around and slams your back to his wooden desk, you whimper at the contact. He stands in front of you, pressing his knee between your thighs. His hand reaches out to pull at your collar, forcing you to look at him.

He is livid, eyebrows furrowed with a death glare his jaw clenched, and his eyes darker than you have ever seen before. He looks at you with murderous intent, you think he might as well kill you with his wings flared open. The feathers turning into knives, you beg for your life.

Hawks observes your face. Broken, scared for your life your eyes are glassy, ridden in fear your makeup smeared all over your face. He thinks it's beautiful, he has finally got you begging for mercy, finally thinking of him as the man he is. He appreciates your submission but it does not erase the fact that you just bite oh his dick. You beg for mercy, your voice is small and broken. It comes barely above a whisper, “I am so sorry hawks, please don’t do this.” He doesn’t listen, staring at you head-on with his jaw clenched. He brings his free hand to the air, keeping it steady for a second before bringing it down with a horrendous force. You feel it before it happens; white, hot flashing pain erupts through your cheek stinging you hard. You cry out in agony as your face drops to the other side. The strike was powerful, it left you sore, you can still feel it sting your face. It leaves you swollen, you try to bring your hand up to your face lightly to carcasses you paining cheek but Hawks pushes your face on the wooden desk before you could, trapping your arms behind your back holding it with one hand. “You don’t realize your position, do you? You know what? I was going- planning to be gentle with you. I thought I would at least make you cum but now,” he pulls a feather out his wings preceding to tear open your pencil skirt with the sharp end. The ripped fabric falls to the ground leaving you in your panties and the pantyhose you always wear under your skirts, “There we go. I hope you are a pain slut, otherwise you would really not enjoy this.” he says with a small chuckle before ripping you out of your bottoms, leaving you in your panties completely vulnerable to him. He abandons his gloves, rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt roughly trying to gather slickness from your dry hole. Pleasure shoots down your body as his digits find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the little pearl, “Does this feel good? You are getting wet.” a smirk scars his face, “Who gets off to being raped?” he says sharply. Your face scrunches up in disgust and embarrassment. A heavy lump forms in your throat and the waterworks that you had been holding off burst open. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you cry for mercy. You didn't know why this was happening to you, for your entire life you had been a nice person: always helpful, sensitive, and kind. At least, that was what you thought yourself to be. Never in a million years could you- or anyone, in fact, could have ever thought that you would be crying pathetically while your boss: a person known to all as a Hero, the truest, most honest person to exist ever would be the one defiling you, tearing you down to nothing just for his pleasure.

“Shut up, you like this.” He snarls at you, so sick of your loud wails he even shoves two fingers inside your mouth plunging them to the back of her throat, “Don’t you dare bite now, slut.” he warns. His fingers stop prodding at your clit when he notices the wet spot forming on your panties, he wastes no time shimming them down to your ankles, whistling when he sees your glistening pussy. You only wail louder pleading him not proceed any further. Hawks turns a blind eye to all your begging, “I should just shove it in, right?” he asks petting his finger over your hole, “but that won’t be fun,” he snickers. You feel his move away from your cunt and move higher. Panic settles, he couldn't be serious, “Hawks. Please no. Please don’t. I don-” finger rims along your asshole, inching to dip in, “What? Don’t want me to fuck your ass?” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “Please I’ve never-” you cry out hoping he would understand, “No one’s ever fucked you in the ass before?” you whine at the lewd words which shamelessly fall from his lips, “Guess there’s a first for everything.” he says with a scoff.

His digits bury into your hole, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The stretch burns, filling a fresh set of tears rolling down your eyes, smudging your mascara and eyeliner You looked like a whore. He keeps hammering his fingers inside you without mercy, a loud whine leaves your lips as you feel a tingle of pleasure from him hitting the right spot. “Do you like that? Too bad, this isn’t for you.” he moves his fingers from you before lining his fat cock to your almost too tiny hole, “How will this fit?” he laughs to himself, pressing his engorged tip in slowly, “Will be a tight fit,” he continues to shove his cock into your hole, his face turns off one to ecstasy as your walls take him inch by inch. You scream in pain, his cock was much bigger than his fingers. It was stretching you out, numbing your mind and soul, you did not know how much more you could take. Salty tears fell from your eyes as Hawks bottomed himself in you, he waited for a moment before starting to thrust into you unforgivingly. Dragging his fat cock out and your walls pulling him right back in. As he kept ramming into you. Slowly, you start to pleasure tingle up your spine as his tip smashed against the right spots. Your cries of pain turn to pleasurable moans. Hawks wastes no time in teasing you, “Look at you moaning like a slut,” he spanks your ass with swift force sending your rear to sting. You feel unbearable pleasure starting to build up in your abdomen, a straining coil wanting to burst which each of Hawks’ strong thrusts yet it is left unfilled as the simulation is not enough to make you cum from all alone. Hawks notices this, the pitiful crying for him to touch your swollen little clit which was begging to be played with. He almost thought he would give it to you, after all, he was a good person. Almost.

Hawks just snicker, his cruel, sadistic laugh echoing in the room, “No, no, no.” he teases, “no matter how much you cry, baby. I am not letting you cum. This is your punishment, you deserve this. You’ve been a bad girl.” Hawks couldn’t formulate how he was able to form complete sentences. The moment he had caught you, he had let himself go feral. Dragging you down like a predator, he finally had you under him. He kept grunting and breathing profanity down your ear along with shameful praises about how well your slutty ass takes him. He is glad he is finally getting his much-deserved relief but he is not done yet. He won’t be done until he is filling your vulnerable womb with his seed, he won’t be done until he hears you asking him to give you his children. He is not going to leave you be until he has destroyed you, balls deep in your tiny pussy. He is going to keep you here all night fucking you, he is going to stay there all night fucking you with hate which he has buried within himself for you over the years. He is going to melt you in his hand, break you until only he can build you up, and maybe he will not let you go even after that. Maybe he will keep you after all hawks mate for life.

Just hope he lets you cum the next time.

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soft-boi-eli · 3 years ago

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Ok ok! Good uhm.

Ok since body dysmorphia has been kicking my butt lately i wanted to request something with Schlatt where basically the reader Starts getting really insecure because of their body. Pushing and pulling on their stomach etc. They also start binding unsafely with like really tight bras because they can't afford a binder and they end up fucking up their ribs really bad. They end up in the hospital and a very worried Schlatt visit's them and lectures them about how they shouldn't have done that and about how worried he was. So when they get back home there is a gift on the bed, turns out Schlatt bought them a binder.

The reader would be Non-binary and afab.

Also a little message for pretty much anyone who is insecure about their body/has body dysmorphia because of their chest, don't bind unsafely. That can really fuck up your chest and make you actually being happy with your body even harder.

Hell yes. I love this idea thank you icarus! Writing has been rude to me lately and I needed inspiration. This has hit it exactly.

Pronouns:nonbinary (dont think any were actually used in this so yeah.)

Tw: AFAB reader, swearing, insecurity, mention of surgry, mention of blood, mention of hating self, pain. Again angst to fluff. It is reflecting on how I have felt about my body before because I needed to make it seem kinda real.

PSA: please dont bind safely. It's dangerous and can lead to serious health consequences. I know hating your body sucks but I dont want anyone to get hurt because they dont listen to their lungs, they dont take off their binder, or if their bras are way too fucking tight. It can and will hurt you. So please bind safely!!

Happy birth-what the fuck?!

Lately your brain was giving you more dysphoria then ever. Telling you your body was too big, your boobs were too noticable, and you hips are too feminine.

What brought this on? Someone simply said your dead name. It made your dysphoria hit you like a truck.

After that day everything went down hill. Your stopped streaming, telling your followers that you were going on a mental break, you didn't really talk to friends, your brain could put words together. And you most importantly barely texted your loving supporting boyfriend schaltt, not wanting to break down in front of him.

You never had the time or thoughts of getting a chest binder. It was your biggest mistake honestly.

Deciding against chest binders and wearing alot of tight bras to flatten you. But it didnt work. So you got tighter bras. And they did work. But you didnt read up on how to bind safely.

This lead to the predicament now. In front of your mirror you were pinching and pulling at your skin. There was too much. All you wanted to do was cut it off with scissors. But decided against it due to the fact of all the blood that you would loose.

Your chest, smaller then it was yas, was still visible after your 3rd bra. You decided to add a 4th and tighter one hoping it would completely hide your boobs.

Your body made you want to puke. It made you feel disgusting. But you never told schaltt that. Afraid that he would say that you looked as gross as you thought you did.

Only 5 minutes after the 4th bra you felt excoriating pain in your ribs. And worse of all a harsh pop. That immediately brought red flags. It hurt to breath. Your head fuzzy and light headed.

Your only reaction, to call for an ambulance. Dialing the three numbers as you whimpered in pain you held onto your lungs. "911 what's your emergency?" "I cant breathe. It hurts so bad. Please help." "Are you by yourself?" "Yes. I need help please." "Ambulance, firemen, and police are on their way. Ambulance is 2 minutes out."

You didnt know if you had 2 minutes. "They can break the door down if I dont answer." That's all you said after collapsing.

Next thing you knew your door was busted off its hinges and you saw two paramedics. They were quick to transfer you to the ambulance, cutting through the four bras that held your chest.

It help get air to your lungs but it barely helped.

"We have a collapsed lung. ETA 2 minutes." The paramedic back there with you spoke to the walkie talkie.

Collapsed lung? Was that the harsh pop? God, was the bras that bad of an idea? All that was going through your mind was how you possibly could get worse. The instant you got into the trauma bay was way worse. With no time to numb you and your O2 stats dropping they had to cut between your ribs and shove a tube right next to your left lung. Draining air and excess blood blocking your lung from inflating. And before you knew it you were off to emergency surgery for getting a shard of bone out of your chest cavity.

The last thing you remember was counting down and falling asleep.

When you woke up your boyfriend was next to your bed, hands engulfing one of yours.

It looked like he had been crying before falling asleep on one of your legs. Taking your free hand through his hair you smiled lightly. "I'm sorry for all of this ram boy." He grunted lightly and moved his head back into your hand. His messy hair was thick and nearly matted. It made you wonder how long he's been sitting there. You loved him and felt so selfish for doing this to him.

"I cant believe I did all this and for what? To cause you and everyone pain? All because i couldnt afford a chest binder and deciding that I might as well try another way. I should have been safer huh?" You didnt expect an answer back. Just his quite snores.

"Yeah. Not really fuckin selfish more like kinda dumb. Your body doesnt show who the fuck you are (y/n). Your heart does. And your heart isnt say boy or girl. Its saying you are you. A person who uses pronouns they them. A person that love everyone and cares for their friends. A person who love me and jambo so deeply."

He took a breath.

"You normally are quite smart. Saving up for one would of been a better idea instead of doing such a stupid thing. Asking for my help. Because if I knew I would of helped. I would of found one just right for you. I would help you remember to take it off after 8 hours. Even would of found a way to make you feel more like you."

You could hear his heart break.

"But now you're here, four broken ribs, a healing lung, and stuck in the hospital for another week at least."

You felt so guilty. He was right. You should of told him. He would never have seen you like you saw yourself. He never cared about how you looked. He only cared for your heart.

Tears falling down your face you continued to massage his scalp. "I could of lost you. You are my rock. When I cant keep up my normal antics and feel like I'm at an all time low. You are there to pick me up." You had to stop the sob from coming up. "I'm just so happy youre alive." He looked up.

His red eyes were making your heart ache. "I wont do it again I promise. But I cant just ignore the feeling of dread whe. I look down and realize I present so much like a girl. I dont wa t to be one." Schaltt nodded and kissed the hand he was holding. "Then let me help you. I wont let this happen again. Just please. Come to me. Talk to me. I'm here like you are for me."

You gave a small nod.

This man knew his way to your heart. He was so sincere about this. "I will. But promise me you wont look down on me if I end up feeling like that." You just needed to make sure you knew he would never but you needed his words. "Mever sugarbabe. Never in my life have I looked down on you and never will."

God the week was long, him and the doctor explaining safe binding that you cant fully bind for at least 6-8 weeks. Schlatt telling you his reaction to finding your apartment swarmed with police and firemen and you no where to be seen.

He was practicing on saying happy birthday to you. But was cut off. "Happy birth-what the fuck?!" He was so concerned and even more so when you were in hospital.

When you did go home he helped you through the door, and watched you as you saw the small package on your couch.

Opening it you saw a chest binder. Specifically the one you were looking at. Looking over to schaltt with tears in your eyes you walked up and hugged him lightly minding the pain in your left side. This was the best gift.

The only gift you had been wanting for the past week or two. "Now you can be safe. But no binding till your doctor says so or I swear to god I will personally smite you down." You had to try so hard no to laugh or the pain would of been hell. Kissing his cheek you smiled.

"Of course schaltt. I will make sure to not wear it till I'm healed dont want to get blood on it ya know. Also it would hurt like a fucking bitch."

He chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Alright now go sit down. I'll get you some soup ya dork."

This was going to be a great time. That was until the pain fully came back. And then this is going to be a mediocre time.

Please pardon spelling errors. I havent proof read. And I am on mobile for almost all stories. But thank you so much for requesting this became something that I could write and it helped me alot. Now I might take a while for other things too and i apologize that's cause i am starting school soon. Also family issues. So yeah might take a bit. Dont know how long though. I'll try to keep them coming but if not you know I'm studying or helping my mom and grandma.

Eli out.

#jschlatt x reader #mcyt fluff #schlatt x reader #mcyt #mcyt schlatt #dsmp schlatt #schlatt fluff #schlatt #please bind safely #non binary #tw: body harm #tw: body dysphoria #tw: body dysmorphia

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

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A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #mistyendings #tsbmiv

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licieoic · 4 years ago

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“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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bihansthot · 3 years ago

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i loved your fic veiled world of the lin kuei, i was wondering if you’d be be able to go more in depth with your hc of concubines. stuff like hierarchy within the lin kuei and the brothel itself, how long is a concubine expected to serve for like are they kicked out at a certain age? and anything else you can think of really :) love your work 💖💖💖

Thank you so much for the kind words love! I really love this story too, but it’s been an awfully long time since I wrote it so I really have to think about this lol As far as the hierarchy is concerned there are two, one within the Lin Kuei itself and one within the brothel. The Lin Kuei’s elite warriors (like Sub-Zero, Hydro, the named ones, etc.) are the ones who get first pick and preferences of the girls, but obviously, if the Grandmaster has his sights on the same girl as like Bi-Han, Bi-Han would have to defer to the Grandmaster. It doesn’t really come up often though since the Grandmaster basically has his own harem within the brothel of girls, some who have been with him for years and years.

Within the brothel itself, most of the girls come from poor families who can’t afford basic necessities so they sell their girls to the Lin Kuei at a young age, who are then usually trained in different art forms to learn how to please their new masters. Not everything within the brothel is just sex, there’s an art to it and often accompanied by singing and dancing or even drinking games before the actual sex happens. Obviously, the youngest girls are the bottom barrel and have to cater to their ‘older sisters’ needs and wants, from there it goes to the young women who actually service the men, to the older women to the Madame who’s in charge of the brothel. It’s very much all based on seniority or who visits them the most often, for example, a younger girl who was one of the Grandmaster’s favored would receive preference over one of the senior women despite the age difference. Or someone like the main character of my story who becomes Sub-Zero’s woman would get preferential treatment over the other women who weren’t with the Lin Kuei’s number one assassin. It’s very much a it matters who you’re sleeping with type of society within the brothel.

The concubines are expected to serve until their services are no longer desirable, for some that could be as early as their mid-30s and others until they’re well into their 50s, it all depends on what kind of name she’s managed to make for herself. Like I mentioned some of the Grandmaster’s women have been with him for decades and they keep their place in the brothel due to the patronage of the Grandmaster. When a concubine’s services are no longer desired though she has two real options, the first is to be able to live off what presents and gifts she’s amassed during her tenure and remain in the Yonghegong (literally the Palace of Eternal Harmony) she can barter and trade he goods with the Madame for her room as well as food and clothes. If she wasn’t successful enough she’ll have to spend the rest of her days as one of the palace maids, there’s no leaving the Lin Kuei after all. Very, very rarely a concubine may be lucky enough to marry one of her lovers, if that happens they are allowed to leave the Yonghegong and live in one of the small, sparse houses within the confines of the temple and enjoy their life with their significant other.

Life within the brothel is very similar in general to just live in the imperial harems of imperial China. So, if you ever want to explore a little more about what that world is like I’d recommend watching Empresses in the Palace, it’s on Amazon Prime. Empresses in the Palace and The Princess Weiyoung (Netflix), as well as Memoirs of a Geisha, were kind of my inspiration for this whole brothel world within the Lin Kuei. I hope my rambling answered your questions lovely! Thanks for asking! Lastly here's a link to the fic in question in case anyone is like Sol wtf are you talking about lol The Veiled World of the Lin Kuei you should read it if you haven't already, it's one of my faves.

#lin kuei life #lin kuei #mortal kombat #world building #lore buidling #lore speculation #fic recs #mk fic #mortal kombat fanfic #mortal kombat headcanons #mk headcanons

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years ago

Text

“Daydream.”

A/N: I have NOT written in a while. Or posted rather. It’s been.... a month??? I’m sorry. It’s been.. hard. I also have summer classes which are slowly choking me. Yey.

Anyway, I hope... you all enjoy? I think I’m rusty. There are a lotta plotholes and some... hhrnnghh characterization that i feel iffy about. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Anywhooooo. Thank you to my lovely platonic crushie @tanuki-pyon hihi for allowing me to use your drawing for inspiration ;-;. Thank youuu <3 Hope you like this.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

It is a bustling city, full of life and vivid color. The songs of the late afternoon played- their notes produced by that independent street musician, backed by the passing cars beneath the balcony, the rhythmic dripping of a loose faucet in the bath, and the rustle of leaves caused by a passing breeze that caresses her cheek.

Life, color, music, and a touch.

They all paint a particular picture- one of wine-red eyes, and a charming smile; brown locks that she had tucked behind a heated ear, adorned with exotic jewelry she had purchased for her.

As she draws the cup away from her lips, she sighs in contentment, the distinctive taste of Boldo tea and the dimming rays of light blanketing the expanse of what she could see making her smile bittersweet.

It's getting late.

She knows she has to finish her packing. After all, this fleeting vacation is a dream she'd have to wake up from, come the morning rays of tomorrow. It was short-lived, but she'd like to think these few moments in the city or Buenos Aires are moments worth remembering forever.

Even if there was a possibility that they were but a daydream.

That she is her daydream.

Her phone rings, and she sighs a different sigh. It's one of disappointment and reluctance as walks into the room, swiping the blinking gadget off the table. She taps the green icon, placing the device by her ear, eyes dulling as she listens to the speaker on the other end with poorly-veiled disinterest.

["-Are you listening?! Do you understand? The moment you step off that plane, your fiance will be there to greet you. Then he will drive you to work, and you will-"]

Her face contorts in disgust at the statement. "He's not my fiance." She says, voice cold and adamant.

["Diana! How could you say that- about Andrew Hanbridge, no less! The man who has not once given up on you, unlike all the other low-life suitors out there. He's rich, intelligent, charming, and well-mannered."]

Diana scoffs at the very first descriptor of the man she was to marry supposedly. 'Rich'. Of course he had to be.

"Listen here, and listen well. You've been off on these silly trips, writing god knows what for well over ten years. It's time you grew up and got married, and inherited the corporation!"

Diana grits her teeth, hands crumpling a few papers on the table. She immediately regrets that action as she realizes her manuscripts now have ugly creases in them, much like her own plans for life. Not that those were any easier to iron out.

["Then dinner at the Hanbridges will be at seven-thirty. Sharp. I have a dress prepared for you in your room. We will be discussing your wedding with And-"]

And she hangs up.

Turning her phone off, she throws it onto her mattress, the silken covers causing the device to slide right off and onto the floor with a thud.

Diana curses as she rushes over, checking for any cracks or damage. She hasn't turned the lights on, and her open balcony does not give her much light, so she opts to run her fingers over the screen, praying she hadn't broken anything. As able as she was to afford a phone, that doesn't mean she wanted a change at any time.

...also, her number was saved here. Diana isn’t good enough with phones to know how to retrieve that.

Diana sighs again. This time it is of relief. She leans back with a plop against the side of the bed, staring blankly at her wall.

Tomorrow... she leaves.

Tomorrow, she never sees her again.

Tomorrow, she talks of marriage plans with two families who couldn't care less about what she actually desires in life.

Tomorrow... she's gone. She may as well be dead if she wouldn't even be 'living' in the first place.

Tomorrow...

What would she be doing?

Where would she be at?

Would she still have the same smile on her face as she greeted the passersby who would freeze in place, stand in awe as time stilled for them as they become entranced in the magic that was her dance?

Diana frowns.

Would someone else fall in love with her?

Like Diana has?

...Would she... fall in love with them back...?

Diana feels a pang in her heart as she slumps to the floor, now lying against the hard wood. If she were back in the UK, she wouldn't be caught *dead* in this position. Her aunt would have her head.

She blinks, staring at the ceiling.

Oh? It's quite comfortable, she thinks, consciousness slipping into nothingness.

-It's a slap to her cheek that has her sitting up in haste, body moving in a trained way of self-defense as she arrests the perpetrator in a hold face-down onto the floors.

"Diana! Diana! Fu- shit! Waitwaitwaitwait-owowowowow it huuurtsss, it hurtsssss!!!"

And it’s a familiar voice that cuts through her panic, and makes her let go rather clumsily, resulting in more hurt for Diana’s victim.

“Akko!” She exclaims, happiness and concern in her voice.

“Well, you sure look happy. Are you into this sort of play?” The girl chuckles wryly, rubbing at her joints as she fixes herself into a seated position on the floor as Diana kneels in front of her, confused at the words.

“Play?”

“Yeah. BDSM, that kind of stuff.”

Diana flushes at the bold remark, floundering helplessly as her mind ceases to produce a coherent response.

Akko watches her with open amusement, head resting against her one propped up knee. She hugs the limb, keeping her steady as she stares at Diana unabashedly.

Diana stares back.

“Wh-what.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I-! Ah-uh, nnggh?!” Diana doesn’t know if she’s going into a seizure. Maybe she is. Maybe she should have gone to med school after all, to confirm-

“Pff-” Akko begins giggling, then cackling, then just falling onto her back, hollering in laughter on the floor.

“Wh-what! What… why are you laughing? I- Did i do something silly?”

Akko wipes a tear from her eyes, laying on her stomach and propping her head up on both hands as she faces Diana. “You’re silly.” She teases, tongue poking out, eyes crinkled moons.

Diana can’t help herself, biting onto the bait.

It’s a deep kiss, and Diana didn’t know she knew how to do it.

What do people call it? French kissing?

They pull apart and Akko presses her sweaty forehead to Diana’s, chuckling breathlessly against her lips.

“Many types of attacks today, Miss Cavendish. You are one powerful woman with a vast arsenal.” She jests, a hand reaching to cup Diana’s face and pull her back in for a chaster peck on the lips that turns into two, then three.

“I like to have many options at my disposal.” Diana sighs into every brush of their lips, returning a few of her own, nipping at Akko’s bottom lip as she leads her into a submissive position, lying on her back with Diana hovering over her.

“Boy, am I glad you do…” Akko whispers, eyes glued to Diana’s glistening mouth, the pair leaning closer and closer and- “OHMYGOSH-WAIT. THIS. This is not what I came here to do!” Akko yelps, pushing Diana’s face away and accidentally spraining her neck.

Diana groans as she rubs at her nape, cursing quietly.

“SHIT SORRY”

Diana waves her concern away as she offers a crooked grin.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m sorry, Diana. Sorry, I-”

“Akko.” Diana giggles, carefully nearing the girl once again. She leans in slowly this time- just in case-, and plants a kiss on her cheek. “How and why did you come find me?” She asks, tone joyful, yet pained.

“Because I know you’re leaving tomorrow.”

Diana hears a record scratch, and the city’s music comes to a pause. It’s deathly silent, and her breath catches in her lungs, heart painful.

Diana’s smile falls, as she places distance between them, sitting formally in front of Akko.

“You…”

“You told me in your sleep…” Akko murmurs, her words playing flashbacks in Diana’s mind- memories of a night that was not supposed to exist.

“No- I… I… Akko…”

Voices in her head play back all her duties, her realities that tell her that the woman in front of her is not a part of them. She’s a daydream, and she’s- as all daydreams are- a fleeting one.

Diana has to wake up tomorrow morning. She has to go back tomorrow.

She has to be ‘the real Diana Cavendish’ again. Not because she wants to be. But because she is.

“Diana, I need to say that-”

“Then- then…” Diana cuts Akko off before she can deal more damage to her mental state. “Then you must know… that being here… makes it harder for me not to leave.” Diana replied with a crack in her voice. “I can’t stay, Akko. I can’t. Even if I wanted to…” She whispered, unable to project her voice.

“Diana, that’s not what this is abou-”

“I can’t stay here, Akko! I’m supposed to go home and get married!”

Her eyes widen, and so do Akko’s. Diana… doesn’t know what to say. Neither does Akko. They both remain frozen in time and in place.

“I can’t… stay here… with you…” She feels a tear slip past her cheek… then another, and another, until they dribble down her chin and onto the back of her hands that are clenched on her lap. “You’re a daydream… and… and…”

“A reality you won’t face?” Akko asks, voice surprisingly steady and clear. “I’m not a daydream, Diana Cavendish. I’m not a figment of your imagination.” She speaks, voice bolder as she gets up and walks up to Diana, making the girl crawl backwards as she hits her back against the foot of the bed.

Diana gasps as Akko grips her collar, pulling her closer to her. She instinctively closes her eyes, awaiting a hit- a punch, a slap, whatever it was.

And she gasps again as the soft caress, much like the gentle winds soothe her skin and her pounding heart.

“I’m not your summer getaway, or your escape from real life. I’m not a fairytale to lull you to bedtime that you forget once the sun rises.” Akko explains with a crooked smile, tears staining her cheeks as she buries her face into the crook of Diana’s neck. Her breaths tickle Diana there, and her tears pain Diana’s heart.

Diana moves to wrap her arms around Akko, but stops midway. She… doesn’t deserve to do that.

“...hold me…”

But Akko deserves to be listened to.

And so, Diana holds her. She holds her tight, and she doesn’t let go. Not until Akko wants her to.

“I’m not asking you to stay.” Akko murmurs against Diana’s skin as the latter runs her fingers through smooth strands of hair.

Diana admits that hearing that statement hurts as much as it relieves her.

Her sense of duty tells her she has to go back to her home in England and run her company, and yet her heart told her that Akko was her home, and that not staying would mean losing something that she might never be able to earn back again.

As much as it pained her to know more, she needs to. For both their sakes. “Then what must I do? What can I- we… what do you want me to do? What do you want us to do?”

Akko pulls back slightly, grinning sheepishly as she presses her feelings into a kiss against Diana’s lips, before pulling her up with her to head towards the door.

Upon opening it, Diana sees a few bags lined up against the wall, ready for a trip to god-knows-where.

Her mind wasn’t registering this at all-

“Bloody fuck.”

“Took you long enough to figure that one out, huh?” Akko laughs, bringing their joined hands to her lips, and kissing Diana’s palm. “Weren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

“Well… I… holy shit…”

“I had no idea you could curse like that.”

“Mother of… my… arse…”

“Mother of your arse? Really?”

“Akko.”

“Yes?”

“Akko.”

“Yes, Diana.” Akko rolls her eyes, as she pats Diana’s cheek with her free hand. “You’re supposed to take me with you.”

“Bloody hell…” Diana murmurs. “Just marry me.”

“...”

“EH?! Really?!”

Bonus :>

“So why were you in my room that night in the first place?” Diana laughs, running her fingers along Akko’s cool arm, holding her close as they snuggled together in a hammock, reminiscing a daydream so long ago.

“Ehh... are you really asking me this right now? Diana, it’s been years since that happened.”

“And yet, I know you remember it as well as I do.” Diana laughs, knowing that Akko was rolling her eyes as she scoffs against her neck. “I’m right, aren’t I.”

“Cheeky.” Diana chuckles as Akko pokes her cheek in annoyance, but explains anyway. “I was knocking on the door, but you weren’t answering. I rang, and spoke through the intercom too. Then room service came by and I said I just forgot my key and they let me in.”

Diana feels slightly concerned about the security of that hotel. But wait, there are better questions that need answering.

“... then why did you slap me?”

“...”

“Akko?”

“Because you were asleep.”

Diana guffaws, disbelieving. There was no way she was that hard to awaken. She pulls back slightly, looking Akko in the eyes.

“You couldn’t have woken me up other ways?”

Akko looks away momentarily, feet already swung off to the side, as if she is about to step out. Which she did.

“...no?”

Diana watches her skeptically, now also sitting up.

“Akko?”

“Well, you know. It was nice chatting and all, but maybe I should get back to my practice for my road show and...”

“Akko? Akko… Akko why are you walking away? Akko- hey! Come back here- AKKO!-”

And she was gone, bolting like the wind, leaving Diana stunned and comically livid.

“ATSUKO KAGARI-CAVENDISH, YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT. THIS. INSTANT!”

#diakko #diana cavendish #atsuko kagari #lwa #little witch academia #fanfic

39 notes · View notes

jaefluenza · 4 years ago

Text

A Roadtrip with a Stranger | J.jh

one important rule: do not fall in love 🍑

🔅 4,831k words

🔅 fluff, overseas student!characters and more fluff!!!

🔅 youtuber!jung jaehyun x reader

🔅 warning: i didn’t proofread this :(

Hey! It’s been so long since I write on this platform. I hope you guys still like my work cause I’ve been working hard to get the desire to write again. Things has been rough for me mentally that makes me kinda lost the feeling of writing. But I decide to write again, yay! Oh and this work was inspired by an admirable travel vlog by Valspire Family where he went on a roadtrip with a stranger. I’ll put the link to the video at the very end of this work. Hope you like it, and I’m sorry that it’s not gender-neutral but you can use your own imagine from this one i guess :) love y’all.

Jaehyun swam through his e-mails. Okay, no more AdSense pouring in... He wondered. It seems like he needs to create a new content. So, Jung Jaehyun right here is a travel youtuber, where he often travels from place to place, all by himself. He loves traveling. He did it even before he discovered a whole new thing called YouTube. Yeah, that time, he travels by the help of his parents. As an abroad student, he relied a lot on his parents back in their hometown. So he saved some money to travel from close places to places before he eventually wanted to travel overseas as well. Jaehyun learned that he can’t keep using his pocket money to travel forever, he needs to look for a better way.

So when his friends told him to start a YouTube channel, he didn’t even hesitate. As luck sides with him, he started to look through his old memory card where he put all of his videos and photos of his traveling journey. He was so glad that he kept all of them, even though he would reminisce on how he almost drop his camera on a cliff while doing a cheap vlog. Jaehyun uploaded the videos that he edited at 2 am, after doing the assignment he got from college. Such a model student, indeed... And guess what? People love him! His first video got 10,000 views and 167 comments about how he captured the moment beautifully. He even gained 450 new subscribers on his first day of being YouTuber.

Now, after two months of uploading his old local travel videos, he gained more than 23,000 subscribers and thousands and thousands of views, he finally gained independent money from all the ad-sense he received from his videos. So, he’s ready for a new level of adventure, of course, on his own. “Where would I go....?”

He dives through the mailbox again as he only looks randomly at the screen, and suddenly a notification pops up to his surprise. “Y/n (surname)?” He clicked the new e-mail right away, unbothered to look at the subject line first.

“Hey, do you want to go on a roadtrip with me, I guess? this my number, 0xxxxxxxxx text me 🤙”

“Holy shi-” Jaehyun almost cursed before he closes his mouth, shocked by the new thing he discovered on the Macbook screen. A stranger, asking him to go on a roadtrip? Wait, is this real? Well, it has been one of his goals to travel with a stranger, but when he actually goes through it, his head feels like falling into the floor.

He typed the number on the dial pad and add the new contact on his phone. He clicked the message app but before he’s even able to type what he’d want to say, his hand shakes in nervousness. I mean, this isn’t the first time he’s talking to a stranger. He has several moments where he needs to ask some other students he doesn’t know because he has to finish the group project given, but this one feels so different. The thought of going with someone you don’t know if it’s a he or she, spending time with them in the coldness of the night, holding hands with them when you reach the top of an abandoned tower, or holding on an urge to kiss them when it gets too warm in the car... Well, Jaehyun is now thinking so hard when he doesn’t need to. “Okay, okay, let’s get this done. Ask her what’s up and you’re done,” He reassured himself.

“Hey, it’s me Jaehyun. I saw your mail. What’s up?” Sent.

“Okay, okay. That’s good, you did it. Now let’s just eat some chips before they actually reply-” A familiar notification pops up and he can’t push his head away from his phone anymore.

“Omg hi! That was such a fast response! Thank you so much for texting me, I’m such a fan! Uh anyway, i’m (y/n). I want to know if you’re interested to go to the national flower festival with me which is happening in 10 days and if we’re heading there by a van it will be a 4 days travel and we still have 5 days to prepare and tour around the city.”

“Fantastic. Sure. So when do we meet tho?”

“Tomorrow, I guess?”

“Sure. See ya!”

“So, what makes you so excited today, Mr. Jung? I’ve never seen you this cheerful around college since the first day of your youtuber life.” Johnny chirped at the young man. “I’ll be meeting someone new today,” he replied. Johnny rubbed his ears together to listen more carefully simply because he doesn’t believe that his friend’s gonna meet, possibly a new girl?

“I don’t know, john. They could be a he or a she. They only sent me a mail.”

Later that evening, Jaehyun finds himself waiting in the restaurant where she told him to meet up. He glanced at his watch as he waits patiently and he naturally feels like he’s going on a blind date. He holds himself not to order anything until the person’s arrived.

“Oh my god, it has been only 15 minutes but why do I start to feel like I’ve been scammed?” Almost a minute after he said that, a cheerful young lady walked towards his table and asked, “Jaehyun Jung, am I right?” Damn. This is real. “Uh yeah. Hi! Nice to finally meet you, (Y/n.)” He nervously reach out his hand for a shake and she gladly shakes his hand in return.

“So, guess we now have to set some plan, do we?” Jaehyun said. Afterall, suggesting a plan making seems to be a meaningless idea because when the girl explained the route plan to the festival, he only got mesmerized, lost in her excited eyes. “Hey, are you listening?” Her gentle accent got him right back into his senses and he only laugh while scratching his nape awkwardly. “Woah, I can’t believe a famous travel youtuber like you aren’t that prepared for a kinda long roadtrip like this. Are you even experienced?” She teased him a smile.

“Hey, that’s mean,” he pouted. “I’m ready, more than ever, if you would know. But, well, this traveling with stranger thingy is kind of new to me so... bare with me, please?”

She smirked, “Hell yeah. It’s my first time, too.”

The two then decided to go buy the things they would need in the van. (Y/n) was the one to rent the van and it was decided when the two agreed that they can only afford an old small camper van fit for two people to sleep in the back seats. So they got almost everything such as blankets, sleeping bags, some little decorations to set the mood, and of course, some snacks and beverages. “I’m surprised that you hate redbulls.” Jaehyun teased the younger lady.

“Dude, me being overly happy doesn’t mean that I drink redbulls... I only drink eight shots of coffee.”

“Damn, that makes sense, too,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

On the first day of a long drive through so many lonely highways, things weren’t going awkward, thank goodness. She comfortably talks to him like he’s an old friend, and he only replies with grins and smiles. It’s all good, until things got deeper as the sun emerges down the ground.

“Alright, let me set my other camera before we grab dinner.” Jaehyun shot up from his camping chair to the van after he set the campfire to warm them both. “Sure, indie boy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But you are.. an indie boy.”

“Okay, you won’t stop calling me that, huh?”

(Y/n) put her hand under her chin, looking blankly at the fire, reflecting so hard about how she actually starts to enjoy this trip, when she only meet him yesterday. “Hey, what makes you look so serious like that?” The man sat back on his chair after he successfully brought her back into her senses real quick.

“Nuh-uh, do you really want me to think out loud?” “Oh, no thanks. Now I regret for worrying.” She chuckled lightly.

“You know what, when I told you that I’m a fan of your channel, I really meant it. I’ve been a subscriber since you only have, uhm, from what I remember, 242 subscribers, I guess? And fun fact, I’m actually in the same major as you but you won’t notice me, anyway. I’m too quiet.” Jaehyun nearly drop his foldable cup when he heard that. “What? Seriously? You’re in the same college- no, same major as me? How could I- Oh don’t worry, I also am way too quiet for my own being. I don’t really make a lot of friends at college. No one really knows who I am if it’s not for my public channel.”

“I can see that you have such a nice personality. I always love how you expressed your hidden feelings through your vlogs. They’re beautiful.”

“Is that a way to say that I’m pretty?” He winked. “Oh come on, (Y/n). Just diss me like you’ve been doing for the past two days of us knowing each other better.” Again, she laughs.

“Do you know what’s the coolest thing ever in this trip?” She asked. “What is it?”

“It is how I made one significant rule in this trip, that is... to not fall in love with each other.” And somehow, Jaehyun lost his smile for awhile. “Oh, really? Well, it’s not quite hard,” he faked a smirk. “You’re mean.”

“Huh, actually, what makes you think that?” He asked sheepishly. He doesn’t want her to catch what’s happening, like how he actually doesn’t really agree with the ‘significant’ rule. “I don’t know. It’s just, my actual purpose of this trip was just to... you know, gain a friend. And that friend turns out to be you! And falling in love means you’re going to lose someone at the end and I hate to lose a friend I just gained from this trip.”

“Ah... that makes sense. But love doesn’t always goes into an end, Y/n.”

“It does,” she smiled with a visible hint of pain, and Jaehyun hates that. “I had the experience. I’m not trying to act like a sad bitch or something, but falling in love sucks. It means you’re ready for a freaking goodbye and farewell.”

He was going to say something but she cuts him up by getting off her chair, possibly ready to cook instant ramen for dinner. “Alright, my stomach’s grumbling. I’m boiling the water, and you, mister, help me open up the packs, please?” And when he looked at her pair of watery eyes, he decided not to say something and replied with a smile. “Yes, maam.”

The night gets colder and now both the youngsters are heading to bed– the back uncovered seats in the van. “So, this is where we’re going to sleep. As you can see, (Y/n) over here is alread inside her sleeping bag. This is going to be such a great sleepover, I guess?” He snickered. “Don’t lie, Jung. I’m gonna put a bug inside your bag tonight when you’re asleep.”

He turned the camera off and lay down beside her sleeping bag, dropping more blankets around him to cover his body better. “This is our first sleep, you know?”

“That’s true. We might wake up like dead.” She said something gibberish after that along with a yawn. “It’s getting hot in here.” She added. (Y/n) wriggled out of her sleeping bag to get more cool air but Jaehyun only looked at her with a weird look. “I’m curling my body into a ball like a caterpillar and you said it’s getting hotter? You’re unbelievable.”

“You clearly haven’t found yourself getting stuck in a snowstorm in Everest, have you?” “I am not that experienced yet. Have you either?” “Nah, I would die.” “Gosh.”

Jaehyun keeps his glances trained at the younger lady, wanting so much to feel the warmth of her body next to him, to warm him- or maybe each other. “Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked. “Yeah, I’m getting comfortable- not really, actually. Urgh, what am I talking about...”

He chuckled. “Come here. There’s only both of us here, so practically, I am your heater. Besides, it kinda sucks that we cannot afford a van that has a cool heater inside. Uhm.. what I mean is.. do you want to cuddle?”

(Y/n) turned her body to face him. She actually shifted closer but Jaehyun caught the signs that she actually doesn’t want to show her consent. “Come here,” he said gently. “B-but, what about the rule?”

“Cutie, we cuddling doesn’t mean that we’re falling in love. We only need warmth.” Jaehyun put his arm around her without hesitance and she accepted his secure arms. She found herself getting sleepier than ever and now the screen in her sight went black. Jaehyun smiled at the peaceful sight, and he carressed her cheeks gently, not wanting to wake her up, as he says, “Now I’m actually glad that we get this non-heater van. I can become your warmth everytime.” That night, he slept with a smile plestered on his face.

The sun rises on sight better than yesterday as it prisms over the medium-sized windows of the van and light starts to fill in the narrow space, replacing the coldness. She wakes up first, feeling the ray hits her face warmly. Oh my, it’s already morning...

As cliche as it looks like, when she wants to get up she could feel a pair of strong arms securing themselves around her body. Well, she’s not that stupid to not realize who’s the owner, the only guy she has been with over the past few days. She wanted to wriggle out of his arms, but her brain failed to command her body when the heart does what it wants. And it gets what it wants.

(Y/n) feels something different when she’s about two centimeters away from his face, and it surely feels so different when it comes to only seeing him through her iPad screen. But she doesn’t get it. Why is he... so gorgeous? She was about to stare longer but then he opens his eyes beautifully. “Why are you staring at me?” She flinched, not because she was shocked when he woke up, well actually that’s one of the reason, but, actually, because of his raspy morning voice. They sound kind of.. angelic.

“Wake up, let’s see the sunrise.” She finally wriggles out of his arms and goes to open the door. The cool breeze started to hit her lightly, almost makes her flying aesthetically, as she wished that she could wake up breathing this kind of air every morning. “Well, I didn’t know the sun could look this pretty, and we paid for nothing at all.” Jaehyun stood behind her while doing some stretches because his arms were stuck cuddling her last night, not something he could complain about, though.

“Get your camera out, bud. This will definitely get you hundred thousands of view, I’m sure.”

They ended up playing under the warming sun around the van, the camera only watching them. It feels like they are owning the world and she feels so wonderful. She feels so blessed, and it amazes her that she could have this happening with a complete stranger, a young man that starts to fill in her empty insides. She was reassured that impossible things could happen.

“So where are we heading now?” Jaehyun put the camera on the dashboard while he stole a glance at the driver besides him. “We’re passing a small city near here and we’re gonna walk around to see if there’s anything fun to visit.” (Y/n) was so glad that she’s the one driving, otherwise she wouldn’t have any other reason for not looking back at his eyes.

“Or maybe we can just rely on Google.” Jaehyun added. “Nah, that’s just not fun. We still have 14 hours of free times before we have to catch up to the festival.”

“So, yeap. I think we’re being super rebellious right now, slowing down our trip, or maybe (Y/n) right here loves to stay longer with me- Ouch!”

They drove past the yellowish trees and even though it’s in the middle of the day when the sun’s supposed to be up right above the van, the yellowish sky around them doesn’t support the cool breeze Jaehyun feels whenever he put his hand out of the window.

“Okay, I’m trying to wake myself up! Ready?” Jaehyun chuckled before he wobbles his head lightly, preparing himself to press the play button. The girl nodded excitedly, trying a little bit hard to not get so excited because she’s driving. Jaehyun pressed the button and the rock and roll song starts to fill in the car. She laughed at how he vibes so hard to the song, and honestly, she never had anything like this. Chilling past the long highway with yellow trees and the hidden sun makes the whole day so calming. She truly feels so blessed.

“Hey, look!” Jaehyun pointed at a petite tea shop across the street when they both walked around the small city to take a break. The little shop looks very nice with a cute vintage look interior which is visible from the outside. “Do you want to have some tea, like the british?”

“Nah, we should just take some pictures there. I’m going to go get redbulls.” “Seriously?”

After nearly four hours of driving, the both of them finally comes to the hours of the sunset. They pulled over and set the camera to the angle where they can get better view of them chilling under the sunset, or maybe just playing around the van like they did in the morning.

“You know what, I think it’s gonna be pretty cool if we climbed on top of the car and pose to get some footages?” Jaehyun suggested. “Are you crazy? We can’t scratch the car, otherwise we will get charged,” she argued.

“Nah, who the hell cares? It’s not like they will bother themselves by checking all over the car. Come on, I’m gonna go first.” Jaehyun climbed through the back of the van and she only laughed as a response. Sometimes, he’s unbearable.

“Okay, you should climb up now.” Jaehyun reached out both of his hands to help her get to the top of the van, and when she did, she didn’t regret doing his suggestions at all cause, the view is so goddamn pretty. “Woah,” she murmured. They both sat down and try to enjoy the view despite the less time that they have right now.

“What made you want to go on a roadtrip with a stranger?” Jaehyun asked. “Um, I’ve taken a semester off this year, and I don’t really have any friends at the moment to spend time with, so... decided I could go out and gain some randomly.” She chuckled bitterly. “I wanted to do something fun. I wanted to go on a roadtrip, but that’s not very fun alone. So I was like, who is the most spontaneous person I can think of... and so I asked you.”

Jaehyun laughed with his whole heart. “It’s really crazy.” His dimples are showing through and she swears, they are driving her crazy. “And you followed through!”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” “I know!”

Jaehyun encouraged himself to look at her, this time with deeply moved eyes, and he now realizes that he really admires her young and free figure. “So, are we friends now?” She asked.

When she turned at him, there she goes, with those pair of eyes, looking through his eyes in return. Jaehyun flinched, shocked by how mesmerized he is by her every movement. Like how her hair moves along with the evening breeze, and how her eyelids stutter beautifully, also how her lips turned into a little smile when she opened her mouth. And he smiled back, “Yes, we are.”

Three days have passed and now they are gonna arrive at the city which is the final destination where the national flower festival will be held, how amazing is that. They visited random cities while taking a break, grabbing lunch at a motel in the middle of nowhere, and stopping by at midnight just to lay down on the empty big road to see the stars.

As strangers, both of them have been going through a lot of things together, only in a few days. Though the ‘significant’ rule was not so forgotten throughout the trip, they can’t help but feel flattered by each other. The young man, who has been broken inside, admitted deeply inside that she had never experienced anything like what she has been doing with the complete stranger, and neither does the young man.

Jaehyun knows that she is straight up serious about what she said. It was that one significant rule that keeps him held back, to not fall in love with each other. It kinds of frustrating him that he couldn’t touch her like his brain told him to. He respected her without a doubt, and breaking or hurting her would be the least thing he ever wanted during this trip.

The most ironic thing Jaehyun has ever think of is, how his main goal of this trip was to gain a friend. Now he doesn’t want to be just friends. He wishes for more than that. He fell in love with her.

“I can’t believe it! We’re almost there! I can’t wait to see all the beautiful flowers!” She holds the camera up to his face as he drives to the final destination in the city. “Do you really like flowers that much?” He asked.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful, calming, and entertaining. Whenever I pick one, I always got reminded that wherever you are and whatever you’re being, you can still look pretty and graceful. I mean, sometimes people step on some petite flowers on the street but that doesn’t mean they’ll look uglier and unworthy.”

“That’s true. I mean, look at you, still shining even though your surroundings are dark.” He instinctively moved his fingers to the side of her face, gently brushing her hair aside and she only stuttered nervously.

“Jaehyun,” she faintly murmured. “Okay okay, I know that you have made the one significant rule in this trip and I want you to know how much I respect you for that. I’m also very glad that I’m able to gain a friend like you but... during this trip,” he sighed. “I can’t help but think about you... more than I think I should do.”

She keeps her mouth close, not knowing how to respond to the sudden confession. It’s not like she didn’t expect this to happen, anyway. When it comes to the first time she saw him at the cafe, her insides turn upside down. However she kept it in her heart that she signed up for this not to look for a boyfriend or someone to sleep with, but a friend.

“What if I do the same too?” She replied with her consciousness. With that one sentence, Jaehyun steps on the brake so hard that their things in the back almost sprung themselves to the front and (Y/n) cursed. “What the heck, are you trying to get us dead?!”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly before pulling over in the middle of the long road. “Gosh, what did you say earlier?”

“I said, are you trying to get us dead?”

“No, the other one before that,” he pleaded.

“Huh? W-what if I do the same too?” She tilts her head.

“So you’re saying... that you like me too? No, that’s too soon. Are you thinking of me too?”

She can’t help but chuckle when she saw his eyes grew big with excitement and... a little bit of expectation. “Yeah,” she replied. There’s a long silence after that and doubt starts to grow inside her heart but then... “So, can I?”

“What-”

He immediately attached his lips to hers, heart pounding so hard that it feels like he’s going to die because of the thrill. For the girl, his lips taste like... excitement? Happiness, and perhaps love?

A few people that she thought would give her sunshine and happiness actually have never been anything like this. She’s actually glad that his kiss made her close her eyes to the feel. No matter how much she keeps saying it, never in a way that it gets her bored to say no one has ever made her experience something like this. Kissing in the middle of nowhere, under the burning rays of sun, nothing other than the camera witnessing what’s happening between the two of them and it really, really feels like they are owning the world.

Nice. Now they’re in a motel near the festival as tomorrow is the exact time they would open the gate to all the flowers collected from all over the world. (Y/n) loves flower so much that she decided to check into a motel that has a flower pattern on its wall.

“You can’t just choose this one just because they have a flower pattern on the room’s wall! The review is just so-so!” Jaehyun complained.

“Hey, didn’t you say that wherever I go, you’ll go, and wherever I’ll be, you’ll be?”

“But I won’t be at the same place as you if it’s not guaranteed that they don’t have any bugs at all.”

Booking a room for two which has a twin bed, both of them entered the room, though Jaehyun had to insist to book a room with a queen bed, but failed miserably.

“I’m going to shower first.” (Y/n) goes to prepare her bathing kit and of course, her clothes. “Yeah, sure.”

While she showers, the man wondered if he should officially ask her out, since she said she’s gonna transfer schools soon which means that he might not seeing her again after the roadtrip so maybe an official relationship will make it easier for him to contact her often.

“Should I really do it, like, tonight? I don’t think I should,” he kept the promise ring he bought yesterday at a little jewelry shop when they stopped for a restroom break.

Before they went to sleep, they spare some time to get a little cute footage for Jaehyun’s travel vlog. “So this is my bed, and that one’s (Y/n)’s bed. I chose this one because it’s quite far from the bathroom since I hate bugs. But you know, I don’t really trust her with keeping me from bugs and- Okay! Okay! I’m sorry don’t hit me with the pillow!”

“Pffftt! Pillow fight!!”

“No! Don’t- my camera!”

A goddamn eyecontact. Hands tangled against each other, eyes both stuttered in shock, as the girl with the pillow accidentaly fell on him. Jaehyun’s free hand instinctively hold her to prevent her from getting hurt, though his brain listens better to his heart, as he feels his heart pounding like crazy against her body.

“I’m... sorry.” “That’s okay.”

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” He asked, and later that night, the idea of booking a twin bed room seemed to be a meaningless idea, either.

“So everyone, here we are today aaat... not the exact final location we wanted to go to at the first place, let me tell you the story. When we checked out from the flower pattern motel we immediately leave to the national flower festival which was supposed to be held just 15 kilometers from where we stayed the other night, aaaand guess what?” he paused and you can hear her faint laugh in the background. “Yeah, there is no festival at all. HAHAHAHHAHAAA- Ouch stop hitting me! Are you that embarrassed?”

“That was what happened, everyone. It turned out that the festival was held at December 16, 2019 and before we started this roadtrip, she read only the date and the month, wow. How can you be so cute and stupid at the same time... I am sooo mad!”

“Well, they put the year 2019 sooo small and my minus eyes couldn’t see it- stop giving me that look!”

“Okay, so because miss (Y/n) over here was quite angry that-” “Really angry.” “Okay, she was really really angry for not being able to see the flowers so, I decided to take her to somewhere as an alternative destination. Am I being too good for you?”

“Yes, you are,” she replied with a smile. “Stop paying attention to the flowers! I’m also here, yo,” he pleaded, somehow nervously. “Why-”

“And this is why I kept insisting to take you to a place with lots of flowers... to pick one among all the pretty petals out here, the prettiest petal I’ve ever seen. So, be mine, please?”

the end of video.

a/n: thank you for reading. honestly, I didn’t know whether to post this one cause it’s really been a long time since I write and it really worried me about how much you guys will like it... also, i’m really really sorry for those who put a request into my ask box since I haven’t completed all of them, like trust me, it worries me every single day bcs I feel like I have a debt to pay lol but don’t worry, I promise you I will complete all the requests but please give me a lot of time! once again, big thanks from me.xoxo

Valspire Family - I Went on a Roadtrip with a Stranger

NCT 127 masterlist

Jaefluenza navigation

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct angst #nct 127 #nct au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct 127 writings #nct 127 soft hours #nct 127 fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #cznnet #neowritingsnet

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escapethewonderland · 4 years ago

Text

It could have been you

Pairing: JakexFem!MC (Nadia)

Word counts: 1.8k

A/N: Hi darlings, I got the itch for a bit of Jake angst over the last few days so here it is this little OS. Kindly inspired by a song that stuck in my head while writing, Muddy Waters by LP. Hope you like it! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 ENDING, BE AWARE!

TW: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Nadia was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her closet intently like she was trying to find an answer to the incredible mess that her life had become over the last month. The doors were hanging open, patiently waiting for the girl to start gathering the clothes she needed for the trip to Duskwood.

She felt like her head was on the verge of exploding. Rabid thoughts were chasing each others around unbounded, hammering against her temples and begging to set them free.

She squeezed her hands together, quivering nervously while trying to release that ugly tension off her body. Seeing Richy bloody, slowing fading away on that hellish forest’s ground was the last straw for Nadia: someone got severely hurt and, all of a sudden, the game her and Jake were playing got extremely real.

Nadia couldn’t afford anymore to wait on the sidelines, protected by the distance and her hacker because sooner or later, they would come knocking on her doors. Although the strong gut feeling of running far away in the opposite direction, Nadia couldn’t deny the inescapable bond that was calling her to Duskwood. Even more now that both the girl and Jake may had the blood of an innocent guy dripping from their hands.

The young woman closed her eyes against that cruel image, breathing slowly from her nose, flexing her fingers.

Richy was going to make it; he had to.

He might survive. Those were the feeble words of hope that the doctors had said and the whole group hold on to them with ferocity: the idea of losing Richy was unacceptable.

A notification from the phone distracted the young woman, making her wince: she couldn’t recall how long she had been standing still in front of the wardrobe.

Nadia…I just read your texts. Is it true? Is Richy…?

The girl let an unsteady breath slip out between her lips, fighting back the tears.

Yes Jake, he’s fighting for his life on an operating table.

She got up from her bed, walking aimlessly around the small apartment in an agitated frenzy. Jake’s answer came right away.

I’m so, so sorry. I…I wasn’t expecting that. I…I’m at loss for words.

“No shit” Nadia snorted viciously under her breath, wiping away a traitorous tear that slowly crept down her cheek. Her breath was now ragged, but she still tried to keep her cool and not hyperventilate. Panic wouldn’t get her nowhere, she needed to be sharp right now.

Holding her phone in a tight grip, Nadia walked back to her bedroom; mind settled.

I don’t know what to say too, Jake, but I know what I have to do.

She threw the mobile on her bed with more vehemence than what was necessary. With few, swift strides, she found herself back in her room, standing in front of her closet to retrieve an old backpack from the tallest shelf. She scrutinized the clothes with a clinic eyes, opting for something practical, taking only the bare minimum she needed for a week or so.

Nadia didn’t bother to check her phone when Jake’s first reply came. Nor the next one or the other after that.

She was on autopilot, a ghost wandering around and haunting her own house.

Nadia spared a look at her reflection in the mirror while collecting the stuff she needed from the bathroom: her face was strained with harsh lines, eyes wide with messy makeup and even messier hair.

She brought her things to the other room, dumping them merciless inside the backpack and only then looked at her phone.

There were several messages from Jake but it was the last one that caught the girl’s attention.

Are you packing, Nadia? Please, answer me.

The phone slipped from her fingers after reading that words. A hint of paranoia emerged in her chest and she scanned her bedroom with meticulous care, calming down again only when she had checked twice every possible hiding place. No one seemed to be lurking in her room and the curtains were closed shut, a few sun shines peeking through them. She was still safe, it was still her home, no danger lurking in the shadows.

With trembling hands, Nadia retrieved the phone from the carpet.

She frowned, slightly afraid to look at the camera, before a wave of scolding hot anger filled her bones. Mouth set in a straight, harsh line, she started typing to Jake.

Are you fucking spying on me through my phone, Jake?

No answer. The girl felt like boiling with everything she’d been trying to repress since the first time Thomas texted her.

Are you fucking serious, Jake? Are you fucking with me or have you lost your mind along the way? Do you think that you can just go around spying people through their phone whenever it sooths you, whenever it’s convenient for your agenda?

Jake. I fucking trusted you! YOU…

The girl stopped there, unable to type anymore given the trembling that took control of her hands.

Nadia brought the back of her hand against her lips, suppressing a sob that would inevitably destroy the already fragile dam that was barely holding back all of her destructive emotions.

She fought it with all of her might, eventually falling on her knees because even standing felt crushing in that moment.

Nadia felt like she was going crazy, slowly loosing herself in something that was so much bigger than her.

Her phone started vibrating in her hand, signalling an incoming call from an unknown number.

Nadia stood there for a moment, debating if accepting the call or not. Could it be…?

“Hello?” she answered with a shaky voice.

Nadia heard a sight and a male voice greeted her, no distortion this time.

“Please, don’t go” pleaded who she assumed was Jake on the other side of the line.

Nadia let out a wet sob, almost chocking on the longing and sadness that built up in her chest at hearing Jake’s voice for the first time. His voice sounded so warm and comforting like a soothing balm, but it was all ruined by the ill-timing of the call.

“How much have I longed for this moment… you have no idea, Jake, you have no idea. I can’t believe it, it’s actually you” she mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to be heard.

Another sight greeted her words, but Jake didn’t say anything.

“I would have loved to hear your voice for the first time under different circumstances” she continued, tears rolling freely down her grieving face.

“But the situation is pretty fucked up, Jake. I can’t afford to wait on the side-lines any longer”

“You can’t go, Nadia, please. You can’t really be thinking of going to Duskwood” replied Jake fast, almost eating up the words like he was in a hurry to get them out, to keep her safely where she was.

“But I am going, Jake. It was all my fault: Jessy’s attack, Cleo’s letters and now Richy… if I didn’t get involved, if I stayed out of it, nothing would have happened to them. It’s only fair I stand by their side to help them, actually help them” Nadia said with deep-rooted sadness in her voice, slowly getting up from the carpet. Her knees felt weak but her mind was strong.

There was a loud thud on the other side of the line, like a fist being slammed against a wooden table.

“No, no, no! Nadia, please! Duskwood is even more dangerous than before right now and you could put yourself into bigger troubles!”

She snorted without humour in her voice, now fully standing, sliding a hand through her hair.

“Well Jake, it’s not like you can stop me, can you? Because you’re not here… You’re not fucking here with me. What would you have me rather do, uh? Don’t you think I’m scared!? I’M TERRIFIED BUT WHY DON’T YOU…”

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU, DAMMIT!” Jake almost screamed into her ear, panting like he had just ran a marathon.

Nadia closed her eyes while more tears carved their path through her reddened cheeks, biting hard on her lower lip. Her heart clenched painfully at his words cause only now she realized how much she’d been craving to feel his barriers coming down.

“It could have been you, bleeding out in that nightmarish forest, for fuck’s sake. And only the thought of you being hurt or worse, of losing you…it’s enough to drive me insane” he confessed softly, his silky voice like sweet honey in the Nadia’s ear, a tempting offer of haven.

“But it wasn’t me” she replied hesitantly, not trusting her voice not to break “it still could have been Lilly. It could have been Hannah”

That was a low blow, Nadia knew that but his sisters were the only family he had left and if he couldn’t be on the front line to save them, she would step up to be in his place and protect them.

“I don’t wanna lose you, not you too” Jake whispered, voice heavy with despair, so close to the mic that for a moment she had the faint illusion of having him right by her side.

“And you won’t, Jake, I promise you. You won’t lose any of us, we will see each other at the end of this. We’ll all be together and make up for all the time we spent apart.”

She almost smiled at that idyllic picture taking shape into her mind.

“But I have to go” Nadia simply stated, softly as to not hurt him, even though she was already doing that.

She closed the call before she lost all of the courage she had mustered up, Jake’s no’s haunting her while she turned off her phone. She exhaled deeply, before hitting her wardrobe’s door with her open palm, muffling a scream against her folded t-shirts.

It took Nadia five whole minutes to regain her composure and fight back fat tears of sorrow, but when she finally looked back up, there were flames in her eyes.

She set her body into motion, retrieving an object from the drawer under her desk: the older phone used to be her main phone, but Nadia was sure she was going to need a backup since everyone in Duskwood already had her info. No one knew her new number though, so she hoped it could turn out to be a secret advantage. Only Lilly was aware of it, she was the one to help her out to settle everything and she was the only soul that knew she was coming to Duskwood and they both preferred that way.

She braced herself, backpack on her shoulder and keys in her hands: even though she was filled with much uncertainty, Nadia knew she was on the right path.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood ep7 #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood fic #duskwood fanfic #duskwood mc #duskwood episode 7 #duskwood ep7 spoilers #jake x mc

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

a date with destiny

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: fate brings you to a... questionable man more than a few times.

warnings: lots of fluff, enemies/strangers to lovers, kind of cringe

a/n: i swear my new thing is poorly writing every played out fanfic trope on the planet, i'm so sorry guys. maybe hallmark can hire me to write a few movies for them

You definitely could’ve avoided this situation if you didn’t wait for the weekend before Christmas to go shopping for your family’s presents.

You had no idea why your time management had to be so bad, but in the midst of working way too many hours in an effort to get promoted, you had completely forgotten about the fact that Christmas was literally right around the corner. And to make it worse, you had a flight tomorrow that you’d also forgotten about.

You sulked to yourself while walking around Nordstrom, waiting for inspiration to strike you for a semi-decent gift for your mother. The whole world seemed to be out that day, and you watched a plethora of shoppers pass you by, with their sour faces and unruly children. After eventually deciding on a black winter sweater for your mom, you went on your way to the candle section, knowing exactly the brand and scent that your sister would love.

This candle was the definition of a non-negotiable for you, and had been the reason you came to a Nordstrom in the first place, and when you found it sitting on a shelf by itself in all of its glory, you had simply become transfixed.

As you walked toward the candle, you didn’t notice that another customer was going for it as well, leading both of your hands to land on the candle, the absurdity of the situation making you blush. This was just your luck.

“Oh, this is awkward,” you played off the encounter, then attempted to subtly pull the candle your way, and away from the man.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” The man whose hand was also placed on the candle said shortly, before attempting to pull the candle his way.

“Hey man, I’m kinda on a tight schedule, and I really need to get this like… right now. I have a flight in like.. An hour,” you exaggerated.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I really need this candle too.”

You took a deep breath, only you would find yourself in this kind of situation. “To be fair, I definitely saw this candle first. I’m its rightful buyer,” You attempted.

“Mmm, I definitely had my eyes on it first, so with your logic, I deserve this candle.” The man narrowed his baby blue eyes, and put a hand on his hip.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hoping that maybe if you acted dramatic enough, he’d leave you and your candle alone.

“Sweetheart, can you even afford this kind of thing? I’m sure your friends or family, or whoever the fuck you’re getting this for, would rather you not go into debt over a candle. Just let me have it,” he responded cooly, as if he hadn’t just called you poor to your face.

You looked at him with an open-mouthed expression, completely shocked at the nerve this man had. “Fuck you, you asshole!” You attempted to yank the candle out from his grip, and you could begin to tell that the man’s resolve was beginning to fall.

“Fine. Take the damn candle. But maybe you could give me a little gift in exchange, and go out with me sometime,” he offered, slipping his now free hand into the pocket of his tan peacoat.

You were honestly shocked by this whole exchange. How did he go from insulting you and calling you poor, to asking you on a date? Men are so weird, you thought to yourself. He really isn’t that bad looking, you also considered. “Eat shit, guy,” you told him before flipping him off, and walking away.

-----

Imagine your surprise when you saw the same man from the store sitting in a local Massachusetts restaurant, with whom you assumed were his family. With your sister sitting across from you, you couldn’t help but be gossipy and point him out.

You scoffed and leaned over to your sister once you saw him, “See that guy over there?” You whispered to her, gesturing your head in his general direction.

“Which one?” she asked. “There are like five guys. Are you talking about the dude with the goatee? That old dude with the grey hair? Y/N! I didn’t know you were a grave robber!” she giggled and poked your side while you rolled your eyes, “Or, are you talking about that sexy beast in the white sweater?”

“The se- the dude in the sweater-”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty hot. You should go talk to him,” she began to scoot out of her seat.

“No, you idiot!” You whisper shouted to her. “That guy basically attacked me in the store the other day. And then, he had the nerve to ask me out on a date!”

He must’ve felt the two of you’s stare, as he turned around and gave you a brief surprised look, then a twisted smirk.

“Oh my god, Bea, act natural,” You whispered before turning your head so fast that you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

You brought a hand up to your face and rubbed your browline in a fit of embarrassment. You looked down, then began to shovel pasta into your mouth at an ungodly fast rate.

“Oh come on, Y/N, he’s cute. What did he say to you that was so bad that you turned down his hot ass?” She asked, glancing back over at the man who was still occasionally looking over at your table.

“It’s kinda a long story. I’ll tell you later,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat steadily growing on your cheeks.

Beatrice shrugged, and a waiter approached your table.

“Ma’am, the man over there wanted me to give this to you,” he said before awkwardly placing a glass of white wine in front of you, along with a ripped napkin with a note and number.

We started off on the wrong foot, give me a call sometime?

Ransom

XXX-XXX-XXXX

-----

You looked at the note for so long, that it would’ve been better off being tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Just text him, Y/N,” your sister told you, her sentence a bit muffled by the toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

“He really seems like a dick,” you groaned, before rolling onto your back and throwing an arm over your eyes. Your sister rinsed out her mouth in the ensuite before returning with some advice.

“Well, he’s hot. Maybe you can bring him as a date to the Holiday party or something,” she stated before sitting down on the foot of your bed. “What’s the worst that could happen, Y/N? If he hurts your feelings, you can throw a hot drink at him and walk away. At best, you get a hot piece of ass to be your boyfriend.” she squeezed your calf reassuringly.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll text him tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl!” Beatrice cheered, then placed a kiss on your forehead. “‘Night, Y/N,”

“Goodnight,” you mumbled before attempting to fall asleep.

-----

The funny thing about you, is that you were a master procrastinator. So after a day and a half, you’d put Ransom’s number into your phone, but had contemplated so many different opening texts, that you’d just completely given up. Besides, you had your parents’ holiday party to be attending and to be caring about.

You did some final touch ups of your makeup, before heading downstairs, and watching guests arrive from a safe spot in the kitchen.

Sometime after talking to about seven of your childhood friends, you felt a large hand press against the satin material of your short, red, tie-waisted dress.

“No way, girl I see everywhere?” The man who you know knew was Ransom, asked.

“It’s Y/N. Hi, Ransom,” you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh at the absurdity of it all, the fact that he was standing in your parents’ home, the fact that he was literally everywhere you went, and because you’d never in your life been called ‘The girl I see everywhere.’

“Why didn’t you ever call me? I mean, not even a text? Also, why are you following me everywhere?” He inquired, moving to stand in front of you.

“Well, I uh.. I forgot. Sorry, I’m a super busy woman. And I also live here... sometimes.. so if anyone is following anyone else, it’s you following me,” you tried to say this confidently, but something about Ransom really threw you off your game.

“You live here? No way. Is this like your family home?” He asked, and you nodded. “So our parents have been friends this whole time, and we had no idea.” He gestured to a doorway, where your mother and his were talking with flutes of champagne in hand.

“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

“Maybe, this is just fate. We’re meant to be together, and that’s why we keep seeing each other everywhere,” you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head when he said that to you, genuinely confused at why those words would come out of his mouth. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just kidding,” he said with a bemused smile.

“You have a weird sense of humor, Ransom.” You told him plainly, trying to act disinterested, though you were rather endeared. He definitely saw right through you, as he gave you a little grin before he began to speak again.

“So tell me about yourself.”

-----

After a few too many drinks, you were walking down the sidewalk, hand and hand with Ransom as you searched for any sort of restaurant that could be open at that hour.

Finally, you found a quaint and rather empty 24-hour diner with its lights on. The two of you sat down in a booth, and struggled to contain giggles as you sipped from mugs of stale, lukewarm coffee. Why you were giggling, you weren’t completely sure.

“You know what, Ransom, once you get over the asshole-ness, you’re not that bad,” you reached out a hand, and set it on top of Ransom’s, that was idly sitting on the table.

“Wow, thanks,” he chuckled, a dark pink dusting his cheeks.

“Why did we even come here?” You groaned, “No offense, but this coffee tastes like ass,” you whined,

“And how do you know what ass tastes like?” Ransom burst out giggling at this.

“Shut up. Are you twelve?” You pretended to be annoyed with him, before giving in and laughing along with him. “Can you take me home?” You asked with puppy dog eyes.

Apparently, one for the dramatics, Ransom tossed a $50 bill onto the table, then stood up from his seat at the booth to swoop you up in a bridal style.

“Ohhh my god,” you slurred as he carried you out the door, then eventually set you back down on the pavement once he became tired.

-----

While you walked up to your doorstep, Ransom stood on the sidewalk, watching you contentedly. As you got to your door and turned around, he gave you a big, goofy smile and a wave.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in with me,” you invited. It was safe to say, Ransom happily obliged.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x you #ransom thrombey x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #knives out fanfic #fluff #hey i wrote that lol

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Lost and Found [Part Eleven]

Masterlist | Ao3

Despite the fact that he didn't get to bed until 2 AM that morning, Damian still woke up at 6 AM with the sunrise. Sleep deprivation was the last worry on his mind when his Soulmate - beautiful, breathtaking Marinette - was sleeping just one hall down from him.

He met Alfred in the kitchen, already preparing for the meals of the day. The waffle batter was already mixed, coffee was already brewing, and butter was already softening on the counter. "Do you need any help preparing breakfast?"

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I pride myself in my ability to keep this kitchen under control, no matter how many visitors we have. Besides, I'm sure you would rather spend your morning getting ready for your day with your Soulmate than in the kitchen with me."

Damian nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then."

"I look forward to meeting Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Damian left the kitchen and made his way to the gardens, thinking about the night before.

They had gotten back to the Manor at 1:30 AM, too late for the Parisian guests to meet the Wayne family. Damian walked Marinette to her room to let her get some rest, wishing all the while that they could stay up together until the sunrise. Rationally, he knew that Marinette needed her sleep, especially with the drastic time change, but his emotions refused to let her go so soon. However, logic won out in the end, and he kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. As Damian walked Chloé to her room, taking over for Jason while his brother packed his bags back in his Gotham apartment, Damian asked Chloé for a favor. There was a certain plan he wanted to put into action, that he needed some assistance with. Chloé agreed to help him out and their plan was set: in the morning, Chloé would bring Marinette to her room so that the two girls could get ready together, while Damian brought to Marinette's room a vase of fresh-cut flowers and a handwritten letter asking to take her on a date.

Chloé called his plan "sickeningly romantic", but said it with the sort of wistful smile that made Damian send a text to Jason advising his brother to bring flowers for his own Soulmate. Maybe it was sickeningly romantic, Damian thought over the concept, but he knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Emotions had been difficult for him at first, growing up the way he did, but he now knew better than to try and hide that part of himself from Marinette.

Damian already picked out which flowers to cut days in advance, fragrant purple wisteria and delicate white roses, which he got from the garden before the morning dew had burned off of them. He placed them in the glass vase, arranging and re-arranging them the whole way up to Marinette's room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he nudged it open. A flash of red by the window caught his eyes, but by the time his eyes focused on the spot, nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Damian placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table and set down the note beside it. The note, which despite its simplicity had taken several drafts to perfect, read: Dear Marinette, I hope you slept well last night. Breakfast will be served at 8:00 AM. With your permission, I would like to spend today showing you around the city. Once the wedding approaches, I'm certain that we will both be busier, so I would like to get as much time with you now as possible. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Damian

With his plan completed, Damian left the room to go get ready for his first day with Marinette. He quickly sent a text to Chloé, giving her the all-clear to let Marinette return to her room.

Damian had just gotten out of the shower when he saw a note sitting on his bathroom counter. In what was unmistakably Marinette's handwriting, Dear Damian, I would love to go on a date with you today. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Marinette.

Damian breathed out a sigh of relief as the lingering doubt that Marinette might have changed her mind in the last six hours faded away. It is a silly fear, one that Damian wasn't used to indulging in. However, Marinette seemed to bring out all the little human characteristics that the League of Shadows had trained out of him when he was young. A younger Damian would have hated Marinette for it, but in the present day, in the privacy of his room, Damian smiled and let the feeling of relief wash over him.

——————————————————————

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were all at the dining room table with Jon when Damian entered the room. Marinette brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Damian!" If Damian thought that Marinette looked beautiful last night (which he did) with tangled hair and tired eyes from a seven-hour plane ride, she looked downright breathtaking that morning, in a pretty pale pink dress, with her hair done up in a bun, tendrils curling around her face.

"Good morning, Marinette. I hope you slept well."

"I slept great." A look of annoyance took over Marinette's face. "Even though someone woke me up early on someone else's orders." Marinette's expression shifted from indignation to a bright smile. "I did appreciate the flowers, though, so thank you for those."

"You're very welcome." Damian was pleased that she liked them. He was a little troubled by how intently he was watching her facial expression. "Concerning our date tonight-"

Damian was cut off by the sound of voices coming down the hallway. Richard walked in beside Babs in her wheelchair, the couple having a lively debate about what to do for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. "We have to hire one. How often in your life do you get the opportunity to hire a stripper?" argued Babs.

"Alright," conceded Richard, "We get one stripper, and we have him split time between both parties. Now onto decorations - I'm thinking we each pick the decorations for each other's parties, and then it's like a surprise when we get there. And I'm not only saying this because I found the best bachelorette decorations on eBay and I already placed a bid."

Chloé broke the silence that followed in the dining room, as a muffled laugh escaped the hand she had pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, but aren't you Waynes billionaires? Can't you afford to hire two strippers?"

"Not billionaires," Tim chimed in as he walked into the room with Connor. "Every time Bruce comes close to being a billionaire, he increases the wages of all Wayne Enterprise employees except for himself and donates a ton of money to charity."

"I suppose we could hire two strippers, but then what if one of them is better than the other. That wouldn't be fair," mused Barbara.

"We could have them switch halfway through, that way we each get the same experience," Richard added.

"How about, instead of arguing the logistics of strippers, you greet the Soulmates who just arrived last night?" asked Jon, with a tone of voice that very clearly demonstrated how absurd he felt their conversation was. Damian had spent too much time with Richard and Babs over the past few weeks of wedding planning - nothing that came out of their mouths phased him anymore.

"Oh, hello Soulmates of my brothers and Soulmate of my brother's Soulmate's brother. I'm Dick."

"Babs," said Babs with a wave.

"Tim."

"Conner."

Richard started pointing to each of the Parisians. "You must be Marinette, Damian's Soulmate. You're Nino, Jon's Soulmate. And you are..?"

"Chloé, my platonic Soulmate," said Jason as he walked into the room.

"I can introduce myself," snapped Chloé, glowering at Jason, who looked a bit sheepish as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Jason picked up his fork and waved it between Chloé and Marinette. "So you two know each other."

Marinette nodded. "We've all known each other since we were kids. Chloé, Nino, and I have been in the same class since maternelle - which you call kindergarten in America. We've been best friends for years now."

"Now that's a coincidence. Both sets of three Soulmates knew each other before they met up with their other halves." Richard nodded, looking the three Parisians up and down.

"Coincidence is putting it mildly. Statistically, it's incredibly improbable. I didn't run the numbers, but I'm sure if I did, it would be in the range of one in a trillion," Tim piped up.

"Good luck, I suppose," said Marinette with a shrug.

"Luck, coincidence, statistical improbability - call it whatever you want to call it. It's still mind-boggling that out of 7 billion people, you three - best friends who go to the same school - end up with Soulmates who are all family."

The conversation turned to other topics as the table waited for Bruce to arrive before they started breakfast. Richard got Marinette talking about her aspiring career as a designer, and it instantly brought Marinette out of her shell. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious; Damian couldn't help but smile softly to himself as he watched her explain to Richard and Babs the inspiration behind her latest collection of dresses named The City of Lights, which incorporated elements of Parisian fashion throughout the ages, with a focus on finding innovative ways to incorporate light into the dresses. As Marinette was explaining in depth the pros and cons between tea candles and real candles (according to Marinette, an open flame near your hand-crafted creation is a very big con, but she felt so strongly against tea candle that she would rather her dress catch on fire than ruin the integrity of her design), Bruce walked in, wearing a bathrobe with the words World's Best Dad on the back, plaid flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Overall, he looked nothing like the intimidating Batman and everything like a regular Dad on a Saturday morning. Damian had to admit, it was a good strategy for putting their new houseguests at ease, especially Marinette and Chloé, who were meeting their Soulmates' father for the very first time.

"Good morning everyone," said Bruce. He grabbed his coffee mug off the counter, filled it to the brim, chugged it all in one go, then refilled it and took it to the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," Alfred replied as he walked in with a platter stacked full of them. "Please don't spill any syrup on the tablecloth, it's a pain to get out. And before you ask, yes, I am talking to you, Richard."

"One time," Richard grumbled. "You spill an entire bottle of syrup on the tablecloth one time, and suddenly that's all anyone remembers."

Marinette laughed. "I take it I'm not the clumsiest person at the table, then."

"I'm not clumsy. I'm just sporadically situationally unaware," Richard defended.

"Clumsy," teased Babs, flicking Richard's nose and stealing the last bite of pancake off his plate. They were so effortlessly domestic, affectionate with each other all the time in a way Damian was beginning to envy. Damian kept his expression still as he sat in internal shock at the realization that he was jealous of what Richard and Babs had together. Damian was a naturally private person; he had assumed he would despise public displays of affection. However, with Marinette, he could see the appeal. Marinette had flipped his whole worldview on its head. Now he wanted romantic outings and for everyone to know that she was his. It was a strange and foreign feeling, but deep down it felt right.

——————————————————————

As breakfast winded down, Damian offered to show Marinette around the house. The first place he took her was to the gardens. Damian knew that Marinette didn't like surprises all that much, so he planned on explaining to her exactly what they would be doing for their date.

"The gardens are so pretty!" exclaimed Marinette. "Is this where the wedding will be held?"

"Yes. The ceremony will be at the gazebo in the center of the rose garden."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," said Marinette with a soft smile on her face.

"For our date today, I was hoping I could show you around some of my favorite spots in the city. If you would rather stay at the Manor, I understand but-"

Marinette cut him off. "I would love that. I might need to change my shoes though." She gestured to the three-inch heels on her feet."

"I would advise bringing along a pair of good walking shoes. I would hate for you to get hurt."

"It would be a shame to break my ankle on our very first date," agreed Marinette. "I'll just go grab a change of shoes and my purse, and then we can go."

Damian smiled at her. "I'll wait for you here."

Damian watched Marinette leave, thinking of all his favorite things he could finally show her, and all of her smiles he could finally see.

Taglist: @fanboy7794 @mikantsume @hetalia-lover-is-here @howtoshuckatlife @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @redscarlet95 @derpingrainbow @friedchickening @melicmusicmagic @beautym3 @kunstner1 @shizukiryuu @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crazylittlemunchkin @black-streak @darkshadowguardian @mystery-5-5 @trubel43 @fandomfan315 @vincentvangoose @royalchaoticfangirl @mooshoon @drama-queen-supreme @kae690 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @zoerayne2426 @littleredrobinhoodlum @lunar-wolf-warrior @dani-ari @sam-spectra @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @interobanginyourmom @northernbluetongue @eliza-bich @romanoff-queen @scribblinggraveyard @dur55 @jeminiikrystal @sassakitty @miss-mysterys-blog @aegyobutpsycho2 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @chaosace @pepelachanel @sturchling @amayakans @athenalovesredsblog @boxercity1

#maribat #daminette #maridami #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #marinette x damian #lost and found #my work #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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remedialpotions · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Risk It

Thanks to all the jokers on the HPRomione discord (PM me if you want a link to join!) for inspiring me to write this and for always joining me in gushing over these two idiots in love. It feels so good to be back at it!

"So..." Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes, instead picking at a loose thread in the sofa cushion. "About what you said before..."

"Uh huh..." replied Ron warily from his seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

"You'd really say that I'm your cousin?"

"Yeah," he said at once, sounding surprised she’d brought it up. "I mean, if it'd keep you off that Muggleborn registration list, of course I would."

The events of the day had left a strange, uneasy mood over Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. While it felt like progress to know where the locket most likely was, the fact remained that accessing Dolores Umbridge (let alone robbing her of jewelry) would be no easy feat, and Harry's row with Lupin had incited a faint churning in Hermione's stomach that she thought might never stop.

They were alone together now, she and Ron, as they often were these days. Still (understandably) bad-tempered, Harry had stalked off to bed early, but Hermione's mind was racing with everything she'd learned, and sleep seemed very, very far off. And as was custom lately, wherever she was... there was Ron right beside her.

Hermione raised her eyes, meeting his gaze with her own. He'd been so resolute, so quick to leap to this resolution and so determined to stick to it, but she just couldn't abide it. "You'd be lying to the Ministry," Hermione pointed out. "At this point, that's basically lying to Voldemort."

"Voldemort doesn't scare me," said Ron flippantly, though at Hermione's raised brows, he relented, "all right, he does actually, but what else are we going to do? They're not making a Muggleborn Registration Commission so they can send you lot Christmas cards, are they?"

"I know they’re after us, I'm just saying, it's not a good idea to blatantly lie like that."

"But what do you think'll happen if you end up getting questioned and you tell them the truth?" Ron went on. "Voldemort’s just going to thank us for our honesty and send us on our way?"

"Of course not, but we're already targets, and your family-" Her voice lowered, softening. "Your family is already being watched. He's the one pulling all the strings at the Ministry, and with him in power, you could end up in Azkaban, or worse - who even knows what this new regime will do. I put nothing past them."

"It's not like they can kick me out of school," said Ron with a barely-suppressed smirk. "I'm already not going back." The smirk morphed into a grin - warm and wide and just a little lopsided, and Hermione's irritation dulled at the edges. More and more lately, she just couldn't help it; there was something in the way he looked at her that made her want to give up everything she had, just for him. "I know that's your worst fear."

Of course, then he had to go and say something ridiculous like that, and she couldn't help rolling her eyes at him. "It's not, actually, and I wish you'd take this seriously-"

"I do!" he exclaimed, sitting up straight, hands flung into the air. "That's exactly why I want to do this, because of how seriously I take it."

"But it would never work," she said, desperate for this point to sink in, for him to realize that he was essentially flinging himself in harm's way. "Even if you taught me every single name on your family tree for the past thousand years, nobody would ever believe that we're related."

"No?"

He was clearly determined to argue until the bitter end, so Hermione settled in, shifting around on the sofa until she was sitting cross-legged, facing him fully.

"I don't look anything like a Weasley or a Prewett," she said, recalling the sea of redheads at Bill and Fleur's wedding several lifetimes ago. "And I think your Aunt Muriel hates me."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, she hates me too. That actually makes it more believable. What else have you got?"

He seemed to be enjoying this now. His eyes bright and expectant, he folded his arms across his chest, fists tucked under the lean muscle of his biceps, and Hermione allowed her eyes to linger there and drink in the scarred and freckled skin. There was one huge, glaring reason that she did not want to claim to be related to him in any capacity, but perhaps now was not the ideal time to mention it.

Because if she did mention it - if she explained that she wanted to do all sorts of things with Ron that cousins were really, really not supposed to do - then she'd be laying it all out there. She'd be saying the unspoken. And if she did, and things proceeded the way she hoped and expected they might, then they'd forget all about Umbridge, and the locket, and perhaps the war entirely, and they couldn't afford to lose sight of any of it.

Best to stick to what she knew best: logic, and reason, and facts.

"They'd be able to disprove it in a second anyway," Hermione went on. "I can't just be your long-lost cousin who pops up out of nowhere, there would need to be birth records. I'd need a whole fake family."

"My family's huge, if you hadn't noticed," continued Ron, "they'd never find time to interrogate everyone. We'd find someone, maybe we could say you're related to that cousin of my Mum's who's an accountant-" His eyes widened in excitement. "Yeah, actually, that makes sense, because then you'd have been raised as a Muggle, and you'd think you're Muggleborn-" He beamed at her, even as something akin to terror settled itself firmly in Hermione's stomach. "This could actually work!"

"No, it won't!" Hermione blurted out; Ron blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, but it simply wouldn't work, and you'd be thrown in Azkaban, or tortured, or - or-"

"Then I'll risk it," said Ron, infuriatingly calm. "If it'll keep you safe, I'll risk it."

"You'll risk Azkaban," Hermione challenged, skepticism heavy in her words. "You'll risk living the rest of your life in a concrete cell with a Dementor?"

He nodded. "If it'll keep you safe."

Frustration flared through her. A lump formed in her throat, blocking all of those unspoken things that she thought maybe now she should just go ahead and say. At least that way he'd know that losing him would crush her, that she couldn't allow him to demolish his own life just for her, and that if it came down to it, she would sacrifice herself for him every single time.

"But it's - I'm sorry, but it's a terrible idea-"

"So am I supposed to do nothing?" Ron fired back. "Look, I don't like it, but being pureblood is like, my only advantage in all of this, so I've got to use it-"

"Not like this!" She pinched her lips together, forcing out a long, steadying breath through her nose. "We're already in hiding. They can't question me if they don't know where I am."

"They might find us, Snape's been here before so he'll know where to look, and - and what about when we start going to the Ministry? What if you get caught?"

"If that happens, then I'll figure it out, but I'm not putting you or your family on the hook-"

"No, you can't just 'figure it out'!" He sounded just as desperate as Hermione felt now, and his ears had gone a deep, smoldering crimson. "Look, if something happens to you, and I could have stopped it..." He broke off, rubbed his hands down his face, and looked at her.

Really looked at her. And this time his eyes weren't achingly earnest, or alight with the thrill of an impending argument, or shining with warmth and affection. They were pleading with her now, asking for this not just for her sake, but for his own as well. He needed to know he was doing everything he could to protect her.

The problem was, she needed to know she was protecting him too.

"We'll stay in hiding," she said weakly, looking down at her own hands, too afraid to meet his eyes and see the fear and disappointment she knew would be there. "We'll keep fighting, and Harry will win, and... and then we won't have to worry about it anymore."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, though he sounded glum. "Yeah, fine. We won't do it."

"And besides," Hermione added, hoping to add some levity to the situation, "you don't really want to pretend we're related, do you?"

Silently - and they'd gotten good at silent conversations lately - she pleaded with him to understand her meaning, but if he'd caught on, he didn't let it show.

Instead, he just shrugged. He didn't even look desperate anymore now, just sad. Defeated.

"Like I said... I will if it'll keep you safe."

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione fanfic #I'm rusty but so happy to be writing #I feel a bit more like myself again #hope you enjoy!

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 5 years ago

Text

Blimey - JJ Maybank x reader

a\n: i was feeling kinda un-inspired from writing requests so i wrote whatever came to mind and i’m actually happy with the result. @mclementine6 said JJ so there ya go.

trigger warning: underage drinking, cussing a little bit

plot: JJ is in love with the daugher of the owner of the hotel he works at.

word count: 2613

JJ Maybank was every girl's dream. He was the blond surfer with the blue eyes, amazing body and this reckless charm to him. He was a bad boy that you can bring home. The problem was, he has one girl in mind, and she was, somehow, the only one who was able to resist his smile. Well, her and Kie.

This girl was (y\n). her father was the owner of the hotel he worked at, so he got to see her often. He has been trying for years to get her heart, and she kept turning him down.

"why isn't she into me? I mean, not to brag, but look at this" he said, motioning all over his body. He was sitting with his friends at John B's, enjoying the empty place since John's uncle was away, as usual. "maybe it's the cockiness" Kie said, and JJ scrunched his face at her, repeating the sentence in the worst female impression to ever be made. John laughed lightly, "maybe she's just not into this" he said, motioning around the dirty floor, cheap beers and empty chips bags.

"(y\n) is not like that" JJ insisted, "if she was, she wouldn't be as nice to me, but she is always greeting me, with a smile, even when she's with her stupid boyfriend" he explained. "she's just nice, especially for a Kook. Even I like her" Kie says. "did it cross you're mind she's not into you… because she's into her boyfriend?" Pope said, sipping his beer. "come on, I don't know if I would even consider that nerd a boyfriend, what is he going to do, recite the whole pie numbers until the boredom kills me?" JJ sighs, finishing his beer and grabbing a new one. "no" John B stops him, "we cannot afford the amount of Beer you consume". JJ laughs, "good point buddy" he says, "have a shift in a few hours anyway. There's a Kook ball tonight at the hotel, a charity event for-" "Ocean Friends" Kie says, "I'm so exited those rich monsters are finally helping with their money". "you're one of them" John teases, but she ignores him. "well, I should get going, I need to change for the event" she says, getting up and handing JJ the half empty beer bottle. He's exited and reaches out to grab it, but she flips the bottle and spills the beer on poor JJ's hair. "oh, oops" she says, not even attempting to sound like it was really an accident. "Kie! What was that for?" JJ says, his hair dripping beer all over the floor. "you stink, you need to shower, this is a big evening, buddy" Kie says, staring to leave. "I wasn't stinky before you-" "you were" Pope cuts him off. "yeah bro, surfing might involve getting wet, but it's not a shower" John B agrees. "you guys are-" JJ started, but gave up and made his way to the bathroom at John B's.

"oh, sweetie, you look so beautiful" (y\n)'s mom said, leaning at the door frame, admiring her daughter. "thanks" (y\n) replied, checking out the different angles in the mirror. "Shaun is gonna think the same" (y\m\n) added, walking inside her daughter's room. "Shaun dumped me" (y\n) admitted, "decided I wasn't smart enough for him". "well, that was not smart of him, love" (y\m\n) said, smiling at her pun and redoing the braid that fell down (y\n)'s back. Her daughter was not as satisfied. "too soon?" her mom asked, placing the braid and her hands on (y\n)'s shoulders. "no, no. I just… I guess I just don't care as much as I thought I would" (y\n) said, resting he right hand on her mom's left hand before turning around. "maybe you didn't love him" Mrs., (y\l\n) says, looking at her daughter's face. "maybe" (y\n) sighed and started leaving her room, still holding her mom's hand. (y\m\n) pulled on her daughter's hand, causing the teen to stand in front of her again. "maybe it's because you love someone else, let's say, a certain handsome young waiter?" her mom asks. "do you mean that Maybank kid?" (y\n) laughs, "no, hell will freeze before I'll see him in a different light. Not just metaphorically, but also, any other light that is not of the dining or ball room, because I won't see him outside of work" she's quick to deny liking the Pogue as more then a co-worker. Was he a friend to her, or was she secretly hoping for something else?

"okay" he mother said, putting her hands up to show she surrenders. "okay" (y\n) says. She gets to the stairs, her father already waiting. Her mom joins, and they all enter together, her parents holding hands and she's all alone.

"hey there, (y\n\n)" a familiar voice says, "do you want a fine, red wine or do you want me to sneak you some Coke from the back?" the blond boy winks. "hey JJ, water is just fine for now" she replies. He smelled nicer than the usual sea, sweat and cologne mix that was unique to him. "you are so boring" JJ sighs, but goes toward the bar to get her water. She looks at him as walks away. "maybe it's because you love someone else, let's say, a certain handsome young waiter?" her mother's voice whisper in her head, but she ignores it.

Sure, JJ was handsome, hardworking, caring and extremely persistence. He's been attempting to get her to go on one single date with him for almost a year, ever since he got the job at the hotel. She worked with him – it was her father's idea, that she'd work at the hotel. That way she can keep a close eye on the employees and learn work ethics and to appreciate money even though it came easily to her family.

"your water, M'lady" the blond boy smiled, handing out a glass. "well, thank you, sir Maybank" she replied with her charming smile. "so, I saw your boyfriend, but he didn't walk with you. Isn't that some weird Kook tradition, to walk in with your significant other-?" "he broke up with me" she cuts him off. "oh, why's that?" JJ asked. in his eyes (y\n) was perfect – why would a guy who can't get better and not only because there's no such thing, but because (y\n) is already out of his league- why would he break up with her?

"I'm not smart enough, apparently" she laughed, "but it's whatever, I don't care". "not smart enough? But you use all of these fancy words like… like that one time you rejected me and said that I'm a hedonist. I had to google that later" JJ said. "between the two of us JJ, I google search fancy words and use them to sound smart" she admits. "well, that is very smart of you" JJ smiled at her. "whatever" she rolled her eyes. "no, really. I think you are a smart, beautiful young lady. His loss" JJ says, taking a step closer to her. "god, JJ you are such a sycophant" she sigh. "you're doing that again!" JJ laughed. "excuse me" an older man says, "can I get a vesper Martini?". JJ nods, "sure thing. shaken, not stirred". The old man seemed confused but waited for JJ to come back with his drink. Meanwhile, he talked to (y\n), who pretended to care about his new boat and how his middle son got a house in the Bahamas. "enjoy your drink agent 007" JJ said, handing the old man his drink as promised.

The old man left, and JJ tried to revive the conversation. "so, where were you?" JJ asked. "I called you a sycophant" (y\n) replied. "right" JJ smiled. "look, JJ, you should work, and I have to talk to people" she said, and JJ had no choice but to agree. He did have to work.

"hi Kiara, Mrs. and Ms. Carrera" (y\n) smiled at her friend. "(y\n)" Kie smiled politely, hugging the other teen. "oh, you look so lovely, (y\n)" Anna said, "this dress looks great on you". "thank you, Ms. Carrera, you look absolutely ravishing yourself" (y\n) smiled. Both Kie and (y\n) are trying not to laugh at the ridiculous politeness, but the adults are in awe. The music changes, and (y\n) holds her dress up for a bow-like gesture, "Kiara, would you like to join me for a dance "oh (y\n), I would love to accompany you" Kie bows back, and the moment they are far from the Carreras, Kiara released the laugh she was holding.

"what was that, (y\n)? you sounded ridiculous. Good thing you didn't threw in a British accent" Kie said. "hey, it was hard not to do the British accent. my parents asked to be extremely nice and polite. Adults love when a 16-year-old uses fancy words" (y\n) explained. It was a very important fundraiser. Her parents were barley convinced to host it, but it was important for her and her best friend, so she worked hard to make it happen.

Kie and (y\n) were dancing, and JJ looked at them, charmed. The way (y\n) laughed as she moved right on the beat, loosening up a bit. She was usually very uptight, but every time her act slipped, he fell harder and harder. Every time she accidently cursed or was less then the perfect daughter in any way, she was something better: herself. Her fun, smart, sarcastic, self. Her happy self. He knew that dating Shaun was a reputation thing, and deep down he knew she can't choose him because of reputation. Her parents loved him, that's for sure, but will they be supportive if anything other than the weird friendly rivalry bloomed between them?

(y\n) left the dance floor to have some political interactions. She was born as a Kook and she was doing a great job acting like one with her "small person who uses big words" persona. She enjoyed it, it was like doing theatre only it was a nearly 24\7 show she couldn't really quit.

After a round of the different variations of "oh, your son's fiancé is so beautiful", "what a lovely little creature" and pretending to care about the new yacht model someone got, the music changed into a slower one. Most of the adults she had to talk to were there with a date, so she was left alone and finally, she could go look for Kie.

When she finally spotted her friend, she was on the dance floor with another friend you recognized as Pope. oh well she thought to herself, at least I get a break.

Someone tapped on her shoulder. He was holding up a black tray, with a few glasses on. "a drink, M'lady?" JJ asked, and she sighed. "yeah, sure" she said, and he handed her a tall glass filled with a pink-tinted beverage. "on the house" he smiled, and walked off. She thought he was leaving, but he returned after putting the tray down on the table near him. "look, (y\n), I know you constantly reject me, but I know you love this song and it's a shame if you won't dance to it" the blondie said. She took another sip of her drink, that was surprisingly sweet. "is that why you gave me a drink, to get me to dance with you?" she asked him. "maybe. Did it work?" JJ said, and she smiled at him. "you know what? it might have" she said. He offered her his hand, and she rested the drink on the table near her to take the offer.

They made their way to an available space on the dance floor, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. He seemed a bit confused for a second, not sure what to do with his hands, but he looked around to find his next move. "you're supposed to-" (y\n) started, but JJ cut her off with a "no, I know" and placed his hands on her waist. The space was awkward, and so she took a step closer and closed her hands behind his neck. He locked his hands behind her waist, blushing. She laughed. "you look like a tomato" she teased. He looked at her, slightly offended, "shut up, you look like a…strawberry yourself" he said, getting all defensive. She bit her lips to hold in the laugh, "really?" she asked, looking up at him. they locked eyes, and both turned even rosier. "yeah, but you're still looking absolutely ravishing" he said, adding a British accent to the last words. (y\n) laughed, "did Kie told you about that?". "oh, she did, she told me and Pope, and I texted it to John B" he said, "but I think it's cute. You're a small person using big words" he added once he noticed the slightest hurt in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but return the shy smile.

They danced, and the silence wasn't awkward at all. They couldn't take their eyes off each other's. The eye contact made both feel the butterfliers they heard about so much. "hey, JJ, can I ask you something?" she suddenly said. "sure" he said, nodding. "why do you keep chasing me even though I have turned you down so many times?" she says, her voice so quiet it's almost a whisper. "well" he answers, "there's something special about you. You're… interesting, there's more to you than what you let most people see, and every time you crack the good-girl act next to me, I'm like 'shit, I really want to know this person better', ya' know?" he said. She nods slowly. "that, and the fact you don't want me back is so hot" JJ added, ruining the moment. "you were so sweet for a second there, JJ. Almost gave up" (y\n) said, looking right in his eyes with a sweet yet somewhat devilish grin. "oh, shit" JJ laughed, "can I try to change your mind?" he raised his eyebrow and getting a bit closer to her. "JJ, this is not the place or t-" she says, looking around. One hand left her waist and brushed her jawline, forcing her to look at him. The boy has made the decision. He leaned closer to her, and the questions filled her head. She knew she wanted to kiss him just as bad as he wanted to kiss her, but what does that mean? What happens next?

The moment they locked lips, everything disappeared, the only thought she had in her mind was him. his hands cupped her cheeks when she returned the kiss. It was short, but sweet, and full of emotions. It felt different than the way kissing Shaun made her feel. She was exited, and happy, and sad about the fact it couldn't last forever.

"wow" she let out with a light laugh when JJ pulled away. "don't you mean… I don't know, what's a fancy way to say 'wow'?" he mumbled under his breath, tempted to reconnect their lips. "blimey" he remembered a word that can fit, "don't you mean blime-" he said, her laughter cutting him off. "shut up JJ, you are ruining the moment!" she said, punching his chest lightly. "well, I do have a bachelor's degree in ruining the moment, so" he says, leaning down for another kiss, surprised when he wasn't pushed away.

"wait, does it mean you'll go on a date with me?" he says once the kiss ends for the sake of breathing. "I guess so" (y\n) smiled at him, and his smile was bigger and brighter then usual. She never noticed how his smile lights up his face, and the whole room. "cool".

tag list: @mary-grace-milne @loveylangdon

#jj #jj x reader #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagines #outer banks X reader #outer banks netflix #obx #obx netflix

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fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

Text

Safety in Numbers

A surprise gift fic for @artsymeeshee, because the art she recently posted of the Stan Twins cuddling warmed my heart and apparently inspired me to write..uh...almost five thousands words.

Don’t you dare tag this as a ship.

Summary: Every great thing that ever happens to you is usually followed by something much, much worse.

You save the world from the apocalypse, you're convinced that you've lost everything and everyone you've ever loved.

You gain your memories back, you have nightmares so vivid that they fuck with your sense of fantasy versus reality.

It's a lose-lose, if you ask Stan.

AO3

Stan awakens to an alarm clock he doesn’t remember setting. Groaning, he sits up, eyes not quite open yet, and his back makes an ugly popping sound he knows he’s going to feel as soon as his body is fully awake. He blinks his eyes open slowly, and takes a few moments to re-familiarize himself with his twin brother’s old study room. He turns, to check the time and stop that infernal beeping sound, but his neck is so stiff that it makes him want to blow chunks. That’s what he gets for sleeping on a couch, he supposes, but he’s certainly slept on worse, and even if Ford did have a bed somewhere in the mess of a shack he chose to call home, Stan certainly didn’t deserve it, because people who are probably responsible for the death of their family don’t deserve nice things.

Grunting, he swings his legs off the couch, and stands so he doesn’t have to bend his neck in any more weird directions just to turn the alarm off. Its obnoxiously bright red letters blink 5:31am, and Stan scrubs a hand down his face as he punches the clock’s OFF button with the other.

That’s right. The only reason he set the damn alarm in the first place is because a stubborn customer who couldn’t speak a lick of English refused to leave the gift shop until she found the perfect gift for her little kiddo back home despite the Shack having closed nearly half an hour prior. It’s the only time in his life he’s ever been grateful for the year he was trapped in Colombia, because he’s sure if he wasn’t able to heckle with her in Spanish her into leaving with one of everything, he has a feeling she’d still be wandering back and forth across the shop. Stan laughs to himself at the thought, and makes a mental note to make that sort of thing an attraction someday if he ever gets a customer as stubborn as she is again.

But no, that’s not what matters right now. He bends over to pick up a hairbrush that’d been carelessly tossed to the floor the night prior and runs it through his soft brown hair that he promises he’s going to get cut as soon as he has the time and money, and as soon as his hair manageable enough to brush through it without snagging on any tough knots, he carelessly tosses the brush over his shoulder and heads out of the room, navigating himself around the place with a flashlight. He’s aware that it’d make things much easier to just turn the lights on, but keeping the gift shop lights on all weekend is already burning a hole in his wallet, and he’s not sure he could afford the electricity bill if he left the lights in the study room on by mistake for even ten extra minutes.

When he reaches the staircase leading to the basement, he flicks the flashlight off and sets it down on the counter by the cash register. It’s much easier to navigate down the winding steps with both of his hands free in case he falls and needs to catch himself, and the faint blue hum of the portal is enough of a light source to show him the way to the basement anyway. He sits down at the desk, adjusts the framed photo of himself and Ford at boxing practice in high school, and pulls Journal 1 out from the hidden shelf in front of the monitor. He’d spent all of last week desperately looking for 2 and 3, but the harsh winter snowfall had cut his search short and he didn’t want to waste any more time when he could just try to get the damned thing working without them.

“C’mon, Poindexter, y’gotta give me something to work with,” he mumbles, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “I spent weeks memorizing all of your fancy shmancy ciphers. That’s more than I ever studied in high school. You can’t ramble on for two whole pages about how to crack them and then switch to this…” he squints at the squiggles scattered across the portal’s blueprints. “...Cooky alien language, or whatever. This is real life we’re talkin’ here. This is your life we’re talkin’ here. It’d be a lot easier if you didn’t write this thing in Klingon, or whatever”

Stan knows, at the back of his mind, that talking to the journal like it’s Ford himself isn’t going to get him anywhere, but in a weird kind of way, it makes him feel less alone. Helps a guy out from feeling too lonely, y’know?

He chuckles to himself at his own joke, taking comfort in the fact that if Ford were here he’d probably be rambling off about how Klingon is one of thousands of different intergalactic languages and how he obviously wrote it in Hqjolvk, thank you very much, and Stan can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he flips through his notepad. He’s tried everything, he’s tried translating them to whichever letter in the English alphabet they just happen to look closest to, he’s tried throwing sentences in gibberish into three different ciphers at once to see if he could get anything even relatively close to whatever it is, and even when he “bought” a book at the store on ancient hieroglyphics and ancient symbolism the closest thing he got was just a bunch of dumb numbers. And even then, translating all of those dumb numbers back to English from a1z26 just hit him against another dumb wall.

Frustrated, he throws the pad of paper against the desk and kicks off from its edge, sending his swivel chair flying backwards across the room. When the chair finally stops rolling, his gaze fixes on the portal through the window in front of the desk he’d just been sitting at, and it’s really only now that he’s looking at it from this distance, from this angle, that he notices….the same weird squiggles from the journal carved all over the circular ring in the center of the portal.

But...if the weird squiggles in the journal came from the portal, and translating those numbers from the Egyptian book through a1z26 just gave him gibberish...could...could it be that easy? Could it be-?

“Coordinates!” Stan yells, jumping to his feet, and tears build in his eyes at the epiphany. “Sweet Moses, they’re coordinates! How could it’ve been so obvious?” he cries, and nearly trips over himself in excitement as he scrambles back over to the monitor, and his hands are shaking as he flips through his notepad. Once he finds the page he’s looking for, he forces his hands steady as he enters the number into the keypad.

The tiny, logical voice in the very back of his mind is screaming at him that it’s never going to work, he only has a third of what he needs, he really shouldn’t get his hopes up, but the slamming of his heart against his chest drowns that sound out as he frantically enters and re-enters the numbers when he’s sure he accidentally entered the wrong ones (damn his chubby fingers), and when he’s finally, finally certain he’s gotten them all entered correctly, he presses the dark red SEND button, takes a few steps backwards, and waits.

For what couldn’t be longer than two minutes but feels like six hours, there’s nothing. Stan’s about to sigh, call it a good stopping point for the day and kick himself for getting his hopes up too high, but then a flash of blue lightning sparks from the portal and strikes the ground.

“HA!” Stan exclaims, pumping his fists in the air. “I knew it! I knew it! Nothing can stop Stan Pines!”

He sprints into the portal room, pausing only briefly to grab the toolbox on his way in. Two more bolts of lightning strike against the ground with a loud pop as he enters, and the grin spread across Stan’s face rivals them in brightness. Kneeling down in front of the lever, Stan opens his toolbox and pulls out his lucky red screwdriver that’s gotten him out of his fair share of car trunks, and goes to work on fixing up loose bolts and that awful crunching sound the lever kept making the last time he tried turning it on.

Three bolts emerge from the portal, and Stan is too ecstatic to notice their uncomfortably close proximity to his head. He stands, once he’s absolutely certain he’s got the lever all fixed, and puts everything he has into shoving the lever from its off position to the on position.

He can hear the gears turning in the machine, and his heart is pounding so hard against his chest it makes his ears ring. He’s tearing up again, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he gets to punch Ford in the shoulder and tell him off to never scare him like that again when he emerges in the next couple of minutes. The circular ring in the center of the portal begins to spin, slowly, and those weird symbols carved along it start to glow blue.

Stan nearly drops to his knees, but no, he can’t let Ford see him at rock bottom, and maybe that’s a little selfish, considering all of the places Ford’s probably been the past two years, but the last thing he needs Ford to see is how much he’s been killing himself working to get him back. The ring spins faster, and faster, and where there was once a hole in the center of the portal that leads only to the back wall of the room, there’s now a blindingly bright flash of blue light, and Stan is knocked to the ground by the kickback.

He goes to stand again, but the sound of shattering glass turns his attention elsewhere. He looks behind him, and the lightbulbs in the other room are exploding like it’s nobody’s business. He’s lucky his hearing was heightened from the ten years on the street, because he’s just quick enough to hear the cracking of the bulb right above his head that he’s able to dodge out of the way of the shattered glass as it rains down towards him. He jumps to his feet, brushing his clothes off, but he’s horrified to see that the portal’s ring is beginning to slow to a stop with no twin brother in sight.

“No!” he cries, and sprints back into the other room to reenter the coordinates into the monitor. But it’s just his luck, because the monitor’s glass is shattered to pieces as well, and there’s a thin line of black smoke rising from it. “No, no no no! I was so close!” he shouts, and sprints back into the portal room. He switches the lever from on to off and back to on again, but nothing changes.

When the ring comes to a complete stop, the bright blue light fades away, an ugly kind of rage boils in the pit of Stan’s stomach. “This is all your fault, you dumb machine!” he yells, and launches at the portal like it was a thug trying to rob him of his wallet, and starts punching it like there’s no tomorrow, like if he gave it enough left hooks it’ll obey him and spit Stanford right out to his side.

He’s about to go in for another punch when he hears the sound of the machine’s gears turning again. He grins, rubbing his hands together, and steps backwards to watch the process in its completion. Four bolts spark from the portal this time, but rather than strike the ground, they lunge for him, and Stan screams in agony as they jolt through his whole body. He takes it as a sign that he’s probably better off watching the process from the desk in the other room, but when he tries to turn heel and run, five bolts of lightning reach out and snake around his leg before he can take another step further, and he collapses to the ground. Gritting his teeth to avoid letting out a choked cry of pain, Stan tries to inch himself towards the lever for support to stand up, but it’s as if the damned lightning has the power to read his thoughts, because it shocks the lever with such a thick bolt of lightning that it fries the thing black.

The charge from the lightning gives the lever just the right amount of static charge it needs to reactivate properly, and Stan doesn’t notice the hum of the portal’s gears getting louder and louder until he finds himself floating off the ground. “W-whoa, hey! Hey! Hold on a minute!” Stan scrambles around at nothing in particular, hoping his feet or arms will snag on something and prevent him from getting pulled in. “Let’s talk this over! We can work together!” He must be losing his damn mind if he thinks bargaining with the portal like it’s sentient is going to do anything, but it’s the only option he’s got left. “I just want my brother back! You want to stay on, yeah? You don’t like getting turned on and off at random, right? I’ll-I’ll keep you on! As long as it takes for my brother to find his way home, I’ll keep you turned on! I promise!”

The machine, of course, does not respond, and the higher Stan gets off the ground the blurrier his vision gets. Damn fear of heights. He flaps his arms around as if he could fly, but nothing seems to work. He starts kicking, as well, to see if swimming towards the ground could work any better, but he still doesn’t budge.

But that does give him the idea of kicking off of the portal itself, since it’s the only solid thing left, save for the ceiling, and Stan curls himself up into a ball to try and get himself to flip over. It works, thankfully, but when he turns his glance back towards the portal his heart drops to his stomach. Curling himself up had helped his body change directions, yes, but it also changed his course entirely. Rather than being sucked towards the edge of the portal’s entrance, like he’d been when he was hovering above the lever, he’s now heading right for the center of the portal with nowhere to kick off of.

“N-No! No!” He shouts frantically, kicking his leg away from the cold blue substance the portal emitted. When he spares another glance backwards, his feet are already sucked inside, and the rest of him is quickly following. “No! Somebody help! Somebody!” he shouts, his own words painfully echoing those of Ford’s when he’d been in the same situation.

Ford,

If the portal manages to stay active after he gets sucked in, Ford’s gonna be able to find his way home, but he’ll be all alone, left to wonder what could’ve happened to him. Vaguely, Stan remembers Ford had been saying something about shutting it down for good, and his panicked flailing at the thought that he may be the one never coming again only makes his descent into the portal quicken. “Stanford!” he shouts, in the odds that his brother can hear his cries from the other side of the portal. “Stanford, do something! Stanford!”

The blue substance within the portal is thick and flavorless as his head is sucked in. He closes his mouth, because he doesn’t want to risk suffocating on whatever the hell this stuff is made of, and closes his eyes for impact for the same horrors that swallowed up his brother just two years prior, and…

…

When he forces his eyes open again, he’s lying on a bed. An actual, decently sized bed with fluffy blankets and at least three pillows supporting his head and neck. He’s not sure he’s slept on one of those in….what, thirteen years, give or take, if he’s not including the bug-infested hotels?

All of his burns from the lightning strikes have seemingly vanished into thin air, along with that gnawing hunger that never seemed to leave his stomach even when he had the time to eat more than a single meal a day, and though the air feels cool, it doesn’t feel humid and stuffy like Ford’s old lab had felt moments ago.

The rest of his aches are gone, too, he realizes as he sits up, replaced now by a dull pain in his hips and knees that he supposes he could credit to getting sucked into a portal and falling thirty feet to the ground to...uh, wherever he is now.

Is this where Ford’s been stuck all this time? It’s no wonder he never tried to find his way back on his own, because all things considered, this place is actually pretty comfortable. Maybe he wound up on a friendly alien planet, and some locals rushed him to the hospital to get him fixed up. But there’s no calamity outside his door like there usually is in most hospitals back on Earth, and there’s no weird tubes attached to either of his arms and not a sight of ace bandages anywhere on his body. And...is he…swaying back and forth?

Stan glances down at his hands, and the rest of his body still wrapped in a thick comforter. No, it’s not him, he realizes quickly, it’s the room that’s swaying back and forth. If he squints hard enough, he can make out the foot of his bed gently rocking back and forth. Scratching at his head, he goes to stand up and investigate his surroundings, until he notices a round window next to where he’d just been laying his head, just outside of his current line of sight. He lies back down, and his breath nearly catches in his throat at the sight.

It’s the biggest cluster of stars he’s ever seen his entire life, and if he looks close enough, he can see streaks of what he can only assume must be the galaxy itself. It certainly looks like the Earth’s skies, and when he looks again he notices the stars are reflecting off of… some kind of body of water?

Ah, so he’s on a boat. That explains the swaying. There’s a twinge of warm nostalgia in chest at the realization, of the days two scrappy little boys from New Jersey would spend their afternoons working on a sailboat of their own, musing dreamily about the day they’d finally sail away from the dumb town.

But...no. That couldn’t possibly be right. He got kicked out at seventeen, and Ford is god-knows-where in the universe. This must be some sort of sick joke, or an optical illusion that plays on his greatest dreams, or something. He turns away from the window, covering that half of his face with the blanket, and fully intends to fall asleep so he can bug the boat’s captain in the morning about where the hell he is and how the hell he wound up here in the first place. Just as he’s about to close his eyes, though, he notices a bulky, bright pink book sitting at his bedside table next to the lamp.

Well, he’s got nothing to lose, right? Maybe this thing’ll have some answers. He flicks the lamp on and sits up. The book is called MABEL’S SCRAPBOOK, and the title written in glitter pen in a child’s handwriting.

He snorts in laughter. Maybe the book belongs to the captain’s daughter, and she left it in here by mistake. Still, it could help to learn more about the family keeping him captive, and it’s not like she’ll know he ever read it, right? He chuckles to himself at the thought, but as soon as he grabs for the book to place it on his lap, the feel and smell of the dried glue and paint on the cover makes him feel dizzy, and his head’s suddenly swirling with so many thoughts that he feels like he’s drowning.

Grunkle Stan, it’s me! It’s me Grunkle Stan!

There has to be something we can do! I know my grunkle’s in there!

This is our first day in Gravity Falls, and this is when you let me take the grappling hook from the gift shop! Dipper thought I’d never use it, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Zing!

Over and over, all at once, the voice of two….wonderful, incredible rascal little nuisance kids keep yelling at him in his head, and he slams the book back down against his nightstand.

Damn memory relapses. Ford warned him they could happen, since McGucket had experienced a few of them himself before Stan and Ford left Gravity Falls, but Ford never said anything about the nightmares. Yeah, yeah, he could see it as a good thing, extra proof that his mind’s intact and they don’t need to worry that it’ll ever be gone for good, but nothing sucks more than nightmares that are so based in reality that they fuck with your sense of what’s real and what isn’t.

Stan rubs his eyes, and stands up. He figures it’d be a good idea to step out on deck and get some fresh air. He has no idea what time it is, but maybe if he goes and stares at the stars long enough he’ll eventually feel tired enough to crawl back into bed. He flicks his lamp light back off, and he’s maybe three steps out of his bedroom door before he notices that the light in Ford’s bedroom next to his is still on.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to be mad at Ford for staying up this late, and any other night he would tell him off and guilt him into sleeping by lying about how his light and excessive scribbling is what woke him up, but tonight he’s actually relieved by his brother’s dangerous sleeping habits, because talking out loud about his relapses and distinguishing real memories from fake ones always seems to widen the gap between his next relapse, and it certainly doesn’t help that tonight’s nightmare was about Ford’s disappearance. He creaks the door open slowly, to avoid activating Ford’s flight-or-magnet-gun-in-your-face response, and his mouth closes just as quickly as he’d opened it to speak. Ford’s desk lamp is on, yes, but his nerdy brother is not, in fact, hunched over with a thousand stacks of paper covering his face like he usually is this time of night.

Oh no. The lamp, it seems, was left on by mistake, because Ford’s curled up in his bed, fast asleep with his face half-buried in the pillow and his glasses tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand that he must’ve forgotten to close. Rolling his eyes, Stan sneaks into the room as quietly as he can and flicks the light off so he doesn’t have to replace the lightbulb when it subsequently dies out in the morning.

He turns heel, and he’s set on going back to his original plan of staring up at the sky until he feels tired again, but as he turns to close Ford’s door he gets another close look at his brother’s sleeping form and his chest warms with nostalgia at the sight as another memory, one from his childhood, resurfaces itself tonight.

When they were kids, Pa was...never the comforting kind of parent. And yeah, while that was pretty obvious in that it was always Ma who helped patch up their skinned knees and splinters from the boardwalk and the occasional bee sting, there were times he’d be...more subtle about it, if that’s even the right word to describe him. If either of them came poking their heads in their parents’ bedroom after a nightmare, asking if they could crawl in bed and sleep with them for the night, Pa would always brush them off and send them back to their own room, giving them some excuse about the shop opening early tomorrow and how he can’t afford to lose any sleep in case someone tries to come in and rob them.

From a young age, Stan and his brother learned that it’d be easier just to stop asking Pa at all, and instead they’d resort to climbing into each other’s bed instead. They shared a bunk bed up until they were about fourteen, and they had this unspoken system going where if the other poked them awake or tried to crawl under their blanket in the middle of the night, they’d have to comply and let them in without asking why because it usually meant they were having bad dreams. Ford learned very early on never to hesitate for Stan, because he knew that if Stan was willing to climb to the top bunk despite his fear of heights that his nightmares must’ve been bad.

Stan pauses, and wonders if Ford still remembers those times as well as he does. He hesitates, his grip still tight around the doorknob, until he recalls that it had been Ford who had asked him to accompany him to the arctic, and Ford who kept their childhood photo tucked away in the pocket of his trench coat.

Well, here goes nothing.

Just as quietly as he’d been before, he tiptoes over to Ford’s bedside, and he’s thankful to find that there was still enough room for him to crawl under the covers without squishing Ford uncomfortably against the wall. Slowly, as not to jostle the blankets too much to wake his brother, he flips a corner of the blanket up, crawls underneath, and as soon as his head hits the extra pillow he’s out cold.

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

If Ford had to complain about anything from his thirty year trip around the multiverse, besides, well...all of it, he’d have to credit the worst of it to his heightened hearing.

Ages ago, when it’d just been two weeks since he was sucked into the portal, he taught himself to sleep with his eyes open, and he taught his ears to pick up on the tiniest of movements, even the wind blowing the leaves off a tree branch. He couldn’t afford capture, and if that meant he had to sacrifice sleep to assure it wouldn’t happen, then so be it.

He’d lost the habit of sleeping with his eyes open after all the time he spent with Jheselbraum, thank god, but he could never quite get over the habit of listening. Every time something creaked in the Shack, every time Stan or one of the kids awoke in the middle of the night in search of the bathroom, it’d wake him up in a jolt, and it’d always take him longer than necessary to fall back asleep.

The nights on the Stan O’ War II are usually the quietest and most peaceful nights Ford’s ever experienced since his childhood. Though he and Stan always spend their days tracking and hunting monsters, they’re always able to find quiet little seaport towns to dock their boat when they need a place to rest for the night where nobody makes a peep until sunrise.

That is...until tonight. He’d been awake just a few minutes prior, mapping out the coordinates for the next monster they needed to track down and how long it would take for them to find it, but he finally got to a point where he had been so tired that his handwriting was starting to give up on him and he decided it was probably for the best that he just go to sleep. Standing to stretch, he places his glasses in the drawer of his nightstand and didn’t bother with the lamp light because he could just replace the bulb in the morning if need be, and practically collapsed face first onto his bed and fell asleep.

He heard mumbling coming from the thin wall to his brother’s room, and since their departure from Gravity Falls he’s become so used to Stan’s constant presence that it no longer bolts him awake. In a way it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s never alone on the vast sea. He shifts, when he hears his brother’s slippers lightly slapping against the deck, but dismisses that just as quickly.

He can feel himself dozing back off to real sleep when he hears his own lamp click off and his bedroom door closing. Ah, Stan was probably coming in to check on him but left when he saw that he was already asleep. That’s fine; he did that a lot the week before they left for their trip. He’s used to it.

What he’s not used to is the blanket getting ripped from his shoulders, and the bed making a dull creaking sound of...something sitting on it. Baffled, he pops his eye open, ready to reach for his weapon in case some sea creature managed to slip on board and into his bed, but his heart rate eases when he makes out the familiar shape of his brother fast asleep in the other half of his bed.

The sight of it makes Ford want to laugh.

He can’t believe Stan remembers.

Closing his eyes, Ford shifts his position ever so slightly, like it’s a maneuver he’s been practicing for ages, and scooches himself closer to Stan without shaking the bed. He snakes an arm around Stanley’s shoulder, whose whole body seems to release itself of tension at the gesture. Unconsciously, Stan shifts himself closer to Ford as well, and snakes his own arm around Ford’s chest, like he, too, had been practicing the maneuver since they were separated all those years ago.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #sea grunkles #artsymeeshee

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