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aaagustd · 1 month

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room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parents Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way.

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's departure.

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs.

His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he tends to enjoy a nippy pre-spring breeze.

When he approaches the exit, his energy is almost completely drained. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge, and the wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely have him alert.

Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idly while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public.

Only authorized staff are allowed on the premises. Still, even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Fortunately, most of the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless. However, he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position.

Sport's 5 comprises five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. These are mainly retired sportsmen and women who still love the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his input and opinions, and his firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see.

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. It can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car, wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start. The sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention, and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With only headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow, and they aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he.

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he exits his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days.

Still, everyone is captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less about his appearance. The real attention grabbers are the wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it offers.

He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count the number of occupants in there on one hand, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He wants to spend only a little time here, so he makes his way to the bar.

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you will only find in a few places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me," he replies.

With a slight nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink.

While Jungkook waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after its owner dropped it there.

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low-cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran, sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable.

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That's it for me.."

He places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushes it toward the woman behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, instantly replacing it with a new one.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Once again, the number is unknown.

Jungkook intends to ignore it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh.

He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"Look, I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

There is a long, dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately, his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

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AU-gust, Day 4: Runaway

My Little Runaway (5+1)

In the aftermath of the “earthquakes” – Wayne doesn’t buy that government bullshit for a second, earthquakes his ass – Hawkins becomes entirely uninhabitable. And said United States government, out of the goodness of its heart, deigns to relocate all of its remaining citizens to one of the nearby towns in Indiana (except for Eddie and his friends that got all mixed up in that bullshit Wayne still doesn’t fully know about; all of them get relocated to Illinois, Wayne included.)

And it's nice, in the immediate aftermath, having all of them around, Jim and Joyce and those kids. They make Eddie come to life in a way that Wayne had worried he’d never see again during those first few days in the hospital. It’s nice having other adults to talk to, who understand the circles under his eyes, who wake up alongside their own kids when they start screaming. Hell, it’s even nice living next to the Harrington’s boy – Steve, who looks just like his father yet couldn’t act more different. Steve, who shepherds around the kids and that girl with the short blonde hair without a complaint.

Steve, who is starting to spend a lot of time in Eddie’s bedroom these days.

So despite the hullaballoo and pain it took to get here, Wayne is grateful that they all live so close, that their houses are all in a row on that sunny suburban block. He’s grateful to have a house, with neighbors that are actually his friends. And he’s grateful that when Steve and Eddie do start dating, when Eddie is all but moved into Steve’s small house next-door, that he’s still close enough to see his kid every day.

(At least, he’s grateful for it at first.)

1. The Lawn Incident

The first time it happens, they aren’t dating yet.

“WAYNE!”

Wayne startles at the sound of Eddie’s shout as he sprints through the front door, screen shutting behind him with a loud bang.

“What? What is it?!”

The government is after them. That kid from Hawkins is there, he’s got a gun. Eddie’s hurt, he’s bleeding, he’s –

“Get me away from him!” Eddie screeches, gesturing at the door he just ran through. Wayne grabs for his rifle (the one he keeps next to the door just in case) and runs forward, expecting to see a mob on his doorstep –

There’s no mob.

There’s no sign of anyone. Just Steve Harrington mowing Claudia Henderson’s lawn across the street, shirtless –

Wayne sets the gun back down by the door and turns to shoot Eddie an unimpressed look.

“What? What?! Didn’t you see that? He’s trying to kill me!” Eddie pants, peering out the window and ducking as Steve turns. He sees Wayne and waves.

“He’s not the one you need to worry about killing you, boy.”

Wayne leaves Eddie to his moaning about the boy’s physique and tan and sweat and heads to the kitchen. (Surely 10 AM isn’t too early for a beer.)

2. The First Date

Wayne’s honestly grateful that the Harrington boy moves faster than his own nephew. If it was up to Eddie, he’d be pining for years. Steve, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to invite him to dinner the next time he saw Eddie after The Lawn Incident. And he has the insight to plan their dinner date for the following day, meaning Eddie only has twenty-four hours to work himself into a tizzy.

(Granted, that’s plenty of time for Eddie to accomplish that, but still.)

Anyways, Wayne has to sit through Eddie parading across the living room in various band shirts of varying quality before Eddie finally decides on the one he’d tried on first (Iron Maiden, and Wayne doesn’t have the heart to tell him that maybe a grinning skeleton isn’t the best idea for a first date but hey, the Harrington boy already knows what he’s getting into), and Eddie’s debating the merits of sneakers versus boots when the doorbell rings.

Eddie spins around so fast to stare at Wayne that Wayne has to stifle his laughter. “He’s here!”

“You gonna get the door then, or are you just gonna let him decorate the porch?”

“Right, right,” Eddie mutters, first to Wayne and then to himself. Throwing his shoulders back, he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the front door. Wayne watches as Eddie nods to himself once, twice, and pulls the door open –

And then just stands there, blinking at the Harrington boy, before slamming the door in his face.

“Eds? Everything okay?”

Eddie whips around and backs up against the door, pale like he’s seen a ghost. He tries to whisper something to Wayne, but Wayne can’t hear it. “Sorry?”

“I said HE BROUGHT ME FLOWERS!”

“Are you gonna let him in and get a vase or – ”

“Huh? Oh, SHIT - ” Eddie turns back around and throws open the door. The Harrington boy is standing there with an amused grin on his face that only grows wider as Eddie starts babbling, snatches the flowers out of his hand and makes a break for the kitchen, leaving Wayne and the kid to look at each other.

“He’s a little excitable,” Wayne finally breaks the silence, and the Harrington boy laughs.

“I know. I like that about him, though.”

Wayne lets himself finally smile at the Harrington kid – Steve. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

3. The GED

“Wayne, you gotta hide me!”

Wayne barely has time to set his coffee down before Eddie is sliding into the living room and diving behind the couch. “Oh? And what’s the emergency today?”

Eddie pokes his head up from behind the chartreuse couch cushion. “Wheeler’s gone crazy, Wayne! Do you know how many flashcards she has?”

“More than a few, I’d hope. Your test is coming up next month.”

“They’re color-coded,” Eddie hisses. The doorbell rings and he dives back down, making a meep sound.

Wayne rolls his eyes and stands up out of his rocking chair. “I guess I’ll get the door.”

“NO NO NO - ”

He opens the door and Steve is standing there, alongside the older Wheeler girl and Steve’s friend Robin. “Wayne,” the Wheeler girl greets him with a tight smile, and then she’s passing him and powerwalking into the living room, Robin at her heels. (And judging by the immediate hollering Wayne hears, she finds Eddie relatively quickly.)

“Evening,” Wayne greets Steve over the din of voices in his living room. “I take it studying’s going well?”

The sound of something breaking cuts Steve off before he has a chance to reply, and Steve shoots a nervous look at Wayne. “It’s, uh, it’s going. I think Nance might have met her match.”

“Mmm,” Wayne hums, and then something else crashes onto the floor and ya know, Wayne didn’t need to watch Bonanza tonight anyways.

“I heard Hopper got some new IPAs from Wisconsin?” Steve offers, wincing as the sound of Eddie and Wheeler arguing meets its crescendo.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

4. The Fight

Wayne’s not expecting there to be any lights on when he gets home from the shop that day; Eddie had said something about an anniversary dinner with Steve, something about six months of dating, so it’s a shock to walk through the door and see Eddie swaddled under a blanket, eating ice cream while watching The Thing.

“Everything okay, son?”

“Of course! I mean, what would I have to be upset about?” Eddie snaps, forcefully digging his spoon into the Chunky Monkey.

“Right,” Wayne says, and then slowly makes his way into his bedroom where he makes a call.

“Eddie, please, I just want to talk - ”

“Sorry, son, it’s just me.”

A choked-up Steve sighs over the phone. “Hey Wayne.”

“Hey, kid. You mind telling me why Eddie’s on a mission to clean out Ben & Jerry’s tonight?”

Steve sniffles. “I asked him to be my boyfriend. Like, officially.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Eddie assumed we already were, which is bullshit because I asked him, like, after our fourth date and he said no, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be ‘Steve Harrington’s Boyfriend’ or whatever but apparently it was a joke and, I mean, it’s not like I’ve been dating anyone else but I just thought - ”

“That he meant what he said, right,” Wayne huffs out a breath. “Let me go talk to him for a bit, okay son?”

“ ‘kay. Thanks, Wayne,” Steve replies quietly, and then he hangs up the phone. Wayne takes a moment to look at the ceiling – Lord, he loves his kid, but this is not what he wanted to be doing on his Friday – but he heads back into the living room anyways and turns off the TV.

“Hey!”

“Son, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what you said to Steve, that’s what.”

Eddie grumbles, stabbing his spoon through the bottom of the ice cream carton. “You’re on his side then?”

“Hey, you’re my kid. I’m always gonna be on your side. But that means sometimes I gotta tell you when you’re in the wrong and right now, son, you’re in the wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back against the couch with a sigh. “It’s just – he should have known!”

“Eds, we both got a bit of that Munson-meanness in us. We both know that sometimes our jokes don’t sound like jokes. How was your boy supposed to know that if you didn’t talk to him about it after the fact? He can’t read your mind, kid.”

“I know, I know, I fucking know!” Eddie scrunched his face up and threw the empty ice cream carton to the side. “It’s my fucking fault and I just – I hate that he thought I was just trying him out for six fucking months, as if I’d actually do something like that to him!”

“Well,” Wayne sighs, “then it sounds like both of you let your own shit get in the way of things. And the only way you can fix it now is if you talk it out.”

“And say what?”

“That it was a stupid joke and that you’re not the sort of person who’d treat anyone that way. And for the record, kid, I think he knows that. He might be gone on you, but he’s not the type of guy who’d stay with someone who treated him badly.”

Eddie bites at his lip for a little bit. “Okay. I’m gonna go talk to Steve.”

“Good,” Wayne nods, and then Eddie is fast-walking to the door –

And he still has Wayne’s blanket.

“Bring that blanket back!”

“Yes, Wayne.”

“And some more Chunky Monkey!”

“Yes, Wayne!”

(Wayne’ll be lucky if he sees either in the next year.)

5. The Game

It’s a perfect fall Sunday; a cool breeze flows in through the open window, Wayne has a cold beer and a new can of peanuts in front of him, and the Colts are starting as receivers for the first playoff game of the season. He has four blissful hours of peace in front of him, just him, his football team, and –

“WAYNE!”

Wayne groans as Eddie slams into the house. “WAYNE, I need – no, no, no, WHY? You’re watching the game too?!”

“It’s the playoffs, son,” Wayne says. Or, rather, he tries to say; a whole stampede of footsteps follow Eddie into the house and suddenly Wayne’s surrounded by his kid, six teenagers, a pre-teen and the Corroded Coffin boys (who were in town for a visit).

“Whatever, he can watch the game Eddie, we just need a table - ”

“ – grab the extra chairs, we can get it set up - ”

“Wait, wait, wait, set up what exactly?” Wayne asks but the teens have scattered, running to all ends of his house to set up something at his dining room table and – ah, yes. Their dragon game.

“Really, son?” Wayne asks as Eddie walks by and snatches a couch pillow. “Can’t you do this at your house?”

“I promised Steve that he could have the house if his team made the finals or whatever - ”

“The playoffs, Ed.”

“ – yeah, that’s what I said, but we need to finish up this campaign before Jeff and Gareth go back to school and - ”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wayne scoops his beer and his peanuts up and heads for the door.

“ – only six hours or so and – hey, where are you going?”

“I’m running away,” Wayne replies drily as he shoots Eddie a final wave. “Steve has a bigger TV anyways.”

Eddie lets out a theatrical gasp, but Wayne is too far away to hear whatever else he has to say.

(Steve does have a bigger TV. And Jim and Charles are fans, too. Maybe they have more of that IPA.)

+1 The Proposal

Wayne’s used to it by now, the sound of his front door slamming shut. It usually signals that Eddie’s in one of his moods, or is excited to share something about the store or Steve or their brand new puppy – Strider, because his kid is a nerd – or because it’s been seventy-two hours and at that point Eddie usually feels the need to make an entrance to check in on Wayne because it’s rare these day that they go three days without at least checking in, but when Wayne goes to check the door, it isn’t Eddie standing there.

It's Steve, and he’s panting.

“Steve? You okay, son?”

‘Yeah, yeah,” he nods, “I just – I don’t know how much longer I can put it off.”

Wayne feels warm all the way in the cockles of his heart. “It’s just ‘til this weekend, son.”

“I know! But Eddie’s so smart,” Steve complains, running his fingers through his hair, “he’s so smart and he knows something’s up and I’m trying not to act weird but because I’m trying not to act weird then he knows that I’m acting weird, and I’m afraid he’s going to pull away again and I just – we just keep having moments where I want to tell him and I keep having to stop myself and I don’t know if I can wait any longer – ”

“Then don’t.”

“ – and I – what?”

Wayne shrugs. “If you don’t want to wait any longer, then don’t.”

Steve looks lost. “But I – I just want this to be perfect. Eddie deserves something perfect.”

“Kid, you are his something perfect,” Wayne replies, and Steve flushes bright red. “You could ask him while he’s on the shitter and it’d be perfect because it’s you.”

“You really think so?” Steve asks shyly. “I mean, not that I’m going to ask him when he’s going to the bathroom - ”

“You probably could do a little better than that,” Wayne agrees, and the two men are laughing when Eddie bursts into the room behind them.

“WHAT is going on here, hmm?” Eddie exclaims.

“Eddie,” Wayne starts, trying to stop whatever monologue is coming but Eddie cuts him off.

“No, Wayne, don’t try to tell me something isn’t going on because something is going on and you,” Eddie says, turning to point at a bright-red Steve, “you are being incredibly suspicious right now and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that you keep running every time we’re in the same room because you don’t want to be with me anymore but that can’t possibly be true because I woke up with you - ”

“EDWARD ANTHONY MUNSON,” Wayne interrupts, completely unwilling to hear whatever scandalous thing was going to come out of Eddie’s mouth next, but it turns out he didn’t have to be the one to interrupt Eddie after all because Eddie has stopped talking entirely. He’s just standing in Wayne’s living room and gaping at Steve.

Steve, who is kneeling on Wayne’s shaggy carpet, a black ring box in his hand.

Wayne’s throat tightens up as soon as he sees the tears lining Eddie’s eyes. “Steve?”

“I was going to wait until next weekend,” Steve starts shakily. “I had a whole plan. I was going to take you to Metallica next weekend and wait until they started playing our song - ”

“Nothing Else Matters.”

“ – right, ‘Nothing Else Matters,’” Steve replies, his own eyes swimming but he’s beaming at Eddie, he’s smiling up at Wayne’s son and shit, Wayne’s going to need a handkerchief himself, “and then I was going to slide this ring onto your hand and – I know that we’ve only been together a year, I know it’s really, really fast – ”

Eddie’s half-laughing and half-gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face and collecting in the corners of his smile.

“ – and I know that it’s only for us, really, but being with you – this past year has been the best year of my life and maybe it makes me selfish, but I want the rest of them, too. I want them all with you, Eds. Will you - ” Steve swallows, bracing himself, “would you do me the honor of being my not-at-all-lawfully-wedded husband?”

Eddie nods and gasps and shouts out the word “YES!” and then he’s throwing himself on top of Steve, laughing and crying together and kissing and then Steve is sliding the ring on Eddie’s finger – a small black diamond with a silver band, one that Wayne had helped Steve decide on out of four possible choices – and then they’re kissing again and murmuring words of love into each others’ mouths and the moment is everything Wayne has ever wanted for Eddie but if Eddie keeps kissing Steve like that it is going to quickly become something Wayne doesn’t want to see, so he interrupts.

“Congratulations, sons,” he says, and then Eddie is jumping up and running in Wayne’s arms, laughing and jumping and asking if he knew and if he wants to see the ring and if Wayne knew it would ever be possible for Eddie to be this happy.

“Oh, I knew,” Wayne replies with a sly grin. “Knew it the day you ran away because you saw him mowing Claudia’s lawn shirtless.”

“Hey!”

“Aww, my little runaway,” Steve says, hugging Eddie from behind and pressing a smattering of kisses against his cheek. “Just as long as you let me run away with you from now on.”

“Deal,” Eddie says, turning to smile at Steve and yeah, Wayne can give them a few moments while he digs out the IPAs. (They’re not champagne but hey, they’ll do.)

(And having Steve as a son-in-law? Yeah. That’ll do too.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #wayne munson #steddie fix it fic #steddie fluff #august fanfic challenge

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dramaticcrow · 1 month

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(Eng Prompt List)

Day 1: Moon and Sun | Space AU | Royal AU - “My Missa”

Day 2: Vampires | Mermaids | Gods - “I'll be here when you're ready”

Day 3: Mafia | Past lives | Cat Missa and Crow Philza - “As long as you are with me you will never feel alone”

Day 4: Confession | Emergency | Murder - “The sky is the limit”

Day 5: Language of flowers | Hanahaki | Spy X Family AU - “No one ever told me that love hurt”

Day 6: First times | Emergency room | Separation - “It's not goodbye, it's see you soon”

Day 7: Disease | Hot chocolate | Comfort - “The family is forever”

Extra prompts:

Pirates

Anniversary

Red thread of destiny

“I love you, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner”

Family

Ghibli

Lullaby

“I would never choose to love another”

New parents

DeathDuo/Pissa Week

Reglas/Rules:

(Esp)

Entonces eh decidido que haré este reto agradezco a mi amigo Irl y a los chicos de Discord por apoyarme y darme ideas para la lista! Así que aquí vamos…

Las dos primeras imágenes contienen los prompts para esta Pissa/DeathDuo Week, contiene dos prompts y un diálogo. Puedes elegir el prompt que más te guste o combinarlos para darle tu propio toque personal :D

Las reglas de este reto son las siguiente:

1. La escritura y el arte están permitidos, puede ser solo uno o ambos como más se le acomode a cada uno.

2. No @ a los cubitos irl, tanto en vuestro arte como en vuestros fics (en el caso de que lo suban a X o Insta)

3. El contenido Dark y sensible como; Yandere, Personajes posesivos, Daño a uno mismo, Sangre, Muerte, Etc… está permitido siempre cuando se etiquete correctamente. (En caso de que tengas una idea y no sabes si está permitido puedes enviarme un mensaje)

4. No es necesario hacer los siete días, puedes hacer cuantos quieres y con los que te sientas cómodo.

5. Este reto es tanto de Pissa (pareja romántica) como DeathDuo (pareja platónica) por lo que los prompts están hechos para que sean cómodos para los dos lados de la comunidad, solo por favor etiqueten debidamente si es Pissa o DeathDuo.

6. La semana que he escogido para este reto es del 1 de Junio al 7 de Junio, aunque pueden tener todo el mes de Junio para publicar su arte/escritura

7. Y la última regla pero no menos importante… no olviden divertirse!

(Eng)

So I've decided that I will do this challenge I thank my friend Irl and the guys on Discord for supporting me and giving me ideas for the list! So here we go...

The first two images contain the prompts for this Pissa/DeathDuo Week, it contains two prompts and a dialogue. You can choose the prompt you like the most or combine them to give it your own personal touch :D

Also, if one of the days doesn't suit you or you don't feel comfortable with that prompt there is a list of nine extra prompts that you can also choose from.

The rules of this challenge are this:

1. Writing and art are allowed, it can be just one or both as it suits you best.

2. no @ to the irl, in your art and in your fics (in case you upload it to X or Insta) 3.

3. Dark and sensitive content such as; Yandere, Possessive characters, Self harm, Blood, Death, Etc... is allowed as long as it is tagged correctly. (In case you have an idea and don't know if it is allowed you can message me).

4. You don't have to do all seven days, you can do as many as you want and as many as you feel comfortable with.

5. This challenge is both Pissa (romantic couple) and DeathDuo (platonic couple) so the prompts are made to be comfortable for both sides of the community, just please tag properly if it's Pissa or DeathDuo.

6. The week I have chosen for this challenge is from June 1 to June 7, although you can have the whole month of June to post your art/writing.

7. And last but not least rule... don't forget to have fun!

#crow post #🐦‍⬛ post #qsmp #pissa #qsmp au #qsmp pissa #qsmp missa #qsmp philza #pissa nation #pissa au #qsmp death duo #death duo #deathduo #pissa/deathduo week #pissa week #death duo week #deathduoweek

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aisclosed · 9 months

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the art of purrsuasion - y. jungwon

jungwon has the purrfect solution for your unfurtunate situation

PAIRING: non idol! y. jungwon x reader GENRE: university au , fluff, friends to lovers | WORDCOUNT: 3.9 k WARNINGS: mild language? nothing rlly

Birthday Café Event!

Jungwon blinks at the sign hanging over the door to his favorite café, willing the mirage to change before his eyes. Not that it would do much considering the walls plastered with large posters of some k-pop idol in various poses, accompanied by balloons and streamers hanging obnoxiously from the ceiling.

The once cozy shop, tucked away in a less traveled street near his classes, had become a constant in his weekly routine. He found comfort in the quaint tables, the soft notes of music and the aroma of fresh baked goods flooding his senses as he grinded through his work. And yet, the café was betraying him now, the bustling crowd of fans indicating that today, his favorite latte and croissant wouldn't be there to soothe the sting of a 5 page requirement.

“Jungwon!” a voice calls in greeting, and he whips around to meet your eyes, catching your quickly falling expression as you take in the packed café. “Woah…what the hell is going on?”

You were another new constant in his life, ever since the first day of the semester. You had stumbled into class late, your hair whipping wildly around you as you quickly slid into the nearest available seat. Luckily for Jungwon, it just so happened to be the seat next to his own. He had slid his notes over to you, receiving a grateful beam in return that had his stomach churning and his cheeks heating.

That same seat was occupied by you the next day, and the day after that, and the next. Until, sometime between the muffled snorts at your professor’s sad attempts at jokes and whispered, “what the fuck does that even mean’s, the pair of you had become friends.

Jungwon was all for trying new things, but what he craved was stability, playing by the rules, routine. You were the opposite, a whirlwind of a person coming into his life with all the force of a hurricane.

Instead of putting up his walls to maintain some semblance of security, Jungwon found himself swept away by your gusts of change, and happily so. Where he once had to drag himself out of bed, fighting the urge to skip his 8am lecture, he now woke even before his alarm had a chance to ring. You were his new routine. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday he would rush to get to class to see you, and every Tuesday and Thursday he would count the minutes until he could see you again.

In a stroke of genius and a slight desperation to see you more often, Jungwon had suggested study dates sessions. You had regarded him with a smile tugging at the corner of your lips and mirth dancing in your eyes. Heat had licked at the apples of his cheeks and he had begun to stutter out an excuse when you had cut him off “Yeah, I’d like that, text me when and where.”

And so, another piece of you slotted into Jungwon’s schedule, study sessions at the café whenever the two of you could squeeze one in. Maybe the two of you had slight ulterior motives but your grades weren’t complaining and you certainly weren't either. Jungwon much preferred your “dates” to class time. It was the only time he could listen to you freely ramble about everything, from your kitten Dalgona to your frustrations, without the sharp glare your professor was privy to shooting at him.

Now, it's been a particularly challenging week, with never ending assignments, a frustrating project and a three hour long lab on top of it all. Jungwon really needs this. Jungwon really needs you.

You can almost visualize a darkening cloud thundering over Jungwon’s head as he shoots daggers at the café. Letting out a laugh, you bump your hip against his to grab his attention, “Hey it’s alright, we can find somewhere else to study, no need to commit arson.”

Jungwon tilts his head inquisitively, “Yeah, but where? They’re doing construction by the Library Annex and the Main Library is across campus. We don’t have many options besides the big cafes but those are just as busy.”

“My dorm is like five minutes away and my roomie’s gone home for the week,” you offer, Jungwon’s eyes widening comically in response. “Unlessssss, you want to stay at this café? Who knows, maybe you’ll get scouted by some big shot k-pop company. Get some fans of your own,” you tease.

Jungwon scoffs, pushing you lightly as his cheeks flush with color. “As if. Alright, if you’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience let’s go to yours.” Beaming in satisfaction, you tug at his hoodie sleeve, leading him towards the direction of your dorm.

He admires you silently, the way your hair bounces slightly with each step and the swift glances you give when you think he’s not looking. As if you think he might get lost despite the firm grip you have on the fabric of his sleeve. For a second Jungwon considers shifting his arm slightly to just interlock his fingers with yours, but before he can, you’ve come to a halt, looking at him in horror.

“Wait! I forgot all about your cat allergy, will you be okay with Dalgona there? Maybe we should just look for another place?” you ask, your eyes round with worry. Jungwon looks down at you, trying his best to stop from melting at your cute expression.

He shakes his head softly in denial, “My allergy isn’t that severe, I think I can handle a couple hours. Plus I’ve been wanting to meet Dalgona for ages anyways.” Jungwon gestures for you to continue leading the way but you merely squint at him skeptically. Huffing in false exasperation he takes your hand in his, pulling you forward. “Come on, I’ll be fine. I mean it.”

Your pupils dilate at the action, flickering to where your hands are now joined. A wave of embarrassment washes over Jungwon and he laughs awkwardly, hurriedly trying to release his hold on your hand.

Before he can, you’ve already interlocked your fingers with his own, holding onto him firmly as you begin continuing your journey to your dorm. For a second, Jungwon allows himself to be tugged along like a rag doll after you.

Even from behind he can see the slight blush on your ears and cheeks as you desperately try to maintain your composure. The wind tousles your hair gently, pushing the strands back to reveal your features illuminated softly by the sunlight. Jungwon feels as if the air has just been stolen out of his lungs and he thinks that if it meant he got to see this view, he would gladly follow you to the ends of the Earth.

It's not until the pair of you have reached your building and are waiting for the elevator, hands still linked, that something odd occurs to Jungwon. Glancing at the receptionist across the lobby, he leans down to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Y/N,” you startle at the feeling of his breath against your skin, looking up at him inquisitively, “Aren’t pets prohibited in student housing? Unless it's a service animal.”

You glance worriedly at the receptionist, signaling to Jungwon to wait for your answer. The elevator door opens with a chime and you hurry in, pulling Jungwon with you.

It's only when the door shuts securely that you begin whispering conspiratorially, “Ok, yes technically Dalgona isn't allowed to be here. But I'm working on getting him written off as an emotional support companion. You don't understand, I need him,” you pout at Jungwon pleadingly.

“Alright,” Jungwon chuckles, swinging your hands together as you exit the elevator, coming to a stop in front of your room, “It’s not like I was gonna report you, I just don't want you getting into any trouble with housing.”

“It should be fine honestly, Dalgona is a really sweet kitty, he doesn't get into much trouble. The only real issue is my RA Renjun,” you gesture at the floor monitor's door down the hall, fit with a shiny plaque and complaints box. “He’s really nice though, he’s just a bit of a stickler for the rules. Which is his whole job so I don’t really have much place to complain.”

You come to a stop in front of your door, shifting to grab the keys from your bag. Jungwon reluctantly releases your hand and you finally fish out your keys, opening the door and leading him in. “He’s been pretty close to catching me, sometimes Dalgona meows really loudly near the door and Renjun knocks. I just act like I’m not here and he gives up. I’ve been avoiding him like the plague,” you giggle and Jungwon shakes his head in exasperation.

Jungwon takes in his surroundings while you set down your bag and fiddle with your speaker until Wave to Earth plays quietly in the background. Your room is cute, a large bed equipped with a fluffy duvet and numerous plushies pushed to one corner, and walls and shelves littered with albums, trinkets and plants. On your pillow sits a small calico kitten, his stare trained on the unfamiliar figure in his territory. Suddenly Jungwon’s caught in an intense stare off, sharp green eyes meet rounded brown eyes, both unwilling to be the first to break away.

The tension is shattered when you suddenly chuckle at the scene, “What are you two doing honestly,” you giggle, scooping up Dalgona into your arms. “I’ve always agreed you were cat-like Wonnie, but I didn’t expect to see this feline face off,” you walk over to Jungwon, lifting Dalgona slightly, “Say hi to Jungwon baby,” you coo softly.

Jungwon offers his fingers for Dalgona to sniff and he does so tentatively, before deeming the new intruder acceptable and nuzzling into his palm. “He likes you!” you squeal happily, looking up to find Jungwon already looking at you with a soft smile. Suddenly you’re all too aware of the lack of distance between your faces, the way his broad stature looms over you and the way his eyes draw you in.

Laughing nervously, you stumble back, nearly tripping on your rug as you try to regain some semblance of normalcy. “Woah, careful,” Jungwon steadies you, his hand resting against the small of your back.

“Thanks,” you breathe out, Dalgona leaps out of your arms with a meow, affronted by your jolts. The movement snaps the two of you out of your daze and you clear your throat awkwardly and step away from him. “You wanna get started on the review outline?” You gather your laptop and notebooks, settling onto your bed and beckoning Jungwon to come join you.

Jungwon nods stiffly, and sits gingerly at the edge of your bed despite there being ample space for him to scoot closer. It's silent, an uncomfortable tension that you’ve never experienced with him stifling the air. Jungwon leans in slightly from his position, struggling to read the notes on the screen and you meet eyes.

You're blinking owlishly at each other when suddenly you both break into laughter, Jungwon doubling over until he's laying flat on the bed, right next to you. “What's wrong with us today?” you wheeze, wiping a stray tear from the force of your laughs.

“I have no clue,” Jungwon smiled sheepishly, “We’re just being a little silly, I don't know why it’s so awkward. Maybe it's the new setting that's throwing us off.” You roll back into your back, mimicking Jungwon’s position until you're looking back into his eyes.

“Yeah maybe it is, we really should get to working though, this assignment is gonna kill us if we push it off any longer,” you grumble shifting back to look at the papers. Jungwon nods in agreement, and this time the silence that settles is warm, accompanied only by the faint sounds of music and Dalgona playing with his toys.

It's hours later and Jungwon’s eyes have started to sting, the letters and words all blurring together. He lets out a sigh, throwing his head back dramatically to rest against your shoulder. You look at him in amusement, knocking your head against his playfully, “Am I losing you to the deathly grips of literary analysis Wonnie?”

Jungwon only groans in response, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. Absentmindedly, he thinks that you smell good, warm and slightly sweet, nothing like the scents that usually overpower his sensitive nose. It's kind of intoxicating, like the smell of fresh baked treats at the café, and Jungwon finds himself inhaling you subconsciously.

“Jungwon… did you just sniff me?”

He halts, a prickling heat crawling up his neck, “No?” Jungwon denies meekly, unwilling to lift his head up.

“Oh my god you were sniffing me!” you giggle gleefully, “I don't think you can get any closer to being an actual cat Won, what's next will you meow for me?” Jungwon releases a sound of indignation, backing to splutter a series of denials, when Dalgona starts meowing rather loudly near the door.

Immediately you shoot up from the bed, “Baby! Please don’t.” You grab his favorite toy on the way picking him up and trying best to mollify whatever was bothering him.

There's a loud knocking on the door. You freeze, looking in horror at Jungwon who stares back, equally helpless.

“Y/N! It's Renjun!” you scrunch your face in panic, cursing your luck. “Come on, Y/N you can’t act like you're not here this time, I literally just heard your voice in there. Open up or I’m going to have to get the building supervisor and really don’t want to have to do that.”

“Oh my god,” you whimper, quickly placing Dalgona in your bathroom, equipped with toys and a mat to hopefully keep him occupied while you figure out how to save your academic life. You shut the door as quietly as you can and Jungwon walks over, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“Don’t worry we’ll come up with something,” Jungwon whispers comfortingly, but you’re not sure he believes it himself. You smooth your hair, plastering on your most disarming smile and swing the door open.

Renjun’s stood with his hand hovering over the air, clearly poised to knock again. “Heyyyyy Renjun Oppa, it's been a while. I never see you anymore, I almost thought you were avoiding me,” you say brightly, hoping he doesn't see right through your ploy. The hand Jungwon has still resting on your waist tightens just a fraction at your words, before returning again to its ministrations.

“Uh huh I’m sure you did Y/N,” Renjun says dryly, “Can I come in, we need to talk.” Your smile stiffens but you simply nod, inviting him in. He walks in, giving Jungwon a nod in greeting, Renjun doesn't say anything but you don’t miss the way his eyes scour the place, looking for any sign of an prohibited presence.

With a sigh he pivots and turns to you, “Look Y/N I’m sorry to do this when you have company but you know what this is about. I keep hearing meowing from your room and you know pets are against policy. As much as I want to make an exception for you, I can’t. I don't want to get you in any trouble but I will have to file an official report for this.”

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you begin to plead with him, “Wait Renjun please I can explain-”

“It was me.”

Both you and Renjun turn in unison to look at Jungwon incredulously. His cheeks are slightly flushed but his brow is set with determination. “The meowing, it was me.”

“Jungwon, stop you don't have to do this-,” you start but he waves you off, stepping in front of Renjun.

“I, uh get compared to a cat a lot,” Jungwon gestures at his face shyly but Renjun only stares blankly in response. “So I kind of have this habit of meowing, and Y/N finds it cute so I was just doing it to impress her. She just didn't open the door for you before because she wanted to save me from the humiliation.”

At this point you’ve faded into the background, hand clamped in disbelief over your mouth as your eyes dart furiously back and forth between Renjun and Jungwon.

Renjun narrows his eyes, assessing Jungwon fully.

“You do look like a cat, I'll give you that, but you truly honestly expect me to believe that all this time the meowing I've heard from this room has been you and Y/N doing some weird kinky furry shit.”

“I do not have a furry kink,” you protest fervently but are silenced by both guys shooting you a sharp glare, one that clearly says keep quiet.

“It's really not a kink,” Jungwon mumbles before meeting Renjun’s eyes defiantly, “But yes, that's the truth.”

Renjun scoffs in disbelief at the situation, crossing his arms across his chest. “Alright then, prove it.”

“Okay come on, that's too far, Jungwon you don’t-”

“Alright I will,” Jungwon cuts you off brazenly, clearing his throat before releasing a set of meows that sound almost entirely too similar to your kitten’s. Your jaw unhinges and you let out a strangled noise, you’re unsure whether to laugh, cry, or coo at Jungwon. His cheeks are now a bright pink, his hands instinctively coming up to make a claws, his sweater forming cute paws to accompany the image. It's all too cute, and he's doing it all for you, if Renjun doesn’t kick you out first you think you might melt into a puddle on the dormitory floor.

Renjun sighs, pinching his nose bridge before letting his hand drag down his face. “You know what I give up. I can’t afford to be sitting here dissecting whether you guys are actually furries or not. I have an exam coming. Y/N I don't want either of us getting in trouble so if you are hiding a pet, please resolve the issue, or at least find a way to be more discreet.”

You nod feverously, thanking Renjun for not filing a report and basically pushing him out the door. He’s just crossed the threshold when Dalgona lets out a very untimely meow from the bathroom. Renjun freezes, swiveling around to question you further but Jungwon quickly intercepts, “Just saying bye, Renjun hyung!”

Renjun looks as if he’s aged 5 years by the end of your interaction and so he surrenders with a grimace, giving a half hearted wave and walking towards his room. Jungwon and you wait with air lodged in your throats, ears pressed against the wood door until you hear the faint creak and click of Renjun’s room closing with finality.

You face each other, giving a simultaneous cheer of celebration before you jump onto Jungwon. He accepts your hug with open arms, lifting you and spinning you around in utter delight. The rush of adrenaline settles into a lingering flutter, and Jungwon sways you gently from side to side in his embrace.

You're still nuzzled into the soft fabric of his hoodie, when you mumble, “I can’t believe you actually did that. And that it worked. Yang Jungwon, I could quite literally kiss you right now.”

“Maybe you should,” he whispers so faintly, that for a second you question whether you even heard it at all. It isn't until Jungwon’s hand finds your chin, tilting it up to face him and his thumb swipes gently against your parted lips that you realize it's real.

It's with baited breath that you wait, painstakingly, for Jungwon to make a move. “What do you think hm Y/N?” he asks you with a smirk settled onto his face, “Don’t I deserve a kiss baby?” Instead, Jungwon’s rolled the ball back into your court, the decision is yours to make, and there's really never been any other choice. Not with him. Not for you.

You lean in and he meets you halfway, nose brushing against your cheek as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Jungwon pulls back to look at your expression, the way your breath is stuttered, your flushed cheeks and your widened pupils.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Jungwon mumbles against your lips, capturing them in a proper kiss. The phrase makes your head reel with thoughts, but it's too difficult to try and dissect what he means when his fingers are buried into your hair and he tastes so good on your tongue.

You don't break away until your lungs are burning, parting with a gasp. For a moment you both stare at each other, watching the rise and fall of your chests, not sure what to make of what just occurred, not sure what comes after. Jungwon’s suddenly filled with humiliation at the memory of earlier and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe it took me meowing to finally confess to you,” he whines softly.

You let out a sharp guffaw, the tremors of your giggles shaking Jungwon’s head. He turns to look at you from his position, pouting playfully at being the subject of your glee. “Was that really a confession, Wonnie? All you did was ask me for a kiss,” you tease as you brush his bangs away from his eyes.

He takes your teasing challenge in stride, straightening to look at you properly, his hands resting on your hips. “I like you Y/N. A lot. You're all I think about and all I look forward to being with. You’ve completely wrecked my schedule, my life and my dignity. Not only have I meowed for you but I'd even go as far as to bark,” he jokes, pinching your waist as you swat at him playfully.

“I know you’ve already got your hands full with one kitty in your life,” Jungwon continues smiling fondly, “but if you’ll have me I’d love to be the second.”

Your face might split from the smile you give him, eyes curling up cutely into crescents. “I like you too, Yang Jungwon. A lot. Honestly, I don't even like coffee, so if I can bear drinking those nasty drinks for you, I definitely think I can handle another kitty. Especially one as cute as you.”

Jungwon beams at the compliment, grabbing your cheeks gently to peck your face all over, when a rather loud meow resonates from the bathroom.

“Dalgona!” You gasp in panic, breaking away from Jungwon to gather your kitty, checking to make sure he’s okay. Jungwon leans against the door frame watching you coddle Dalgona, giving the feline the kisses that were supposed to be his. He scoffs at the smug look Dalgona shoots him at having received all your attention.

You look up at the sound, smiling at the envy painted so clearly on Jungwon’s face. Leaving Dalgona to roam on his own, you cup Jungwon’s cheeks allowing him to lean into your palm. “What’s it take for a guy to get some affection from his girl around here,” Jungwon sighs theatrically in false annoyance.

A laugh escapes you, and you tug Jungwon forward by the fabric of his jacket until he’s flush against your body, his lips a millimeter distance. “You’ll figure it out, I find you can be rather purrsuasive when you need to be.

a/n: overwrote again,,, but this was inspired by @alouettesque 's promptlist ! hope u guys enjoyed it :)

getting back into writing regularly so send an ask or fill out the form to be added to my taglist! see u guys soon mwah

perm taglist: @hoonsunivrs @pkjay @thatfeelinwhenyou @lacimolela @ttalgi @cieluna @ahnneyong @luvlee1313 @meowmeowhoon @llama-lyna @dmoki @w3bqrl @16doie @itsvynnie @tniastwon @given8taken @yakjw @miukityy @meowwonie @simp4jakesim @teddywons @flowertothejungwon @skywithf1 @yur1a1 @nyeonglover @fallingenluvv @run2seob

*if you changed ur @ pls send in another submission :(

#enhanet #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen scenarios #jungwon oneshots #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #enha x reader #enha smau #enhypen smau #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff

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itsjustrosee · 1 month

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Stranded (Minho x fem!reader (one-shot))

pt. 1, Pt. 2

ok so this is my first time writing any sort of fanfic but I thought I would give it a shot!

Warnings: contains spice and mild cursing

Context: high school au with everyone from the glade plus people from the other mazes like Sonya, Aris, and also Brenda. Minho's on the track team (obviously) and reader is on the debate team. Enemies to lovers

Word count: 4.4k

! I proof read but there might still be spelling mistakes !

You were in your junior year in high school, and you had already gotten a couple months into the school year. It was early October and the weather began to change, becoming slightly colder and colder each day. You could feel a cold gust of wind hit your face as you walked out of your school's double doors. You walked over and lent on one of the pillars your school had built in front of the main entrance as you began to slip your phone out of your pocket.

You only had one new notification from Brenda which read,

'sorry girl I won't be able to pick u up tdy. I got an email a couple of hours ago from my mom saying that I needed to pick her up from work because her car broke down, so I wont be able to work on our social studies project. Sry!'

You honestly didn't bother to read anything after the 'won't be able to pick u up tdy' part. What were you supposed to do now? You didn't have that many other friends you could just text and get them to pick you up. It's not like you were unpopular or didn't have many friends, you actually were quite known around school. It would be relatively hard for someone to hear your name and not know who you were. After all you were head of the student council, captain of the debate team and on your way to being valedictorian next year. So needless to say, you were far from being unpopular. Although you always preferred having a small group of really close friends, though you were friends or friendly, with many other people in your grade.

Unfortunately, you weren't quite close enough with any of your other friends to just text them and ask them for a ride out of the blue.

And almost as if being stranded at school couldn't get any worse, you look at your battery percent and see, oh great, 1 percent. You shut your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a second to curse at yourself for forgetting to charge it last night while you were sleeping.

But you calm yourself, thinking that it'll be fine. You'll get a ride home someway or another, right?

Well you thought wrong.

Right when you look back at your phone screen, its black. You stare at your phone, jaw dropped, continuously clicking at the power button, but to no avail the screen stays pitch black, leaving you to stare at your reflection wondering, 'how the actual fuck did I manage to be this unlucky.'

You tuck your phone back into your bag and you realize you really only have one way of getting home. Walking.

Wow this is just so amazing because of course this happens the day you get out at 5:30 because of a debate competition. Meaning you had to wear black heals and tights, paired with a tight pencil skirt that only went up to your mid-thigh, and a black blazer with a white undershirt that revealed more of your chest than you wanted it to.

Majority of the outfit was borrowed from Brenda, and you had changed into it at the end of school. Giving the clothes you were wearing the whole day to her because you didn't want to carry them around. The plan was for her to bring the bag of your clothes with her as she came to pick you up after your debate comp and drive you both back to your place to work on your project, where you would swap the clothes back.

Was it a semi overcomplicated plan? Yes. It definitely was, and you were now cursing at yourself once again because of it.

However, right as you come to terms painstakingly long and difficult journey you're going to have ahead of you, someone behind you speaks up.

"Hey (Y/N). What are you still doing here?" A familiar voice says, sending shivers down your spine. You could recognize that voice anywhere and you didn't have to turn around knowing that the person behind you was Minho. Godamint of course it was him, the dude who had been picking on you since kindergarten, the dude who you hated, and also the dude who got surprisingly hot over the summer. He was by far the last person you wanted to run into after your day was already totally trashed.

You turn around slowly so you can face him and as you do, you see him towering over you. He looks like he'd recently stepped out of the shower with his wet and slightly towel dried hair. Minho was on the track team and you were aware that on Friday's and during most days of the week, he would stay at school late because of practice. And based off of his hair, you could assume that he showered in the locker room before heading home. You gave yourself another moment before responding, as you look at the grey sweatpants he's wearing as they lay low around his hips, and at the black compression shirt he had on which complimented his physic quite well by it's ability of defining his muscles.

God what were you thinking? You couldn't help but think he was hot. Even though he had made it his mission to annoy you ever since he laid his eyes on you.

"My debate competition just ended." You say dryly while snapping back into reality, shaking off what you were thinking of moments before.

He checks his watch before responding, "Oh right. But didn't that end like ten minutes ago?"

"Yeah.. it did." You confess, realizing that you had stayed here sulking for ten minutes when you could've just accepted your fate and given yourself a head start on walking home. And maybe then, you wouldn't have had to run into this guy.

"why are you still here then?" He asked in a confused tone that lacked little to no concern.

You glare at him for a second but before you can give your embarrassing answer, he speaks again.

"Hey I'm just wondering, no need to get all mad. I just thought that you would've had a ride by now, princess." He says with a grin forming on his face while he puts both of hands up as if he's surrendering. He's clearly trying to do anything he can to get some sort of reaction out of you, and he knew that by using his little nickname he'd made for you at the start of the year, he'd get just that.

"Well actually if you could just shut up for a second then I would've been able to answer you." You snapped at him before continuing, your voice much softer now out of embarrassment, "I um, I don't actually have a ride. Both my parents are out of town for the weekend and Brenda bailed on me so I'm probably just going to walk."

"Really? Dressed like that?" He questions with a chuckle while teasing you and gesturing to your outfit. However he can't help but blush when he see's you dressed the way that you are. Most of the time you tend to wear sweatshirts and baggy clothing, but seeing you in clothing that complimented you curves- wow- It didn't fail to catch Minho off guard.

"Well, what other choice do I have?" You say as your words come out slightly more desperate then intended.

"I could give you a ride if you want." Minho responded, and Minho shocked himself just as much as he had shocked you by saying this.

You and Minho I have seen each other a lot this year because you both actually shared a decent amount of classes together. Although everybody knew him as being super athletic and really popular, he was a lot smarter than people, (a.k.a, you), gave him credit for. And even since you both had known each other since forever, the sudden offer was still odd. Considering how hostile you were to each other obviously.

"I'm not sure. I bet I can just walk home."

"Seriously? You'd probably give up walking home in those heels a mile in." He said with a chuckle, slightly mocking you but you choose to ignore it.

You roll your eyes at him, "Fine." you say with a huff while you both begin walking into the parking lot. "where's your car?"

"Who said I'd be driving you home in a car?" He responds as he tries to fish something out from his sweatpants' pocket, and when he finally pulled out what he was looking for, you see him hold up a key.

You look at him confused until you keep walking with him and see that you're headed towards a black motorcycle.

"Oh absolutely not." You say as you immediately stop in your tracks and Minho walks over a couple more steps and unlocks it.

"Come on it's just a motorcycle."

"Dude are you serious. Do you know how many people die on those things yearly?"

"No, how many?" he asks while looking at you with a smirk, already able to sense your bluff.

"I don't know- but probably a lot!" You answered because of course you don't actually knowing how many deaths motorcycles cause, but you thought it was safe to assume that they caused many.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I should just start walking home now if I want to make it before it gets dark out." you say while walking past Minho and his stupid motorcycle. But Minho grabs your wrist before you can walk away any further. Feeling his skin on yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body. You turn around to face him and he keeps his hand on your wrist but his grip softens.

"Do you even know the forecast for today? It's supposed to start storming around six, and I don't think you want to get caught walking home in the rain right?" After he says that you look up at the sky and see that it's already being filled up by dark and angry clouds that could start raining down on you and Minho at any second, then you look back at his motorcycle.

Minho takes in your silence and speaks again, "Look, if you don't make your decision in the next five seconds then I'm leaving with or without you alright? I really can't be driving while it storms so I'll need to drop you off as soon as I can if I want to be able to make it home too."

"Alright fine." You say as you sigh, clearly defeated.

Minho leads you back to his motorcycle and sits down, his bag slung over his shoulders and onto his chest rather than on his back so that you can sit behind him. You tell him how to get to your house and you mutter a silent prayer as you sit down behind him, hoping he doesn't notice how far your skirt is riding up your thighs.

You aren't quite sure where to place your hands so you opt to cross them at your chest. Minho adjusts himself and turns his head slightly so you can here him better, "You know, you might want to hold onto me while I drive."

"I think I'll be fine." you snap at him.

"Suit yourself then." He shrugs as he faces forwards and presses on the gas, much faster than you expected.

You let out a yelp and immediately you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer into his back, and you basically cling on to him as if your life depends on it. You dig the side of your head into his back and shut your eyes.

You can already tell he has a wolfish grin spread across his face as he says, "What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, ok whatever I-I get it I should've listened." you blurt out quickly, not trying very hard to disguise the fear in your voice. Minho slows down as he leaves the parking lot of your school and he realizes that he can feel you trembling.

"Hey, hey, its okay. I'll be more careful alright?" He says in a caring tone while he places one of his hands on your knee.

"Just... please go slow Minho." You reply as you hug onto him even tighter.

"I will princess don't worry. I promise I'll get you home safe." He says while thanking god that you can't see how red he's getting. Something about the way you had said his name altered something in his brain chemistry and he would do anything to hear you say it again. And you on the other hand felt that he was being genuine when he said that he'd keep you safe, and it really did sound like he cared. It only took seconds for your face to get as red as a tomato and though you were glad he couldn't see you, you were praying he couldn't feel how hot your cheek was getting on his back.

Your grip on his stayed just as tight and if not tighter for the remainder of the ride home. Although, during every stop you would loosen your grip slightly and Minho would place his hand down by your knee or lower thigh again, rubbing his thumb in circles on your skin which never failed to give you butterflies in your stomach each time he did so.

The silence between the both of you hadn't been awkward at all, if anything, it was quite comforting. Being in each others presence was enough for the both of you. And if anything, the quietness allowed you to think about Minho and how you felt about him now.

Though you didn't really want to admit it, something about the way he was acting towards you now, made you see a very different side of him, and it gave you a reason to like him. But then again this is Minho your talking about. He could have any girl he wanted, practically the entire female population at your school flocked to him. But you are thinking about this as if you don't have boys coming up to you, trying to talk to you at your locker every day. Or like Gally in particular hasn't been begging for you to tutor him since freshman year.

Regardless of the amount of times boys came up to you, you always rejected them, because you had never really felt that way for anyone. Except right now. Because you could practically feel yourself falling harder and harder for Minho every second.

Little did you know that Minho was thinking the exact same way about you, and though he would rather die than admit it to anyone, he's liked you for the longest time.

Do you guys ever remember getting bullied by a guy back in elementary school, and when you told your parents about it they were just like 'oh its just because he has a crush on you!' well that was Minho. Minho was that little boy tormenting you all those years ago because he had the fattest crush on you and just didn't know how to express it. And he never grew out of that habit either. Sure when you guys grew up he would still pick and tease on you but he'd kept getting bolder and bolder, hoping you'd pick up on it one day.

A sudden drop of water on your heads knocked you and Minho out of your thoughts and snapped you back to reality.

"Shit." Minho mumbled under his breath. You finally peaked for head up a bit and opened your eyes to see that he was driving into your neighborhood but it was too late. The light sprinkles of rain soon turned into a downpour after mere seconds. Minho quickly pulled into your drive way and you unbuttoned your blazer and put it over your head to try and keep you at least a little dry until you reached the front door. You got up from your seat and only made it a couple steps forward towards your house until you realized Minho wasn't following you.

"What are you waiting for? Do you want to stay out in the rain and get drenched?" I asked him.

"You don't want me to leave?" He questioned, a bit of hope surged through him, making him think that maybe you didn't hate him as much as he thought.

"Leave? You can't leave now, do you see how hard it's raining? Never mind that, you said that it was going to storm and I can't let you drive home knowing you could just get struck by lightning or some shit." You explain, trying to make it seem as if you didn't care about him, but you definitely did care and you sucked at not making it obvious.

Minho couldn't even respond, he just stared at you, a grin forming at the edge of his lips.

"Can you- stop looking at me like that! Just come inside before I change my mind." You say, turning away and heading straight to the door because you can already feel your cheeks getting red and you don't need to hear Minho's snarky remarks over it.

Minho wouldn't be lying if he said he was a bit flustered too because he hadn't expected you to say what you just said- I mean, inviting him into your house? Minho was absolutely over the fucking moon.

He dashed into the house and got in right after you did, shutting the door behind him. You set down your bag and began taking off your heels before facing Minho. He also dropped his bag and took off his shoes. He looked at you as you cleared your throat.

"Thank you, for um, driving me. Sorry I got kinda freaked out." you say, the redness in your cheeks this time weren't because you were flustered but rather because you were embarrassed. As you looked down, expecting Minho to make fun of you over the way you clung onto him, he takes your chin in his hand and moves it up slightly so that you're now looking at him.

"There's no need to apologize princess."

you just stared at him, too shocked to move because of the contact he'd made with you. Even though you both could've stayed in that position forever, you moved your head to the side, severing the eye contact you and Minho were making, and making him take his hand from your chin.

Immediately Minho began cursing at himself for being so bold. I mean it was amazing enough that you invited him into your house but he totally just ruined it. He just couldn't wait any longer for you, but he got impatient. At least that's what his overthinking ass assumed.

"Minho, I-" you started. You were taken aback by the action but it's not like you didn't like it. In all the years of teasing he had never been that bold or genuine. You couldn't tell if he was still just messing with you for fun.

"No, that was- look I dunno why I did that. I didn't.." He scoffed while looking away.

"Minho look at me." you said while turning your face to look at him again.

He just silently took his hand away from his face and looked at you.

"What's been up with you this year? It's like, you keep teasing me, but then you call me princess and do things like this- It's just- what's your deal? I can't tell if you still hate me, or if you like me or something." You blurt out, way more intensely then you had expected. You couldn't tell if this was just a whole joke or not, like if he really just found pleasure by getting some sort of reaction out of you. Whether that be you getting flustered, or annoyed at him.

"No I don't- I don't hate you at all (Y/N)." He paused while sighing. "This is going to sound stupid but I've liked you since before I can even remember. I just never knew how to tell you, so I just tried to get more bold, and hope that maybe you would catch on, I guess."

You just stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face, not quite too sure if you were hearing him correctly. But he seemed so sincere, you really wanted to believe he was telling the truth.

"God okay I never should've said anything. I'm sorry, that was all so stupid. I'll leave right when the rain lets up-" Minho barely finished what he was saying as you leaned in and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into you as your lips merged with his.

After a moment of him not reciprocating you pulled away, "I'm sorry I thought-" But before you could say anything else Minho began kissing you again.

You melted into his touch as he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you into him closer. His grip around you was firm as he held onto you as if you could just slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. You flung your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss between the both of you. It had started out gentle and soft but it only got more and more desperate and passionate as time went on.

"I like you too." You mumbled against his lips between kisses, and at this Minho only became more and more hungry for you. You allowed his tongue to explore every inch of your mouth, and he grew desperate for your taste.

All while holding the kiss he lifted you up by your hips and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed you into a nearby wall in your house.

He kept one of his arms on your waist while the other slid down your shirt and up your back, his cold fingers traced around your spine which only made you arch your back further into him. A slight moan escaped you which only made Minho tighten around his pants. You could feel him harden between your legs, and considering your skirt was far up your thighs by now, and your tights and panties only provided a thin layer of clothing between the both of you. You could feeling yourself throbbing down there as well.

Minho could tell by the way you were fiddling with the hem of his shirt that you were trying to take it off him. Minho pulled away and removed his hands from you and tossed off his shirt, leaving you to stare at his amazing physic.

I mean come on, the guy looked like he had been carved out of stone.

You both took no time at all to crash your lips onto each others again as your hands began to roam all over his chest. He took both of his hands and placed them on your ass in order to keep you propped up on the wall as he continued to pepper your lips with kisses.

He bit against your bottom lip causing you to moan again, but a phones ringtone of the song 'Eye of the Tiger' interrupted you and Minho from continuing.

He murmured a curse to himself and you giggled as he took his phone out of his pocket and answering the call and putting it on speaker. He used one hand to hold his phone as he kept the other on your ass.

You took this as an opportunity to start kissing down Minho's neck, moving down to his collar bone and sucking on it, making sure it would leave a mark. This caused Minho to make a soft groan but since the call was still connecting, the other person wasn't able to hear it.

"Dude where the fuck are you? You were supposed to come over after your practice to help me with our Latin assignment." The very clearly annoyed boy with a British accent questioned. You could tell it was Newt immediately, I mean, not many people have who go to schools in America have British accents.

"I'm sorry I got kind of caught up with something." Minho huffed out. Clearly trying to hide his moans as you continues to leave a trail of kisses and marks along his chest and neck.

"Holy shit you sound like you've just ran a marathon. Wait are you even at home right now?" He asks, this time much more confused then he was before.

"Uh no- I'm not at home right now."

"Then were the fuck are you?"

"At a- friends house."

"Which friends house?" Newt was interrogating Minho as if they were a married couple and Newt caught Minho coming home at 3am smelling of liquor and another women's perfume.

"I'm at (Y/N)'s house.." He said softly, hoping his friend would maybe keep his cool after he said this.

"Hi Newt!" You chime in after leaving several knew hickeys on Minho's neck.

"Jesus Christ I knew it. You've liked her for years! Good job Minho, you finally had the balls to tell her." You hear Newt laugh along with several other people in the background.

"Godamit Newt who else is with you?" Minho says, his face growing redder every second.

"Oh you know, Thomas, Gally, Fry, Alby." He says while trailing off.

Just then you can hear someone grab Newts phone on the other line, "Just letting you know (Y/N) you could do so much better." He says while everyone else with him chuckles, and you can tell it was Gally who said it.

"Oh shut it Gally. Your just mad because she chose me over you. And maybe this way you'll finally get the hint and stop asking her to tutor your dumbass." Minho snaps at him, his protective and jealous tone turning you on way more then you thought.

After Minho says that you can hear everyone on the other line burst out laughing, and even you let out a bit of a laugh afterwards as well.

You can hear Newt take back the phone and say, "Alright we'll leave you to it." as he hangs up the phone.

You look back at Minho as he puts his phone away. "What if I do want to start tutoring Gally?" You say with a smirk as you tilt your head to the side, teasing Minho.

"Oh please. Your mine now princess and I'm not letting Gally, or anyone else for that matter, anywhere near you." He says, and even though he's ginning while he says it, you can tell that he's being completely serious. "Now where were we?"

ok guys this is it!! plz lemme know if u liked it or if theres anything you guys think I should work on/ do better whenever I write these in the future. Also if u guys want to give me any other prompts for me to write, or if yall want a pt. 2 with yk smth a lil more spicy then tell me

#minho #minho tmr #minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #enemies to lovers #the maze runner #tmr fanfic #tmr fandom

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

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fic rec friday 47

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Damnit, Pidge by spirkylurkey

Pidge has some top-secret-classified-don't-tell-Keith-info that she accidentally lets slip to, you guessed it, Keith. Lance is an embarrassed mess. Keith isn't faring much better, to be honest.

this one made me LAUGH the way that this all pidge's fault and she's literally like. well. you shouldn't be so gay then. and she's right!! they're so dumb i love them

2. Operation: Faking It by @writeonclara

“What the hell, guys?” Pidge squawked, wrestling away from Matt. “Why are you pretending to be a couple?” Or: Matt and Lance pretend to be a couple because Shiro and Keith are clueless as hell.

do you guys remember shatt?? i remember shatt. adashi will always have my heart but shatt will literally always be funny bc ofc thats ur fic name. anyways. this fic is mostly klance but the entire concept is just so ridiculously goofy that u have to laugh. do you like lance and matt? do you like fake relationship to real relationship? do you like inverted tropes? do you like pining? do you like comedic jealousy? then this fic is well and truly for you because it has all that and more

3. all's well that ends well to end up with you by @coruscatingcatastrophe

Keith's jacket gets ruined, so Lance decides to be a good Samaritan and give him his. This is the beginning of the end.

megan's fic literally make me want to eat cement i'm so serious. i've read and been obsessed with TONS of her stuff but this one???? this fucking one???? oh god the slowburn kills me. the blossoming realisation that oh god we've been dating this whole time huh. the CHIVALRY...............a romance novel in the truest of senses and i am going to fry

4. as long as it won't separate you from me (i'll be fine) by @coruscatingcatastrophe

A little intrigued—not that she’d ever admit it—Pidge begins to climb the stairs. But before she even reaches halfway, the door—slams shut. All on its own, or so it seems. Pidge pauses, brows creasing in confusion, as she turns to look down at her dog. “Did you see that?” she asks. Peculiarly, she notes that Bae Bae’s fur is bristled, and he growls at the door before barking twice. That’s weird. Bae Bae never growls. Turning back to the door, Pidge feels unsettled, but she tells herself not to jump to ridiculous conclusions. There’s a logical explanation for everything. Maybe there was a gust of wind from the air conditioner, or the doorframe isn’t level. Whatever it is, she’s going to figure it out. - Or, a Beetlejuice au (kind of). Pidge isn't a fan of her new house, Lance and Keith are the ghosts haunting her attic, and together they hatch a plot to convince Shiro and Adam to skedaddle out of the house. There may be demon summoning involved. But seriously, Adam. Getting your hair set on fire really isn't that bad.

HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEN!!! ive been thinking about this fic all october and finally let myself reread it. ive never loved beetlejuice more than when i read this. it's so fun!! so interesting!! pidge gets a chance to shine!! klance are so!!! the way it had the story of beetlejuice but adapted well!! im!!

5. never thought i'd see the day in my life by @coruscatingcatastrophe

But Keith has somehow gone even paler in the short amount of time he’s been at the table, and he shakes his head. “No, something is . . .” His gaze flickers back to Lance, and he’s startled to find that Keith’s eyes are purple. They’ve got to be contacts. Ridiculous. As if the mullet and gloves and personality weren’t enough. Keith pushes away from the table abruptly, looking incredibly put-off now. “I, uh—gotta go,” he mutters, before angrily gathering up the backpack he’d dropped into the chair next to him and storming out of the cafeteria. “Huh,” Hunk says. “Well, that introduction could have gone a bit better. Don’t take it personally though; sometimes Keith’s just like that.” - Or, a Twilight au starring Lance as Bella, Keith as Edward, and the rest of the Voltron gang as themselves. Lance is insufferable, Keith is awkwardly trying to figure out why Lance is the way he is, and along the way they fall in love, or something. It's probably, definitely the best love story since Twilight itself.

now ive never read twilight and i refuse to on principle. but i didn't find this one creepy and instead it was super fun and dweeby and lance is indeed a ray of sunshine, thank you megan for noticing, and it turns out when the story isn't a hetero mormon wet dream it's actually a good time!!

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

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gerec · 2 years

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Au-gust 2022

1. Underwater 2. Artist’s Muse 3. Countryside 4. Dinosaurs

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5. Teachers

Pairing(s): Cherik, Xavierine, Cherigan, Starles Warnings: Past mpreg, total crack

This is a little snippet from an unfinished chapter from my fic Charles Xavier's Baby. You don't really need to have read it to understand this ficlet, though I personally think it would be funnier if you did. Just know that the story is inspired by Bridget Jones's Baby, and Charles got knocked up with twins from two different guys :D ---- They’re already halfway through a very nice roast beef dinner before it happens; the slow, dawning realization by both Erik and Logan of the girls’ intentions, inviting their art teacher over for an in-home visit. Charles pretends not to notice the mental alarm bells coming at him from two different directions, merely smiling at Mr. Rogers as he takes a sip of the man’s contribution to the meal; a very fine - and expensive - vintage Bordeaux. Mr. Rogers, Charles notes, seems to have excellent taste in French reds. “Mr. Rogers, you have such exquisite taste. This wine is absolutely delightful.” The man really is ridiculously handsome, and muscular to boot, sweet and well-mannered but with a delightfully dry wit. He’s exactly Charles’ type – and Charles ‘pre-twins’ would have been all over Steve Rogers like a slutty octopus – which only makes Laura and Lorna’s plan all the funnier to a slightly inebriated Charles. “Please call me Steve,” hot art teacher Steve says, as Erik’s mental nudges escalate to urgent pokes, and Logan looks like he’s minutes away from to sticking his claws into that broad, well-defined chest. “Thank you again for the invitation to dinner. It was an absolute delight having the girls in my art class this year.” He’s not surprised at all to hear that they’re well-behaved for him, since it seems they have very specific ideas for what role they want Mr. Rogers to play in all their lives. In a way that makes perfect sense to seven-year-olds just finishing their second year of school, they’ve decided they want a baby brother or sister, and – because they have different fathers – they obviously need to find another father for the new baby too. “You’re very welcome, Steve,” he says, and maybe, just maybe he bites his lips a little as he reaches over to refill the man’s wine glass. “You’re their favorite teacher by far. It’s always ‘Mr. Rogers is so smart’, or ‘Mr. Rogers is so good at painting’ with these two.” Both Lorna and Laura beam at him and then at Steve, their heads turning in perfect synch. Charles doesn’t have the heart to be too upset at their misguided matchmaking, though he’s not looking forward to the conversation they need to have about how they’re definitely not going to be getting a new sibling. (There is no way Charles is going to have another baby, after the insanity of getting impregnated by his ex and his new boyfriend in one pregnancy.) “Mr. Rogers, did you know Daddy is a teacher like you?” Lorna says, a conspiring Laura whispering in her ear. “He’s a Professor of Genetics at the university. And he’s rich and we have lots of expensive art at the house in Westchester. So you have lots in common.”

Steve, bless him, doesn’t see the evil terrors that the twins really are, lulled by their pretty smiles and the perfect manners they pull out whenever it’s convenient. “Oh, really? That’s wonderful. Do you have a favorite period or artist in your collection, Charles?” “Charles doesn’t know a damn thing about art,” Erik snaps rudely, in a way that would normally get him thrown out of Charles’ bed for a week. But handsome, fit, talented, artsy Mr. Rogers is driving him crazy with jealousy, in a way he hasn’t broadcast this loudly to Charles since he was fighting with Logan over the (at the time they thought just one) baby. “Any art he owns came with the house.” Logan, usually the one with the cooler head and more laid-back attitude, also seems rather threatened by the very idea that someone like Steve Rogers even exists. “What’s a guy like you doing teaching little kids art anyway?” he growls. “Logan—” “No, Charles, it’s fine,” Steve says affably, though there’s a glint of something in his eye now that makes him even more attractive. “After I retired from the army, I wanted to do something different; something that gave me a reason to get up in the morning again. And being around the kids, teaching them and watching them grow…it makes me happy and fulfilled like I haven’t felt in a long time.” ‘Pre-twins’ Charles would most definitely be sucking his face by now, which is both an indictment of his past self and weird proof that the girls have the same taste in men as their Daddy. He gazes with admiration at a smiling Steve, which solicits another wave of mental grievances being shouted in his direction. Stop flirting with him, Charles! Who invited this guy? Why is he even here? If you’re trying to get back at me for proposing again you are way out of line! Between the wine and Erik and Logan’s incessant complaints, it’s no wonder that Charles misses Lorna turning determinedly to Steve and promptly blowing the entire evening to smithereens. “Mr. Rogers,” she says, smiling her dimpled smile at an indulgent, if slightly puzzled Steve, “would you like to have a baby with Daddy?” Charles absolutely does not dump his entire glass of wine down the front of his shirt.

#gerec writes #au-gust 2022 #day 5 #teachers #cherik #xavierine #cherigan #starles #charles xavier's baby

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kakasaku-week-2023 · 1 year

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And the prompts for KakaSaku Week 2023: (AU)gust are live! Come explore our favorite couple in all the universes. Each day has two trope prompts to choose from, as well as a challenge quote to include, all submitted and voted upon my our lovely server members.

Feel free to fulfill one, two, or all three of each day's prompts. Fics, art, moodboards, songs, we want to see them all! (It's understood that some of these may require a little more explanation, so see below the cut for details.)

Have questions? Want to brainstorm with others? Need to gush about KakaSaku in general? Send us an ask.... or come join our Discord! We're open for ONE WEEK starting today, ending next Sunday (6/25), approximately 3:30pm PDT.

Click here to join the Scarecrows and Cherry Blossoms Discord Server!

(AU)GUST PROMPTS (August 6-12, 2023)

Day 1 - Historic AU (Think regency, medieval, Victorian eras. Ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome... The 80's? Take your pick!) 🌸Trapped in a Small Space 🌸Innocent 🐺"Never cruel or cowardly."

Day 2 - Someone Else's Show (What if Kakashi was a waterbender? What if Sakura was a Slytherin? Explore all of your TV/movie possibilities today!) 🌸Domesticity 🌸Wingman/Wingwoman 🐺"Should I stay or should I go?"

Day 3 - Modern AU (Probably the most self-explanatory... Have fun!) 🌸3 A.M. 🌸Missed Connections 🐺"You have my sword."

Day 4 - Fantasy AU (Give me your best Elvish courting rites, your witchy incantations, your dragons and mermaids and nymphs, oh my!) 🌸Hot Springs 🌸Seduction 🐺"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

Day 5 - Swapped (Body swap, gender swap, age swap... Switch it all up on this day!) 🌸Booty call vs. Butt dial 🌸Beach 🐺"Oops."

Day 6 - Mythology (For all of your Hades/Persephone needs. Take your favorite folk tales and go nuts!) 🌸Soulmate 🌸Morning After 🐺"Not if your were the last person on Earth."

Day 7 - Canon Divergence (Canon but not. Where the butterfly effect is in full flight!) 🌸Pakkun Makes a Starling Discovery 🌸Arranged Marriage 🐺"Why are you in my house?"

#kakasaku week 2023 #kakasaku #(au)gust

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ofmdjanuaury · 11 months

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Welcome to OFMD AU-gust! Check out the prompts and start creating 💙

Rules and text version under the cut!

RULES:

Any OFMD fan creations count! Fic, art, dioramas, bakes…

You can do one day or all of them, and use as many prompts from the day as you want!

Tag everything #OFMDAU-GUST

Every time you post something, try and comment on someone else’s, too!

You can post any prompt any day AFTER that prompt’s official day! So you can post Improv fics any day after 8/1, but you can’t post theatre fics till 8/31.

HAVE FUN!

Text version of the prompts:

1. Mechanic | Mail Carrier | Improv

2. Fantasy | Solarpunk | Fiber Arts

3. School Staff | Art Model | Taxidermy

4. Social Media | Tentacles | Identity Theft

5. Music/Band | Specific TV Show | Jumanji

6. Journalism | Specific Movie | Planetarium

7. Phone Operator | Rennaissance | Y2K

8. Sports | Ancient | Pacific Rim

9. Medicine | Aquarium/Zoo | Makeup Artist

10. Celebrity | D&D | Gig Worker

11. Science Fiction | Superheroes | Birdwatching

12. Coffee Shop/Bakery | Magical Girl (gn) | Influencer

13. Restaurant | Medieval | Eldritch Horror/Cryptid

14. Science | Place-Based | Weed Guy (gn)

15. Porn Star | Specific Book | Natural Disaster

16. Crime/Mob | Specific Cartoon | Drag/Burlesque

17. Farm/Rural | Time Travel | Polar Explorer

18. Small Business | Apocalypse | Stargate

19. Writer | 19th Century | Escape Room

20. Law | Nightclub | Professional Cuddler

21. Rebels | Zombie | Desert Island

22. Bar | Ghost Hunters | LARP

23. Transit | Daemon | Community Meeting

24. Archeology | Aliens | Paint and Sip

25. Epistolary | Public Access TV | Gas Station

26. Neighbors | Heist | Reality TV Hosts

27. Noir | Grocery Store | Blacksmith

28. Disney | Olympics | Sentinel/Guide

29. Boats | Non-Anglophone Place | Lumberjack

30. Canon-Divergent | Gardening | Kink Club

31. Theatre | Free Space | Someone Else's Universe

(Thanks to yerbamansa for reminding the mod to be accessible!!)

#ofmd #ofmd au-gust #fic challenges #fandom challenges #our flag means death

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blu3cl0v3rs · 7 months

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Summary: The Ninja broke another vehicle. Pixal, Nya, and Morro are not amused.

Warnings: Jay briefly catches on fire, angry Serpent Mech trio

Prompt: Run | Fire | "So did anyone read the instructions?"

Extra: Set between Seasons 13 and 14, generic "Revived Morro Lives w/ the Ninja" AU, but Morro knows more mechanic-y stuff. Considering it was his idea to steal Samurai X's mech, it wouldn't be too out of character. By the way, I'm a filthy American who uses the Imperial system. I'm sorry. Also, Morro is not a part of the boys, as they are the crew of dumbasses (and their slightly smarter companion, Zane) and Morro is just a bit too smart for them. I'm also definitely pushing my non-binary Morro agenda here, but you are not allowed to blame me.

The Ninja weren't even 5 miles away from the Mountains of Impossible Height before a loud BOOM! was heard from their vehicle, even audible all the way up in the monastery.

It was just the boys in said vehicle, as Morro, Nya, and Pixal were working on some mechs Kai and Jay had broken three days ago.

Wu stuck his head into the workshop, where three exasperated groans emitted.

"I am assuming that the explosion was the Ninja?" Wu asked.

Nya growled, "Oh I wish it was, but noooo, it was the vehicle Pix and I spent last night fine tuning after Morro put it together last week."

"If I find out it's beyond repair, I'm hiding my skeleton in their room for a month," Morro aggressively twisted his wrench until the bolt was tightened. "Try it again, Pix!"

The nindroid hit the ignition, and the engine roared to life, causing the oil-smudged trio to cheer.

Then, of course, the Ninja ran in.

Morro threw some clean rags at their female counterparts, and they all cleaned any mechanical leakage off them before the three ripped the Ninja a new one.

"The truck!"

"It caught on fire!"

"Luckily, Zane put it out-"

"Why did it-"

Nya splashed their soot-covered faces with water, harshly cleaning off the debri before Morro dried them using the wind without remorse. By the end, the boys' hair stuck out at odd angles and was super frizzy. Kai freaked out over his "ruined hair".

"So," Nya silenced them all with a pointy glare, "did anyone read the instructions?"

The guilty glances, deafening silence, and the general "oh shit, we're screwed" look on their faces answered the question easily.

"Let me guess: you activated the boosters to make you drive faster, which overheated the engine and it caught fire. Then, the gas tank exploded, because you didn't notice the engine was on fire." Morro's eyes pierced into their souls, carefully picking them apart.

Zane nodded.

" 'Join the Ninja', he said," Morro grumbled, " 'it'll be fine', he said, 'they are smart, they wouldn't blow up an engine if you wrote it down in the instruction manual', he said."

The black and green haired person stomped over to the blue mech that Nya had fixed the circuitry on, and used a gust to place a piece of plating where it needs to go, then screwed and welded it on. The Ninja grimaced, and Pixal dragged them back to the vehicle to bring it back to the shop.

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pisupsala · 1 year

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Of All The Stars in The Sky | 9 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 6.1k

Library

Chapter 9—The Very Thought of You

If you thought your day had been going badly so far, it was about to get worse. Auntie sent you on your way with a large bottle of hard liquor from her personal stash, stating: “Poor Rooster will need it more than me.”

Your heart clenches. How are you supposed to tell him? He’ll be angry—of course. It would be strange if he wouldn’t be. But you are scared. Scared he’ll be mad at you, that he won’t believe it’s really not your fault. However, you also don’t have a solution, anything to soften the blow. How do you tell someone their only hope of getting home might just have, quite literally, gone up in flames?

Well, thank god you have plenty of time to agonize over it. There’s an unexpected disruption in the train connection from the north to the capital. Well, unexpected… the night guard’s words suddenly have a different weight. You dismissed them quite easily earlier, seeking comfort in believing they were just drunk ramblings from an old, lonely man. But you’ve been walking along the deserted road to the next city, a good ninety minutes away by foot. At this rate, you should be happy you’re back home by dusk.

And then you still have to break the news to Rooster.

You really don’t want to add his anger and disappointment to the pile of the awfulness of your day. Sighing, you trudge through the high grass, mud squelching under your boots. That said… if your roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want Rooster to keep something this important from you. If anything, that would make you even angrier.

It’s late afternoon already, but at least it’s sunny. It’s one of the first days in the year when you can smell the early spring blooms on a gust of wind. Better days are coming.

The bottle it glass bottle full of liquor is heavy in the makeshift knapsack in your hand. You’re barely halfway, but you haven’t seen a car pass yet. Well, no, you’ve seen cars pass, but they’re military trucks or sleek black Mercedes—neither carries the particular folk you’d be wanting to hitch a ride with.

As if they would stop for you right now. Auntie cleaned your increasingly threadbare coat pretty well, and you washed your face and hands before you left, but your pants have big dirt patches on the knees—the mud from the bank you’ve been walking on has splattered over your boots and trouser legs. You didn’t even really bother fixing up your hair, electing to tie it up with a scarf so it would be covered from the dirt in the cellar.

No one in their right mind would stop to give you a ride, which is just as well.

You haven’t been on a proper hike for a long time, and your legs actually hurt by the time you reach the station at the next town over. People are waiting, so hopefully, the trains are operating here—you skim the extensive timetable pinned next to the ticket booth. Unfortunately, you missed the last train by ten minutes, and the next one won’t be along for another half hour.

Fuck, today is really not your day, is it?

***

Bradley thinks he might have burned a trail through the floor from all the pacing he’s been doing. You mentioned you might not be back until later, but promised to stop by to let him know what happened. He’s spent a fair share of time thinking about you, pleasant thoughts mostly—but never have you consumed every one of his thoughts like this.

By now, you should have made it to the station. The train only takes an hour—pace, pace, pace. So by now, you should have made it to the house. There’s probably some polite small talk—pace, pace, pace. You should have sent the message by now, surely. The reply should not take that long—that frequency is monitored by someone almost permanently.

Finally, Bradley collapses on the bed. Surely, you wouldn’t dally too long if you had a reply. He doesn’t even want to consider the chance something might have gone wrong—no, you’re smart; you would not have failed when it mattered most. Your blatant confidence had surprised him, but… you delivered. If you had some extra time, Bradley would have put you through your paces a bit more and done more drills—but the fact you got this far in the first place deeply impressed him.

All things considered, this was probably the worst situation he’s been in his life. His mother dying and leaving him an orphan at sixteen after his father died before he was in elementary school would probably always be his darkest day but in a different way. Mav had also been around then to support him, and he wasn’t stuck in the Third Reich.

He can’t focus on reading anything; there’s nowhere for his thoughts to go in the small room. It’s getting on his nerves as his mind seems to be running away with him.

For all the enormous bad luck that Bradley had that faithful night he crashed in the mountains, you were the only blessing he was granted. He decided to follow that night hunter, overestimating his position and nearly paying for it with his life. He was known as a calm, conservative pilot even. Taking risks is part of the job, but Rooster likes to believe he does so in a calculated manner.

The Czech and Polish pilots always flew like they had the devil on their wings, with a bloodlust driving them that he could hardly match. One particularly crazy pilot, Hangman, would always laugh at him that he wouldn’t understand—his homeland wasn’t under occupation, after all.

He would never admit it out loud, but Hangman got to him. So he took a risk, less calculated than usual, as if he had something to prove. But as his parachute pulled him from the burning wreckage of his plane, hurtling toward the earth, he had one thought on his mind: if he is going to get out of this alive, he’d never do something this stupid again.

Sometimes, when he sees your mischievous smile, he wonders if the same anger and pride drive you as those pilots he met. Like you also have a little devil on your shoulder. He shudders at the thought of you having anything in common with someone as annoying and arrogant as Hangman.

It’s turning into late afternoon. It should all be done and dusted by now. Bradley leans out of the window, elbow on the window sill as he lights one of his last cigarettes. It's strange to know his fate might be sealed already, but he has no way of knowing how it will turn out.

It’s a beautiful day; the early spring sun feels warm. He misses going outside and walking around with you. He misses home.

Although he’s pretty sure when he gets home, he’ll miss you.

The hours pass in a haze. Bradley is sitting at the table, shuffling a deck of cards to at least keep his hands occupied, when he hears your footsteps coming up the stairs. His breath stocks as you come closer. When you reach the final step, he expects you to knock. He’s half out of the chair in anticipation.

Nothing happens for thirty seconds like you’re hesitating to announce your presence.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

He refuses to believe it until you tell him.

But the ice-cold realization slithers down his spine: this is bad.

Bradley half-trips over the chair as he suddenly gets up from it. He needs to know. Pulling open the door with considerable force, he’s met with your surprised face. Your hand hovers mid-air, curled into a loose fist like you were just about to knock.

The look in your eyes tells him everything. The disappointment, the pain. He storms away from you, coming to a violent stop within just a few steps on the other side of the small room. You’ve follow him in wordlessly, looking sad and weary.

Leaning heavily on the window sill, head down; Rooster looks defeated.

“Just tell me.” He says harshly. You bite your lip nervously as you softly put the knapsack on the table.

“We never managed to send the message.” You reply, refusing to let your voice quiver from the overwhelming emotions you are feeling now. “The system shorted, overheated, and caught fire on the second attempt.”

Rooster laughs loudly, humorlessly. You can see his shoulders move, but his head is still down. It’s a scary sound, almost otherwordly coming from him. Then, finally, he looks up, meeting your eye in the window's reflection.

“So I’m fucked.”

You don’t reply—there’s nothing you can say. There is no plan B, at least not right now.

“You really don’t have anything to say, Anya?” He is almost mocking you, lashing out in anger and grief. You shrug.

“There’s nothing I can tell you to make this better.” You reply calmly. “All I can offer is to forget for a little while.” Then, pulling the large glass bottle from the knapsack, you hold it up, knowing Rooster can see it.

Finally, he turns around, still frowning. You don’t like that look on him.

“Are you suggesting I get drunk?” He asks incredulously.

“We.” You counter lightly. “Do you have a better idea?”

Rooster narrows his eyes at you but finally just shrugs and sits back down at the table.

“Did you bring cigarettes?” He mumbles, voice still so flat. It sounds unnatural coming from him. “I’ve been all out since the afternoon.”

“I figured you might be,” You keep your tone conversational, pulling two packs from your pocket. “Here, this should tide you over.”

You shrug off your coat—it’s warm in the small room. You kick off your dirty boots for good measure, not wanting to track mud and dirt through the place.

Bradley follows your movements from the corner of his eye. You’re wearing the same pants you wore in the mountains, although they’re splattered with mud. They’re a little big on you, he notices, a belt cinching them tightly at your waist. The simple dark cotton button-up shirt you’re wearing is loose, the neckline falling a little deeper than he has seen on you before. Your hair is tied back with a simple light gray scarf, granting him a view of the elegant curve of your neck all the way to your shoulder, the smooth skin tantalizingly inviting.

However, you pay him no mind, rolling up your sleeves and quickly rinsing the two simple white china coffee cups in the bathroom sink. It does not escape your notice of how neat everything is. Towel folded, toothbrush, razor—everything is neatly arranged in the small space.

You sit down, put one cup before yourself, and push the other towards Rooster. He doesn’t look up from his hands. He looks empty. Defeated. As everything has just now, at this moment, caught up with him. It’s true that you severely questioned his ability to take things seriously, and wondered if he actually understood his situation. But, of course, he did. And seeing him like this is painful.

Awkwardly, you try to wrench the cork from the bottle—the tops of your index and middle fingers still hurt to the touch, so you can’t wrap them around all the way.

“What happened to your hand?” Rooster’s harsh question takes you off guard. But before you can answer, he’s already peeled your injured fingers away from the cork, stretching your arm over the table toward him. It leaves you awkwardly holding the bottle in your other hand. You regard him for a moment, he’s still not looking at you, but his touch is soft.

“When the radio shorted, my hand was on the leaver,” You tell him carefully. “The surge went up through the metal.”

His fingers trace along the reddened pads of your fingers up to your wrist, where the red scratches mar the skin further. Your palm twitches under his touch.

“Are you okay?” His question is soft.

“I should really be the one asking you that.” You reply emphatically, turning your hand and grabbing onto his. Ignoring the screaming pain in your fingertips, you lightly squeeze.

“You already know the answer to that.” He finally looks up; the look on his face is heart-wrenching. “So humor me.”

“I’m fine,” You assure him. “It’s just a few scratches. As a kid, I once fell out of the apple tree at my grandfather’s house; I practically skidded down—both my legs were full of lacerations. I was in pain for -”

You stop. Rooster probably doesn’t want to hear this right now. You’re not even really sure why you started telling him that.

“So, a drink?” You ask instead, gently pulling your hand back. Rooster nods mutely, looking at his hands again.

You wrench the cork off, pouring a generous splash—kind of what you assume a shot would be?—into the cups.

“Cheers.” Rooster picks up his cup without ceremony and downs it in one go.

“This too shall pass.” You don’t know what else to say, but it seems like the right thing to say. As you down your drink—shit, you overcalculated the amount—Rooster just lets out a sarcastic chuckle. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you look at him questioningly.

“What?” You ask, a little bit perturbed as you pour out another round.

“Do you really believe that?” He is serious, you realize. Frowning, looking for assurance almost.

“Show me an empire that didn’t fall.” Your retort, shrugging.

“Even if we won’t be here to see it?” It’s so uncharacteristic of him to be so dour. You sigh and down your drink. Another overpour. These cups are treacherous.

“If we don’t have hope, we have nothing,” It’s not a particular conversation you want to have, but Rooster probably needs to hear it. “Look. We’ve been on the back foot here since the beginning—outgunned, outmanned, everything. And the resistance system has been absolutely decimated.”

You take a deep breath, staring Rooster down.

“But you are still here. I am still here. We still have a chance.” You shake your head, a sad smile on your face. “We might not see the war's end, but we don’t own the future. But it’s… it’s not really about us on an individual level, you know? At least… I think freedom is more than that.”

“Are you prepared to die for freedom?” Rooster’s question is acerbic, like he doesn’t believe you, although he doesn’t look so angry anymore.

“Aren’t you?” You counter, frowning.

“I guess I just never thought it’d be like this.” He mumbles, staring into his mug before knocking it back.

“Like what?” You inquire, not unkindly, refilling the cups again. After this, you need to pump the breaks on the alcohol because you haven’t eaten anything in hours.

“In a foreign land. On the ground.” Rooster seems almost embarrassed to admit it.

“Instead of a blaze of glory?”

Rooster chuckles. “I suppose.” He meets your eyes again. “But you never answered my question, Anya. Are you prepared to die for freedom?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” You try to deflect.

“Stop answering my questions with questions.” Rooster looks at you sharply, but his words lack edge. You chuckle.

“Yes.” You say it with conviction, although you’ve never said it out loud before, mainly because no one has ever asked you. There was never a need for that, really, because it was a given. In the resistance, if you’re caught, you’re as good as dead: either you’re just shot directly, you get sentenced to death, or if by some strange twist of faith, you’re sentenced to hard labor, you’ll probably die in a mine or factory somewhere far away from home. There is no other way out: it’s either them or us.

Rooster just nods and holds up his cup. His face looks impassive. You lean forward, clinking your cup against his. “Cheers,” You smile. “To victory. To freedom. And,” You lick your lips quickly, in a nervous gesture. “To us.”

“To us.” Rooster echoes forlornly. As he knocks back the drink, he grimaces. It doesn’t taste any better than the first shot.

Your head is spinning a little now. You should have eaten something. At least it seems to have taken the edge off for Rooster. He looks sad but doesn’t seem angry as he pries open the pack of cigarettes you’ve brought him. You sit in silence together, billows of smoke filling the room. There’s nothing much left to say right now—you both feel awful, but neither of you wants to be alone. Rooster hasn’t asked you to go, and you don’t want to leave either.

Sitting slumped over in your chair, chin heavily leaning on your uninjured hand, you watch Rooster. He’s leaned back, his long legs sticking out past the table. From a glance, he looks relaxed, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes, and how his mouth is set in a hard line.

His movements are sharp, the frustration evident as he runs his hand through his hair, messing with his usually neatly combed curls. He is so devastatingly handsome—there is no way to deny that—when he’s sharply dressed, he turns heads on the street. You’ve seen them look.

But now, a little bit messy, unguarded, languidly smoking a cigarette, long limbs sprawling, feels so much more intimate. Your heart is beating faster just looking at him. You know exactly what he looks like under that wrinkly shirt and how defined his muscles are under those rolled-up sleeves. You have felt how warm his skin is and traced the broadness of his chest. God, that drink is hitting you harder than you thought it would, leaving your thoughts to wander.

“You look flustered, Anya,” Bradley comments lazily, not moving his head to look at you, just his eyes. You sit up a little bit straighter, fanning yourself theatrically.

“It’s stuffy in here.” You reply dismissively. Pushing yourself up from the table, you dainty step over Bradley’s long legs and open the window. His eyes follow you around the room. Leaning out of the window a little bit, a gust of air cools your heated skin. It feels good, almost sobering.

Turning back around, Bradley hasn’t moved from his spot, the cigarette burning to a stump between his fingers. Your heart clenches again because there is nothing you can do to change what must be—for him—a hopeless situation. Stuck, literally and figuratively, in a small room on the top floor of a building in a strange country, thousands of miles from home, and the only hope of getting recused just going up in flames.

So now, you have to believe in both of you. Giving up is admitting defeat.

“The stars are out,” You comment. “Rooster, come see.”

Bradley doesn’t particularly feel like getting up. He doesn’t particularly feel anything right now except slightly lightheaded. But when he turns his head, he nearly does a double take—you’ve heaved yourself onto the window sill, straddling it, one leg already dangling outside. You beckon him, and he starts to shake his head. But then that mischievous smile plays over your face like a magnet. He gets up, discarding the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table.

“Bring the bottle,” You smile. “And my boots, please.”

Bradley hands you your boots. Slipping them on, you swing your other leg over the ledge.

“What are you doing?” He asks, genuinely wondering what had gotten into you.

“Let’s go stargazing,” Your eyes are sparkling with mischief and wonder, and like a moth to the flame, Bradley follows you. Under the window, about a meter down, is a small ledge of the roof covered in black tar. Bradley had spent plenty of time looking out the window but never really noticed that his room was placed on top of the building, with a tarred ledge around it. Leaning from the window, he sees you a few feet down the ledge, waiting at a rain pipe. You beckon him again.

Bradley promised himself he wouldn’t do anything stupid anymore. He wouldn’t break any more rules—it never worked out for him anyway. Never did. It’s how he got into this mess in the first place. Unnecessary risk.

Stargazing in the capital of Nazi-occupied territory is on his list of unnecessary risks.

However—Bradley hasn’t been outside in over a week. It’s getting to him. He’s antsy.

And then there’s you. Radiant cheeky smile beckoning him.

You would know if it’s okay, right?

“Rooster, come on!” Your whisper is carried on a gust of wind, and Bradley can smell spring.

Fuck it.

He swings his legs over the window ledge. It’s strangely warm outside for it being so early in the year—there is a bite in the wind, but it’s clear winter is over. Carefully shuffling over the ledge, he comes up to where you are. The wall in front of you is about six feet high, with a thick rain pipe running down the side.

You wink as you wrap your hands around the rain pipe, placing one foot flat against the wall and hoisting yourself up in one fluid motion. Then, you take another step, putting your other foot high against the wall and using your momentum to grab onto the wall's ledge, pulling your upper body up.

You were hoping to do this smoothly—you’ve done this a million times, after all, but instead, as you try to swing your leg over the edge to pull yourself up entirely onto the roof, you tip forward. Then, with a small yelp, you keel over onto the roof. You hear Rooster chuckle.

Rolling your eyes, you pretend nothing happened, turning back to him.

“Hand me the bottle,” You whisper again. “And then climb up.”

“Why are you whispering?” He whispers back.

“Echo,” You reply simply, voice still soft. “Some crotchety old coot will probably have a fit if we talk too loudly.”

Bradley gets it but also appreciates that you don’t say it’s speaking English that will get you in trouble. He holds the bottle up for you to grab before mimicking your technique, climbing up the rain pipe. You hear the small grunt as he pulls himself up, and even in the darkness of the night, you can see the muscles in his forearms straining. At the crook of his neck, a vein appears as he flexes. You swig from the bottle, unsure if you want to commit this to memory or erase it completely.

Once on the roof, Bradley looks around. The city is quiet, with few lights on the bridges and houses flickering in the darkness.

You pat the ground next to you. As Bradley sits down, he keeps a respectful distance. One risk is enough for tonight.

He watches as you take another swig from the bottle before handing it to him and lying back. Averting his eyes, he tries not to notice how he can see the swell of your breasts past the opening of your loose shirt. Taking a drink, he places to bottle between you before laying back too.

“How did you know about this place?” Bradley looks up at the sky, littered with stars. It feels strange whispering in the open air like this—as if you’re sharing some sort of great secret between you. Like in that moment, you’re the only people in the world.

“I…” You hesitate. Would it be so wrong if there were one person in this world who knew you? “I found this place years ago with some friends.”

You hear Bradley shift next to you.

“We used to come here to smoke cigarettes in high school.”

“So you live here?”

You turn to Rooster. His head is turned to you, watching you speak. But rather than answer, you just smile. Some things are better left unsaid. He chuckles.

“I grew up around here.” You reply instead, again not quite answering his question. “I would go exploring with my friends; that’s how we found all those service entrances and stairways. I think I was around ten when we first climbed up here.”

“You climbed out of a window onto a roof at age ten?” Bradley is now fully turned to you, lying on his side, head leaning on his hand. He takes another sip from the bottle. “Why?”

“Well…” You move onto your side, too, to face him. “I uuhm… I was terrified of the ghosts that haunted the stairwells.” You chew your lip, embarrassed you’re actually admitting to this. “I thought I heard one come up the stairs, so I climbed out of the window.”

Bradley guffaws, but you immediately shush him, unable to keep the embarrassed smile off your face.

“Somehow, that explains so much about you.”

“You’ve seen those hallways—tell you wouldn’t believe they’re haunted.” You defend yourself lamely, taking the bottle from him.

“Fair.” Bradley concedes. “Do your friends still live here?”

“Most of them disappeared.” Shaking your head, you gaze off into the distance.

“Can I ask… how?”

“Deported, put to work, left the city, fled abroad—it’s hard to say.” You shrug. “There’s no way to know; most aren’t keeping in touch.”

You take a swig. There is only one person you’re pretty sure about where they are—Jakub, who joined the air force after graduation, must have made it to England. If anyone made it, it would be him. He was born lucky. Sometimes you wonder if you should ask Rooster if he had, by any chance, met Jakub in England—maybe they flew together?

But you never do and never will. It’s information you shouldn’t have and would only put Jakub in danger. And how would you even keep it from his mother? Could you ever look her in the eye, knowing where her beloved son is, and endanger her by telling her the truth?

Probably not.

“Enough about that.” You turn back to Bradley, a small smile on your face. “Now you have to tell me something about your childhood. It’s only fair.”

He smiles at you—finally. You nervously take another swig, ignoring the sudden blood rushing in your ears.

“Honestly, it’s probably boring compared to yours. There’s a distinct lack of haunted staircases.” He holds out his hand for the bottle. As you hand it to him, you are sure you’re not imagining that he deliberately brushes his fingers against yours.

“My dad was in the Navy, so we moved around often. So I can’t really remember many of the places I’ve lived,” Bradley sounds distant like he’s recounting something that happened to someone else. “When I was in high school, we were already living in Virginia, and I would sneak out of school to watch the planes at the nearby Naval airbase.”

“Of course, I was found out, and the principal called my mom,” He smiles at the memory. “She grounded me for a month, and I missed the baseball championship game.”

“Oh.” You frown. Your own mother was pretty strict, but you’ve never been grounded like that. “What did your father say about it? Being in the Navy himself?”

“He had been dead for over ten years at that point.” He says it entirely matter-of-factly, without a shred of emotion. You blink at him, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” You offer. He just shrugs like it’s no big deal. He takes a drink from the bottle before his eyes settle on you again. You’re looking at him with slightly narrowed eyes like you’re trying to figure something out, but you don’t say anything. In the end, you just look away.

“So you always knew you wanted to fly?” You ask instead.

“Not always, but I can’t imagine a different life now.” His voice sounds warmer again. “Have you ever flown?”

“No,” You chuckle. “But I’d like to.”

“I could take you.”

And there it is. The teasing little comment that is so Rooster. He looks relaxed now, although he also kind of looks drunk. Your hand feels heavy as you rub it over your face—you’re pretty drunk too.

“Careful,” You tell him lightly. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“I don’t invite just anyone up with me.”

Your brain is starting to feel really hazy, and your judgment is getting increasingly impaired. It’s like all your reactions are delayed; it’s only now that you honestly feel kind of cold. Of course, it’s only a little, but you are suddenly keenly aware that you are a little too eager for Rooster’s flirty attention.

“Let’s go back in.” You offer, sitting up. Bradley follows suit, letting you lead the way. Clambering down the rain pipe, you jump down the last part, almost losing your footing on the landing. For a moment, you see the dimly lit inner courtyard a little too far out before you manage to throw your body back. A hand clamped over your mouth, as much in shock as to stifle a nervous giggle, as you lean against the wall. Bradley hands you the bottle, and his face seems to have soured—you can see the serious look on his face, wide-eyed, but you don’t notice. He jumps down, a lot more controlled than you, as you shuffle along the wall back to the window.

Slipping back into the room, you rub your hands over your eyes. Everything is starting to spin—you need to go home.

“Do you make a habit of charging into things without regard for yourself or others?”

Rooster’s words are like a bucket of ice water being dumped down your spine. Wide-eyed, you turn to him.

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously. He is pulled up to his full height, arms crossed, and staring you down. At that moment, you know you shouldn’t really take him on in this discussion—clearly, you’re both drunk—but yeah, you have a habit of charging into things. Especially if it’s unfair or unjust, like Rooster’s accusation. So you mimic his stance, pulling up an eyebrow.

“You nearly pitched off that ledge and ’t even blink.” He bites out. “What would have happened if -”

“But I didn’t,” You cut him off, getting annoyed. “I know what I’m doing.”

Probably only half true right now, but the point still stands, you think stubbornly.

“You know what you’re doing…” He scoffs, staring daggers at you. “You’re a jumped-up little schoolgirl playing at war.”

You clench your jaw. What got into him?

You should walk away. You should not engage in a drunk spat. But your sense of self-justice won’t allow you. The comment is uncalled for, and you will defend yourself.

“If I’m only playing at it, I do it well enough, considering you’re still not dead.” You counter, voice taking on an icy edge.

“You could have died just now.”

“I could have died many times over in the last few years.” You try to keep your cool. “Why are you lecturing me?”

“Your attitude is dangerous,” Rooster is livid. How can you be so blase about everything? If you died, he would be left in an impossible position. It’s making his head spin, thinking is hard, but one thought is crystal clear: the thought of you stumbling over that ledge has an icy grip on his heart. Your reaction is completely infuriating—the confidence that was endearing before now grates on him as blind arrogance. “You are overconfident, barely competent, and don’t understand the consequences of your actions.” He seethes, voice getting louder by the syllable.

How can you not see how important you are to him?

“I didn’t exactly choose any of this,” You remind him firmly. “I was operating in the background just fine before I found you in that coop. And even then—don’t you dare interrupt me -” Your voice could cut steel right now.

You hold up a finger to silence Rooster, who just opened his mouth to say something—you hate it when people make unfounded accusations, you hate it when people are unfair, and you especially hate it when people talk over you—Rooster is currently expertly doing everything to make you completely lose your temper.

Bradley is actually stunned into silence for a moment. As an adult, hell, not even as a child, has he ever been told to shut up like that. He would be impressed by how fearless you are, but right now, everything from the top of your head to your muddy boots to every word that passes your rosy lips is making his blood boil.

“And even then,” You continue, voice firm, pulling yourself to your full height and planting your feet. “I’ve been doing a darn good job of it so far, so what’s your real problem?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“A bit rich, coming from you.” You quip bitterly. Your chances of getting killed didn’t grow exponentially since you met him. “Out of the two of us, you’re the one who crashed a goddamn plane.” You add haughtily.

He looms over you, trying to get you on the back foot. But you’re not going to back down—not from him or anyone. You refuse to be intimidated like that, but your head is swimming, and somewhere behind Rooster, the floor appears to be swaying. You blink heavily, forcing yourself to focus on the flurry of angry words Rooster is still hurling at you.

“I may have crashed, but at least I didn’t burn out on a code high school dropouts easily master.” His voice is low and harsh—you cannot keep the shock from passing over your face. The cruel grin you get in return tells you he absolutely intended for that comment to hurt you. You purse your lips, quickly disguising the pain.

“How come you can’t hold a rhythm, doll face?” He is taunting you. Bradley knows he’s crossing a line, but the frustration for the last month and a half is suddenly pouring out. Everything is mixing into a poisonous cocktail within him: the stress, the pain, the worry—and you. You’re like the spark that lit the fuse on him, and now he can’t stop the raging fire. You look at him with a stony expression. It only pisses him off more. “No one ever asked you to dance? Is that the expression you wore standing at the edge of the dance floor?”

He reaches out to you, nearly trailing his finger over your face. Nostrils flaring, you swat his hand away, stumbling back on your unsteady feet. The chair you bump into noisily drags over the floor. To his credit, Rooster actually looks shocked for a moment—his hand is suspended mid-air, still reaching out to you. He is about to take a step toward you as you regain your footing.

“Don’t.” You cut at him, stopping him dead in his tracks. The shock on his face melts away like snow in the sun, and he looks at you disdainfully. Your heart is beating so hard that it makes you lose equilibrium. So Rooster finally dropped his mask—he had you fooled for long enough with that fun American attitude.

“I didn’t choose this.” You repeat angrily, voice raw, stomach-churning like you’re about to be sick. “You don’t get to blame me for everything.”

“You think I wanted this? You think I chose this?” He suddenly thunders, taking another step closer to you, moving into your space again. Why does he insist on being so close to you? You stop yourself from physically pushing him away—you might be confident, but you’re not stupid.

“Yes, actually.” You’re raising your voice to match his volume. “I saw your papers, remember? You weren’t drafted Rooster; you enlisted. You chose exactly this.”

Firmly, you turn away from him and grab your coat off the chair. If he has anything else to say, you don’t want to hear it. Rooster is calling out your name. He doesn’t deserve you listening. Awkwardly folding your coat into your arms, limbs heavy, you realize you probably look like a mess, disheveled and drunk. But you don’t care. You want to get out of here.

You storm towards the door. Is Rooster still talking? The beating of your heart is so loud, the voice in your head urgently calling you to leave; there’s no way you can tell. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Hand on the doorknob, you still.

“You’re a really shit drunk, Rooster.” You tell him calmly, not turning to him; tears are burning in your eyes. You don’t even really care if he is listening. “But it’s nice to finally really meet you.”

note | finally, a regularly scheduled update x

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

Text

AU-gust, Day 5: Pet Sitting

“Nope, no way. Absolutely not.”

Six sets of puppy-dog eyes stared back at her. Lucas, the ham, even pretended to start whimpering.

“Stevie, please,” Dustin whined, “Eddie needs a safe place to stay.”

She stared at Dustin for a few seconds before glancing down at the shoebox in Dustin’s hands. Inside the shoebox surrounded by a few of Claudia’s oldest and fuzziest kitchen towels stood a bat, a small black bat with big black eyes that looked almost just as pathetic as the rest of the kids.

(Almost.)

“I’ve done this song and dance with you before, Henderson, and I told you when you got rid of the alien lizard - ”

“D’artagnan was a cryptid, Stevie!”

“ – alien lizard that I wasn’t going to help you keep playing monster vet. I still haven’t recovered from seeing Mews’ corpse!”

“Mews was my cat and I’m fine! Besides, Eddie’s just a normal bat!”

“Dustin, he has a full head of hair!”

Stevie and Dustin stared at each other before looking back down at the bat (Eddie). Who was running his little claws through his hair and preening. (Stevie could have sworn that he winked at her, but she wasn’t crazy; it was definitely just a trick of the light.)

Dustin’s face started to flush like he was going to argue with her but El (sweet, precious El) cut him off before he could really get going. “Stevie’s right. He is not normal,” El said, stepping forward to run her fingers against Eddie’s head. Eddie rubbed up against her fingers and chirped.

“See, I knew it - ”

“But he is a friend,” El said and fuck, the full force of El-most-likely-a-changeling-Hopper’s big brown eyes was something Stevie would probably never learn to resist. “And he needs someone to care for him while he gets better.”

“Better? What do you mean, better?”

“Bad man,” El replied matter-of-factly and, well, shit. She didn’t need to say much more than that.

Stevie sighed and turned her attention back towards the “bat” in question. “How long?”

/////

Just a few weeks, maybe a month or two, Dustin had said. “I would have kept him myself but Mom was worried that he’d eat Tews – ”

(“Oh, and you don’t care if I get eaten?” Stevie had replied. Dustin had just rolled his eyes and ignored her.)

So yeah, two months tops, just until Eddie was “healed” or what not. (He didn’t have any visible injuries that Stevie could see but then again, she was just a cosmetologist, what the fuck did she know about bat anatomy?) Until then, Stevie was going to have a tiny flying roommate who apparently “only likes to listen to metal music, so I’ve brought a few tapes and oh! He loves fantasy so you’ll have to read him this as a bedtime story,” at which point Dustin handed her The Lord of the Rings, “and he gets lonely at night so don’t lock him out, he likes to cuddle, and he should be able to fit in your jacket pocket when you go to work during the day - ”

“No, nope, no way, none of that is happening,” Stevie argued and she really had been planning on sticking to that – no metal music, no bedtime stories, no cuddles, and definitely no work trips, no way, no how.

(She’d folded by hour two of Eddie’s stay at Casa de Harrington.)

/////

“You get this is weird, right?”

“Hmm?” Stevie was cutting apart some strawberries to blend with whatever “protein drink” Dustin kept dropping off at her house. “What’s weird?” She turned to look at Robin, who was watching Eddie shimmy up and down the dining room table to “Rock Me Like a Hurricane.”

“Stevie. This is not normal bat behavior.”

“So? It’s normal Eddie behavior,” Stevie shrugged. She tossed the berries into the blender and, once it was a fine red concoction, put it in a little cup with a little straw and walked over the table. Eddie slid his way across the polished wood and wiggled when he saw her, chittering happily before going to town on his fruit smoothie.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t also normal Stevie behavior!” Robin threw her hands up in the air. “You’re letting a wild animal sleep with you in your bed!”

(She’d tried to encourage Eddie to stay in the guest room that first night all those weeks ago but she’d barely laid in bed for all of two minutes before a dark shape flew through the dark and landed on her chest. She’d screamed and leapt out of the bed but Eddie had somehow managed to grip his claws into her shirt and no amount of arguing with him was able to get him to let go.

“Fine,” she’d finally growled, “but if I roll over and squish you, it’s not my fault.”

When she’d finally woken up the next morning, she was still lying on her back and Eddie was still nestled onto her chest. They’d been going to sleep every night that way ever since.)

“Hey,” Stevie replied defensively, “he’s not a wild animal, he’s totally tame.”

“Uh huh,” Robin replied queasily, watching as Eddie happily slurped up his smoothie. “Just because you play dress-up with him doesn’t mean he’s tame, Stevie.”

The tiny vest was from El and Will, something about how Eddie looked “wrong” without it (whatever that meant. Stevie had to admit it did look really cute on him.)

“He looks adorable, Robin!”

“He’s totally taken over your life,” Robin shot back dramatically. “He goes shopping with you, you take him to work – Stevie, he sits with you when you take bubble baths, for Pete’s sake!”

(Hey, Eddie was a gentleman, he always waited until she was covered by bubbles until coming in and sitting on the little nest of towels she’d made for him on the set of drawers by the bathtub and okay, maybe Robin had a point here.)

“And that’s not to mention that I’ve been trying to get you to read a book for literal years now and this bat shows up and suddenly you’re reading Tolkien to him every night?”

“It’s actually a good book, Robin,” Stevie said defensively.

“I know that, Stevie, I just can’t believe that you’re not seeing this! Like, there are so many red flags! He’s literally drinking blood right now!”

Stevie huffed and leaned over the table, like she was physically covering Eddie from Robin’s criticism. “It’s rude to judge somebody else’s eating habits, Robin. Or did you forget our conversation last month when you tried to go vegetarian?”

“That’s different and you know it!” Robin exclaimed.

Eddie, because he was a little drama king, took the last sip of his smoothie while making eye contact with Robin before letting out an exaggeratedly content sigh.

“See?!”

Stevie rolled her eyes and set her hand down. Eddie scurried onto her palm, letting out a series of happy chirps. She lifted him up and set him on her shoulder where he waddled to her cheek and pressed his little face against it, like he was giving her a little kiss. “You’re being overdramatic, Robin.”

“Fine, whatever, just don’t come crying to me when he makes you his eternal vampire bride or whatever,” Robin huffed before getting up and stalking out of the kitchen.

“He’s just a bat!” Stevie called after her. Robin responded by slamming the front door after he on the way out.

Sighing, Stevie turned to look at Eddie, who was currently making a home for himself in her curls. “You are just a bat, right?”

Eddie turned and shot her a wink before wrapping his little body in one of her ringlets.

“Yeah, that’s probably fine.”

/////

One of the best parts of having Eddie around actually was nighttime. She hadn’t gotten so many nights of uninterrupted sleep in years. He was like some sort of nightmare repellent or something; in fact, the only dreams she’d had recently were of a shrouded figure with long dark hair and a sexy laugh and teasing cool hands and other things –

And when she woke up a month and a half into Eddie’s residency in her home, she probably should have been more shocked at the fact that her bat had turned into a very pale, very sexy and very naked man with long dark hair and cool skin and –

“God, Robin’s never going to let me live this down,” Stevie murmured as the man stirred above her. He opened his eyes and yep, yeah, those were her bat’s eyes.

Eddie’s grin grew sharp as he pressed her further into her bed. “I’m sure I can find some way to make up for it,” he said as he drew close enough to kiss her.

“How do you feel about a Halloween wedding?”

#eddie does make her his eternal vampire bride and robin never lets her live it down #until chrissy does the same to robin that is #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #female steve harrington #bat eddie munson #absolute nonsense #august fanfic challenge

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