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inuiiwonderland · 2 months

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Twisted Captivity

Prologue

A/n: im so excited for this story and I can’t wait to write the first chapter! I tried to make the prologue look as interesting as possible but I think I failed💀😭

“What’s this?” You asked your father as you stared at the paper in front of you curiously.

“Read it” You eyed him suspiciously before grabbing the paper in front of you and reading it.

Twisted raven

“Um…and what does this have to do with me?” Your father rolls his eyes before setting his cup of coffee down.

“A dear friend of mine owns that aquarium. Recently he told me about how a couple of his workers quit for some unknown reason and how he has to do extra work now” He says as he walks back to refill his cup.

“And so I told him that you might be interested in the job”

“You told him what?!” You ask. It’s not that you don’t want the job, you’re just confused and shocked about how your dad made you accept something without you knowing about it first.

“Let me finish” You huff before sitting back down.

“I told him that you wouldn’t mind since I know how much you love those little sea creatures”

“Not only sea creatures, but the whole ocean itself!”

“See what I mean” You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up.

“Anyways, this would be great for your little sea creature diary”

“Once again it’s my research journal dad”

“Same thing” You rest your head on the table as you continued scrolling through your phone.

“This job is perfect for you dear”

“Not only will you do something that you enjoy, the pay is also really good” He says as he walks over to the sink to throw his dirty cup in.

“Well that’s all I wanted to tell you! Thank you so much for letting me come over dear”

“You sound like I don’t allow you in my house”

“Because you don’t!” You chuckle before getting up and giving your dad a hug.

“Bye! Tell mom I said hi and that you guys should come over for dinner when you’re free”

“Of course! Now please do think about it! I can’t stand him whining any longer” He says as he rubs his temple.

“I will. Thanks dad”

“Ah! You must be y/n right?” You nod your head as the man with the crow mask shakes your hand.

“Oh I’m so glad you came! I was getting worried for a second thinking you might’ve changed your mind!”

“And then I would’ve have to take care of those ungrateful brats!” You just stood there awkwardly as he whispered to himself.

This is my new boss?

“Oh! How rude of me! My name is Crowley! I am the founder and owner of twisted raven!”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you Mr. Crowley”

“Pleasure meeting you to Ms. L/n! But you can just call me Crowley! No need for the formalities”

“Ah okay”

“Now follow me!” The man quickly turns around before walking away. You quickly follow suit.

“Your father told me you’re a researcher”

“Ah yes something like that”

“Great! Then I think you will definitely like it here! Perfect for the job already”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Weird…he sure likes to mumble things

“All the sea animals and creatures we have here are very different from one another! Some may be aggressive while others are not. Some poisonous and some not! So do be careful when you handle them”

“We can’t have any more accidents”

“What was that last part?”

“Nothing important”

“Oh okay”

“Anyways! I would like for you to be in charge of feeding them and cleaning their tanks! I would also like it if you could write down anything that happens between you and the mers”

“We’ve been wanting to get more information about them but they’re just not cooperating with us!”

Your brows furrowed at that

What does he mean by mers?

“You will be in charge of group 3 while some of my other workers will take care of group 1 and 2”

You frown

Group 3? What does that even mean?

“Um…Mr- I mean Crowley…what do you mean by group 3?” He halts before turning around.

“What?”

You both stared at each other in confusion.

“Did your father not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked. Now you were confused but also curious.

“What did your father tell you exactly y/n?”

“Erm- that you need workers and that this is an Aquarium?” You can see his eye twitch as he still had on that cheerful smile on his face.

“Oh”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No no no….its just that-”

“This isn’t an aquarium”

“It’s a research facility”

“A what now?”

“Research Facility!”

“Oh”

“And I suppose he also didn’t tell you about the beautiful creatures we have here in this facility, correct?”

“Um…no?”

“Great! More work for me”

“Mm?”

“Nothing! Ah just follow me! I’ll show you what you will have to do!” You did as he says as you guys continued walking down the long hall.

This will be a long day

For both you and him

Taglist: @ruisann @roseapov @0ffth3rec0rd @anunholyabomination

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farfaras · 11 months

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Steddie week. Day 7: Free space. 2.1k words. Ao3 link.

@steddie-week

I’m late but I really wanted to finish the week. So here it is! The last one!

“What’s Eddie short for?” Steve asked Robin. They were on their break, now working at a record store after they got fired from Family Video for missing work too much.

“Why are you asking me?” She shot back. Steve simply shrugged. It honestly just occurred to him that he didn’t actually know if that was Eddie’s name or if it was a nickname.

“I was just thinking about it. You don’t know?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” That was disappointing. Robin seemed to be getting along with Eddie. Maybe they’re not that close. Would Dustin know? “You know, I think I asked him once.”

“Really? And what did he say?” She should’ve mentioned this first!

“I think he just started laughing and then deflected. Never answered me.” She stood up. They had to go back to work already. It was slow today, not much customers around so they kept chatting. “Why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Steve really was just curious. “We’ve all been friends for a while and I just realized we don’t actually know if ‘Eddie’ is short for anything.”

“He actually seems like the type of person to just be called ‘Eddie’. Like just ‘Eddie’, full stop.” Even if that’d be funny, it’s probably not it. “Anyway, just ask him.”

“Is that not weird?” He wondered.

“I asked him. He just didn’t tell me. Maybe you’d have more luck.” She smirked and it looked like she knew something he didn’t.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I will.”

“You’re the one who wants to know.”

“Do you think he didn’t tell you because the name’s embarrassing or something?”

“He’s done so much embarrassing stuff, his name can’t be that bad.”

—

The next time he saw Eddie was when they were playing DnD, at Steve’s house. For some reason Eddie managed to convince Steve that hosting their nerd game was a good idea. He was sure it was his puppy dog eyes. Steve was not immune to those. Robin took advantage of that, constantly.

Steve almost forgot that he was gonna ask Eddie, it was when everyone left and it was just the two of them that Steve remembered the question he had been meaning to ask.

“Hey, Eddie.” He called out to catch his attention.

“Yeah?” They sat down on the couch after cleaning up.

“Is your name short for anything?”

He did exactly what Robin said he did when she asked him. He just started laughing, out of nowhere. Steve didn’t understand what was so funny.

When Eddie stopped laughing, he let out a sigh. “Anyway, what movies do you have?”

“Wha– you’re changing the subject! Why?” Steve was starting to get suspicious now.

“Why do you ask, Steve?” Eddie looked at him.

“I was just curious.” It’s true, Steve was curious. But now it felt like his name was actually something embarrassing, because why else would he avoid answering it in the first place.

“Sureee.” Eddie did not believe him. “To answer your question. Yes, my name is short for something.” Steve figured.

“What is it?” It couldn’t be bad. Steve only knew a handful of names that could be nicknamed Eddie, and those weren’t that bad.

“Ha! I’m not telling you that.” Eddie joyfully replied.

“What– why not?”

“I have to keep the mystery going.” He explained, tone completely serious.

“You’re not mysterious.” Steve deadpanned.

“Shut up, I so am.” Eddie bit back.

“It takes like, one conversation with you to know that you’re not mysterious.” Steve said. It was true, Eddie might have the intimidating look going on, but it was easy to overlook it as soon as he opened his mouth.

Eddie glares at him. “Are you done?”

“You still haven’t answered!”

“‘Cuz I’m not gonna.” Eddie grinned, he was just enjoying having something that Steve wanted to know. “Maybe you can guess.”

“Ugh” Steve fell further into the couch. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Just because I’m a generous and giving person,” Steve perked, he didn’t know why he wanted to know so badly. Maybe so he could use it whenever he wanted to scold him like one of the kids. “I’ll make you a deal.” Disappointed, Steve sighed.

“What’s the deal?” He asked.

“If you guess it,” Eddie put his hand on his chin. “I’ll give you something, anything you want.”

“What? Like a prize for guessing your name?” Steve scoffed. “What am I? A dog?”

“So you don’t want anything?”

“That’s not what I said.” Steve had a feeling that making a deal with Eddie was like making a wish to a genie. Eh, he would still get something out of it. “Whatever, sure. It’s a deal.” He just had to start guessing, until he got it. Shouldn’t be that hard.

“If you say so.”

“Is it Edward?” He gave his first guess.

“Well, that’d be too obvious.” Steve still waited for an actual response. Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not. Close, though.”

“Edison?”

“I’m so grateful it isn’t Edison.”

“Edmund?

“Oh god, they keep getting worse.”

“Yes or no?”

“No! Why would you think my name is Edmund? Do I look like an Edmund to you?” Eddie asked, scandalized.

Steve stayed quiet. “You want me to answer that?”

“Actually, let’s just watch a movie. That’s enough guesses for today.” Eddie went to shuffle through their options.

“I just started!” Steve protested. He should’ve known Eddie wasn’t gonna make it easy for him.

“I don’t feel like answering more. Try again later.”

Steve crossed his arms and pouted. When Eddie looked back at him, Steve stuck his tongue out, like a toddler. Eddie chuckled.

–

“Edwin?”

Eddie gave him a thumbs down.

–

“Edgar?”

Eddie spelled “no” with his fries. He proudly showed them to Steve.

Steve ate them.

–

“Edrian!”

“Where’d you even come up with that one?”

“I heard it somewhere.”

“Well, that’s not it.”

–

“Is it, like, just Ed or something?”

“Life would be easier.” Eddie dreamily looked to the sky. “So, no, it’s not.”

–

“I’m like, out of ideas, Robin.” Steve didn’t know whether to give up or look in the library.

“Maybe you need to look for obscure names, like really weird ones.” Robin made some hand gestures that he didn’t really know what they entailed.

—

“Can I get a hint?” Steve gave it his best shot at puppy dog eyes, he had big eyes, right?

Eddie wasn’t looking straight at him, he took one glance for like half a second and then decided to look forward. “I already did.”

“No.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “When?”

“With your first guess. I don’t think you need anything else.”

Steve let out a frustrated groan.

—

At the end, he didn’t guess shit.

Steve was dropping by some cookies he made, they were Eddie’s favorite. Steve wanted to improve some skills in the baking department, it was a win win. He got practice, Eddie got cookies. It didn’t mean anything else.

The government gave the Munsons a house after everything, it was on the outskirts of town. When he pulled up, he noticed that a letter had fallen down from the mailbox. When he picked it up he saw who it was addressed to.

Eduardo Munson.

There was no way.

Steve ran so fast his head almost clashed with the door. He knocked frantically. Eddie opened the door, Steve didn’t even wait to be invited in. He ran to the kitchen to set the cookies on the counter and raced back to where Eddie was.

“Your name is Eduardo?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “How’d you find that out?”

Steve just handed him the letter he found on the floor. Eddie’s mouth formed an ‘O’, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well?” Steve crossed his arms.

“I guess now you know.” Eddie opened the letter to read it, he made his way to the couch and sat down. Steve followed.

“Is that why you said I was close with the name Edward?” Steve didn’t know anyone named Eduardo. Well, he thought he didn’t.

“Eduardo is basically the same name, but in Spanish.” Eddie, no, Eduardo nodded.

“Why– who decided that was gonna be your name?” Did his parents just like Spanish, or something? Steve thought. He obviously didn’t say it.

“My mom. She was Mexican. This letter is from my grandma.”

“Oh. Is it…” Steve didn’t actually know where he was going with that.

“Most of my mom’s side lives in cali, or Mexico.”

Eddie had the letter opened on his lap, Steve peeked. He didn’t want to pry, it was just a quick glance. Even if he wanted to read anything though, he couldn’t.

“That is, fully in Spanish.” His face was a mix of confusion and shock.

“Uh huh.” Eddie was holding back laughter. “What about it?”

“You speak Spanish?!” At this point, he didn’t even care if he was being loud.

“My grandma calls me regularly, like, once a month. She doesn’t speak an ounce of English.” Eddie’s face was fond. That shouldn’t be as cute as it was.

Steve’s jaw was on the floor. Never once did he expect to learn all of this just because he wanted to know if the name “Eddie” was actually short for another name. Eddie reached out and closed his mouth. Steve took some time to get himself back together. He collected the cookies and brought them back for Eddie.

“So, I didn’t guess.”

“No.”

Steve sighed, forlorn. “So, deal’s off, I guess.”

“Mmhm.” Eddie was concentrating on the letter in front of him. Steve slapped his arm. “What was that for?”

“You can read that later. I brought you cookies.”

Eddie snatched them, he started almost inhaling them. Jesus Christ. “These are great.”

“Thanks.” Steve blushed.

After that they were content to just hang out, doing whatever. Eddie told him more about his mom’s side of the family. There were a lot of family members that Steve couldn’t keep track of. He talked more with his grandma, aunts and uncle. Steve found out that his mom taught him Spanish when he was little. When she died, and his dad ended up in prison, his closer relative was Wayne so he moved in with him. His mom’s family always kept in touch, though. The last time his grandma visited was before Christmas in 1985.

“Say something in Spanish.” Steve was surprised with himself for asking that. Where did that come from?

“What am I? Your personal clown?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “It just hasn’t registered in my brain fully, that you speak Spanish. Maybe I have to hear it.” Steve tried. It was a cheap attempt at just wanting to hear it.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie replied. Was he actually gonna do it?

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. An idea came to him, he straightened up. “What about the way your grandma greets you on the phone, or the way you answer?”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. Cute. “Ugh… she’s so mushy.”

“Now I have to hear it.” Steve clasped his hands together, battling his eyelashes.

Eddie just accepted defeat. “Fine!” He was now avoiding Steve’s eyes. “Whenever she calls she always starts with something like ‘¿Cómo está mi niño hermoso?’ Or she’d call me ‘mi vida’, or ‘mi cielo’. Honestly she calls me a lot of things.” Steve had no idea what that was, nor what it meant. But his eyes never left Eddie’s lips, not once. Hearing that was doing things to Steve. He suddenly felt hot.

“What does it mean?”

Eddie flushed red. He turned to Steve, eyes deadly serious. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, but I really do.” Eddie shook his head no. “You have to tell me or else I’m just gonna start calling you that.” Eddie’s face was so funny, he looked scandalized at the possibility. “What was it again? Cie- cielo?”

Eddie swung his hands and arms around. “Stop! Don’t you dare continue.” Steve mimed zipping his mouth. “If you must know. She just asks how I am and she calls me her boy and other pet names.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, assessing him. “Is that the truth?” Eddie nodded. “I’ll accept that, for now.”

They spent the rest of the day watching tv. By the time Steve was leaving the sun was already setting. Eddie walked him to the door.

“What would you have asked for?” Eddie blurted. “If you had guessed my name.”

Steve glanced down at Eddie’s lips for the second time that day. He looked up at Eddie, even if they were almost the same height. Steve shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sure I would’ve come up with something.”

Steve leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“See you, Eduardo.”

He stepped outside and walked to his car. He heard a loud thumping noise coming from inside the house and chuckled to himself.

–

Bonus:

Steve: he speaks Spanish, Robin!

Robin: I heard you the first time, dingus.

Steve: I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation.

Robin: *blank stare*

Steve: I can’t believe I have to date him.

Robin: you don’t have to.

Steve: no, no. I’m gonna.

#steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddieweekprompts #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #mexican eddie munson #latino eddie munson #he’s Mexican bc I’m Mexican and I said so #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things 4 #pre relationship #pre slash #mer writes sometimes #ficlet

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girlgroupshots · 1 year

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The Producer - PART ONE

pairing: male oc x jessica jung word count: 3.3k summary: An unproven producer is tasked with creating a successful group. Shenanigans ensue.

When you answered the phone in the middle of the night only a few hours ago the last thing you expected was to be standing in front of an office building. The call had come from your uncle saying he had an opportunity for you and that you needed to catch a train to Seoul in the morning. Now as you waited for him to arrive you could only guess at what kind of ideas had popped into his head. As far as successful businessmen went he was certainly on the – well, eccentric side. On the other hand, you had little to your name other than a business degree, a shitty office job and dreams of one day being a successful producer.

"Nephew!"

Before you could contemplate any further a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to greet your uncle who you hadn't seen in some months only to be slapped on the shoulder and pulled into a hug before you could even extend your hand.

"How are you, my boy?"

Park Jongmin. A man in his sixties who could have retired in his forties if he wanted to. He made a fortune in the early years of the South Korean technology boom and hadn't looked back since. However, for all his wealth and success he was largely known as an enigma or just strange depending on who you asked. Adding to that image was the fact that he decided to create a music label a few years back despite having no expertise in the field. Truth be told he wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.

"I'm good, uncle" you responded once you had finally managed to free yourself from his grasp. "I was surprised to get your call, I thought something bad had happened."

He laughed off the concern, apparently not seeing the problem with receiving a vague call at 2 a.m. in the morning.

"You know me; once the wheels in my brain start turning I can't rest until I see it through to the end."

"Have you…slept yet Uncle Min?"

"Of course not! In fact, I'm only on my fourth cup of coffee."

You could only shake your head in response. This was who Uncle Min had always been so it shouldn't be surprising that old age hadn't changed his demeanor. If anything he seemed a bit more loose than he was back in the day. A man who said and did what he wanted with little care for the judging eyes of society. Though perhaps that was a luxury of wealth. It was an enviable disposition to have, especially these days. Not to mention it had always made for entertaining holidays with the family.

"So, uh, is this your label building?" you questioned, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Why yes, yes it is. It's beautiful isn't it? I like to think it has a quaint, personal feeling."

You looked back to the building and you couldn't say you disagreed. By the same token though, it didn't seem to be anything too special. A three story building with a decent amount of width to it. It's key features were the tall glass windows that framed parts of the building. It was certainly quaint but not exactly holding a candle to the grand designs of some of the bigger companies.

"Not everything has to be grandiose" as if reading your thoughts your uncle interjected. "If there's forty-floors how are people going to connect? It's the interwoven relationships that build a good company."

As a business major and officer worker with far too many hours logged you were tempted to disagree with that notion. But then again who were you to disagree with someone who had made millions?

"Well, are we going to stand out here all day or shall we head in? I can give you the tour, you'll love it."

You nodded and led the way to the double door entrance. Your uncle was still being coy about why he had asked you to meet him hear of all places instead of his regular offices or his home; in fact he hadn't addressed it at all. Definitely not suspicious. For now you'd just have to go along with this ride and find out what was waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. Whatever it was he certainly seemed excited about it. Or maybe that was just the four cups of coffee coming through.

"...Our building is separated into three levels" you tuned back into your uncle's speech as he took the lead, "The first is where all the music production takes place. Recording booths, mixing rooms, anything a producer might need to get that perfect sound is available at your finger tips. I'm sure you'd find more than a few toys to your liking in there."

Producer? Recording booths?

"The second floor is where our artist spend a lot of their time. There's a lounge and kitchen for anyone to use and we have our practice room there as well. We also have two free rooms if anyone wants to use it for homework or whatever the kids get up to."

Way to sound your age, uncle.

"Lastly, the third floor is where we have all our offices for staff and management. That's where you'll be spending most of your time. Now I know – "

"Wait, what?"

"-- it mind sound a little weird being at the top but trust me it's a great space."

"Wait, Uncle, what do you mean where I'll be spending most of my time?"

"Please, nephew, save all your questions for the end of the tour."

You could see the mischievous glint out of the corner of his eyes and knew he was getting a kick out of this. He wasn't going to let you get a word in and even if you did it seemed he was intent on ignoring any questions you had. Meanwhile your anxiety was rising by the second. Just what had this old man done?!

Anxiety aside, the building was impressive. Everything was state of the art when it came to the technology and all of the furnishings were modern and neat. That said you did notice the building felt particularly...empty. If you remembered correctly from what your mother had told you, Uncle founded this label a few years back. One would think by now it'd be brimming with staff and artist coming in and out. Maybe he had given them day off so he could give the tour? As flattering as it was that seemed like a complete waste of a work day. And of course asking about it now would net you no answers.

The tour finally came to an end on the third floor, the management floor as he had put it; which was also void of any personnel.

Your uncle led you into a rather spacious office that you assumed to be his. He gestured for you to take a seat in one of the plush chairs against the wall and seated himself next to you. His eccentric demeanor seemed to fade a bit and It seemed like now was the time to finally get some answers.

"I know you have a number of questions for me" Uncle Min started, "But I also know you're a very smart young man. I'm sure you've begun to piece together why I asked you to come here today."

Not really, no, but I could take a swing in the dark.

"You want me to work here for you? Uncle, I appreciate the thought really, but honestly...I don't want to take any handouts."

You remembered when he was first starting the company your mother suggested asking for a position. Any reasonable individual would have jumped at the opportunity, hell there were a number of college graduates that would kill for such a connection. For you though, it had just left a weird taste in your mouth. You could call it pride or stupidity, it was likely a mix of both. Now, despite having questions as to whether that had been the right decision, you felt obligated to stick to your original sentiment.

"You're a stubborn man, just like your father was" he chuckled softly as he patted your hand, his tone wistful as if recalling an old memory, "But you should know I didn't make my fortune by taking no for an answer."

"I'll be honest with you, this hasn't been my most successful venture. In fact, everything thus far has been a net loss. Fortunately, I've funded everything myself, there's no board of directors or investors to answer to. But even I have to acknowledge when something is a lost cause."

Your jaw had loosened a bit, your ears not quite believing what they were hearing. You had always had a vision of your uncle as the supreme businessman, a genius who made no missteps. Yet here he was admitting that something he had poured who knows how much of his own money into possibly being a failure. In a way it was surreal.

"But the people that do work here, the trainees who have trusted us with their dream, they deserve a real shot. A chance to see it through before I call it quits" Uncle Min focused his gaze on you and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him quite so serious. More than that he seemed genuine, even vulnerable as though he were speaking from the heart. "I don't want you to simply work for me. In fact, in a way you won't be. I want you to run this company. Produce a successful group and help fulfill their dreams."

"..."

"I know what you're thinking. Why me? Why not someone more qualified? Now I could tell you it's because of your work ethic, I know you won't take this lightly. And your potential both as a businessman and a producer; both of which are true. However if you really want to know why I'm offering it to you it's because it's what my gut is telling me to do."

"Uncle, I'll be honest with you, I’m starting to think that might be why you lost so much money in this."

You both shared a laugh, the tension in the air easing slightly. Leave it to Park Jongmin to hand a company over to his nephew on a gut feeling.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you so you don't have to give me an answer now. But think about it. I'd like you to meet the staff and girls as well; they really are good people."

You could only nod your head in acceptance despite your apprehension. After all, this was my uncle and he was offering an incredible opportunity, even if misguided. If nothing else you owed it to him to give this your full consideration.

"Alright! That's enough of the serious stuff!" Uncle Min abruptly stood up, "Do you want a coffee? I could go for one myself."

You laughed, "Uncle, I don't think you should be drinking anymore coffee today. It can't be good for your health."

"Bah, you sound like your mother. If I only did what was good for my health I'd get nowhere in life!"

Now that was the uncle you were familiar with.

"Mister Park!"

You had just exited the building when you heard someone calling out. You turned my head to see a petite brunette, dressed in a blazer and cream skirt walking towards you with a couple of binders in her grasp. You were fairly certain you didn't know her. You’d definitely remember seeing a woman like that.

"Miss Jung! You have impeccable timing as always."

"Oh? And you're flattering me, you must have had your third cup of coffee."

"Fourth, actually."

"You know you really need to cut down on that."

As the two conversed you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost, or worse: an awkward third wheel between two good friends. At the risk of making things worse you cleared your throat to make your presence known. As if he had actually forgotten about you, your uncle's attention was jump started.

"Ah, right! Jessica I'd like you to meet my nephew. Nephew, this is Jessica Jung; she's been in charge of this project for me. No one knows our trainees better than her."

"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you" you extended your hand to her.

"Likewise. You should know Mr. Park has talked you up quite a bit. I hope you decide to join us."

Oh, she was good.

Her tone and demeanor alone mixed just the right amount of professional and personable. Unlike yourself, you could see why uncle would hire someone like her.

"This is perfect. I was going to contact you later and ask if you could introduce him to our girls. He hasn't made a decision yet but I want to let him get a feeling for everything we have to offer."

A pearl smile was offered in response as Jessica nodded, "I'd love to. We can set something up tomorrow if you like. Or we can get started tonight if you’re free for drinks?"

It took you a second to realize that you had been brought into the conversation. Straightening your posture you nodded, “Uh, yeah. I’m free for sure. We can definitely do drinks.”

“It’s a date then.”

As you watched her pencil you into her calendar, you couldn’t help but wonder just what you were getting yourself into.

“What I can’t figure out is why you don’t just throw your hat in the pile. You clearly have this down pat.”

You voice was raised as you spoke to your ‘date’. Partially to be heard over the music that was currently playing, partially because you were already two drinks in and feeling a slight buzz. Thus far you hadn’t actually learned much about the business. If anything, the two of you had spent more time getting to know each other. Which wasn’t the worst thing, especially if you were going to potentially be working alongside her.

“There’s a difference between managing people and producing a group. Or even running a company,” Jessica said, drink in her hand. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But you had to have thought about it? Doesn’t it piss you off my uncle just brining me in off the street.”

“Well it didn’t but now that you mention it…”

“Okay, wait, wait. I take it back,” you put your hands up in surrender. “But still, you’ve got to feel over-qualified for your job, no? From everything you told me it sounds like my uncle would be lost without you.”

Jessica gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and took a sip of her drink. “In his defense, he pays me my worth. Besides, it’s not all about power and status. I’ve got a soft spot for those girls as much as I hate to admit it.”

You wondered if the alcohol was making her sentimental or if it was making you dense. Maybe it was a bit of both because you still found yourself asking questions. “But –”

“Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to get out of here?”

You stopped short, the question practically evaporating out of your mind. Jessica raised her eyebrow, looking at you expectantly.

Well then.

Jessica had barely gotten the key out of her door before you were on her. You cupped her face, kissing her – or at least trying to kiss her. There were times when you kissed her nose or landed on her chin, eventually settling for attacking her neck as she kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Immediately, you pressed her up against it; her skirt riding up her slender thighs as they parted for you.

“This is…probably going to be bad…for our potential work relationship…”

“Stop talking about work and start fucking me.”

Her bluntness caught you off guard but you’d be damned if it wasn’t attractive. And she said she couldn’t be a boss? If she gave orders like that she’d have a whole office in line in no time. She certainly had you standing at full attention in more ways than one. Following her orders your hands moved, fumbling with your pants to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. The cab ride back to her place had been heated to say the least, to the point that your fingers had slipped inside her pussy and your cock was practically begging to be freed from its constraints.

As you finally obliged it, Jessica hooked a leg around your hip, drawing you closer so that your tip was pushing against her soaked entrance. Needing no further invitation you pushed forward, your mushroom head pushing past her folds. Immediately you felt her walls constricting around your cock deliciously.

“Fucking tight,” you panted.

“Did you expect otherwise?” Jessica taunted.

A taunt you knew better than to respond to, even after a few drinks. Instead you focused on stuffing her with the rest of your length. Her leg flexed tighter around you the more you pushed in until you were buried to the hilt inside of her. You wallowed in the sensation for a moment because, wow. It might’ve been a while since you had any action but you didn’t remember anything like this. Slowly you began pumping in rhythm, fucking her against her apartment door.

“That stretch…it’s so good…” Jessica’s arms clung to you, her head falling forward.

Any thought of maintaining a professional relationship to avoid problems in the future had gone out of your mind. All that remained was pleasure, or rather the pleasure you were getting from sliding in and out of your potential co-worker. A mindset that Jessica clearly shared. She lifted her other leg, locking it around your waist and giving you the freedom to fuck her harder and faster. Incoherent words began falling from her lips but you were too focused on your task to try to decipher them. You had one job and that was driving her over the edge before you inevitably blew your load.

Jessica’s nails dug into your bicep and if it weren’t for the fact that you hadn’t even taken off your jacket she’d undoubtedly be leaving red marks all over your skin. If this was how she relieved stress from her job then maybe you’d have to second guess your hesitation. Although, when you were balls deep inside of her, waking the neighbors each time her ass hit the door, it likely wasn’t the best time to be making such decisions.

“Cum…Going to cum…” Jessica managed to get out.

You increased your efforts, pounding into her to make sure she went well and truly over the edge. The way every limb clung to you as her body shuttered in orgasm told you that you had succeeded in your task. Her pussy clenched around your length as you fucked her through her orgasm; inviting you to join her in euphoria. It was an invitation you’d soon take her up on.

“Jess…where do you want me to…?”

“Inside…” she muttered, barely coming down from her high and still clinging to you.

That was all the okay you needed. You slammed your hips into hers, her back hitting the wall as your release surged through you. You were fairly certain you were seeing stars as you spilled your seed inside of her. In that moment you weren’t two professionals. You weren’t even two potential co-workers. You were just two well-fucked strangers who had unloaded a pound of stress.

When your cock finally stopped twitching your let go of the breath you were holding. Jessica was already breathing deeply, clinging to you for a moment longer before she finally unraveled herself from you, the mixture of juices seeping out of her.

“If that was an interview you would’ve gotten the job.”

“...Wait, that wasn’t an interview though, right?”

Jessica let out an airy laugh, running a hand through your hair. “No, that wasn’t an interview.”

author’s note: another series so this is a fic i never published from a while back. originally it was meant to be a more wholesome series but we’re putting that aside from now bc fck it. if it seems a bit wonky it’s because i’m editing it from being a first person POV to second person as well as doing updates to my old writing. WITH ALL THAT SAID if you’re just looking for smut there will be plenty.

#snsd jessica smut #jessica jung smut #jessica smut #male reader #tumblr getting rid of horizontal breaks is a criminal offense

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five-and-dimes · 1 year

Text

Smile Like You Mean It

Hob wants nothing more than to make his boyfriend laugh. Dream very much does not want to scare away his boyfriend with his laugh. They work through it together.

Read on AO3

Hob Gadling did not have a single ‘life goal’. His life was simply too long for that. No, he merely had current goals; the objective that caught his attention the most at any given moment which he dedicated himself to with the single mindedness of a man who couldn’t die until he succeeded.

And his current goal?

Making Dream of the Endless laugh.

He had certainly come a long way in six hundred years. Or, maybe it was Dream who had come a long way. Since reuniting, his stranger, his friend, was more open with his expressions. Still stoic and poised, for certain, but more willing to grace Hob with small smiles and gentle eyes. The first few months had been a little rough. Dream was clearly trying his best at the whole friendship thing, finally telling Hob his name and agreeing to visit more often, but there were still some growing pains. Hob was reluctant to push for fear of chasing his friend away again, and Dream didn’t seem to know what was expected of him.

(Eventually, Dream had quietly confessed where exactly he had been during their last meeting, reassuring Hob that he had not stayed away intentionally and promising not to run away again. Hob, through his tears- because if Dream would not cry then Hob would damn well cry for him- had put that statement to the test almost immediately, pulling the Endless forward to kiss him softly.

(Dream kept his word. He didn’t run away.)

(He kissed back.)

Now, as they fell more easily into a comfortable rhythm of friendship and more, Hob found himself focusing his attention on coaxing any expression of joy from Dream’s impassive face. Every day he smiled a little easier, like rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds, and Hob couldn’t get enough.

Today, they are sitting in a quiet corner of the New Inn. Hob has learned that jokes and puns don’t get him far, but Dream always loves a good story, and so he is currently regaling Dream with the tale of the time he made the mistake of starting a new life as his own nephew instead of son.

“I just figured I’d mix it up a little,” he groaned, “If anything I thought it would be more suspicious to constantly be claiming to be my own son. How was I supposed to know Helen’s mother still had a picture of us?”

Dream is watching him with rapt attention, as if he will be quizzed on his words later. His drink is untouched as always, and he gives a quiet hum, which Hob has learned is Dream-speak for ‘please tell me more’.

“So Helen comes to me, with this faded picture she found in her attic of my ‘uncle’ who is the spitting image of me, wringing her hands and near tears, explaining to me that she thinks my mom might have had an affair,” Hob put his head in his hands as he remembers the incident, “Honestly, I should have just gone along with it, but I’m bloody awful at fake crying, so of course, what do I blurt out?” He looks up at Dream, putting on a faux surprised face as he reenacts himself, “‘Oh, did I not mention my dad and uncle were twins?’”

Finally, Dream’s blank expression cracks. His eyes crinkle just slightly, and he lets out a soft huff of breath through a smile, the closest to a laugh that Hob ever manages.

And Hob loves it, to be sure, but he can’t help but grin and quip nonchalantly, "One of these days I'm gonna get a proper laugh out of you, just you wait."

The change is immediate.

Dream's face falls so fast it gives Hob whiplash, and his entire body stiffens in his seat, hands clenched in fists on the table. He looks away, so Hob can't quite figure out what emotions are swimming there.

"I do not recommend that."

Hob furrowed his brows in confusion, "And why would that be?"

Across from him, Dream shifted uncomfortably, looking almost… guilty? Before the Endless finally responded, "I have been told my laugh is. Unattractive."

And that has Hob's eyebrows shooting into his hairline, "Wait, really?" Dream nods solemnly, and the grave look on his face has Hob bursting into surprised laughter, "Oh, oh now that's something! Now I really have to hear it!"

When his laughter dies down, he expects Dream to be pouting, perhaps huffing regally or glaring in fond annoyance, as he has taken to do when Hob teases him lightly.

Instead, he is met with a carefully blank stare. The kind that Hob has learned means that Dream is hurting and doesn't want to show it.

"Your efforts would be wasted. I have long broken myself of the habit."

And, well, that is certainly. A loaded sentence. Hob feels the smile slip from his face, as it starts to occur to him that he may have tripped into a landmine without realizing it.

"Laughing isn't a 'bad habit', mate," he responds slowly. He can’t help but tilt his head a little, looking at his friend through a new lens. Dream has always been so stoic, so reserved and guarded and reticent. It had never occurred to him that those traits may have been learned.

Dream is older than Hob- much, much older- and he is too afraid to ask how long Dream has been smothering his own joy.

"Even if you do have an ugly laugh or what have you,” he continued insistently, “that's no reason to just… never laugh again. I mean, come one, laughing is great! It’s, it’s unrestrained joy! Happiness! There’s no bad way to laugh.”

A pause stretches between them. And then, Dream shakes his head. Slowly. A single, deliberate movement from side to side, and he speaks as though reciting a fact of the universe. "Joy is. Unbecoming on me."

Hob has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and even though he somehow manages not to burst into tears at those words, he’s certain he looks as heartbroken as he feels, “Dream,” his voice is pleading, “That’s not the point. That- that’s not what joy is about!” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice, egged on by the way he finds himself gesturing wildly in front of a being who might as well be a statue for how still he is, “It’s not about looking good, it’s about feeling good. If I had to choose between you being unfairly attractive and you being happy, I’m always going to pick your happiness.”

Part of him also wants to argue that he very much doesn’t believe that there is anything Dream could do that would make him unattractive, that Hob is compromised by his appearance 24/7 no matter what he does. But given how dense and stubborn his friend is, he worries it would be taken the wrong way. So for now, he just leans forward to lay a hand over Dream’s.

“We both know I’m more stubborn than you, so just you wait. I’m going to get a laugh out of you, and we’ll both have a right good time with it, and you’ll find that joy is in fact very becoming on you. And you know I wouldn’t lie.”

For a long moment, Dream just looks at him, blinking slowly like he’s just been handed a particularly vexing puzzle. Eventually, he responds steadily, “I am always happy with you. Even when I do not laugh.”

Huffing lightly, Hob smiles, “Well, I’m glad to hear that my friend. But you won’t dissuade me.”

“Hm. You cannot blame me for trying though.”

That startles a laugh from Hob, and he squeezes Dream’s hand fondly, “No, I suppose not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob figures, since he is dating the Prince of Stories, that movie nights are a pretty solid bet as far as dates go.

Flipping through the selection of movies on his laptop, he tries very, very hard not to think of the reason why Dream hasn’t experienced these particular stories, instead focusing on the excitement of getting to share them with the one he loves.

Lately, he’s been concentrating on comedies.

He had started with the older ones, suffering through adaptations of Shakespeare’s comedies so that Dream could have something familiar while adjusting to the new medium of film. Then he showed him some of the classics; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Princess Bride, The Great Race, The Marx Brothers. He learned that Dream loved Clue and the idea of a story having multiple endings, but didn’t care for Monty Python’s absurdity.

And through them all, Hob got small smiles and abrupt exhales.

They laid together on the couch, Dream’s back against Hob’s front, Hob resting his arms around Dream’s chest. He barely watches the movies on the screen, so tuned into Dream, trying to ease any tension out of his frame, hoping for at least the gentle shakes of restrained laughter.

But there’s nothing.

When the credits roll, Hob stands, kissing Dream on the forehead before taking their empty wine glasses to the kitchen for a refill. Setting them on the counter, Hob allows himself a sigh of frustration. He hadn’t expected this endeavor to be quite so difficult. Tapping his fingers, he racked his brain for what else he could do to loosen up the stubborn being on his couch enough to shrug off some of his poise.

“Hob.”

Dream never made a sound when he moved, and Hob really should be used to it by now. Still, he jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of a voice barely a foot behind him. Whipping around, he clutched at his chest dramatically.

“God’s wounds, Dream, if I could die I think I might have!”

For a long moment, they simply stare at each other. Dream stands tall and regal, hands clasped in front of him, and blinks slowly. There is such gravity in his expression, in the way he carefully considers Hob, as if trying to disarm a bomb.

(Hob looks at him and wants to ask ‘What are you so afraid of? What’s got you so scared of me?’)

(Dream looks at him and wants to ask ‘Is this enough? Is this enough? Why can’t this be enough?’)

(Neither of them ask.)

Eventually, Dream’s eyes flutter closed, and he steps forward to press his face into the crook of Hob’s shoulder. On instinct, Hob circles him with his arms, swaying them both slightly as he buries his nose in wild black hair.

“Everything alright, Dove?”

He feels Dream nod against him, “Yes. I am happy. Here, with you.”

And he sounds happy. Something peaceful and relaxed in his tone that makes Hob’s face crack into a wide smile and squeeze him a little tighter, “Good. That’s what we’re going for, Love.”

Dream hums contentedly, nearly a purr, and Hob figures he must be doing something right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In all the centuries since meeting Dream of the Endless, long before he knew his name, before the lust turned to love, Hob had been convinced that he would never so much as lay a hand on his stranger’s skin. He always seemed so far above him, so unreachable, it had felt like the most painful kind of pipe dream.

So now, six hundred some odd years later, being able to kiss Dream felt like a miracle.

This, too, had taken some adjusting between them. Hob was a tactile person, and he got the feeling Dream was too, but he wasn’t used to it. For the first few weeks, Dream couldn’t help but flinch away from skin contact, and Hob couldn’t help but feel rejected by it. But as time passed, Dream began to relax into the affection, and Hob learned not to take it personally, though it still made him sad to think of how long Dream had gone without kind contact.

Similarly, going farther had taken time. Dream had expressed a want to be with Hob intimately, but taking his clothes off was a struggle. They grew together in this, too. They took it slow, learned each other’s bodies under clothes until Dream was comfortable removing that barrier so long as the lights were dimmed, so long as he didn’t feel displayed.

Now they fell together with practiced ease. They both knew how to make the space comfortable, how to make the other gasp and pant. Hob knew how to ease away the endless tension Dream carried in every part of his body, and Dream knew how to make Hob feel seen and wanted in ways he never had before.

They had both shared a couple bottles of wine, though Hob was the only one seemingly affected by it, his kisses a little more clumsy and a rosy flush over his face. They stumbled into Hob’s bedroom, Dream pulling his body on top of his own, encouraging Hob to press his weight onto him the way he liked. Hob took a moment to kick the mess of sheets onto the floor, his movements hindered by the way Dream was shoving his shirt over his head. He laughed as his arms got tangled in the sleeves, nearly tipping over before Dream’s hands reached to steady him, finally freeing himself of the fabric. He saw Dream’s lips twitching before he zeroed in on Hob’s chest, running his fingers through his thick body hair and palming at his pecs. Hob had always thought he was decent looking, but Dream had a way of bearing down on him with hungry eyes that made him feel like the most attractive man in the universe.

But he doesn’t let himself get too distracted, tugging at Dream’s shirt questioningly and then pulling it off as soon as he’s given approval. The same way Dream is minorly obsessed with Hob’s hair and muscles, so is Hob enamored with the miles of smooth, hairless skin exposed to him now. Dream sighs, his body going lax beneath him and running his fingers lovingly through his hair as Hob kisses along his collar bones.

They are both still in their jeans, but there’s no rush. Leaning back, Hob is happy to take his time admiring his love, smiling at the way Dream’s eyes have drifted closed under his gentle touches. Hob skims his fingers down Dream's sides, brushing over prominent ribs and the vulnerable space of his waist, and he feels Dream twitch, a huff of breath escaping him and at that moment, a lightbulb goes off in his brain.

Suddenly, Hob feels himself grin mischievously, because why hadn't he thought of this before?

Curling his fingers, he drags them back up Dream's skin, not pressing, just fluttering up and down the soft, white skin. Below him, Dream begins to squirm, sucking in a breath, and Hob grins wider, begins to move his fingers just a little faster because he is brilliant and then-

-and then Dream's entire body goes rigid, and cold fingers shoot out to grip Hob's wrists.

"Stop."

Dream's voice cracks with desperation and Hob feels like the scum of the earth.

Before he has a chance to pull away, to give Dream space, Dream is scrambling back, sitting up to press his back against the headboard. All the soft relaxation Hob had coaxed from him is gone, his body wracked with tension, and even cast downward he can see the anxiety and shame warring in his eyes. He keeps his shaking hands around Hob's wrists to hold him at arm's length, as if bracing for Hob to ignore his wishes.

Yeah. Hob definitely feels like scum.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning back and keeping his hands lax and unthreatening, "I'm sorry, it's okay. I won't do that again," he promises. He tilts his head to try to catch Dream's gaze, "I'm sorry."

Dream doesn't respond, but he does loosen his grip. Tentatively, Hob shifts to curl his hands around Dream's softly in return, letting his thumbs stroke the inside of his wrists soothingly. He waits patiently, letting Dream breathe, occasionally whispering soft apologies and comfort while Dream gathers himself.

After several long minutes, Dream swallows thickly, "I do not understand."

Furrowing his brow, Hob asked, "What do you mean?"

There is another pause before Dream answers slowly, his voice thick with fear and sorrow, "You have already seen. All the ugly things inside of me. That you still allow me in your presence at all is a marvel. Why, then, do you seek to see me ugly on the outside? It would be…too much. To ask for you to still want me. If I am, if nothing else, no longer appealing in that way to you."

Hob feels like his heart has been drawn and quartered. His chest goes tight, and there are so many things he wants to say, so many reasons he wants to cry, and they're all fighting for first place in his mind. For too long he simply stares, eyes wide and watery, while Dream curls in on himself, his gaze still locked on his lap.

Finally, finally, Hob gently releases Dream's hands, opening his arms and just barely managing to choke out, "Come 'ere, Love. Come here."

Dream hesitates, his eyes at last glancing up to search Hob's face. Whatever he finds there must be enough though, because he releases a shuddering breath and lets himself fall forward into Hob's arms.

Hob gathers him in his lap, settling in the center of the bed and pressing a kiss against his sharp cheekbone. He grips him tight, and after one last moment of hesitation, Dream curls his arms around Hob's back to return the embrace.

For so long, Hob has felt small compared to Dream. Immortal though he may be, he was still just a human next to an Endless. A speck next to an existence he could barely wrap his head around. Each day, Hob felt it was a marvel for Dream to want him. Not once had he ever considered that Dream might feel less than. It had never even crossed his mind that Dream might think it even a possibility that Hob wouldn't want him in whatever way he was given. As if there was anything that would make Hob give up on him.

Especially something so inconsequential.

"I love you," Hob whispers against his temple, "You. It doesn't matter what you look like, or sound like. Ugly, beautiful, plain, it doesn't matter as long as it's you. I won't stop loving you- won't stop wanting you- just because you're not, I don't know, aesthetically perfect or whatever."

He squeezes the bony body a little tighter, "Although that said, I love you. And so you'll always be beautiful to me. Inside and out."

When Hob pulls back to look at him, there are tears slowly running down Dream's face, and he doesn't look like he believes him.

It breaks Hob's heart.

But they've got time.

Kissing the tears from his cheeks, he makes one last promise, "I'm going to prove it to you. However long it takes. The rest of my immortal life. I'll prove it to you."

Dream still doesn't respond. He simply closes his eyes and swallows back all the arguments bubbling in his chest. They don't have sex that night, but Hob pulls the covers around them and holds Dream until he stops shaking. Until he's warm and relaxed in his arms again.

Dream never responds. But he's still there in the morning, waking Hob with a gentle kiss, and that’s enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob stops trying after that.

There’s a subtle relaxation to Dream now, as if he has exhaled after months of holding his breath, and it is a painful realization for Hob to acknowledge that his attempts had, in fact, been making things worse.

Nothing for it now but to learn from it, he supposes. So he doesn’t push. He savors every smile Dream graces him with, every soft touch and loving gaze. They start watching different genres of movies and shows, and sometimes Hob manages to convince Dream to go somewhere in the city with him. Dream shows his happiness is a thousand quiet ways, and Hob cherishes each of them.

On this day, Hob isn’t even expecting Dream at all. They had already seen each other several times that week, and Dream was a busy being, so Hob was anticipating a quiet night and maybe a dream-visit later in the evening. They were approaching the one-year anniversary of Dream returning to the New Inn, which Hob knew was a complicated time for Dream. It was, after all, also approaching the one-year anniversary of his escape from the monsters who imprisoned him.

Hob is, admittedly, a little lost on how to handle the occasion. Dream has been dealing with it the way he deals with everything, which is to say he hasn’t mentioned it and if pressed would make some excuse about arbitrary dates or something. So Hob falls back on one of his tried-and-true love languages.

Food.

Sure, Dream doesn’t eat much, if at all, but he knows he appreciates the gesture when Hob offers him treats. So Hob has dedicated the evening after returning from work to trying out a fancy recipe he found for a lavender cake with lemon curd and buttercream. If it works out well enough, he’ll make it for Dream on one of their more official date nights. Cooking has always been more of his forte, but it can’t be that hard to switch to baking, he figures. Besides, last Christmas he splurged on one of those expensive Kitchen Aid stand mixers, so he should be set.

At first, it does go smoothly enough. The lemon curd is thinner than he wanted, but it still needs to cool a little, so he’s not giving up on it yet. He’s beaten the eggs and sugar, and has just poured what he feels is a reasonable amount of flour into the bowl. It’s a little full, sure, but as he drops the paddle in he figures as long as he keeps the setting low he’ll be fine.

And that’s when Dream shows up.

And, to be clear, by ‘show up’, he means just fucking appear next to Hob in the kitchen out of absolutely nowhere.

“Hello Hob-”

Dream is interrupted by Hob’s high-pitched shriek, accompanied by the way his full body flail catches the switch on the mixer. The paddle, half buried in flour, goes from zero to ten, a mushroom cloud of flour engulfing the kitchen followed by waves of egg and sugar.

“SHIT! FUCK!” Hob sputters, waving his arms blindly as his vision is obscured by the explosion of batter, until his fingers finally find the switch and slam it off.

The entire kitchen is hazy with flour in the air, and Hob is sputtering, trying to spit out the mixture that got in his mouth during the explosion. He is spitting into his arm, shaking his hair out like a dog, and so it takes a moment for him to register another sound in the room.

It is, undeniably, a laugh, but only in the sense that there is a distinct “ha ha” to the sound. But there’s a quality to it, like if you scraped gravel across a chalkboard, deep and low pitched but still somehow grating, broken up by long notes that remind him of a braying bloodhound.

Snapping his head around, he only catches the last moment. There is a split second where he sees Dream, flour in his hair and bright streaks of egg and sugar on his black clothing, his eyes bright with glee, his mouth smiling wide enough to show his teeth, sees how his whole face seems softer and brighter and he hunches slightly under the force of his laughter.

Dream’s laughter.

Only for a second though. As soon as their eyes lock, Dream chokes on a breath. He actually takes a step back, away from Hob, as he slaps both hands over his mouth, fingers curling to clutch at his own jaw, and he doesn’t go red with embarrassment, but gray from mortification.

Deep in his mind, Hob knows he should be saying something comforting. Something to console the anxiety that is obviously crackling under Dream’s skin like an electric current. He should definitely be doing something soothing.

But the sound of laughter is still ringing in his ears, every splitting note of it echoing in his head, and, really, there is only one way to respond to that awful, ridiculous noise coming from Dream's mouth:

"Marry me."

Dream's hands are still covering his mouth, but Hob sees the way his eyes widen, and his shoulders jerk up to his ears, and he thinks he hears a muffled squeak of surprise, and what else can he do but-

"Marry me right now."

They spend a long moment staring at each other. Slowly, so slowly, Dream pulls his hands away from his mouth, just an inch or so, still ready to clamp down anything he deems unseemly, but enough to let out a soft, "Pardon?"

And, really, how could anyone be expected to stand in front of this Endless- this unfathomable, multifaceted being who is powerful and elegant and ridiculous and adorable and perfect- and not leap forward to embrace him?

Dream's hands are still in the way, and so as Hob wraps his arms around him, his lips land on his knuckles, pressing the hands back against Dream's mouth just as another surprised squeak escapes him and Hob is so in love. He doesn’t care that they are making a bigger mess, and Hob's kiss is no less enthusiastic for the bony barrier between their lips. It's still Dream's skin, and so it is still a gift.

Eventually, he pauses long enough for Dream to uncover his mouth, his hands hovering over Hob's chest, barely touching enough to leave light fingerprints in the batter coating his shirt. He blinks in confusion and Hob is smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"You. Do not think it is…?"

Hob pulls him tight against his chest, peppering kisses all over his face, careless of the flour getting in his mouth as he rambles lovingly, "It's ridiculous. You sound like a choking donkey. You've never looked more beautiful. It's hideous. It's perfect. I want to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life."

When he looks, Dream's eyes are shining with tears, but he's also smiling, his face full of wonder and fragile hope as he whispers, "That is. A long time, Hob Gadling."

He's still smiling, which makes their teeth click when Hob leans in to kiss him properly, "Longer, if I have any say in it,” with effort, he pulls back just enough to point out, “You haven’t answered my question by the way.”

Raising an eyebrow, a bit of shyness returned to Dream even as he replied petulantly, “You did not phrase it as a question.” Hob rolled his eyes, and Dream continued, “That was not. One of your jokes?”

“My love,” Hob takes one of Dream’s hands, laying the other over his own heart dramatically as he drops to one knee on his disastrous kitchen floor, “I have never been more serious.”

Dream burst out laughing.

Tugging on Hob’s hand, he pulled him to his feet and pressed their mouths together, “You ridiculous, absurd, wonderful man,” Dream declares when he can catch his breath, “Nothing would bring me more joy than to call you my husband.”

Eventually they have to stop kissing.

They are both laughing too hard against each other's mouths.

#FUCK YEAH ONE LESS WIP #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #my writing #this started as part of a different fic and then took on a life of it's own #I'm pretty happy with how it turned out though #it was meant to be pure fluff but I apparently NEED to make things hurt at least a little #cest la vie

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illicitlimerence-writes · 1 year

Text

snow | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 870 words (thank god) request: nope prompt: snowball fights ⎯ “i’m going to get you back for that, [name]!” from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: language, snowball war, both mick and reader have golden retriever energy in this. not proofread a/n: this is really short but i hope you like it anyway! REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

christmas in switzerland was something she’d never experienced before. everywhere she looked was covered in white show, the houses and cabins seemed like ones she saw only in movies, everything was too perfect.

the first day of snow was one of the best days of her life. it didn’t matter that she woke up sick the next day, she wouldn’t change the previous day for anything.

it started with mick waking her up sweetly, leaving a trail of soft kisses all over her face, her jaw, and her neck.

“wake up,” he said, feeling her breathing pattern change. “i know you’re awake, open your eyes,” he continued, nuzzling his face in her neck.

“no,” she grunted, wrapping her arms around his neck still with her eyes closed, she curled her fingers in his hair. “why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?” she asked, peeking one eye open and seeing everything bright.

“it’s like 9am,” mick laughed, grabbing her waist and turning them over so she was on top of him.

“exactly,” she said.

“have you looked outside?” he asked.

“no, i’m cold,” she hid her face in his chest, her hand throwing the covers over her head.

“come on, look out the window,” he chuckled, his fingers playing with her hair.

she moved, placing her chin in his chest and looking up at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“why?”

“just do it,” he laughed.

she did, she turned her head to the side and saw the sky.

“it’s morning, yeah, i see that,”

“you don’t see it?” he asked.

“see what?”

“come on,” he said, moving her to the side so he could stand up, he grabbed her hands and pulled.

“nooo,” she groaned dramatically, but let him drag her to the edge of the bed, “why are you so keen on getting me to watch out your window, i-” she said as they walked to the window, she expected to see his backyard looking like it did yesterday. but instead it was covered in white, fresh snow.

“it snowed last night.” he smiled.

“aaah!” she yelled, grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, catching the attention of his dog. “angie, come on, we’re playing in the snow!”

“wait, hold on, wait, babe!” he called to her, only stopping her when he wrapped both arms around her to hold her back, “you can’t go out like that. you’ll get sick.”

“oh.” she said, “right, yeah,” mick let her down, going to get at least a jacket and boots for her, since she was currently without shoes or socks on. when he returned she was nowhere to be found, and the backdoor was open.

angie’s loud, excited barking and her joyful laugh was all the indication he needed.

“baby, you’ll get sick!” mick said, already wearing his own snow jacket and shoes, he walked to her, handing her the jacket.

“i’m sorry, but look!” she pouted, “it’s snow! we’ll get to have a white christmas after all. and look at angie, look at her little footprints,”

“yes, it’s all really pretty. now please put on these socks and shoes,” he crouched down, his back towards her. “jump,” he said. a few seconds later she was hanging from his back, he could feel her shivering against him. he walked her to a bench he had outside in the patio, he wiped away the snow and sat her there to help her put on her socks and shoes. “come on, cinderella,” he joked, but she was too enthralled watching the trees, the small fountain, everything covered in snow. he put on her shoes, and just when he was tying her shoe he felt something so incredibly cold hit his back.

he looked up, a shocked look on his face as she stared at him with happiness written all over her face.

“oh, you don’t know what you’ve just started,” he warned her, she continued giggling. “snowball war? i’m going to get you back for that.” he declared.

“i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” she smiled.

“i’ll give you a head start,” he announced, “you have ten seconds to run away and make as many snow balls as you can, after that, it’s game on.”

she didn’t waste a single moment, she pushed herself up, letting out a mix of shriek and laugh as he tried to hold her back, but she freed herself and pushed him back. she found refuge on the side of the house, angie ran to her as she was making as many snow balls as she could. after mick finished counting she held her breath counting in her head, once she reached fifteen and didn’t hear him, she dared one peek to where he was. but he wasn’t there, and she couldn’t see him anywhere else.

angie’s bark alerted her, she turned just in time to see a snowball flying her way, hitting her shoulder.

“it’s war!” she laughed, throwing more of the white snow at him.

they felt like two kids at that moment, unaware of everything else going on in the world, the only thing that mattered was them and their fun. they’d worry about hot chocolate and medicine later.

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eatmyass-x · 9 months

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When Lan Qiren extends an invitation to lunch, Wei Ying is admittedly very suspicious. Lan Qiren’s never made any effort to hide his dislike for his youngest nephew's partner of choice. The last time they came face to face, he’d not just ignored Wei Ying, but openly spoken about setting Lan Zhan up with a family friend. So a sudden change of heart seems highly unlikely.

“You do not have to accept the invite. He hasn’t given you any reason to want to see him,” Lan Zhan says when Wei Ying tells him about the strangely amicable text messages he’s received from his uncle.

But he sees the glimmer of hope in Lan Zhan’s eyes. He knows how much it hurts him to see his family at odds with Wei Ying. He didn’t even get to celebrate the new year with them this year because he refused to go if Wei Ying was not invited, despite Wei Ying repeatedly telling him it was okay.

So the least Wei Ying can do is try his best to fix things for Lan Zhan’s sake. Especially if Lan Qiren is extending an olive branch.

He spends an embarrassing amount of time getting ready, not wanting to give Lan Qiren more reason to dislike him. He irons his clothes, takes out his piercings, removes his nail varnish and ties his hair up as neat as he can manage. It’s a good thing Lan Zhan has already left for work, or he’d look at Wei Ying sadly and tell him not to change himself for anyone.

The restaurant Lan Qiren has picked is fancy to say the least. Wei Ying feels astoundingly out of place, but manages to walk in with his head held high. He’s arrived exactly on time but Lan Qiren is already seated at the table.

Wei Ying greets him and takes a seat. He thinks he sees Lan Qiren nod ever so slightly in response. It’s one step above being completely ignored like last time, so they’re off to a good start he tells himself.

The restaurant is not very busy at this time. Only faint music and the clinking of cutlery can be heard. The silence stretches between them. Wei Ying clears his throat. “How have you been, Uncle?” Lan Qiren’s eye twitches. “We haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“With reason.” Lan Qiren doesn’t look at him as he speaks, instead glancing around the restaurant like he’s observing the decor.

Wei Ying tries not to falter. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch, Uncle. I wasn’t expecting it at all, but I’m glad you did.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s not every day someone like you gets to dine at an establishment like this.”

“I’ve come here before, without Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s face is beginning to ache with the smile he keeps plastered on. “You forget I grew up with the Jiangs.”

“Grew up with, yes.” Lan Qiren finally looks at him. “But you are not one of them.”

“No, I’m not. I’m your former classmate’s son, if you recall.” Wei Ying tries his very best to remain polite. For Lan Zhan’s sake. “What I meant was that it hurts me to see Lan Zhan unhappy. I’m sure it upsets you too. He is your nephew after all.”

“What upsets me is his inability to discern good from bad. He continues to disappoint me.” Lan Qiren rudely waves away the waiter that approaches their table. “He can’t see that his family has his best interests in mind, not duplicitous outsiders.”

“Did you invite me here to insult me, Uncle?” Wei Ying laughs. “You could have done that over the phone. It would’ve saved you the trip. I know your knees have been giving you trouble recently.”

Lan Qiren scowls. “I called you here to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“Ah, that’s piqued your interest, has it?” Lan Qiren strokes his goatee smugly. “As expected.”

Wei Ying is so confused. “I really don’t understand what you’re saying, Uncle.”

“I am not your uncle,” Lan Qiren erupts. “Drop the act, Lan Zhan is not here to see.” He pulls out a pen and paper from his pocket and scribbles something down. “Here.” He slides the paper across the table. “Now leave my nephew.”

Bewildered, Wei Ying looks down at the paper. And then he sees what it really is — a cheque, in Wei Ying’s name. “Huh?”

“Take this money and leave my nephew,” Lan Qiren says calmly.

“What?!”

“Stop playing dumb. This is what you’re really after, right? So take it!” He roughly pushes the cheque the rest of the way. “It’s more than you could ever dream of. Take it and get out of my nephew’s life!”

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Wei Ying is at a complete loss for words. He feels like he’s been teleported into one of those horrible soap operas Madam Yu likes to watch, and Lan Qiren is the evil, scheming mother-in-law.

“No fucking way,” he blurts.

Lan Qiren goes purple with rage. “You insolent—!” But he’s interrupted by his phone ringing.

It looks like the call is important. “Wait here,” he instructs Wei Ying, still looking furious, and then walks off with his phone to his ear. But not before pocketing the cheque first.

Wei Ying can’t believe this is happening. He scrambles to get his own phone out and quickly calls Lan Zhan, keeping an eye out for Lan Qiren.

Despite being at work, Lan Zhan picks up on the second ring. “Wei Ying?”

“Lan Zhan, you’ll never fucking believe this!” he whisper-screams down the phone.

“Is everything okay?” Lan Zhan sounds worried. “Has Uncle done something?”

“No, no. Good news,” Wei Ying reassures him. “He hasn’t tried to run me over or anything this time.”

“This time?” Ah shit. Wei Ying wasn’t supposed to mention that incident to Lan Zhan. “And what is the bad news?”

“Well…” He grimaces even though Lan Zhan can’t see him. “He’s just offered me money to leave you.”

“What?” The disbelief in Lan Zhan’s voice is loud and clear.

“Exactly! It’s like something out of a cheesy K-drama!” In fact Wei Ying’s pretty sure he’s seen this exact scene in a show before. Only difference is Lan Qiren isn’t wearing fur and pearls and a fancy updo. “I don’t know whether to laugh or be angry. Your uncle’s gone insane!”

There’s a long moment of silence on the other end of the line. And then Lan Zhan asks, “How much did he offer?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying guffaws. “That’s your main concern? How much? I don’t know, a completely crazy amount. There were so many zeroes on the cheque I lost count.”

“You should take the money.”

“What.” Wei Ying’s heart plummets. Surely not…

“Take the money and stay with me regardless,” Lan Zhan tells him. “He won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Relief washes over Wei Ying. “Are you telling me to scam your own uncle?”

“Mn. Why not.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying laughs. “I love you so much, Lan Zhan. I hope you know that.” Then he spots Lan Qiren heading back over. “Okay, I have to go now. Talk to you later. Love you, muah!” He blows a kiss through the phone and then rushes to put it away before Lan Qiren sees.

The man takes his seat at the table once again. “You're still here. Well, of course you are.” He takes the cheque out of his pocket and puts it back onto the table, looking smug. “You wouldn’t leave without this.”

Wei Ying looks down at the cheque, unable to withhold his disdain. “This is all you think your beloved nephew is worth?”

Lan Qiren scoffs. “So you want more? I should have known. Name your price. Whatever it takes to be rid of you for good.”

“I will not leave Lan Zhan. Ever.” Wei Ying emphasises each individual word. “I love him.”

“Name your price, boy,” Lan Qiren repeats, getting angrier. “He won’t miss you. I’ll have a hundred eligible young men lined up for him by the end of the week. Men of his calibre, not money hungry vermin like you.”

“Money hungry,” Wei Ying laughs. “But I don’t want your money, Uncle. Not even if you double it, or triple it, or give me everything you own. All I want is Lan Zhan. All I’ve ever wanted is Lan Zhan.”

“And you really expect me to believe that him being the heir to Lan Enterprise has nothing to do with it?” Lan Qiren sneers.

“Nothing at all.” Wei Ying shrugs. “I’ve loved him since we were children. I loved him when he didn’t have a penny to his name after you cut him off for being gay. And I’ll love him till my dying breath, and in every lifetime thereafter.”

“Oh, cut the nonsense!” Lan Qiren’s fists are clenched into the tablecloth. “Do you know how easy it’ll be for me to ruin your life? To destroy everything you care about? I will make your life a living hell!” He bangs his fists against the table, making the plates rattle and the water in his glass splash over. “So if you have an ounce of sense you’ll take the money now and leave peacefully. This is your last chance.”

Wei Ying considers the man carefully. Then he picks up the cheque. He reads it properly this time and realises the figure is even bigger than he’d originally thought. More money than he’ll ever see in his lifetime.

“I think,” he says, and smiles up at Lan Qiren, “You should stuff your cheque, Uncle,” and rips it up into small pieces, throwing them up in the air.

As he walks out of the restaurant he hears the sound of cutlery hitting the ground. The ever composed Lan Qiren publicly losing his cool like this. How embarrassing, Wei Ying thinks, giggling to himself. Lan Zhan is going to be so amused when he hears about it.

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mxtx #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #scribbles

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bubblestopia · 1 year

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an escape from her own mind [Aemond Targaryen AU!]

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

summary: a silver boy that seeks company to release his own nightmares that follow him even in the lightest places crushes into a heavy reader that seeks alone time in her own world of fantasies.

word count: 1.159

A/N: please don't be too harsh on judging it, this is my first story that I ever published and im still learning so be patient with me. reblogs and comments are grateful appreciated, I am always open to new ideas and suggestions.

this is a work of AU! fiction utilising characters from HBO’s House Of The Dragon series.

The library that was usually empty or with just a few customers is now full, with no place for her to sit and enjoy the morning coffee and the romance book she chose to entertain herself. Walking by the long corridor destined for wooden tables and chairs hoping to find a spot, preferably a quiet and secluded one from the crowd, she starts rethinking her decision on coming to the library in the season of exams where she deeply knows that the students prefer coming here to study in groups or alone. With no chances of finding a free chair she walks by the tall bookshelves full of every kind of story she could possibly think of, “the doors to escape reality” as she likes to call them. The very last corner of the library is the perfect spot to just sit down on the old carpet and make herself disappear in her own world of princesses and knights in shinning armour.

Time had passed, half of her coffee is finished and she still can’t take her eyes and mind from the book that is currently keeping her captive, but that will change when steps are heard approaching the corner that the girl had occupied.

The silver hair boy sits down opposite of her without any word. Thinking that now she doesn’t have the silent corner only for her, looks suspicious at him. “No space left in the other part” raspy voice admits and she finally takes a better look at the man. Long silver hair that could take a breath away, but the most intriguing part of him was his eyepatch, revealing one blue eye that she can not read, she can’t find any emotion that holds it, nothing, its like the dessert took over the ocean. “Its rude to stare, especially to people you don’t know”, realising what she was doing, her cheeks turn a bright red and she holds the book in front of her to cover the embarrassment that she had to face.

“Why would you read that kind of stuff? Its full of lies and doesn’t teach you anything” With no warning he spits out the words with an incredible disgust for the book.

“A book doesn’t have to be particularly meant to teach you something for you to learn from it, and it gives me a little bit of hope on this cruel world we have to live without a way of saying”

He knows, he knows this more than anyone and his missing eye is the proof of his endures and pains.

“You should teach me about your ways, I find fascinating the way you can stay in a little corner and enjoy your mind and imagination”

“Why would I do that more exactly, what comes out of this for me? And more important I don’t even know you, you are a complete stranger that just happened to sit in the same corner as me.”

“Aemond Targaryen’s the name, now we are not strangers” he showed a little bit of smirk hoping the girl wouldn’t notice it. “And as I can see in those glittery eyes of yours, you have too many questions that occupies your pretty mind, it would be my pleasure to answer them all for you and enlighten your desires of knowing what’s behind my eyepatch”

She’s a reader, she has questions, lots of questions that kills her mind every second she spends with him. She feels the danger that she could get herself into but ignores it and accept his deal not knowing how she can change her own perspective of life after the chitchat with the silver boy. “I am allowed to ask one question after one chapter finished” was the last condition she wanted to make.

““I hope you find someone you can't live without.I really do. And I hope you never have to know what it's like to have to try and live without them.”” He looks at her reading the chapters, the way her face relaxes, the way her eyes shine brighter than ever, the way her soft voice that is full of hope and happiness, he feels like believing her, believing that there is a happy ending, not because of the silly book but only the way she reads the paragraphs with her heart on the table. But he also knows that letting his guard down will only bring monsters in his life. Without releasing he find himself not listening to her anymore, he is just mesmerised of her, his thoughts stop when she clears her voice to get his attention, excited that is time for the first question. She knows she can’t directly ask about the eyepatch, she knows he will close himself, so the only question on her mind had to be spoken.

“What exactly are you doing in a library, in the dusty corner to be more precise?”. He takes a little of his time to think for a proper answer “I was looking for a book with greek gods, and that section is right over here” he points at the shelves behind him that holds the exact books he is searching for. “But why did you care to sit on the floor with no book in hands?” “One question per chapter, remember sweet girl?” He smirks, a devilish smirk that can tell that he is right and you are wrong, oh but how much she hates that smirk. She just wants to erase it and ask away her mental list of question, but a deal is a deal.

She just lost count of how many chapters she read and how many question she asked, but none about his missing eye. She didn’t found any courage to ask the trouble question. Without a warning the library clock rings and indicates that is almost noon. She looks at her finished cup of coffee and then at the silver boy. “I think it’s time to end this little book club” He chuckles at her nickname for the thing that was going for the past hour “You may be right, although you gotta tell me when the next session will be” He knows he still wants to spend time with her, he knows she starts being the light for him “Why would I want to see you again?” “Because I know you still have questions, and you will eat yourself alive if you don’t answer them” He was right, he knew it but now seeing her pretty face thinking to find a solution for this problem, makes his ego go even higher if it was possible.

“I will buy you the next coffee” she stayed a little to think for all the bad possibilities but didn’t found one, and a free coffee sounds very tempting, so she accepted “Deal” with a small smirk on both of their faces they left the dusty corner that now holds a part of history and future.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond imagine

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 2 months

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Chapter 4 of The Teenage Mutant Phantom of the Opera!

@daboyau

A lot of things changed after Usagi so suddenly got the lead.

Obviously the biggest change was that he had to be included in the practice now since there wasn’t really any other choice.

People in the production started treating him a lot better too. He’s not exactly sure if it’s because they don’t want him to leave and force them to find someone else or if it’s fear of the phantom.

The incidents had stopped right after the former lead left. It was very suspicious, but saving Donnie proved that Usagi wasn’t the culprit.

That was something else that changed.

Donnie was way less frosty to him now that they had to act together, and making sure he didn’t get pummeled by a sand bag definitely helped.

Usagi was hanging up his costume when Donnie approached him.

“I need you to go with me to the coffee shop.”

“Uh….normally, someone asks the other person if they want to go, you know.”

“Well, I’m telling you I need you to. Technically you can still say no but it’s going to make things more difficult for me if you don’t.”

“I guess I should make sure that barista doesn’t finally lose it on you.” Usagi sighs.

As they leave together, Donnie can’t help but shudder, glancing back towards the stage.

“Something up?” Usagi looks as well.

“…..Nothing.” Donnie lies, turning around again.

It felt like someone was staring daggers at him, but no one seemed to even be looking their way.

The walk to the coffee shop is silent, but when they enter that doesn’t last long.

“YOU!” The barista shouts and points at Donnie.

He hides behind Usagi.

“Did you bring me here to be a yokai shield?”

“You agreed to come!”

Usagi makes a unamused face but still walks over to the counter while Donnie carefully follows behind.

“Hey Lex, can I get a caramel Frappuccino with extra syrup?”

She nods, heading off to prepare the drink.

“You’re on a first name basis?”

“I’ve come here a few times since figuring out that drink order. Since you haven’t called to complain since she’s been pretty grateful.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I was just letting them know it wasn’t correct.”

“Telling someone they’re wrong without telling them how to be right isn’t too helpful.”

Donnie rolls his eyes.

Lex soon comes back and hands them their drinks. She already knew what Donnie wanted.

The two of them take their drinks and pay.

Lex stares hard at Donnie which makes him pretty uncomfortable.

Usagi gently nudges him, motioning for him to take a drink.

He does as asked.

Lex huffs happily when she sees that he doesn’t hate it and gets back to the other costumers.

“Did she really have to see me drink it?”

“She was ready to pull her fur out because she couldn’t make it right before, I’d be really happy to see you finally enjoy it too.”

Donnie grumpily continues to grumpily sip his drink.

They leave the shop after that.

“How do you….do that?”

“Do what?” Usagi looks over at him.

“Understand people.”

“Oh I do not understand people that well at all!” His ears shoot up.

“You are somehow doing it better than me so now I feel insulted.”

“Look, almost all the friends I have right now are people who wanted me dead at first. There’s only one who doesn’t and I’ve upset him a few times accidentally already. I’m just really not as good at it as you think.”

“Then how did you know how she was feeling? What her thought process was?”

“I only imagined what it must feel like in her place.”

“Ugh, you make it sound so easy!”

“You know it’s okay for it not to be easy right? Sometimes it just isn’t. It’s something to work on.”

“I’m getting pretty tired of working on myself. Part of the reason I’m in this opera is because my brother said it would be good for me to “socialize” and “express myself” in ways other than technology. What’s wrong with being me?”

“It sort of sounds like he might be worried that you, I don’t know, have baristas wishing you death and trying to catch people confessing on tape.”

“I do not recall that.” Donnie takes an extra long sip.

“Why did you join it if you think it wouldn’t help?”

“My brother would have been sad and since he’s the baby of the family it would have caused a lot of problems. And…I don’t know…..maybe I did want to socialize.”

“Even though you don’t like me, we did talk. I’d say you’ve been socializing.”

“I don’t exactly hate you. I just don’t understand you and that makes me angry.”

Usagi raises an eyebrow.

“You could just ask me questions? I’m sort of an open book, you seem like more of a safe to me.”

“I just told you I have a brother.”

“Yeah, but I knew that already from the whole glitter thing you mentioned.”

Donnie’s eyes widen.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do, you hardly talk about your family unprompted like that. Or even in general really.”

“Maybe not unprompted, but not many people ask in the first place.”

They walk in silence for a second or two.

“Do you have more brothers?”

“One. I have two in total. I’m told it used to be three.”

“O-Oh. Can….can I ask what happened?”

“My father said he lost him somewhere he could never get him back. That’s all I know.”

“Wow….do you….think about it a lot?”

“We have one of those death shrines in the room that would have been his. There’s not even a photo, just a drawing my younger brother did. With absolutely no way of knowing what he could have been like it’s hard to gauge his potential presence in my life.”

“Do you still try?”

“…..I ran a program, once. An algorithm that could determine different possibilities of a third brother. It was useless, even the most likely one could be widely off base.”

“Why did you tell me this?”

“I’m proving I’m not a safe.”

“You didn’t have to tell me something so personal.”

“You asked about my brothers and what happened to one of them. I answered.”

“That’s….true. I guess I’m just not used to hearing something like that so soon.”

“It’s not that personal to me anyways. It’s not like I lost someone I knew in the first place.”

“But do you wonder?”

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder what it might have been like with another brother.”

“I set up an algorithm for that actually. There’s a 90% probability that he would have been annoying, in my space constantly, and not nearly as smart.”

Usagi notices the way his face falls a bit. He looks away and purposefully bumps into him.

Donnie barely keeps his drink in his hands.

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Whoops.” Usagi smiles.

Donnie furrows his brows until he realizes what he was doing and rolls his eyes.

“You’re already plenty annoying, you don’t need do that.” He still has the twinges of a smile on his face.

They eventually made it back to the theatre.

Their scenes together for the rest of the day seemed much less tense than they usually were.

After production was over and mostly everyone went home, Donnie held back slightly when he saw that Usagi wasn’t leaving yet.

“Why are you still sticking around here when you don’t have to work on the set?”

“Oh, uh…..it’s pretty nice here at night! It’s actually relaxing to be alone and look at everything.”

“That sounds entirely unbelievable but also somewhat harmless so I’m just going to say goodnight and don’t die.” Donnie waves as he leaves.

Usagi waves back, relieved that he doesn’t have to explain what he’s actually doing.

He still continued his singing lessons with Leo despite getting more time to practice. It helped to be able to do both, but he also just wanted to see him that often.

Leo shows up a little late, hands behind his back.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t that long.”

“I wanted to bring you something.” He holds out a small cutting board with two apples and a knife.

“You brought snacks!”

“Special snacks.”

They take their usual places at the edge of the stage with their legs dangling over.

Leo begins carefully cutting up the first apple. By the time he’s done, the slices end up resembling rabbit ears.

Usagi’s eyes light up.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that! I always loved eating them this way when I was younger.”

Leo hands him the already done slices and works on the next apple.

Usage happily eats them, ears twitching a bit.

Leo’s heart melts.

He was originally doing this just because he got jealous that he saw Usagi and Donnie getting along before leaving together.

While he still felt that way, most of it is replaced with just adoring the brightness of Usagi’s perfect brown eyes.

Part of him wonders if the jealously is really just because that dumb soft shelled yokai in general or because he wishes he could leave this place together with Usagi.

He’s been using his portals to grab items necessary for him to survive ever since Melyna died.

Well, some were less than necessary but still helped him from going completely nuts while all alone.

New song books for the organ, magazines with articles about the theatre world, some comic books, just to stave off boredom.

What he takes has changed since Usagi.

He read plenty of books about rabbits. He wanted to know everything he could about him, even if it didn’t apply specifically to him.

Once he practically memorized a page from reading it so much, he would draw Usagi’s signature ear ties on the rabbits and then hang it up on his wall.

It was practically filled up with those pages at this point.

Seeing it, seeing him here, right now, Leo knows that he’s been changing.

Focusing on keeping the theatre and its performances perfect was all he cared about before.

He assumed he was so obsessed over Usagi because of his voice, how important he is to the ultimate goal of the best opera ever.

It was more than that now.

Leo wanted Usagi happy no matter what he did.

“How was your day today? Is Donnie still giving you trouble?”

Usagi swallows the apple pieces he’s just chewed.

“He was actually being pretty nice despite using me as a shield at first. We went to the coffee shop together and he told me some things about himself that make me think he’s not as bad as I thought he was.”

Leo grips the knife in his hand harder.

“Has he apologized for how he treated you?”

“No….he hasn’t. Maybe he’s just too embarrassed to do it after I helped him.” Usagi awkwardly looks down and plays with his hands.

He feels a little dumb for not only taking this so lightly, but also

“From what you’ve told me, he might not even feel bad about it. It’s possible he’s being friendly with you just so he can do his role without taking any responsibility for what he’s done.”

Usagi looks back at him in surprise, ears tensing.

“You think so? He seemed so genuine.”

Leo grits his teeth slightly, cutting up the apple in his hand faster.

Maybe he wasn’t fine with Usagi being happy doing just anything.

Donnie doesn’t care about him the way Leo does, nobody can!

Leo understands him, they have a connection!

“Guys like him just aren’t worth your time.”

“But I think there’s a chance-“

“He didn’t stick up for you! He’s not good enough for you!” Leo accidentally is too forceful and the knife goes right through the apple.

It cuts into his hand.

“L-Leo!” Usagi shouts.

Leo feels his blood run cold as it runs down his hand.

He holds it close to his plastron and stands up in a panic.

Usagi stands up as well.

“Hold on, there’s a first aid kit here somewhere, let’s get you bandaged up!” He reaches out to take a look at his hand.

Leo recoils.

He can’t let him see the fact that it’ll heal itself within seconds.

There’s already been too much, he’s already too strange.

He already accidentally dropped his façade.

Anything more and he would just see what a complete freak he really was.

There would never be a chance to be with him.

Leo runs off.

Usagi quickly follows, shouting his name.

Despite being so fast behind him, he ends up losing him.

No matter how long he searched in different areas back there, he couldn’t find any trace of his friend.

He was left all alone, dumbstruck.

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thedeathdeelers · 1 year

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hello from the other side

a juke au that may never exist (but now with a short oneshot), ft. a lovely @pink-flame moodboard <3

julie will always remember with perfect clarity the last time she had walked into a record store — it was the day before her mom’s diagnosis, the last day she had any semblance of control over her life. they had spent all day looking through old records, only to stumble upon an old journal full of undiscovered songs that got both molina women excited at the prospect of unearthing new music — a goldmine.

but then rose got sick…and everything changed.

fast forward a year later, and julie isn’t the same anymore. she shies away from record stores, from instruments and music; anything that might remind her of her late mother. but exactly a year and a day after her loss, julie finds herself standing in their sacred space, looking around the once vibrant garage-turned-studio and tries hard to avoid the large and imposing piano at the center of the studio. and that’s when she sees it — an old, familiar looking scratched up journal.

julie spends the rest of her evening flipping through the pages, reading every single song until she finds herself wanting more. barely managing to decipher the name scribbled on the front page, julie looks up one Luke Patterson in hopes to find more songs, more music, more anything — but instead finds that the once young rising star died back in 1995. with an aching heart for her fellow musician, julie clutches the notebook close to her heart, closing her eyes and takes a moment to mourn the young soul taken away so soon — only to snap them back open with the sudden sounds of a guitar playing next to her.

eyes wide and body frozen, she finds herself staring at a young boy her age, strumming on his acoustic while staring intently at the journal on his lap…one that looked suspiciously similar to the journal julie was currently holding onto.

she clears her throat, tries to get the boy’s attention but quickly realises he can’t actually see or hear her. looking around she finally takes stock of her surroundings, shocked to find herself in an altered version of her family studio.

the boy next to her flickers once, and her attention is back on him. he’s struggling to write a song — one she recognises from her version of the journal — and julie can’t help but watch on in fascination as he works on it, scratching and scribbling away, fully unaware of her presence.

but just as he’s about to finish penning the final verse, he flickers out of existence, and julie is thrust back into her own reality— her own time?

this continues to happen for the next several weeks; julie slowly easing back into the music world by getting glimpses into the life of what appears to be 1995’s Luke Patterson diligently working on his music, never once aware of Julie’s existence.

that is until one day, he looks up — and looks straight at her.

will these two finally meet, impossibly crossing time and space and bridging the gap that’s been keeping them from reaching out to each other?

will this be the catalyst for julie’s way back to music?

and most importantly, will she be able to save him before they both run out of time?

#everybody say thank u for the aesthetic taryn ♥️#ly friend 😌♥️#some of my drabbles are straight up shorter than this ‘summary’ rip #anyway #jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #my fics #happy juke jeudi!#this totally counts!#OM WHSGEVER IN DONE EDITINF HERES THIS BON APPÉTIT

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darkness-and-books · 1 month

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The Things We Do For The Fleet

Chapter 1: Rise and Shine

Eventual Leonard McCoy x fem!reader

⚠️: some language

word count: 615

Next->

~also orange italics are Y/N’s thoughts and blue italics are Leonard’s thoughts~

~orange star and moon divider indicates POV change, this same divider is by @cafekitsune~

“WHAT IN SAM HILL DO YOU MEAN” someone a few doors or maybe even decks down screamed. And that is how Y/N woke up. Did anyone really need to be so loud, Y/N thought to herself as she pushed a pillow over her head

“Maybe if I try hard enough I’ll stop hearing whatever bozo feels the need to yell at 5 in the morning” Y/N groaned quietly into her bed. She only had thirty more minutes before her alarm went off, couldn’t the yelling have waited until then?

Leonard’s video communicator pinged at about the same time his alarm went off, whoever it is has lost their goddamn mind he thought as he sauntered over to answer it. “Of course it’s you” Leonard grumbled to himself angrily. “Don’t be so excited to see me” Kirk joked much to jovially given the early hour.

“If it isn’t an emergency then I’m submitting my resignation” Leonard threatened. “No you won’t, you care too much for my safety” Kirk shot back. Damnit, I wish he wasn’t right Leonard sighed, but just waited for Kirk to continue.

“It’s not an emergency, but it is important” Kirk paused before continuing, “We are temporarily, short on rooms” Kirk said, avoiding looking at the screen. “What exactly do you mean? None of this dancing around crap” Leonard urged.

“What I mean is that the power in one of the personnel quarters decks has gone down so until engineering fixes it some of the personnel have to share quarters and you’re one of them” Kirk rushed in one breath and now looked around nervously.

“WHAT IN THE SAM HILL DO YOU MEAN” Leonard screamed at the video communicator. “It’ll only be for a little while” Kirk tried to assure him. “I don’t care, why me?!?” Leonard demanded in irritation. “I really just picked from the top of the duty roster, I’m sorry Bones” Kirk apologised.

Leonard sighed, he couldn’t stay mad at Kirk forever, “Fine, Fine, who do you have me roomed with?” Leonard inquired with one hand on his hip and the other carding through his messy hair.

Kirk hesitated a moment before finally sharing that information, “Well you’ll be rooming with- and please keep in mind that your roommate was just whoever was the next person down on the roster- Y/N” Kirk informed him timidly, while fiddling with said roster.

“That, that sounds like a girl’s name, are you sure?” Leonard questioned suspiciously. “I’m certain, and I can’t really change it because you’re the last person I told and everyone else is already happy with their rooming situations” Kirk stated quickly

“Does Y/N know yet?” Leonard asked as he massaged his temples. “No, I was gonna call her next” Kirk did his best to smile as he said it. “No, don’t bother I’ll tell her” Leonard sighed. the last thing I need is for this is for this corn-fed loon to make it weird for the poor girl.

“You’ll need to be in one room by next Wednesday, we’re making a stop at the next federation planet for more beds next Tuesday. So you can decide how you want to get a second bed into the room for yourselves. You’ll have to let me know which room you’re taking, hers or yours, on this Friday so that I can sort people from deck six into new rooms accordingly” Kirk said as he seemed to have regained some of his confidence. “Kirk out” he signed off without giving Leonard time to argue.

I don’t even know where Y/N’s quarters are, let alone how to tell her that we’re rooming together, Leonard thought as he began getting dressed for the day.

Hope you like, I’ll do the next chapter soon I promise!!!

#leonard mccoy x reader #star trek #bones #star trek tos

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itsohh · 1 year

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Missing Part 3

A/N: Female reader, I’ve had this needing to be edited for like so long.

Summary: Gustave and Taina finally reunite with you but it doesn't go exactly the way they had hoped.

Word count: 1839

Warnings: Canon typical violence

AO3 Part 1 Part 2

Taina wasn't lying when she said she could cut that time in half. If Gustave hadn't spent the last three years getting used to your driving he would have been clinging on to dear life. Speed limits were suggestions and by god was she ignoring them. Halfway there, Gustave had an alert on his phone pop up. It had only taken about twenty minutes for Miles to get them the files he had requested. "It's the human trafficking case."

"Anything stick out?" Tania asked over her shoulder before turning down the music just a tad. Gustave continued to scan the work.

"It seemed almost everyone got locked away, a lot of them didn't get out away on the human trafficking charges but meth manufacturing charges."

"How long were they put away for?" Gustave paused as he looked after about seven different names.

"Eight years."

"Shit which means it could be them, but how did they find out about her being in America? I can't imagine it's very popular information." The car sped up considerably as they cleared a corner onto a long empty road.

"John Mathewwaters," Gustave mumbled under his breath, his face scrunching up as he continued to read the rest of the file. "He's the credited man in charge of all of this but he only stayed in prison for two years despite being sentenced to forty."

"Porra." Taina cursed out. Someone like that would definitely have the resources and information to be able to track you down.

"Surely he would have done so earlier? If I'm reading this correctly she's only referred to as The Asset. They seem to have gone to considerable lengths to protect her identity. Unless you already knew who she was I can't imagine knowing anything from this."

A location on Gustave's phone popped up, an intersection. Taina glanced over to it for a moment, ten minutes away.

Keeping you at red lights as long as possible.

A text from Meghan popped up and silently the pair of them thanked her.

"You said you have been to America with her before?"

"A few times, we spent a holiday here, a road trip driving over the country."

"And never did anyone approach or attack you?"

"Never. I would have brought it up if someone had." The pair of them went silent after that, Taina didn't have any more questions at that moment.

Taina drove ever faster, yet careful not to be reckless. "K spotted." Gustave's eyes flashed up to the windscreen to see your car. With their tinted windows, there was no way for you to know it was them. Now they had to decide on their exact course of action. They had the opinion of trying to stop your or waiting until you next stopped, tailing you. The mental debate that Gustave had started was answered by Taina when she slowed down, putting a decent distance between the pair of you. Just far enough not to be too suspicious but close enough to keep an eye on you.

The Corolla in front of them mocked Gustave. So close yet so far away, so many questions unanswered. How would you react when you saw them? Anger? Would you avoid them? Happiness? Would you see them as support? Guilt? Had you betrayed Rainbow and everything you had stood for? The questions gnawed at Gustave's core. He needed to know.

The white car moved forward through the intersection, the light had been continuously green yet as he watched your car move he couldn't help but see everything in slow motion. His eyes flickered to the side, the black Jeep didn't stop at the right light as it ploughed forward. You didn't have time to move, not that it would have mattered, the Jeep would have corrected any course changes you had made. There was a hard crunch as it smashed into the back of your car.

"Merda!" Taina slammed on the brakes as she watched the scene in front of them unfold. Your car spun to the side as the Jeep continued forward, this was no accident, that much was obvious. It continued to push your small white car forward. All cars around came to a stop, rubbernecking at the incident. So when another Jeep came barreling in the opposite direction it was obvious that there was a purpose. On the other side of the road and seconds ticked by as it swerved into the line of the white car. A sickening crunch that had Gustave's chest drop filled the air. If you had been in an American car, it would have been game over. Saved only by the fact that you were on the right side of the car rather than the left.

Time sped up again as the Jeeps stopped their movements and a group of men piled out of the Jeeps. Guns. That was the first thing Taina's trained eyes went to. The automatic weapons were strapped to their chests with no identification at all. They weren't any type of government. Gustave and Taina moved at the same time. The sound of their doors clicked open together. Gustave found his way to the back seat where it held their vests while Taina went to the trunk for their weapons. With the way the enemy was packing, they would need it. These guys weren't amateurs.

There wasn't any focus on Taina or Gustave as they set up, all focus on your car while any civilians fled the scene, some peering out from the safety of shop windows. In the middle of the intersection, they set up a circle around your crunched car. Gustave set up his MP5 behind their car. The ACOG sight gave him the needed zoom for him to line up but at their angle, he couldn't get a glimpse of you, and neither could Taina. The M12 in her hands weighed as they waited for the enemy to move. Both Taina and Gustave knew that once they had identified themselves as part of the fight, there was no going back.

Slowly two men approached your door. One held onto the handle while the other aimed his gun up. With a nod, a swift motion came as he yanked the door open. Two shots ran out through the air. The man in front of the door went flying through that air and slammed down onto the ground. The man who had opened the door had his head flick back, a line of blood splattered into the air and his body smashed back into the asphalt- motionless. Both Taina and Gustave knew that sound rather well, the familiar sound of your unsuppressed shotgun. Which meant you were very much still alive and kicking.

Everyone jumped into action as the man ran towards the now open door in urgency. The two Rainbow operatives worked together in unison, their guns roaring to life as they started to take them down. "I'm going in closer." Taina yelled over the gunfire right as Gustave found his mark in one of the man's head.

"Covering you!" Without coms, it would be harder for them to communicate when separated but they could manage. Taina stuck to the shadows of the cars, both you and Gustave drawing attention while she kept up on the men- her pistol being put to good use keeping her location a secret.

As she neared your vehicle she could hear the telltale sound of your pistol, using it where your shotgun didn't have the range. The battlefield went quiet all of a sudden. Gustave couldn't spot any more enemies and neither could you. Ever so slowly you dragged yourself out of the crumpled car, pistol in your hand while the shotgun was now strapped to your back. "K." Taina purposely gave away her position as she rounded the corner to not startle you. Yet you moved without hesitation, your pistol raised and firing at her. "Stand down! Hold your fire." She hissed out, ducking back around the corner.

"Piss off lady!" Your voice called out, it was choked, tired and coarse. Her head tilted slightly as she listened for your steps, the limp in your legs obvious as you slightly dragged your leg. Just as you rounded the corner, shogun in hand she grabbed it, forcing it to the sky while it went off. Muscle memory ruled your body as your elbowed her face but in the process lost your gun which was tossed to the side. Taina's fists caught your face and you tucked down punching down into her lower torso. A few grunts left her lips but she used your lowered form to her advantage. Hiking up on the car she gained height and swung a leg around your throat.

She didn't want to knock you out but for the sake of her own safety, she would. The clawing of your nails against her pants made little purchase as you gasped out, her body leaning on the car for support. In a second of desperation and clarity, your hand raised ever higher and subconsciously found the knife attached to her leg. In one swift movement, you yanked it out and sliced it against the leg around your throat.

Blood trickled down her leg and you slammed the knife into her thigh causing her grip to loosen. "Filho da puta!" Taina swore as pain screamed throughout her body, the wetness of the slice covering her leg and your chest before you ducked down to escape. But the shadow of someone stopped you.

"Stop." With hardened eyes, the revolver aimed at your head. He didn't want to pull the trigger, he wasn't sure if he could do it but his training overrode that screaming inside of his chest. His focus was protecting Taina at the moment, not whatever conflicting feelings he had about you.

"Fuck." You groaned out and slumped against one of the Jeeps. "Go on then, get it over and done with then huh." You egged him on. "That's what you're here for huh? Just don't miss. I don't think your sweetheart over there is looking too hot." Your head gestured to Taina who started to lean against the car in an attempt to prevent the blood from coming from her wound. She was smart enough to know not to pull the knife from her leg despite the pain it caused her.

His brief flicker of eyes to Taina was at it took, so used to listening to your voice, your callouts, he did it subconsciously. That one second was all your needed. The fire of your pistol forced Gustave to fall to the side for cover. As your rose from the ground, your eyes were on Gustave as-

SMACK!

The butt of Taina's pistol collided with your head and you fell towards the ground, one of her arms reached out to grab you in the process. "Clear." Her voice groaned out and Gustave came back into view. The pair of them shared an expression, both trying to process what just happened.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #doc x reader #gustave kateb

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velvet-ink · 1 year

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For the First Time, For the Last Time

A tragedy AU inspired by one anon’s terribly sad dream, in which Carlos dies during the break-up, and TK is left reeling in the aftermath that is months of buried feelings, the unexpected inheritance of the loft, and an uncomfortable revelation that Carlos never passed on the news of their break-up to his family.

Snippet #3 below:

"And where are you headed off to?"

TK has only just grabbed the car keys off the front hall table when Gwyn's voice startles him.

"Just going for a walk." He says, fingers curling tightly around the door handle. He doesn't look back though. The tone borders on suspicious and he's not in the mood to have to defend himself.

Ever since the conversation with Carlos's parents yesterday, an unscratchable itch has settled under his skin, now grown to a point where it can no longer be ignored. Each passing hour has him more and more restless and he’s desperate to stop thinking about the twisted joke that is his own name in Carlos's will.

"Right. A walk." TK can practically hear her eye roll. If memory serves him well from the many times she caught him sneaking out as a teenager, she's got crossed arms and an arched brow, a mixture of concern and disbelief set in her features. "And you need the car keys for that?"

He's not technically doing anything wrong. As a man in his late twenties who's only temporarily staying with his dad due to circumstances beyond his control, he's well within his means to come and go as he pleases. And yet, he can't help but feel like he's in trouble anyways.

With a controlled breath he squares his shoulders and turns around, aiming for an air of calm and casual. She's standing exactly how he imagined. "I was going to run some errands too."

His mom hums in acknowledgment but the calculating look doesn't disappear. She pauses to think for a moment. "You know, it's been a long time since we've baked together."

The change in topic unsteadies him. "Yeah, because I'm not a child anymore.”

"That's funny, I didn't realize baking had an age limit. And it always used to make things better, don't see why that wouldn't be true now."

His jaw clenches as he mulls over the statement. "You know cookies can't solve this."

"That may be," her voice softens and she uncrosses her arms, "But neither will the errand you seem keen on running."

TK's gaze drops to the floor. That wasn’t his intention. At least, he didn’t think it was. He just needed to get out of the house for a bit. But his mom’s always been so capable of seeing him–truly seeing him–so he doesn’t bother to deny the thought that’s crossed his mind more than once.

She waves him over to the kitchen, pointing to a seat at the island while she begins rummaging around the cupboards. It's impressive the food she manages to find, if only because he can't imagine his dad ever stocking these ingredients in his home: chocolate chips, toffee bits, coconut shavings. There's a feeling he can't quite place at the thought that she came prepared for this.

"Come. Sit." She pushes two mixing bowls and a spatula in front of him. "So, are you going to tell me what's on your mind?"

"You don’t need to be a genius to work that one out. My ex-boyfriend died." He mutters flatly.

"I know, Sweety." She says gently, lowering her head to meet his gaze. "I didn't ask what happened. I asked what's on your mind."

TK picks up the spatula instead of answering. Gwyn doesn't push him. He sits there quietly, accepting the measured ingredients that are handed to him and pouring them into the bowl. They work together seamlessly, TK knowing when to mix and when to add, muscle memory serving him well.

First the butter and sugar, then the crack of two eggs and a splash of vanilla extract. Flour, milk, and baking powder goes into another bowl. Somewhere between mixing in the toffee bits and pretzels TK’s mind finally starts to settle.

"What if I caused this?" The thought escapes before he can stop it.

#911 lone star #tarlos #death tw #WIP Wednesday

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coruscantguard · 1 year

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The Truth Lies (In An Unmarked Grave)

Chapter Two

(Ao3 Link)

In which Anakin wakes up in the past, and things, rather predictably, start going to shit.

[[MORE]]

Anakin wakes up to banging on his door.

And that alone is weird, because last he checked, they were in tents. Last he checked, he didn’t have a door.

Last he checked, he was–

Anakin jolts up, eyes wide. He wasn’t in his bed moments ago. Why is he in his bed now? Why was he asleep? Last he remembers, he was up, he was walking around the camp–

And suddenly, he feels that there’s distress in the Force, a heavy panic that abruptly switches to grief, then mingles with elation. It’s overpowering– the emotion is strong enough that Anakin can feel it through his shields, from what feels like several rooms away. The feelings barrel him over with their intensity, and Anakin finds himself forced completely awake in seconds.

Another knock on his door. “General Skywalker!”

Shit. Maybe this is related to the distress in the Force. Anakin swings his legs over the side of his bed, pushes himself upwards. “Coming!” he calls back, and reattaches his hand as quickly as possible, before shrugging on his robes. He crosses his room in two large steps, and hits the button to open the door with his elbow. “Hey, what’s…”

He finds himself trailing off. Because this isn’t one of the troopers who should be here. No, his eyes have to be playing a trick on him– this can’t be real. “Denal?”

“General Skywalker, sir!” not-Denal says, and he’s in full armor, but that doesn’t mean much. The clones can suit up quicker than Obi-Wan can lose his robes. “Trooper Kix sent me to get you. There’s something… wrong in the barracks.”

Anakin narrows his eyes. That tracks with the distress in the Force, if you ignore the fact that he’s talking to a trooper he knows is dead. It tracks, if you ignore the fact that Anakin is certain he’s not meant to be on the Resolute right now. “What do you mean there’s something wrong?”

Not-Denal doesn’t change visibly, but in the Force, Anakin can feel him wilt slightly, and Anakin frowns. That’s… weird. “I– I’m not sure exactly what, sir, Captain Rex had me get Kix, and Kix sent me to get you.”

And that just raises more questions. What could happen to make Rex feel like he needed to get Kix? Why didn’t he order not-Denal to just get Anakin instead? Is it an injury? Why the fuck is a Denal lookalike here in the first place? Why is he responding to the name Denal? Why is he wearing Denal’s armor?

… And the original question is still there– why is he on the Resolute?

Considering what happened after Denal’s death, the fact that the trooper in front of him is wearing Denal’s armor is more than a little concerning. It’s the fact that Denal’s armor was stolen and used by Cad Bane to escape that permanently etched it into Anakin’s memory in the first place– seeing it now, standing outside his door, when Denal is most definitely dead, is incredibly suspicious.

Well, if this is a trap, he might as well spring it. And what kind of Jedi would he be if he ignored that much distress in the Force? Anakin reaches over to grab his lightsaber off his desk, then turns back to not-Denal, gestures to the hallway.

“Lead the way, Trooper.”

-----

“General Skywalker,” Rex says as he steps in. And– Rex looks… young. Not that Rex had been looking old, because he hadn’t, but… there’s a difference there, a difference that Anakin didn’t notice until now. He looks like he did years ago, at the beginning of the war, and that’s notably different.

“Rex,” Anakin says, as his befuddlement just grows. Is this something like Mortis? Or has Anakin been trapped in his own mind, in his own memories? He doesn’t remember this happening, but… the monotony of the days spent in hyperspace isn’t exactly memorable. But also, this is a break from the monotony of hyperspace, so he feels like he should remember it. “What’s going on?”

Rex’s surprise at his presence is practically palpable in the Force, despite the overwhelming distress. Thankfully, the distress does not seem to be coming from Rex. “Why are you here, sir?” he asks instead, narrowing his eyes.

“I had Denal get him,” Kix cuts in, and what the kark. Rex looks younger, and so does Kix, but more than that, Kix just looks different. It’s staggering, how much he’s changed from the earlier days of the war. Anakin finds himself forcing his jaw shut after noting that it dropped open.

“Kix–” Rex hisses.

“You asked for my opinion, and my opinion is that this is probably weird Force shit, sir.”

“What, exactly, is weird Force shit?” Anakin presses, moving forward. The barracks are nearly empty, except for Rex, Kix, him, and–

Oh. Oh. There’s the source of the grief, the elation, the panic.

It’s Fives, or a Fives lookalike, because Fives is dead. But either way, maybe-Fives is there and he’s crying and he’s clinging to Echo like he’s going to disappear at any moment, and the emotions are rolling off him in waves. Anakin almost feels awkward standing there, watching the open display of emotion, but more than that, he feels– raw. Like he’s been flayed and left in the desert sun to die. Like he’s not quite real anymore, like he’s trapped in a nightmare, or a dream.

It’s not difficult to skim Fives’ thoughts– he’s projecting them so loudly that it would honestly be harder to avoid them. And– that’s the Citadel, there, right next to the memory of Fives’ death in that warehouse, and– oh.

Anakin swallows hard. It really feels like Fives. Fuck. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. If this is a trick, Anakin is going to be kriffing pissed.

But… he feels like it might not be a trick. He feels like he’s slowly getting a theory of what this might be, and it half terrifies, half thrills him.

“Rex,” he asks slowly, “could you check something on your comm?”

“Sir?” Rex asks, but he’s already getting out his comm as he asks it. Of course he is. It’s Rex.

“What year does your comm say it is?”

“Sir, it’s 7958–” Rex starts, and Anakin deflates at his theory being proven wrong, before Rex abruptly cuts himself off as he looks down at his comm, makes a sound of shock. “Wait. What? This can’t be right.”

And if he’s saying that– oh. Anakin looks at Rex, studies him. That– that would make sense, maybe. He remembers seeing Rex right before everything started swirling, before it all went dark.

“It’s 7955, isn’t it,” Anakin says, and Rex looks back up at him, shock evident on his face.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding a little bit faint. “Yeah, it’s 7955.”

Anakin stands, feels himself slightly sway. He catches himself on the frame of one of the bunks, readjusts his stance. “Well, kark.”

Rex blinks, stares at his comm. Looks up at Anakin, and then back down at his comm. It hits Anakin again, just how much Rex has changed, how odd present-Rex’s expressions look on past-Rex’s face. “That just about sums it up, sir.”

#anakin skywalker #captain rex #clone trooper denal #clone trooper kix #clone medic kix #arc trooper fives #501st #tcw fanfic #tcw #the clone wars #swtcw #my writing #the truth lies (in an unmarked grave)

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mytrashcanlife · 1 year

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As Fire Loves Innocence (Xavier Thorpe x Reader) Pt. 9

Trigger Warning: Mentions of SA and Trauma, Angst, Mentions of underaged drinking.

Xavier ended up with two weeks detention for the incident, and he was banned from participating in the Poe Cup this year. You apologized again and again, but every time he would just wave it off. Now the games were tomorrow, and the team had to replace him. Ajax originally offered the spot to you, but you didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of sinking. In addition to this it would just add insult to injury if you were to replace Xavier after being the reason, he needed a replacement to begin with, so you elected to remain on the sidelines with him and cheer on the team. “I know I’ve already said it a thousand times, but I’m really sorry. Enid told me all about last year, and I know how much you wanted to help Ajax get revenge, and now you’re going to miss it, and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry” “Y/N, again it isn’t a big deal. I’m still watching it tomorrow I just can’t participate in the game itself. I can try again next year.” “I know but I still feel so bad about the whole situation.” “You wanna make it up to me? Would that make you feel better?” “Yes! Whatever you want. You name it.” “Okay, I’m working on my figure paintings, and I need a model. You can be my model for a few hours, and we can call it even. And you get to see the art shed. Deal?” You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know exactly what you are thinking. Not that kind of modeling. Wear something comfortable to sit in for a long time.” “Okay Deal. When?” “We have dinner after the Poe Cup with the group, we can go after that.” “Sound’s good.”

The Poe cup went about as well as once could expect. Your team lost. Again. “We would have won if Xavier had been with us!” Ajax has been insisting this the entire dinner. You had the urge to apologize, but the only people who know what really happened in the weathervane are you and Xavier. The two of you had stuck to the same story since. The boys were harassing you. They touched you and Xavier three coffee on them to protect you knowing that the heat wouldn’t hurt you. In a way this wasn’t untrue; it just wasn’t the whole truth either. “You had Xavier last year and you lost.” “I know that Wednesday, but this year we were more prepared. If those idiots hadn’t attacked Y/N we wouldn’t be in this mess.” At this point Enid piped in. “Yeah if anyone is to blame here it’s the normies who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. They’re just luck they got Xavier with coffee and not me with claws.” You laugh at her protective nature. “Thank you, Enid. And Thank you Xavier again for defending me.” “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it. Besides we’re even now.” Enid and Ajax both look at you at that statement, but it’s Wednesday who speaks up. “Even?” “Yep. Y/N has so graciously volunteered to be my model so I can work on a few different painting techniques.” You see Enid give Xavier the same look you did, and Ajax lets out a “Nice dude.” Before you interrupt. “Not that kind of modeling.” Xavier looks almost offended. “Why does everyone think I’m just trying to see you naked?” Ajax snickers at the comment. “Dude, have you looked at her? You’re the only guy with a girl roommate and she’s hot.” Enid elbows him at that comment causing him to backtrack a bit. “I mean she’s conventionally attractive. Not my type though.” Enid seems satisfied with this. “Look I can assure you that there is nothing going on between me and Xavier. We are just friends who happen to be roommates. Nothing more.” “You’ve been invited to his supper secret art shed in the middle of the woods to be his model.” “I’m just helping my friend with his hobby, as a favor for literally saving me from the normies.” “Yeah, what she said. Nothing is going on.” Enid puts her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I believe you. I’m just saying to people who don’t know you this could be a bit suspicious.”

You finished up dinner, and head back to your room so you can change before the two of you head out into the woods. You decide to wear a little dress. It’s knee length and red with short sleeves and sweetheart neckline. He brings you to a little shed and unlocks the padlock on the door. The shed consists of one little room with several canvases and sets of drawers holding supplies. “Wow” “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine.” “It’s amazing.” Xavier points you to a stool in the middle of the room and has you sit angles towards a small table with a lit candle on it. He positions you with one hand in a fist with your chin resting on it as you look at the candle and the other arm draped across your lap. Once he has you in the right pose, he steps back a bit. “Okay. Now don’t move for the next three hours or so.” “Can I talk?” “For now, yes, but eventually I’ll need you to just smile and shush so I can get your facial details right.” “Okay just let me know when.” He takes his time with this painting. You can see the look of concentration on his face at times, like when he’s trying to mix an exact shade of a color to show light spreading across your face. At first you try to hold a conversation but eventually you just let him do his work and you gaze off into the distance in a daydream. You zone out for so long; you don’t realize that the sun has set leaving the candle on your table and one behind Xavier as the only light source in the room. “Y/N? Y/N! it’s done you can move now.” This snaps you out of your daze. “You wanna see it?” “Yes!” You hop off the stool and stretch out your limbs, stiff from being sedentary for so long, and blow out the candle which was on its last leg after burning for so long. You walk over to Xavier and turn to look at the painting. Your hand immediately covers your mouth in shock, which worries Xavier at first. “Is it bad?” “No. It’s beautiful. Can you make it move or is it only certain drawings?” “I can make it move.” He holds his hands up and you watch in amazement as the flame begins to flicker. In the painting Your small grin grows wider into a full smile as you remove your hand from under your chin and reach out to touch the flame. It grows slightly larger for a moment before you bring your hand back to its original position and the painting stops moving. You turn to Xavier as he lowers his hand. You hadn’t realized just how close he was to you until now. He looks down at you with a new look in his eye. It seems vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place it. The two of you are afraid to speak above a whisper, as if the moment was so fragile that even a small noise could break it, and neither of you wanted to leave it yet. “You are beyond amazing Xavier.” Neither of you register the two of you leaning closer and closer until your foreheads are touching, your breathing heavy and sporadic. In a moment of bravery Xavier reaches out. His hands hovering just away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” “Please do.” With that his lips are on yours. The kiss soft yet desperate. He holds your face as if he is afraid that you will slip through his fingers, and you respond by throwing your arms around his neck. When you finally break apart, you’re both panting. Neither of you have moved your hands and your foreheads are still together. “To be completely honest Xavier, I’ve wanted you to do that since the weathervane” “I’ve wanted to do that since your first day of classes.” “Nobody can know about this. Not while we still live together. It’s a scandal waiting to happen.” “I know. My dad would kill me. I can see the headline now.” As the two of you started to laugh at that thought the final candle finally went out, and you realized how late it was. “We should get back to the dorm.” “Yeah. You’re right.” The two of you walk back the dorm. You just barley back before curfew, and as you close and lock the door your head is still spinning from the realization of what tonight means for you. Xavier walks over to you and takes your hand as you look up at him. “You know I think I’m gonna like this room a lot more now.” “Why?” “Cause like you said, nobody can know about us out there, but in here you’re mine.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fanfic #wednesday

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