#at a sketchy hotel in the middle of nowhere
Text
Conversations with a Movie Star
Chapter One- Welcome to the Bravo Inn
Pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava
Word Count- 1.8k-ish
Warnings- very brief mention of tobacco, alcohol and unspecified stronger substances, plenty of foul language, Ava might be an ofc but I've tried to keep her physical description a blank slate....
Author's Note- this insane idea came to me riding down the highway when I saw a sign for the Bravo Inn so yes it's a real place and yes it looks a little sketchy and I apologize if anyone knows where it is and I got that wrong, lol! Myrtle Beach is obviously also a real place, one of my favorites, but it's been some years since I've been there so I may get details wrong and I apologize for that too....many thanks to @wildemaven for putting up with me plotting this from the get go 💕
"It's not personal, Ava. The paper just had to make some budget cuts."
"You send me down here to cover this festival, cancel the room the paper had paid for- there is literally nowhere decent to stay, the place I found has fuschia carpet- do you hear me? FUSCHIA! And then fire me over the fucking phone and I'm not supposed to take it personally??"
"Look, Ava, I tried...."
"Why his own fucking granddaughter? If it was just budget cuts, why not what's his face, Kevin, in maintenance- the one that falls asleep in the bathroom all the damn time?"
"Valid point and I'm not sure...." Drew laughs.
"Or what about James? He's like seventy-billion years old and he hasn't written anything legible since like 1993! I'll tell you why, because they're both fucking men!"
"Ava!"
"What, Drew? What?"
"I tried, okay? I tried and I'm still trying. I've lined up an interview for you at the Journal in a few weeks with a buddy of mine. They're looking for a temp to cover the Ask Sam column, maybe do a few human interest pieces."
"A temp gig? What the fuck?"
"It's a foot in the door, alright? Do you want the interview or not?"
"Ugh, fine, you know I do. Text me the details. But I still hate you for doing his dirty work."
"I'm your brother, you'll get over it. Look, I'll CashApp you some money, just stay at the beach for awhile, let this blow over a bit. Maybe still write some stuff for the festival and bike week. Do some freelance shit."
"No, fuck that, no. I'm sick of trying to cold sell shit to 3rd rate travel publications or airline magazines or whatever the fuck else. So fuck that and I love you, but fuck you too, Drew."
Dieter imagines right about now the woman belonging to the voice he's been listening to is really wishing that you could still slam a phone down to end a conversation. He hadn't meant to be eavesdropping- or okay, maybe he had but she'd been pacing outside the motel office with the call on speaker phone- who even does that anymore? And also, he really liked the sound of her voice. Loved the way she said fuck, would love even more to hear it in a different context.
And then she's storming into the office, right up to the counter, which is a goddamn shame because she's all long legs in tiny cut off denim shorts and he'd like to have gotten a better look.
"Hi, I'd like...wait," she stops, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair and blinking at him a few times. "Do you even work here? Or did you like wander in off the street or something?"
"Wander in off....what?" Dieter laughs. "I didn't wander in from anywhere, I'm the owner."
"Sure, of course you are," she nods. "That explains a lot."
"What does that even mean, that explains what?"
Dieter's pretty sure this conversation has already jumped the rails and it just got started. Or she's just fucking nuts, but she's cute and he doesn't have anything else going on, so he's rolling with it.
"No offense, dude, but you're wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the day and you kinda look like you skipped the shower. For days. Plural. The word feral comes to mind and like not really in a good way? And that explains a lot. About this hotel."
She nods again like this makes perfect sense and maybe in her head it does.
"Anyone ever tell you you're rude?"
"Constantly. It's my grandfather's favorite disparaging remark. Fucking asshole. My grandpa, not you. You, I'd like to talk to about extending my stay."
Dieter raises an eyebrow and pokes at the mouse, stirring the computer to life.
"The fuschia carpet's not too offensive?"
"Heard that, huh?" She grins at him and leans her elbows on the counter, allowing Dieter a glimpse down the vee of her shirt and he swears he's halfway to smitten already.
"Hard not to."
"I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. And also I suppose beggars can't be choosers. So, about the room?"
"I dunno," Dieter stalls, still poking at the keyboard trying to figure out the damn reservation system Anika set up. "Bike week is coming up, I could jack up the rates, get triple what I'm charging now for the room...."
"Or you could not be a dick and help a girl out. I'll pay in advance. In cash. For three weeks. The carpet will grow on me I'm sure."
"Look," Dieter sighs, giving up on pretending he has any idea what he's doing. "Can we make a deal? You come around here and figure out this reservation system and you can book your own room."
"I could just wait for the blonde to come back? The one who checked me in? She seemed efficient. A little cold, but efficient. Or like another staff member?"
"That's gonna be a long ass wait."
"There's no other staff?"
"Besides housekeeping and maintenance? Not currently."
"And the blonde?"
"Told me to go fuck myself." He mutters.
"Oh shit, what'd you do?" She laughs, sliding around behind the counter to get a look at the computer.
"Why did it have to be me?"
"I mean, again- look at yourself." She pauses to look him over now that the counter isn't separating them. "I bet you rolled out of bed, threw on those ratty boxers and your robe and called it a day. And Jesus, are those Crocs? Do you have any self respect? Nice thighs, though."
"Thanks?" Dieter looks down at his own legs before slowly letting his gaze travel up hers. "Is it inappropriate if I say you too?"
"Nah, equal opportunity ogling is allowed," she grins. "Now, can I have the chair? And by the way, if I figure this out, I'm comping myself a free week."
"If you figure this out and can show me how it works, you can comp yourself two weeks."
"Stop hovering."
"I'm not hovering."
He's definitely hovering. He knows he's hovering, would step closer, maybe lean in over her shoulder if he thought he could get away with it.
"You are totally hovering! I can feel you breathing on me!"
"How am I supposed to learn if I can't see what you're doing?"
"Ugh, fine, whatever. Look, a second grader could do this. You input the length of the stay, a box pops up and shows you what rooms are available, you click on one, and input the guest's information. The computer does the rest. And look at that- plenty of rooms available despite bike week looming in the very near future..."
"Smart ass." Dieter laughs.
"Anyway, here we go, room 4 with the lovely fuschia carpet, and Ava Greene, that's me by the way, done. Booked. Got it?"
"Uh-huh. Got it."
He definitely doesn't have it. Too busy staring at the tattoo on the back of her neck wondering what the hell it means and breathing in the scent of her, all sunbaked and coconutty from sunscreen.
She spins around in the desk chair to face him, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed looking at him like she sees right through all his bullshit and Dieter's seriously reconsidering his stance on never getting married.
"You didn't retain any of that, did you?" She sighs.
"Can you show me one more time?" He gives her the lopsided grin that's been winning him hearts since his teenage years and is slightly dismayed when she only rolls her eyes at him.
"Maybe tomorrow," she laughs, rising from the chair and making her way out from behind the counter. "As much fun as this has been, I am temporarily unemployed so I have nothing to do and the ocean beckons. Catch ya later, movie star."
"Movie star?" Dieter deadpans. "That's a good one."
"I mean, you are....aren't you?" She asks hesitantly before shaking her head. "You know what, nevermind. Doesn't matter."
Dieter watches her leave the office before flopping down in the recently vacated desk chair, hands running through his messy- and damnit she's right, unwashed- hair and gripping the ends.
"Fuck!"
Two years of almost complete anonymity gone in the space of 20 minutes. And found out by a reporter no less. Cute as she is and as much as Dieter enjoyed her company, he figures she's no better than the rest of the scum in her profession and he resolves to keep his distance.
"Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!"
That sums it up nicely he thinks. He's royally fucked.
Heart racing and nerves buzzing, Ava heads back to her room, her hands shaking so badly it takes her four tries to place the call she needs to make.
"Drew, Drew!" She yells down the line when he picks up.
"Ava, I'm busy. I don't have time for you to yell at me some more right now. Can it wait?"
"No, Drew, listen. Oh my God, listen. I am the luckiest girl in the world," she laughs, letting herself fall backwards onto the bed and sprawl there. "You will never believe the story that just practically landed in my lap. This could be the best three weeks of my life!"
"It's been less than an hour, Ava, what the hell kind of story could you have possibly found?"
"Dieter Bravo. I found Dieter fucking Bravo!"
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo x ofc#dieter bravo x ofc!ava#dieter bravo fic#cwams#pedro pascal character fanfiction
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crossing Borders Ch1
Earlier in the year I gave the hypothetical question of "If I were to write something, what would you want me to write?" and someone mentioned a crossover of Untamed(or MDZS) and Detective Conan, and my brain went "HMMMM." Months and months later, I finally have something to show for it haha. I could have put this out a month earlier if only I'd sit down and edit >_>;; Anyway, whoever requested this, I hope you like it! It's complete and I'll be posting one chapter a week til it's done. Thanks to Meridiangrimm for bouncing ideas with me in the early planning of this story!
+-+-+
If there was an ideal way to visit China for the first time, Conan was absolutely sure that this was not it. For one, they’d only come because of a sketchy prize trip Kogoro got for some mountain getaway. A trip for three, so lucky him, he’d been dragged along. Which was a problem considering ‘Conan’ didn’t have a passport. Plane shenanigans and a new extra-short-term antidote had been the answer there, so Conan—or Shinichi, rather—got into China in one piece, but it turned out that this mountain getaway was in the middle of nowhere.
And their rental car was… kind of terrible.
It had broken down two kilometers from the parking lot for this place, only for them to find that the only way to reach it was to literally walk up the mountain with hundreds of stairs and gravel pathways like it had been designed by some person who thought cardio was the only way to live life. It had taken a phone call to get the car replaced, an hour of exhausting climbing, and Kogoro swearing under his breath as they dragged their suitcases to reach the gates. Gates that looked like they’d be more fitting in a monastic setting than a resort.
Honestly, at this point Conan had started to wonder if the resort existed at all, except there had been several cars in the parking lot, and there were people wandering around that weren’t in old-fashioned robes with cellphones and cameras in hand, so clearly this place was famous for something. Definitely not for its logistics as a tourist place though.
That was about the point where a …monk?... of some sort came up and greeted them, triple checked the tickets, and led them to the plainest looking guest rooms he’d ever seen.
Honestly, there were no electric outlets, a basic overhead light, a working bathroom, and beds with mattresses so thin that they barely qualified as such.
“What the hell?” Mouri fumed after their guide had left them with a time for dinner in stilted Japanese and a handful of English pamphlets. “What is this, a hotel or a monastery? There’d better at least be good food and booze up here.”
“Actually,” Conan said, picking up one of the pamphlets that seemed to be made up of things guests were not allowed to do, “it looks like alcohol is forbidden here. As is smoking and other recreational drugs.”
“You’re shitting me.” The pamphlet was ripped from his hands as Kogoro squinted at the English and Mandarin printed on the page. “What kind of shitty resort is this?!”
“It’s not a resort,” Ran said, looking at a brochure with pictures of the mountain and the compound’s buildings. “It’s a place for people to retreat from the modern world and reconnect with their inner selves—or something. My English isn’t that great.” Ran looked at her father. “What kind of contest did you enter?”
“One of those ball lotto thingies. There’s a little old Chinese lady by the racetracks with a food shop and she had a drawing going…”
Sketchy. Very very sketchy, Conan thought, side-eying Mouri. What small shop would have a prize be an over-seas trip? “Please tell me there are return tickets,” Conan said.
“Oi, of course there are, brat!” Mouri growled, swiping at him. Conan ducked away with the remaining brochure in hand. “Ugh. Should have known this was too good to be true.”
“Well,” Ran said, always trying to put a bright side to things, “At least we get a few days to see China. And it’s really nice up here. Maybe this is still a good chance to relax. The brochure says they have tea ceremonies and meditation and music that you can take part in.”
“Let me guess, flirting with guests is also forbidden,” Mouri grumbled. “Please tell me there’s at least a hot spring here.”
“Nope, but there’s a cold spring,” Conan said, eying the map. A cold spring, flower and rock gardens, a dozen or so buildings, and, weirdly, an area just labeled ‘animals.’ Was it a petting zoo? Farm animals? Dogs?
“Who the hell would want to swim in cold water?” Mouri asked. He heaved a sigh and sat on one of the dubious-looking beds. “Ugh. Maybe I’ll just hole up here and catch up on my sleep.”
“But… We should take the opportunity,” Ran said. “You like music.”
“I like Pop music. With a place like this, it’s probably all traditional stuff. Maybe I’ll just hike down to the nearest town and stay there while you two enjoy the monastic life.”
“Otou-san,” Ran complained.
Honestly, Conan wouldn’t mind not having Mouri around for a while. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to endure his snoring. There had to be something here that would catch his interest, so it wasn’t like he’d get bored. If nothing else, there were probably some trails with a great view considering they were on a mountain. Maybe he’d go find some pretty sights and take photos for souvenirs. The Detective Boys would probably like that.
“Well, whatever we do, we should probably eat dinner here,” Conan said. “The timing seems pretty strict according to the notes.” The map had a bullet list of different numbers with descriptions. Each meal wasn’t more than an hour long, and breakfast was held at six in the morning. Conan hoped there would be coffee or having to get up that early was going to be hell.
Mouri huffed a sigh. “Fine, but if it’s miserable after a day, we’re leaving.”
Ran smiled and started unpacking their bags into the provided clothing chest. Conan took another look at the map. The trails looked like a nice enough way to pass some time. Although after all that climbing, he would prefer someplace to relax.
Well, there was a library listed. Even if they didn’t have a large selection of books in other languages, he could probably find something interesting there until it was time to eat.
“Ran-neesan, I’m going to go to the library for a bit.”
“On your own?” Ran asked, looking up from arranging socks to one side of the chest.
“It should be fine. If I get lost, I can ask for help. There’s a lot of people here.”
“Be careful then!” Ran said, letting him go like he knew she would. “It’s only an hour until dinner so don’t stay too long!” Mouri didn’t even look up from where he was flopped on one of the beds, an arm thrown over his eyes.
Conan smiled as he shut the door behind him. Now he could explore.
*o*o*
Wei Ying couldn’t say that the Cloud Recesses were his favorite place in the world. There were hundreds of nit-picky rules, it was literally in the middle of nowhere up a mountain, and the cell reception and internet speed both sucked. But it was also where his boyfriend lived, and between that and the fact that he’d brokered a deal to use their library for research even after his controversial theories on cultivation got him more or less excommunicated from the rest of the cultivating world went a long way toward making up for the drawbacks. The Lan had the biggest collection of cultivation texts, probably even bigger than Qishan Wen, not that they ever shared their knowledge with other sects. Wei Ying was willing to put up with rules, and working with tourists or clients so that he could keep working on his theories.
Did those theories have to get looked over by a council to determine if he could move on to practical testing? Yes. But most of them actually got approved, and the talismans alone were earning him a permanent place in the Lan’s stuffy academic hierarchy.
Talisman research was why Wei Ying was in the back corner of the library today, crowded in by tall shelves of stupidly old books and scrolls. The sort of books that were old enough that most of them were hand-written and bound in traditional styles. Only cultivators bothered to go back this far. Visitors, when they chose to go in the library at all, tended to stick with the more modern, mass-printed sections of the library.
Which was why it was noticeable when soft footsteps lingered near his aisle.
Wei Ying looked up from a text on the evolution of warding talismans in the last three hundred years to spy a child frowning up at the labels on the shelves. Probably wondering why there were so many shelves dedicated to occult and religious things. Or maybe not, Wei Ying thought, as the child muttered something that definitely wasn’t Mandarin or any other dialect that Wei Ying knew. So, foreign guest maybe?
“Are you lost?” Wei Ying asked in English, figuring that was the safest bet with a foreigner.
The child twitched in a way that would have been a jump-scare if he hadn’t clearly stopped the motion before it could fully start. Wide eyes framed with thick-rimmed glasses looked his direction. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. Accented English, but not Chinese accented, and not completely American either. Wei Ying had watched enough English television to hear that much, but like heck if he could place where in the world the rest of the accent came from. Being Asian didn’t necessarily have to mean he was from Asia.
Wei Ying shoved the musings of linguistics aside to size the kid up. Kinda scrawny, in shorts and a button-up that would fit in with the preppie civilian clothes some of the Lan wore. Definitely needed new glasses because those were so big they didn’t look like they were made for his face. “Just looking around?” Wei Ying asked since his first question hadn’t been answered.
“Uh…” The kid sized him up right back, lingering on Wei Ying’s long, messy hair, and the black ripped jeans he kept because they were so comfortable. “Yes. I was hoping to find something to read.”
“English?” Wei Ying asked. He pushed his research aside; nothing that wouldn’t keep for a bit.
“Mm, or Japanese.”
Ah, Japanese. That solved the linguistic mystery. “There is an English section, but I don’t know how much of it is children’s books.” If anything, the section was full of self-help books, meditation and spirituality guides, and a rag-tag collection of fiction books left by guests over the decades. The Mandarin language books had a whole section for kids in comparison.
The child wrinkled his nose a bit, like Wei Ying had given him an insult. “I can read adult books.”
“Uh. Okay.” In English? Wei Ying eyed the kid. Maybe he was just…a bilingual prodigy or something because most kids that little weren’t reading proper chapter books yet. Well, he could roll with that. “Follow me then, I guess.”
There was something unnerving about this child that Wei Ying couldn’t put his finger on. Not the requesting adult books; kids wanted to act older than they were all the time. It was more the way he moved, like someone aware of his body in the way kids weren’t, and how he looked around. There were a lot of children who’d visited—or lived at—the Cloud Recesses, and while the Lan kids were mostly polite and quiet, even they got easily distracted and fidgeted and all those other things kids did before adults trained it out of them. This kid looked more like someone who’d been on a few too many night hunts gone wrong, which wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that indicated a safe childhood.
Maybe that was why he was here though. Maybe someone had sent him along for the Lan’s special brand of ‘therapy.’
The little corner of foreign books was probably the most comfortable area in the library, in part due to it being the area that tourists used most often. There were chairs with actual cushions and Western style desks in contrast to the traditional seating in the deeper parts of the library. The lighting was brighter and it looked like a place someone could relax in instead of someplace only fit for hours of private study.
Wei Ying waved a hand at the shelves. “There isn’t many, but this is it.”
“Thanks,” the boy said, zeroing in on the nearest shelf like Wei Ying’s troublesome donkey would go for an apple. He skipped straight past the self-help, meditation guides, and art books, straight to the sad collection of fiction.
This kid was definitely looking at those books and judging them.
“…is this really it?” He wrinkled his nose at the spine of a paperback novel that Wei Ying had found very… evocative. Provocative? Hell, his English wasn’t good enough for the kind of prose in there. There was only so many times someone said the word ‘cock’ before he figured out that a chicken wasn’t involved.
“That’s really it,” Wei Ying said.
The boy sighed and picked out a well-read novel that looked like some kind of cheesy, themed mystery.
“You know, there are other things to do.”
“But only an hour until dinner,” the kid said, pulling himself and the book onto one of the chairs.
Oh yeah. Food. Hmm. Wei Ying could go to the dining hall tonight. Or he could skip and Lan Zhan would probably sneak food to him later. Eh, he was pretty sure he was getting to the interesting part in the book, where people truly started innovating with talismans. “Happy reading then,” Wei Ying said, waving as he turned back toward his study nook. The boy hummed distractedly, apparently already engaged with the novel. Good on him then.
Wei Ying went back to taking notes.
*o*o*
The library was huge, and it wasn’t what Conan had hoped. Between not knowing Chinese beyond a few words and phrases, the different meanings of similar characters, and not knowing how the classification system worked to even begin sorting out how things were organized, he was left with only a shelf’s worth of books to leaf through. Well, no, two shelves. But the other shelf was non-fiction, and even if Conan’s English was good enough to read novels, it wasn’t good enough for the sort of technical terms he’d be finding in most of those books.
For such a big library, it was honestly surprising how few people were in it. Conan had passed a few people near the entrance, and a few more tucked away in the stacks, but they had all been dead silent as they worked, making the library feel like a cartoonish stereotype where if he so much as spoke, someone would appear to shush him.
Thankfully, one person looked a bit more approachable in the back of the stacks.
The books there were older, some hand-bound and clearly showing signs of years of use. Not that Conan could tell what they were about. The man in the corner was young, with ripped jeans and dark clothing and paper strewn around him, standing out like a sore thumb in the pale neutrality of their surroundings. Not wearing the robes that some of the people were, or the modest dress of many of the guests, but clearly comfortable here from the way he sprawled in the chair and the number of books piled on his desk.
He'd looked up and met Conan’s eyes, spoken English first, and that was the only reason he felt he could interrupt. It felt wrong to interrupt the silent studiers, but not if he was being addressed first.
Conan was lucky that he spoke English—actually pretty good English, though maybe it wasn’t surprising considering that there were tourists here, and enough of them spoke English for there to even be a collection of English books.
No Japanese though. A few in French, or Russian, a fantasy novel in Spanish, and a couple that Conan didn’t immediately recognize the language, but no Japanese. At least he was proficient enough in English to enjoy a mystery novel, even if it looked predictable and had a tacky pun in its title.
Conan almost lost track of the time reading. The hush of the library was surprisingly peaceful, and the actual contents of the novel weren’t terrible. If the story was going where he thought it was, it might be a nice twist to the usual tropes. But the clock was ticking, and meals were only available for an hour. Resolving to finish the book later, Conan returned it to its place and stretched.
It was kind of nice to have a minute to just read. No cases, no homework, no small children at his heels or being self-conscious of how he acted for a bit.
Back to being a grade schooler, then. Ugh.
It was a few minutes past time to eat already, and Ran was probably starting to wonder where he was. Conan paused before he left, though, because the man that showed him the books hadn’t left yet either, and if he’d immersed himself in books again, he might not remember to eat. Not that it was Conan’s business whether people took care of themselves or not, but this person had been kind enough to spare a moment. Conan could spare one back.
The man was back to being hunched over the desk, frowning down at what looked like an arcane diagram in the book closest to him. The notes on the table had similar scrawlings with little offshoots of characters around it like they were commentary or something. What on earth was he studying?
Conan cleared his throat. The man twitched, leaving a streak of ink on his notes. Why write with a brush when there were perfectly useful pens or pencils? “Excuse me,” Conan said. “It’s dinner time. If you wanted to eat, you should probably go soon.”
“Mm?” The man messed his hair up even more as he ran a hand through it, strands pulling free of a messy bun. He blinked at Conan with a distracted frown. “What about dinner?”
“It’s the time the brochure says they’re serving it.”
The man looked at a backwards wrist watch. “Oh. Huh. Time flies.” He stretched, back popping like popcorn, and offered Conan a grin. “Thanks, kid, but I was going to skip it and have my boyfriend sneak me illicit food later.” He winked, like this was a secret, but considering Conan had just met him, he probably just told this sort of thing to anyone. “You should go though, since guests don’t have that option.” Ah, not a guest confirmed. “I recommend heavy use of any condiments on the table; the food here is bland as hell.”
With that, he gave a friendly wave and Conan was left pausing for a moment before leaving. Well then. Not a guest, allowed to access anything in the library from the look of it, and dating someone who had access to the kitchens, or at least a kitchen. If that person was a native to this place, it had to have been interesting circumstances that led to him dating a man that looked like the opposite of this place’s aesthetics.
*o*o*
The food was just as bland as he was warned. Conan picked at vegetarian fare with little enthusiasm as Mouri glowered down at his food like it personally insulted him. Besides the clack of bowls and chopsticks, it’s dead quiet too, because everyone was discouraged from speaking. Ran, at the start of the meal, had tried a positive “It looks very nutritious,” but even she looked like she was wishing for some kind of spices. The food would be perfect for a monk or someone recovering from starvation. Not so much for people tired and hungry after a long day getting there.
“Is this a prison or a monastery?” Mouri grumbled under his breath, pushing tofu and cooked greens around the thin-broth soup.
Ran gave him a warning look. One of the guests had already been stared into silence for breaking that particular rule and she clearly didn’t want the negative attention directed their way.
Conan gave up on the bitter greens and focused on his rice. That, at least, was cooked to perfection even if it hadn’t been cooked with anything to add a bit of flavor. The silence was boring, and with nothing to hold his attention—the food certainly wasn’t managing that—Conan turned to people watching.
The guests looked to be from varied walks of life, and from around the world. Surprisingly, only about half appeared to be Asian. How people from Europe, Africa, or the Americas had even heard of this place was beyond his understanding; Mouri hadn’t even found a web page for it. And yet there almost thirty visitors from the looks of it, not including Conan’s group. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious about why they were here, but Conan could guess that it involved a need for some kind of retreat from the modern world, or maybe some form of therapy considering some of the books in the library.
Which only raised questions for why Mouri had ended up with tickets to this place. This wasn’t exactly the sort of thing anyone pictured when they won a ‘getaway’ in a foreign country.
The guests closest to him were around college age, toeing the line of no conversation at meals by elbow nudges and exaggerated facial expressions that had each other biting lips to hold in giggles.
All except for one of them.
Conan forgot about his food entirely, focused on a girl at the edge of the group that kept glancing toward the door like she was waiting for someone to enter. One of her friends nudged her and she gave a grimace-like smile before going back to door-watching. She’d barely touched her food.
Conan narrowed his eyes as the girl’s neighbor whispered something to her, a response back, shared frowns and a glance at the door before a shrug and the soft hum of a dismissal. The cold stare of the permanent residents turned their direction. The girl didn’t even seem to notice, her worry now joined with frustration.
Something was wrong.
Of course something was wrong. When had he last been able to enjoy a trip without something going wrong? Conan sighed and started paying closer attention to the group and anyone looking at them. Statistically speaking, if someone was dead—it was practically a foregone conclusion with how his luck seemed to run these days—then they probably were done in by someone in the friend group. Barring the odd habits of serial killers, most murders were done by people who knew the victim. Sure, there was the odd random shooting or stabbing from a mugging gone wrong, an occasional hit and run car accident, or other accidental murders, but premeditated murder tended to be personal.
Conan really hoped that their friend was just running late.
*o*o*
Wei Ying finally had a breakthrough about a half hour later, finally finding a source that actually brushed on his research without condemning it wholesale. He was furiously scrawling notes and theories and ping-ponging ideas as fast as they came to him when the dull clang of a bell started somewhere on the premises. Not, he realized, the same bell for meal call or wakeup and curfew. This, resonating and repetitive, was some sort of alarm.
In the year or so that Wei Ying had been at the Cloud Recesses, he had never heard this particular bell. There had been incidents with visitors, an escaped ghost, and a bunch of cattle somehow getting all the way up the mountain, but none of them had ever triggered that bell.
Wei Ying put down his writing and left the deep stacks for the nearest window.
Outside, the distinctive white robes of Lan cultivators moved with impressive speed—considering running was forbidden—in pairs in all directions. Patrols. And coming up the path was a cultivator with a body, red staining white. Shit.
From this distance, it wasn’t clear if the body belonged to a resident or a guest, but the fact that they were being carried in someone’s arms instead of a stretcher probably meant that whoever it was had died. …He really hoped it wasn’t a resident. No offense to the guests, but he’d grown a bit attached to some of the people here.
This was probably way outside his allowed duties, but really, who could sit back when someone was dead? Wei Ying abandoned his work and headed toward the body. He could help. Surely someone was going to play Inquiry to figure out what had killed the person, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t find out more at the site. No one here might like the fact that Wei Ying wasn’t squeamish about sensing and interpreting resentful energy, but no one could argue that he wasn’t good at it.
He could feel threads of resentment as he got closer. They were taking the body to the clinic, probably to examine it for injuries and cause of death. However this person died, it wasn’t a good death.
“Hey,” he said to one of the power-walking cultivators moving his direction. “What happened?”
The man—Wei Ying really should know people’s names by now and yet—grimaced. “A guest fell off a cliff. One of the junior disciples spotted him while on patrol.”
“On one of the walking trails?”
“No.” The man gave a quick shake of his head. “A good ways off them, closer to the ward boundaries. Guests aren’t even allowed in that area.”
“An accident?” Wei Ying asked, already knowing it wasn’t with that kind of resentment lingering already.
“Yet to be seen. I think they’re planning to play Inquiry after everyone is escorted to their lodgings.” The cultivator shifted, eyes darting in the direction he was headed. “We’re doing a sweep on the off chance something got through the wards. Lan Qiren will direct you where you’d be useful.”
Without a goodbye, the man hurried away. Wei Ying frowned after him. Well, he wouldn’t be reporting to Lan Qiren. That would only get him stuck doing something boring and tedious like babysitting the rest of the guests when he could be actually useful investigating. Wei Ying cast a look at the path toward the clinic. Look at the body first, or the cliff? Hmm. The body wasn’t going anywhere unless it woke up as a fierce corpse and fought its way out. The cliff, on the other hand, was outdoors and subject to the whims of nature—or tampering.
Wei Ying wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found Lan Zhan heading the same direction. Alone, but who would order around the current Lan heir if he didn’t want to take a partner? Naturally, Wei Ying could fill that role just fine. They’d done night hunts together enough that it’s easy to fall into step.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said.
“Mm.” Lan Zhan tilted his head toward an area of the mountain that Wei Ying had never explored—it was a large mountain, and for all he liked to slip in and out of the wards sometimes on his own, it wasn’t like he’d explored everywhere.
“Inquiry?” Wei Ying asked as they stepped off the path.
“I will perform it on site. My brother will play to the body.”
“Ah, because the spirit could be either place.” Some souls stuck with their corpse. Others, especially people with violent deaths, frequently haunted the place they’d died in. Rarely, there were lingering traces in both places, resentful energy talking whatever path it could as it leeched into the environment.
Whoever retrieved the body left a marker charged with spiritual energy, and the closer they get, the more Wei Ying could feel the tingling pulse of it. The marker, he would admit with no little pride, was one of the talismans he’d made in recent years to aid night hunts. Yeah, there was always flare talismans, and modern tech was great for communication, but sometimes a hunt got interrupted or there were details that needed double checked at a later time. Having a marker made things so much easier to find.
There was the chill of resentful energy underneath the hum of the marker, subtle enough that most cultivators probably wouldn’t notice. Something so fresh, the spirit often hadn’t fully regrouped yet, hadn’t even had a chance to fully feel the impact of their unjust death. It made it less of a haunting here, and more of an echo, the malicious energy of whoever did the act twining in with the growing resentment of a spirit piecing itself toward consciousness. Wei Ying came to a stop by the marker talisman with Lan Zhan at his side.
“Bet you a bottle of Emperor’s Smile that it was murder,” Wei Ying said, looking at the sharp drop ahead. In spring, it might be a small waterfall, but without snowmelt, it was nothing more than a patch of rocky ground with a nice view—unless someone were to fall off the ledge and onto the jagged rocks below. The body had to have been flown out; this wasn’t a spot to easily climb from any direction.
“No bet,” Lan Zhan said. He pulled out his guqin and settled on a nearby boulder.
“But it would be such an easy win,” Wei Ying said wistfully even as he crouched down to examine the ground. Footprints, but it was hard to tell if they belonged to more than one person; they were all approximately the same size.
“I will buy you some later, no bet needed.”
“Ah, breaking the rules for me. It’s no wonder your uncle thinks I’ve thoroughly corrupted you.” Wei Ying snorted as Lan Zhan kept a perfectly unimpressed look on his face. “You love me.”
“I do.”
Wei Ying almost tripped over his feet as he stood up, sputtering. “You can’t just say things like that! There’s a maybe murder scene right there!”
“Hm.” The tiniest smile flickered at the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth before his fingers touched his instrument’s strings. Then it was pushed away, Lan Zhan’s whole bearing shifting to his task.
Wei Ying only knew a few phrases of the musical language, but he could appreciate its eerie beauty, the call and answer along the strings.
At any rate, something was answering. Time to do his job. Wei Ying took a breath, centering himself and his energies. People, things, could leave impressions. Resentful energy could gather in a touch, or an object. Here the energy seemed to slip in close to the footprints at the edge, almost like there hadn’t been ill intent until last moment. And yet the energy didn’t retreat with the footsteps away from the cliff either, like it appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly.
Wei Ying frowned at the scruff in dirt and gravel right at the edge. The slip of a foot. A bit of blood on a sharp rock jutting up near the lip of the cliff—maybe an attempt to catch himself? He’d have to see the body to know for sure. And below—
There was a lot of blood down there. A broken bone through the skin or a head wound. Maybe both. The rubble at the bottom was jagged enough that it could have been a quick death if the victim had fallen at a bad angle. Or maybe a good angle because the other option was a slow, agonizing death as he bled out.
There was resentment down there though, gathered in the blood, so it probably hadn’t been instantaneous. A quick death wouldn’t be this strong this fast. The victim must have had time to think of regrets or anger or the pain.
He pulled his sword out of the qiankun pocket sewn into his pants, stepping on it without bothering to unsheathe it. Suiban carried him down, its blade patient and level as they balanced a handful of centimeters above the blood. Ah. There, the impression of fingers scraped in the patch of sandy pebbles tucked between larger rocks. An attempt to move, maybe, but injuries prevented it.
Wei Ying glanced up at Lan Zhan, the sounds of Inquiry still plucking to life above him. …Technically Wei Ying wasn’t supposed to do what he was about to do. But technically no one explicitly said he couldn’t do it, just implied. Lan Zhan wouldn’t care so long as he was careful though.
It was a bit like Empathy, but not quite. There wasn’t any spirit before him to connect with or to direct the memories he was seeking, but there was blood and resentful energy, and that was imprint enough if someone knew how to access it. Wei Ying was very good at accessing resentful energy.
He touched a finger into the congealing puddle before him. It was already cool, sticky in the way blood could be, and not at all appealing to touch. Maybe five years ago that would have bothered him more. He’d seen worse than a puddle of blood—touched worse than a bit of blood—by this point in his life.
The resentful energy sparked when he reached for it, curling and clinging like an oil-slick mess, coating his finger and up his palm in black wisps of power. It pushed at him and Wei Ying did what good, righteous cultivators were not supposed to do and let it in.
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
i saw that you wanted to write more for wilbur so do you think you could do headcanons about what traveling with wilbur would be like? i think it would be so fun to go see cool places and go on hikes. like maybe going to stonehenge or giants causeway in northern ireland?? and traveling by train and shit too- that would be so cool dude <3
Around the world
Note: man I love this sm 😭 I’m a sucker writing for this man :) I decided to break this into parts mainly about the traveling (car, airplane, etc.) and then seeing everything with him and then overall
Reader: Gn!reader
Plane ✈️
- you make fun of him for not being able to fit his legs into the seat right
- Puts music in earbuds on his phone for both of you to share
- Takes 100 pictures of the view and they all look the same
- Has literally all the little things packed for you (gum, neck pillow, etc.) just so you can be comfortable
- Always making sure your as comfortable as possible
- Thinks you look adorable sleeping and takes a quick picture (not being creepy!) bonus points if your on his shoulder he melts
- Makes sure you get the best time on the plane
- Very gentle with you and points out the window so you can see the view
- “little baby man fell asleep :]”
Car 🚗
- imagine road-trips with this man-
- “HES IN YOUR BED AND IN YOUR TWITCH CHAT”
- Screaming until you loose your voices singing
- Stopping everywhere to pee or get food
- You both are very high that it’s actually scary-
- If the trip is long he holds you in the back seat and you both fall asleep in the car on the side of the highway (he probably don’t trust middle of nowhere hotels)
- All your little needs in his glove compartment
- Enjoys when you fall asleep when he’s driving he immediately turns down the music and puts something calm
Train 🚆
- hates the fact you both have to take multiple trains to get somewhere but doesn’t mind being with you
- You either sit on his lap if your tired or in general or your laying on his shoulder
- Loves making small talk so people can know to leave you alone
- Knows how sketchy people can be so tries his best to advert there eyes somewhere else that’s not you
- You both watch the performances or random things happening
- Aesthetic couple train pictures hear me out-
Seeing everything/overall 🗺
- come get this damn nerd
- He knows it all but really wanted to go see it in person
- Takes the best pictures for you and if one’s messed up he does it again he doesn’t care
- Loves exploring with you
- If on a hike you both decided to race
- Loves to spoil you and brings you to the best food
- Loves going to museums with you and exploring as he’s like your tour guide
- Those aesthetic traveling couple pictures are adorable
#dsmp imagine#dsmp x reader#dsmp scenario#mcyt imagine#dsmp#mcyt#mcyt x reader#scenario#wilbur x reader#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot#Wilbur
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
wren you want to click the link and read my fic so bad
I would but my tire just exploded in the middle of nowhere i'm in a sketchy hotel and my dog has diarrhea so I have other things I need to do first.
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Pencil, American Gothic and Paper! :D
Hiiii thank you !!!! Answering these for Roche Limit <3
Pencil: does this character have any "sketchy" habits? Have they ever broken the law? Do they regret it?
Halcyon (the protagonist) is a little rat of a man full of the desire to commit atrocities, so yes, absolutely. He's good at pickpocketing and he literally commits arson twice in one (1) chapter. At the start of Roche Limit he's painting little portraits of his neighbour's family so that said neighbour buys him cigarettes in exchange. He has no regrets and I am obsessed with him.
American Gothic: what's one relationship between characters in this work that you think people wouldn't expect? (i.e., how the people in American Gothic are not married, they're the painter's sister and dentist)
Uhm. Well I'm just gonna say Sodom and Gomorrah as represented by two hotels in the middle of nowhere and that don't really exist and also behave in weird incomprehensible ways. They are kissing and holding hands as we speak. And strangling each other also. Nobody ever said this WIP is normal !
Paper: Who do you feel is your most two-dimensional or underdeveloped OC? Why is this? (including those that are still in development/haven't been written about yet)
There's a character named Jessica and she only appears in few scenes but I do want to develop her properly because she could easily fall into the category of "female character who stands in the middle of the beloved mlm ship" and I wouldn't do that to her. She deserves better for real. Also the angel that possesses Halcyon, it's obviously an important character considering it's literally *inside* Halcyon(..'s head) for most of the story, but I haven't really developed it much, which makes me sad cause it's SUCH a little guy.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
//
#i had a dream abt dying my hair purple the other night and i feel like its a sign and currently all i wanna do is dye my hair ahfhks#twas a Weird af dream (as has been the norm lately for some reason)#so it was like. a person who kinda supervises me tested like a myriad of dyes on my hair#and dream me was like Not into it bc thsy aere too bright and for some reason sparkly#except on chunk that was like a nice wine/purple color#then for some reason she had to drive me to a seperate shop in the middle of nowhere to dye the rest of my hair#and i also had to do some crazy survey there#but like the color turned out pretty and my hair looked v good#thats the real point and reason i wanna dye my hair#anyway after that there was some weird bit abt checking into a super ridiculously lavish hotel with weird elevators#and there were sketchy things going on nd smth to do w/ like escaping and snow#ANYWAY my dreams have been CRAZY vivid lately and its kinda freaking me out
1 note
·
View note
Text
DAY 17: HOTEL ROOM [DEAN WINCHESTER X READER]
february writing prompt masterlist // february prompt challenge list
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Prompt: Hotel room
Warnings: Like one swear word
A/N: Oh no there's only one bed!! And they’re fake married!! I don't know how I've never written these tropes for Dean, but enjoy some fluff as I reminisce on Supernatural
"So this... This creature is going after couples?" you ask Dean, slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder and following him to the hotel.
"That's what Sammy said," Dean nodded, "So, just follow my lead okay, Mrs Winchester?"
You looked confused for a second before processing what Dean meant. Before you could make a snide, sarcastic comment at him, he hands you a new fake ID. And there it was, printed clear as day: Mrs Y/N Winchester. You rolled your eyes, and tucked the ID into your pocket.
"Whatever you say, husband," you tease, thanking him for holding the door of the hotel's entrance for you.
Looking around you, you feel a little out of place. This wasn't a dingy motel on the side of some forgotten highway in the middle of nowhere: this was a nice hotel. Like, actually nice. Usually, you weren't one to complain about where you stayed; hunting didn't exactly pay well, but you had to admit, you were a little giddy to stay in such a nice place. The walls were painted a bright cream, and there were gold accents- even a nice red carpet leading you from the entrance to the check in desk.
"This place is a little too fancy for us, isn't it?" you ask Dean, "You sure this is the place?"
"I know how to follow directions, dear wife," Dean retorts.
"I don't doubt that, husband," you reply, queuing up beside him to wait for the hotel employee to arrive, "This place is just above our budget."
"This is where the monsters been hunting: this is where we're staying."
"You're so romantic," you laugh, "Feels like our honeymoon all over again."
"An anniversary is it?" the hotel clerk, who had obviously been listening as he walked towards the desk, asks; he has an unnervingly fake smile on his face, but you try to smile back at him nonetheless.
"Yes-"
"-Yes."
You and Dean both reply at the same time.
"How long have you two been together?" the employee asks, his fake smile never wavering.
"Ten years," you say, immediately fulfilling your role as the doting wife, "We've known each other since we were young, but got together at a school reunion. Been bliss ever since."
Dean couldn't help but feel proud of the way you were describing the 'relationship.' It technically wasn't a lie- and, if he was being honest with himself, he had been obsessed with you since he was young. His feelings only grew stronger when you had both hunted together at a school reunion. (Not yours, but the story you told wasn't a lie exactly). Some part of him liked to indulge in this fake relationship- if only for a few days.
"Isn't that sweet?" the clerk gushes, "Tell you what, I'll upgrade you to the honeymoon suite. I just love couples."
You and Dean share a look.
"That would be lovely, wouldn't it sweetheart?" Dean says, gently nudging you.
"Yes, we'd love that."
~~~
You throw your duffle bag on the floor and look around the room. You sit on the bed and kick your shoes off, and remove your jacket. The room was almost a sickening shade of pink with red accents. It was... It was certainly a lot. Not to mention the amount of decoration that was heart shaped. It was a bit cheesy, yes, but you were just excited not to have to sleep on a shitty motel mattress.
Carelessly, you flop down on the bed.
"Dean," you call out, still laying on your back with your eyes closed, "Dean! Come feel how soft this mattress is!"
"If you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do is ask," Dean smirks wandering over to you.
He is soon speechless as he lays on the bed.
"Wow," he exclaims, "This is fancy. Do you think it has a massage setting?"
"Why? Do you need some time alone?" you laugh, opening your eyes and glancing at Dean, "The red and pink walls get it going for you?"
"Oh yeah," Dean replies sarcastically, "I love it when the walls give me headaches."
"I'll leave you alone then, lover boy," you sit up and throw one of the red, satin heart shaped pillows at him, before getting up and walking to the bathroom, "I'm going to take a shower. Not much work we can get done now. Keep an eye out for that clerk though- he was sketchy."
"Enjoy your alone time," Dean winks, making you blush but luckily he doesn't see it: he'd never let you live it down, "And, don't worry I've already put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door so that creepy clerk will stay away."
You shut the door and try to enjoy your shower, despite the fact that the man you had been basically in love with for... Forever was only the other side of the door. Pretending to be your husband, no less! You had met Dean when you very young, probably about nine or ten, and had enjoyed spending time with him. After your father had died hunting, your life changed and you didn't see Dean for a good long while. Not until you were almost twenty four. You didn't think you could care so much for one person, and yet Dean had you infatuated. He was oblivious (of course) and you had no intent on changing that, too scared of rejection, but that doesn't mean the thought of telling him how you feel doesn't cross your mind.
"Nice body," Dean teases as you walk out of the bathroom.
You are confused for a second, but then he gestures to your towel. Slowly, you look down, and then shake your head. The towel you were wearing was one of those novelty ones with a badly drawn fake, cartoonish female body on it.
"Thanks," you huff, "Close your eyes: I'm going to change."
"But, you're my wife-"
"-Dean, I will lock you out of this room, monster or not."
He shuts up and does as you instruct. You quickly put on your pyjamas, and slip under the covers, trying your best to not sleep too close to him. You were best friends, yes, but you hadn't shared a bed in years. Least of all when you were pretending to be a couple. A sigh leaves your lips and you close your eyes.
"Goodnight, wife," Dean murmurs turning off his bed side light.
"Goodnight, husband," you reply, not realising how hard your heart was hammering in your chest at the reality you were sharing a bed with Dean.
Although you had started off basically opposite ends of the bed, by the time your eyes opened in the morning, you were snuggling into Dean. Your legs were entangled with his, and you could feel the weight of his arms wrapped around you. Part of you felt like freaking out, pulling away and hoping Dean never brought it up. The other told you just to relax. Too tired to move, you decided to relax into him more.
Dean, who was already awake but faking sleep, was glad you chose the latter.
#february prompt challenge#february writing prompts#supernatural#supernatural imagine#supernatural imagines#spn#spn imagine#spn imagines#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester imagines#prompt#prompts#drabble#drabbles#imagine#imagines#reader imagine#reader insert#character x reader
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
I had the greatest idea
Ninja cross country road trip AU
-Zane drives because Pixal doesn’t want to. He’s the only other one they all trust to not wreck. Plot twist; they still almost wreck and then Pixal has to drive.
-Nya does the music. Kai complains about this
-Jay makes them stop at Every Single roadside attraction. Even the super sketchy ones.
-Cole Was in charge of snacks but he kept eating them all so that job was re-delegated to Lloyd.
-Nya, Lloyd and Kai are always fighting over shotgun every time they stop the car. 9/10 it’s Nya. She’s Pixal’s favorite. The other 1/10 is Zane.
-Zane spends the whole time listening to Audiobooks about birds
-Kai gets left behind at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere. He’s there for 2 hours.
-the car breaks down in a town with nothing but a small post office and a convenience store. They are stuck there for a week while Jay, Nya and Pixal attempt to fix the car. They sleep piled in the car because there isn’t even a hotel.
Just think of all the other shenanigans they’d get up to.
#ninjago#jay walker#kai smith#lloyd garmadon#nya smith#zane julien#pixal borg#cole brookstone#Roadtrip#ninjago au#ninja thoughts
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
Silver Lining
Summary: After poor weather cancels their flight into Vancouver, the group rents a car in hopes of driving into town before filming is set to start. Unfortunately for them, their bad luck follows them and their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere...
Pairing: Jared x reader x Jensen
Square: One Bed For Three
Word Count: 1,200ish
Warnings: language
A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo
________
“Got a room,” yawned Jared, stepping outside. You had your head leaning on Jensen’s shoulder and he rubbed your arm to sit up. “I’m still not convinced we’re not gonna die at this motel.”
“We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and our car is in the sole garage in this town. Our choices are sketchy motel or this bench,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s exhausted. She needs a bed.”
“I’m fine,” you said. You stood up and groaned, not appreciating the fifteen mile walk in the pouring cold rain with a heavy backpack on your shoulders. Jared grabbed your bag for you and you smiled, following him down to room number four.
“Alright. Maybe we won’t be murdered,” said Jared as you looked in the room. It was definitely up to a hotel quality and looked cleaned and smelled nice. “Uh, I’ll be right back.”
He moved aside and went back outside, revealing the single bed in the room. It looked like it was a king but one look over your shoulder and Jensen was sighing.
“Considering today’s track record, this is on par,” he said.
“What time do we film tomorrow?” you asked.
“Noon. Remind me to never suggest renting a car and driving for half a day when flights are grounded again.”
“No problem,” you said.
“S’all they got,” said Jared as he came back in.
“It’s fine. One of us can share with Y/N. The other can take the couch,” said Jensen.
“There’s no couch,” you said. “Just a chair and ottoman.”
“I’ll take it,” said Jensen, plopping your bags down.
“Dude,” said Jared.
“I’m shorter than you and Y/N needs a bed. It’s fine,” he said.
“Guys, take the bed. I just want to take a shower and go to sleep,” you said.
“Alright,” said Jared. You took your bag and walked into the bathroom, exiting fifteen minutes later to Jared and Jensen still fully dressed. You set your bag down and felt them both staring at you, watching you drape your damp bra near the heater.
“I’m sleeping in underwear and a t shirt. You try sleeping with wet underwire digging into you all night long,” you said.
“S’no problem,” said Jensen. He slipped out of his jeans and got down to his boxer briefs, Jared doing the same. Jared had on a pair of red and black ones whereas Jensen was sporting deep navy. You grabbed a blanket and headed for the chair, trying to not stare.
You glanced over your shoulder and glanced at their butts, lifting your gaze to catch Jensen staring at your own. He looked away fast just as you saw Jared look for himself.
“Oh my God. You two have literally seen me in a bikini before. It’s an ass in black underwear. You two good?” you said. They nodded and looked away, Jared crawling under the covers, Jensen laying on top. You sat down in the chair, frowning at how stiff it was.
“Y/N, there’s room up here,” said Jared.
“You got stunts all day tomorrow,” said Jensen.
“What are you two, my mother?” you said. You stood and crawled over the top of the bed, climbing under the covers in the middle of the bed. “Jensen, you gotta get under and share.”
He grunted but climbed under, giving Jared more of the comforter. Both of their backs were to you and you shut your eyes, falling asleep quickly.
You stirred a few hours later, Jared mumbling and turning a bit beside you. It took a moment to realize he was having a nightmare. You put a hand on his back and rubbed up and down, Jared turning all the way over and tucking his face into your neck. You reached your arm around him and smiled, feeling him calm down. Jensen shifted behind you and an arm draped itself over your waist, his knees brushing the back of your legs.
You didn’t say anything when he rested his forehead against your back and snuggled in closer. The bed was a whole lot warmer but you didn’t mind. They were both sleeping soundly and you weren’t opposed to a sleepy cuddle.
When you woke up to an alarm, you heard grunts from them both. Peeling open your eyes, Jared’s face was right next to yours, so close your noses were practically touching. Jensen rolled over and smacked his phone off, pulling you with him before he went back, sighing deeply into your neck as he burrowed back to sleep. He stiffened behind you and you watched Jared sit up suddenly, Jensen doing the same.
“Morning,” you yawned, looking up at them both. “I needed a good cuddle.”
“A cuddle?” asked Jared.
“Yeah. I like cuddles,” you said, hoping they both felt a bit more relaxed. “You don’t really get them when you’re single, you know?”
“Mhm,” said Jared. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom, Jensen swinging his legs over the side.
“Are you guys gonna be weird around me now?” you asked. He scoffed and shook his head, his back to you. “I should have just slept on the chair.”
You crawled off the bed and grabbed your bra, slipping it on under your shirt, finding your jeans nearby. The bed creaked and you felt Jensen behind you.
“Forget it happened,” you said.
“I like cuddles too,” he said. You smiled, Jensen picking up his jeans from the floor and tugging them on. You put on your own and ten minutes later, they were both waiting for you to walk over to the garage and grab the rental car.
“Hey, Y/N,” said Jared as you zipped up your backpack. You hummed and slid on your bag, both of them looking at each other. “About last night...we gotta tell you something we’ve been keeping from you for awhile.”
“We both like you,” said Jensen. “Like, more than platonic like.”
“We agreed to never say a word and to never bring it up to you,” said Jared. “But last night, and after the car breaking down and getting to town and everything yesterday, we felt like you deserved to know the truth.”
“I see,” you said. “I’ve known for a while guys, if I’m being honest. You’re not as subtle as you think.”
“Sorry,” they both said.
“Let’s head to the garage,” you said. “We have to get on the road.”
They were both quiet on the walk, keeping their distance behind you. You paused so they caught up, finding yourself between the two of them. After a beat, you reached down and grabbed each of their hands, feeling their stares.
“I don’t mind having two guys to cuddle with.”
They looked at one another and shrugged.
“Want to try?” you asked. You felt them each squeeze your hand and you smiled. “Alright then. Maybe this trip wasn’t so horrible after all.”
_______
#spndeanbingo#jensen x reader x jared#j2 x reader#fluff#au#spn rpf#supernatural rpf#poly fic#poly#spn poly
411 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw a post a little earlier about how you had made a cast for a mysterious hotel and I was wondering if you could make some prompts for the actual hotel, too? I'm trying to write a story featuring an unusual hotel, but I'm having trouble figuring out exactly what's unusual about the place.
I think you’re referring to this post (x)? If so, I didn’t give any of these a lot of cast members, at most I gave 1-3, but I tried to leave most simply as settings/situations with potential for a plot but no strong plot leanings. You also didn’t specify if you wanted real world unusual or fantasy/supernatural/sci-fi unusual, so I gave some for both.
Real World
Person A is a serial killer who inherits/acquires a hotel in the middle of nowhere, and plans to just kill the visitors who catch their eye, but the first target they lay their sights on turns out to be a human trafficker, and Person A ends up accidentally saving the young people who were being taken by the victim to be sold. So Person A decides to change their plans and take up vigilante justice. Now Person A runs it as a fairly normal somewhat shady seeming hotel, with the help of some of the people they have saved over the years from various bad situations, except they use the hotel’s sketchy appearance to lure in criminals who hurt other people and save their victims.
Person A runs a surprisingly upscale hotel in the middle of nowhere that hides runaways and gives them a place to stay and work. Underneath the surface, the hotel is a front for some criminal activity (money laundering, drug trafficking, weapons trafficking, etc.) which allows the very upscale and fancy place to stay afloat and provide for their employees without going under despite their location being weird and unlikely to get lots of business.
Supernatural/Fantasy/Sci-fi
Person A and Person B are an angel and a demon respectively who are working together to collect souls and fight over them, to limit their competition and give them a higher chance of getting the soul, so it benefits both of them. So they start a hotel that when people come to stay at for long periods of time and use their angel and demons powers to fight over the souls and try to sway the inhabitants and guests towards one path or the other.
Person A runs a hotel that exists outside of time and space, appearing to people when they need a place to stay, so visitors can stay as long as they want and they’ll meet people across time and space there.
Person A owns a hotel on the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead and helps souls transition and is easy work for reapers. Only those who are going to die soon can even see it usually. Person B is young and stops by the hotel, confusing the owners and the reaper guests. But Person B is actually dying (or already dead and unaware). Person C is a healthy living guest who can see ghosts and stops by to visit their ghostly ancestors for holidays and things.
Person A runs a hotel which caters to supernatural creatures visiting the human world, and offers jobs to supernatural creatures living in the human world, allowing them to work at a place they don’t have to hide. Person B is a runaway who ran away from their abusive step parent’s home after the death of their birth parent, who stops at the hotel and is very confused but when Person A realizes Person B isn’t a supernatural, but somehow found the hotel, they realize Person B might not be entirely human. Turns out Person B’s absentee parent who supposedly died when they were a baby was a supernatural being. So Person A offers Person B a job at the hotel, and offers to get them someone to teach them how to access their supernatural heritage and powers.
Person A runs a hotel at the end of the universe, where time comes to an end. Immortal people tend to stop there and just live out their eternity there. Every immortal person reaches the hotel eventually. Person B is the first mortal to reach it and every immortal living at the hotel is confused by this phenomenon.
- Mod Poss, the Professional Prompt Maker
Want more prompts? At the $10 Tier on Patreon, patrons receive 10+ prompts for every request!
#creative writing#writing prompt#writing#prompt#fanfic prompt#fanfiction prompt#story prompt#creative writing prompt#ficinsp#alternate universe#plots and prompts#Mod Poss#requests#science fiction au#fantasy au#Hotel AU#supernatural au#murder tw#killer au#criminal au#angel au#Demon AU#ghost au#Death AU#grim reaper au#death tw#illness tw
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Light at The End of The Tunnel
As I'm sitting here at my usual Starbucks, I stumbled upon an article in Buzzfeed on people witnessing death. Which is silly, since I should be researching for my final essay. After reading the article, I am reminded by my own near death experience, too many to count. However, of all the experience that I had so far, the one that I still vividly remember was the one when I was barely 7-year-old, when I almost drowned in a hotel pool. I was there with my then best friend, my younger sister, and our nanny. When Nadya, the name of my friend, asked to swim across the deeper side of the pool, I already felt hesitant. My swimming skill was sketchy at best, and there was no lifeguard present. Still, I said yes, and although it was okay at first, in the middle of our crossing, right at the deepest part of the pool, something snapped in me and I panicked. I started to drown, and water got into my lungs. I remember seeing my friend screaming for help from the other side of the pool, and my nanny as well. When the water got into my lungs, it was so painful to breathe. I told myself not to panic, but I was desperate for air, kicking the bottom of the floor as hard and often as I could. I remember thinking, God if I have to die right here, right now, please do it rightaway. I honestly thought that was the end of me. I even stopped kicking. And then out of nowhere, a man came rescuing me, right when I lost all the air in my lungs.
And when I was a bit younger, maybe around 4, my family was on a holiday trip to this small city, Penang. My parents were checking out of the hotel, and my sister and I were playing on the stairs in front of the hotel. Just like any other hotel, there was a slope near the stairs for luggage and whatnot. I remember walking up and down the slope, until suddenly my feet slipped and I fell face first on that slope. The first thought was pain, and then panic when I could not breathe. I tried reaching for my sister, but she thought I was joking. When finally the doorman saw me blue and choking, he called out for help, my parents running toward us. I remember again that feeling of not able to breathe. I truly, definitely was going to die. My lips were blue, my eyes unfocused. And then again, a man just got off the car, and when he saw the commotion, he told everyone to turn my body face down and insert fingers into my mouth to induce cough. He was mute, so it took some time for people to understand what he was trying to tell us. But again, I was saved, at the very last seconds. No one really knows, not even the doctors we went after that accident, why I could not breathe after the fall. Although it did not impact my lungs or ribcage, to this day I have this fear of slopes or slippery surface.
Although I managed to conquer my fear of drowning and actually love swimming now, I never really got over my fear of slopes and slippery surface. Sometimes I wonder why, but I don't really dwell on these stuff anyway.
To this day, I try my very best to help others, because really, the reason I'm still here, posting this is because of the kindness of those two men. I would 100% be dead had they chose not to care, something that I sadly see way too often these days.
I cannot help but wonder, does my existence make this world a better place? Does anyone feel blessed with me living, walking on this planet? Have I done enough with what I am given in my 32 years here, or does God regret giving me so much?
At the end of the day, I want to be the light at the end of that tunnel. I want to be useful, I want to help. I hope that God did not make a mistake when He decided that I should live longer.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Play Your Cards Right
Summary: Plus-sized hunter!Reader runs into Dean Winchester in a dive bar. Things get steamy.
Dean x Reader
2237 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ - smut
Note: I posted this on AO3 forever ago but I’ve decided to come to tumblr now that I’m writing more. I’m pretty proud of this one! Enjoy!
--
You sat heavily on the barstool, half a cold beer in your hand. Your head rested between the pointer finger and thumb of your other hand. You were a bit sore and a bit tired, but mostly, you were just happy that this hunt was over. This stupid werewolf in stupid Nowhere, MO had caused you more frustration that you’d like to admit, but you’d finally ganked the bastard.
Your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the dive bar for all that it was. The lights were dim, the varnish was peeling off the wood bar, the coasters were falling apart, and everyone was wearing jeans with holes not meticulously put there for fashion but by good, hard work. It was just your thing. Here, no one gave a shit that your hair was up in a messy ponytail, your boots had mud -- and shit, was that blood? -- caked on them, and your “more cushion” body was packed into comfy jeans, a tight tank top, and a loose, open flannel. Here, you could drink too much beer and stumble across the street to your sketchy hotel room and not worry about whether you were impressing anyone or not. Hell, you’d be out of this town by noon tomorrow and you’d never see any of these people or places again: just the way you liked it.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this bitch beat us to our case,” said a familiar voice as his solid form sauntered over to your side of the bar. Well, so much for never seeing anyone from this bar again: you were quite familiar with the hunter to whom that voice belonged. You lifted your head and turned to face the man addressing you.
“What a surprise, I’ve beaten Dean Winchester to the punch again,” you replied with a smirk. He draped his arm around your shoulders and motioned to the bartender for two shots of whiskey.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it, sweetheart,” Dean answered, feigning offense, “How have things been? Killed anything exciting lately?” You rolled your eyes a bit and readjusted in your seat. While you and the Winchester brothers weren’t exactly close, you considered them friends. There was something to say about the camaraderie (and slight competition) between hunters.
“Aside from the werewolf you were apparently coming for?” you retorted. The bartender brought over the whiskeys and Dean threw money on the bar. He handed you one of the small glasses filled with just-barely-above-bottom-shelf golden whiskey and held the other up. The two of you clinked the glasses together and tipped the god-awful-but-at-least-it’s-booze spirit back into your mouths and down your throats. Dean pulled another bar stool up close to you and sat down, his arm still draped over your shoulders.
“I fully blame Sam for miscalculating the lunar cycle,” Dean replied with a small laugh. “But maybe if I play my cards right, I’ll get to conquer a different kind of beast tonight.” He gave you a quick wink before taking a sip of the beer the bartender had set down in front of him. You raised your eyebrows and placed a hand on his denim-clad thigh.
“How good of a card player are you?” you asked with a hint of sass.
His lips curled to mirror your smirk as he replied, “I’m a damn good card player, and you know that.” He leaned in close to your ear: so close that his bottom lip lightly brushed your ear lobe as he whispered, “And that’s not the only thing I’m damn good at.” His hand moved to squeeze your thick thigh and he licked his lips. Your breath hitched in your throat a little. God, he was good. You’d certainly thought about fucking the smug hunter before, and you were really thinking about it now.
“Tell me more,” you responded, trying to play it cool. You took another swig of your beer, choosing to pretend that you could not feel your arousal beginning to soak your panties.
Dangerous lust flashed across his eyes. “I’d rather show you,” he said, each word piercing through to your core. The two of you had never done this before, and you were a little surprised at how quickly things were moving. You weren’t insecure about your chubby body, but you briefly thought about how you definitely could have dressed in a way that flattered your assets better. You shouldn’t have been surprised that you would pick someone up -- or, more accurately, be picked up -- on the night you had put zero effort into your appearance. You would’ve worn a different, tighter pair of jeans tonight if you’d known Dean Winchester would be strutting into the bar.
You nodded wordlessly as he gripped your soft thigh a little tighter. His other arm slowly dropped down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. His calloused fingers touched the soft bare skin of your partially exposed belly and sent electricity throughout your skin.
“I think tasting you is long overdue,” he whispered as he stood up beside you. Suddenly his arms were wrapped around your middle and his chest was pressed against your back. His hot breath caressed your neck and you were done for. You may be a hunter, but you were still a red-blooded human with needs. You stood up, threw twenty bucks on the bar, and turned to face the other hunter. You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, causing your tank top to lift a bit more, exposing the stretch marks that ran down your side.
“I’m not usually this easy, Winchester, but get your ass to my motel room,” you said into his ear. You placed light kisses along his jawline and he groaned softly as he pulled you tighter to him.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Dean replied. He grabbed your hand and all but dragged you out into the night air. You silently thanked every god in the book that your motel was just across the street as you felt the familiar hunger of lust pulse through your body.
The instant you closed the motel room door behind you, Dean had your back pressed against it. He grabbed your face roughly in both hands and his slightly chapped lips collided with your own. With one hand in his hair and one hand on his hip, you pulled him in close to you. You parted your lips enough to let his tongue tangle with yours, and you could feel yourself getting exponentially wetter by the second.
With his hand in your hair, he tilted your head back to more thoroughly expose your neck to him. Before you could even react, Dean was placing hungry kisses and light nips across the sensitive flesh. You let out a soft moan in response and he moved his free hand to roughly cup your ass. Wasting no time, your fingers found the hem of his shirt and lifted to pull it over his head. He barely missed a beat kissing and sucking at your throat as he allowed the t-shirt to be removed. He ran his hands across your collarbone to slide your open flannel over your shoulders, and you shrugged it to the floor. Next, off came your tank top, and Dean paused to take in the sight of you nearly spilling out of your favorite black lace bra.
“What?” you asked with a slight laugh, unsure whether you should be flattered or self-conscious of his stare.
“Nothing. You’re just even sexier than I expected,” he replied before crashing his lips into yours again. You would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of need pulsing between your thighs.
Continuing to kiss you hungrily, Dean ran his nimble fingers down the naked flesh of your side before moving to unbutton your jeans. His kisses moved from your lips, up your jaw, and to the sensitive spot behind your ear and he easily maneuvered your jeans off your hips. You could feel his rock-hard erection against your soft stomach and a shiver ran up your spine. You grabbed his face, kissing him harder, and swiftly directed him to the bed. The backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed and, in one fluid movement, he’d turned the two of you around and pushed you back onto the bed. Before you could even begin to sit up, Dean was gripping your jeans and panties and yanking them off of you.
“I told you I wanted to taste you,” he said as your head arched back in anticipation. Dean roughly grabbed your round hips and jerked you to the edge of the bed. On his knees, he moved your heavy legs to his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of just how wet you were. A lustful smirk danced across his lips before he moved to take your aching clit into his mouth. You gasped with pleasure at the sudden sensation, losing your breath as he moved his tongue across the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, Dean,” you panted as his mouth danced over your soaked, sensitive slit. His tongue swirled around your aching bud, and you could already feel your orgasm building. With each circle his tongue made around your clit, tension built in your muscles. Your thighs, rested firmly on Dean’s shoulders, tightened with pleasure as he stuck first one finger, then two, inside you. He bent his fingers toward him, stroking against the sweet spot inside your slick entrance as if beckoning for your climax.
“Come for me,” Dean growled, his face still buried in the wetness between your thighs. He anchored his mouth around your clit, his tongue flicking over the tip, and you felt the shockwave pulse through your body. Your thighs clamped tight around Dean’s head as your orgasm quivered through every muscle. He continued his pattern of licking and sucking as each wave of pleasure pulsed through you.
As your body began to relax, Dean ran his hands along the soft, warm skin of your thighs, then your hips, and your belly. He grinned as his every touch sent ripples across your skin. He stretched his hands across your tummy and up to your breasts as he slowly stood. You sat up, moving your legs from his shoulders to his waist, and hungrily pulled his mouth to yours. He let out a soft groan as you teased his lips with your tongue, tasting yourself on every millimeter of his mouth.
His hands moved up your back to unclasp the bra holding your large, soft breasts against you. He placed greedy, open-mouthed kisses across your neck. You could feel your arousal aching for more as he tossed your bra aside and began to tantalize your nipples. He rolled the hard nub under his thumb and you pressed into him. You wanted to feel his touch on every part of you. You ran your hand down his hard chest, sweeping subtly over his own nipples, before reaching to unbutton his jeans. You plunged your hand into his boxers to wrap your soft, nimble fingers around his hard, throbbing length. He bit his lip to stifle the moan and rocked his hips into your hand. You entwined the fingers of your other hand tightly into his hair, needily pulling his whole body against you.
Before you knew it, you were on your back in the middle of the bed and Dean was crawling up to meet your mouth with more hungry kisses, having hastily stepped out of his jeans and boxer briefs. His large hand held the back of your head, pushing you forward to his meet his violent kisses.
“I need you inside me,” you gasped breathlessly in his ear. His cock twitched in your hand as you brought him toward your waiting entrance. It wasn’t that you never expected to fuck Dean Winchester, but the sound of your name cascading from his lips as his erection plunged into you was almost more than you could handle. With one hand roughly on your hip, he delved deep into you and you could feel your breath hitch with each thrust.
Finding the perfect rhythm, your hips crashed into each other as he pumped his cock in and out of you. He took your right nipple into his mouth and tweaked it with his tongue. Your back arched, causing his length to slam into your sweet spot. Your body begged for release as the overload of pleasure and sensation ripped through you like lightning. His pace quickened as he plunged into you harder and faster. His teeth grazed your nipple and you gasped. Your fingernails dug sharply into his shoulder blade and he thrust into you deeper than you thought possible. Your walls spasmed around him as you came again. Your every pore filled with warmth as the waves of your high quivered through you. His grip on your hip tightened as he reached his own high, your name dripping off his lips as he bucked into you and spilled his seed into your tight core. Your hips moved together as you rode through the aftershocks together.
Dean flopped down beside you as your breathing slowly returned to normal. “I guess I underestimated you,” you said as he pulled you into his chest.
“I told you I was good at more than just cards.”
#dean x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester#dean x you#spn smut#spn fanfic#dean winchester fic#plus size reader#idk what to tag
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
request content: “Ooh im glad i found another genshin writing blogs :D may i request headcanons for Childe with sleepy s/o? Like very easy to fall asleep (mprobably accidentally) heheh. Childe is late on a date? Off she goes to dream land. Oh and if you dont mind... Please keep me anonymous.. Thank you(s) xD”
haha I promised myself not to simp for this sketchy man but…. hes too attractive so I forgive him
Ofc no problem at all sorry it took me awhile because I was asleep (I have been awake for far too long) anyways…..headcanon :3
𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐗 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲! 𝐒/𝐎
When I mean you fall asleep alot, you actually fall asleep alot. You tend to find yourself subconsciously going into slumbers. You could literally almost sleep anywhere whether it be in the middle of having a meal, in the middle of a shower, while reading a book and even in the middle of completely commissions (except for those that require fighting or you will definitely die).
No one is sure whether this is a condition that makes you sleep more often, a weird habit of yours or just simply because you are lazy, not even you know the reason behind this; you just feel tired most of the time. Although there will be days where you would feel more energetic than usual, you will still end up finding yourself falling asleep in the oddest of places.
You are just a cute big ol’ sleepyhead
Although Childe is usually very outgoing and flirty, he is a gentleman and is extremely courteous when handling with your situation. Being with him in a relationship is probably one of the most comforting situations someone can ever be placed in since he is very tolerant and he handled your sleeping situation very well. Even so, you would try your absolute best to stay awake during your dates as you genuinely want to be with him and spend time with him (though you will still somehow fall asleep near the end of the dates).
Honestly it’s an advantage and disadvantage at the same time as sometimes he would be scared that when you accidentally fall asleep, you might just fall and injuried yourself (especially when you fall asleep standing up). Other times he just thinks you are cute.
When he finds you in your accidental naps, he softly gazes at your sleeping figure before removing his scarf to put over your your shoulders then wrapping his arms around you, cuddling up to you, warmly embracing you to protect you from the cold(as long as the location is rather discreet and you fell asleep sitting down or laying down).
If you were found to be dozing off in odd places (like in the middle of a meal in a restaurant, leaning against a pillar in the middle of nowhere or in crowded areas), carefully he put you onto his back and positions your arms to sturdily wrap around him so that you can comfortably sleep on him for the time being as he proceeds to find a more comfortable place for you to sleep in whether it be booking a hotel, going back to yours or his place, finding a bench or vice versa.
Often times when you wake up from your naps, you will find him peacefully sleeping next to you. You couldn’t really blame him as he watched over you from your sleep for such a long time. Since you do not wake to wake him up by moving too much, you would start admiring his features: his fluffy ginger hair, his delicate and long lashes and his gloved slender hands that rested on you.
How did you even manage find such a beautiful man like this? (Why is Childe not real T-T)
Occasionally when he wouldn’t fall asleep before you wake up, you would wake up to a pair of blue eyes softly watching over you. His fingers gently drawing circles on your back before his hands travels to your cheek, caressing it.
“How was the nap, my princess?”
“It was good.”
“Still sleepy?”
“A little bit.”
Chatters were filled throughout the tiny cafe located in the corner of Liyue Harbour. It was a pretty interesting cafe filled with antiques. You were sitting alone in the corner, isolating yourself from everyone else in the room. There wasn’t much going on— just the pretty ordinary stuffs. People chatting, baristas brewing coffee, the waiters and waitresses rapidly walking around here and there taking customers’ orders, serving dishes and cleaning the tables.
Nothing much is going on.
Except he is not here
which was pretty unusual for him to be this late knowing that you would fall asleep rather easily.
It’s been about 20 minutes after the designated time and you were not entirely sure what was going on however you were determined to stay awake until he had reached the rendezvous.
Forcefully chugging down the third shot of espresso, letting its bitterness linger in your mouth, you patiently waited for the young Fatui Harbinger member to arrive. You weren’t really worried about him being late as nothing pretty serious could happen to him as he is one of the strongest person you know and he could protect himself easily so you just assumed that he was just caught up with work.
You were more worried that you might ruin the date by falling asleep.
You both couldn’t really spend much time together to go on dates as he was pretty busy with work most of the time and he couldn’t ditch it either as the Fatui isn’t known for their nice ways. You were rather understanding about his situation so you would just wait until he was unoccupied enough to go on a date with you.
Since this was such a rare opportunity to go out with him, you couldn’t let it go to waste so you insisted on indulging huge amounts of caffeine, hoping that they might prevent you from dozing off.
As much as you wished it helped, it didn’t.
You waited longer.
Longer
and longer.
An overwhelming wave of tiredness washed over you and no matter how many more sips of espresso you took in, it wasn’t going away. Your colouful vision were soon replaced with darkness. Slowly and eventually, you drifted off to sleep.
The bell hanging on the front door chimed as a young man frantically enter the store as if he was worried that someone might get mad. Eyes scanning for a familiar figure, he found you in a corner of the cafe, quietly resting with your head on your arms cushioning your cheeks from the hard wooden surface.
A gentle smile crept on his face as he noticed the stack of coffee cups on the table, knowing that you had tried your best to stay awake.
Walking towards the sleeping figure, his hands ever so softly caressed your cheeks before carrying you on his back, making your hands sturdily wrapped around him before walking out of the cafe.
He found a small inn around the area and rented a room.
While carrying you, he made sure his movements were careful and quiet so that he does not wakes you up.
He placed your delicate sleeping figure on the bed and pull the blanket to cover you up. He then gets inside the blanket and proceeds cuddled up to you, arms protectively clinged around your body.
“Sweets dreams, princess.”
Childe gave you a peck on your forehead before heading off to sleep with you in his arms.
*laughs* I think I am more in love with him now and this is so fluffy I KENNOT _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):
yes I managed to retrieve this back and I am honestly so freakin relieved rn (at least I posted something like I’ve promised T-T)
My first headcanon and sorry if it was overly detailed because ahem…. I like them detailed soo… yep.
Hope ya’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin childe#childe x reader#childe genshin impact#headcanon#request#fluff scenario#cries softly#s/o headcanons
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tw: alcohol mention, abuse mention, family death mention
Steve the Pizza Guy [Origins]
Steve grew up in a small urban town in Connecticut with his mother and partially his father.
He went through a lot of shit growing up, from his physically abusive sister, Rvby, his father dying of lung cancer on his 12th birthday, his alcoholic mother, to his very shitty and dangerous underpaid job at a run down pizza joint.
He struggled with depression and anxiety growing up, the teachers were always worried about him being separated from the rest of the class mates. He was extremely afraid of socializing, and his sociopathic sister pitting the class against him did not aid his journey to making friends.
He just at in the corner at recess and doodled about 1vAI Mario Kart and Sonic, sometimes he would draw something nice for his mom.
And this continued for the next 8 years of school.
His sister caused hell on his youth, scratching, hitting, punching, one time he was pushed down the flight of the stairs in his childhood apartment building. His forehead split open on a step and his eyebrow still hasn’t shaped up correctly.
Steve made a few friends here and there, but most moved away or eventually detached and made new friends, leaving him alone once more.
He tried convincing himself that it wasn’t his fault, that the way they looked at him with uncertainty had nothing to do with his fading friendships.
But being alone wasn’t so bad, in fact Steve started to enjoy the lack of company and eventually started isolating himself on purpose.
His mother encouraged this behavior during the evenings when drinking, and screamed at him until he was out of her sight so she could be left in the peace of her twisted emotions while drowning her sorrows.
He was 15 when his sister killed their mother, and he nearly escaped with his limbs still attached. [Details coming later today]
After the incident, he was forced to rebuild himself up from scratch. He now had nothing. No family. No job. No car. Not even spare change left over from his mother’s will.
He moved to the middle of nowhere near a distant relative, surrounded by dense woods that stared back at him in the dead of night. The town he lived in was nothing more than a pitstop for travelers and hitchhikers, and once in a while he’s lucky enough to venture in the sketchy woods to deliver pizzas to campers, or worse, sketchy hotel rooms.
He’d rather get mauled by a bear then get wrapped up with another homicidal maniac.
Little did he know all of his new friends had some sort of hitlist in their pockets.
#i guess steve would be an oc??#steve#pizza guy#oc#alcohol tw#abuse tw#alcohol#abuse#death#family death#creepypasta
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
roadtrip headcanons (requested)
i think they’d all have a different vibe and a different energy. i didn’t really rank them best to worst, i just explored what i think the vibe of a road trip with each of them would be like. i also let loose and slipped in some super self-indulgent personal hcs/one-shot au idea that is a WiP about ezra as an intriguing handsome stranger you encounter on your solo cross-country road trip. as a treat. s/o to @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for suggesting whiskey’s fav song.
frankie morales is the road trip king. no matter how spontaneous, frankie can whip a road trip plan together smoothly. he’s got a spacious truck, he’s got a cooler, he’s got the coziest blankets, he’s got the travel pillow, he’s got the camping gear, he knows the best scenic routes, he’s got the best classic tunes, he’s got the best snacks. he makes homemade sandwiches and burritos, wraps them tightly in tin foil. he heats up frozen pizzas, cuts them into slices. he stores it all in the cooler for lunches. when the supply runs out, you gorge yourselves on burgers and fries at roadside diners. but every morning he’ll stop in the nearest town to buy some apples, or some fresh fruit/veg of some kind. if they’re ripe he’ll get avocados that he’ll cut in half for you both to scoop out with a spoon to eat plain while you sit together in the bed of his truck in the shade of a lake you’ve stopped at for the afternoon. but he surprises you with your favourite junk food and snacks. he lets you borrow his cap if the sun is in your eyes; he’s got a spare, more threadbare one in the glove box. he’s low key done the research on the best places for stargazing; you lie back nestled together under a blanket, in the bed of his truck, gazing upwards; you listen as he describes the constellations, tracing them out with his finger.
max phillips. business road trips but max’s...condition necessitates driving at night only. liminal spaces. driving through the night, sleeping in business hotel rooms during the day, dust motes floating in the thin streams of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains you’ve pulled shut. you see incredible sunsets and sunrises from the highway. you also see some undeniably weird shit late at night on road trips with max. he watches you eat breakfast food at 2 am in neon lit 24/7 diners. while on the road he passes you lots of candy throughout the night; he stocks up from the hotel vending machines. but no matter how much caffeine and sugar he tries to fuel you with, sometimes you’re lulled to sleep by the peacefulness. you nestle your head against max’s shoulder; it’s not the most comfortable position to drive in but he can’t bring himself to readjust and shift away from you. solitary brightly lit gas stations that are like an oasis of light breaking the pitch darkness. the two of you feel utterly alone sometimes; the world has shrunk down to only you, max, in this car, driving along this empty, dark stretch of road, a blush of purple on the edge of the horizon signalling the dawn.
based on how oberyn canonically took his daughters to explore an abandoned holdfast, i think his road trip energy would be all about the journey and not the destination. road trips with oberyn and ellaria would be meandering and adventurous. sometimes you’re riding shotgun and sometimes you’re sitting in the backseat with ellaria laid out and napping beside you, sun hat dipped down covering her eyes, her long legs stretched across your lap. if the three of you come across a motel you enjoy he’ll feel no urgency to leave; the days blur together and soon you’ve spent a week soaking up sun by the pool and sleeping in late entangled together in a pile of limbs after long passionate nights. day by day you may not even travel very far; he wants to stop and explore. hike amidst rock formations, swim in hot springs, explore the local museums; whatever catches his or your fancy. if he sees a billboard on the side of the road advertising local caves, or a petrified forest, or hears rumour of nearby ghost town that’s all but disappeared off the map, you’ll suddenly find yourselves veering off down small country roads, hours from the highway, seeking out pleasure, adventure, mystery.
marcus has a hilton rewards card so you’re staying at hilton garden inns every night. clean sheets. comfortable beds. complimentary breakfast. it’s very pleasant. middle class fancy. holds out his hand for you to drop some snacks into his palm so he can remain focused on the road while you’re both munching. let’s you curate the spotify playlists.
roadtrips with javier are always last minute decisions to just take off, head to a gorgeous but isolated beach you’d heard about that’s a few days from here. he doesn’t get many opportunities for long stretches of time off, so when he does you don’t hesitate. you might not even wait for a rational time to leave. it’s midnight and you guys just speed off into the darkness. you just threw some essentials into a bag, jumped in his jeep, and booked it. you gotta buy toothpaste and toothbrushes at a gas station, and you borrow javi’s deodorant stick because you forgot yours. greasy fast food containers, half-empty cigarette packs, and snack wrappers litter the dashboard. his aviators perched on his nose, one hand resting on the wheel, the other curled around your thigh, javi on a road trip is relaxed. he’s leaving all his burdens, his worries, everything weighing on his chest, all of it, behind him. literally, the more distance you guys put between yourselves and where you were, the more uplifted his spirits. when your favourite song comes on the radio, and you’re shimmying in your seat, he can’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze flicking between you and the road. he sings along under his breath, bobbing his head almost imperceptibly and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a slow smile spreading across his face.
whiskey pulls up to your house at 5 am on the dot, the obnoxious custom sound of the horn of his bronco rattling the windows and scaring the birds out of the trees lining the street. country music jams ONLY. you argue over his taste in music; does he enjoy being a walking cliche? he will not accept any song that doesn’t have a twang to it. he’d be an aux cord hog if he knew what an aux cord even was. so much for your favourite spotify road trip playlists. “spot fly? spot what fly, where?” still has mixtapes he made himself, the same ones he’s been playing since forever. forces you listen to all his favourite songs, the ones he knows all the words to, while he obnoxiously sings along and ignores your eye-rolling. but he doesn’t ignore how your feet start tapping absentmindedly to toby keith’s ‘whiskey girl’. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that quickly becomes a broad grin as he reaches over to smack your thigh, laughing he’ll make a country girl of you yet. startled out of your daze, you vehemently deny you weren’t enjoying the song, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. he insists he knows the best places to stop, which means you always end up driving far off the highway to some little mom and pop diner that has killer apple pie for lunch. in the evenings you always end up in some honky-tonk bar that’s joined to a motel and yes, there’s line dancing, and yes he manages to twist your arm and convince you to join in.
ezra…..as a man who’s floated from planet to planet, following jobs and leads, for the better part of his life, he’s found himself smooth-talking his way into being a lot of people’s unexpected travel companion out of necessity over the years. road trip ezra is on the run from someone or something; maybe the law, maybe not. all you know is this beautiful, mysterious stranger you met under dubious circumstances somehow, with his roguish grin and drawling accent, his kind eyes and eloquence, convinced you to let him ride along with you. you ran into him in the grungy diner attached to an even grungier motel in some desolate nowhere town. you recognized him; he’s unmistakably the lone figure on the side of the dusty road, his thumb stuck out, that you drove past yesterday. you’d driven past but that blonde streak had been unmissable and you won’t admit it but you’d felt his gaze on you long after you’d left him in the dust. ezra’s endless chatter on the road isn’t unwelcome; he knows seemingly innumerable facts about local folklore, flora, and fauna, and he never seems to be depleted of stories. you’d made the conscious and contrary decision to make this cross-country road trip alone, rebelling against a lot of cautionary advice, but somewhere along the way loneliness had creeped in under your skin and settled there. this handsome stranger may have an edge of danger to him but later when he’s bringing you to heights of ecstasy in a motel room you won’t give a damn.
maxwell lord flies everywhere in a private jet. the worst.
din djarin’s entire life is basically one long never-ending road trip. but in space. i figure earth-bound din on a conventional road trip would basically be how we see him: no nonsense. no frivolities. no music; travels in total silence. gets where he needs to go. stops for soup, as needed. stops for repairs, as needed. stops to work an odd job with some really sketchy people for some gas money, as needed. din’s road trip energy would be like that john mulaney joke. you’d see the mcdonalds sign lit up and shining in the distance and plead for him to stop so he’d pull into the drive-thru, order one black coffee and keep driving. except if you’ve got the baby with you; he gets a chicken nugget happy meal for the kid. he’s a good papa! and of course you’d get whatever you wanted too, he provides and cares for his loved ones after all.
SEND ME ANY QUESTIONS/HC PROMPTS/REQUESTS YOU HAVE
#pedro pascal x reader#javier pena x reader#ezra prospect x reader#frankie morales x reader#agent whiskey x reader#oberyn martell x reader#frankie morales headcanons#javier pena headcanons#ezra headcanons#agent whiskey headcanons#oberyn martell headcanons#all the boys headcanons#headcanon requests#fleetwood writes
163 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cudjunaught
Cudjunaught
wawrowicz
Jakub Wawrowicz
skepsiss
Dungeon Deviant
yourlocalartsonist
LeoSimp (she/they)