#that’s what happens when I so much as open the color wheel everyone on my page should know by now that I have no idea what color theory is
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If it Does Rain
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Jasper Hale x GN!Reader
Summary: Jasper is worried about what could happen to you if Edward and Bella's budding relationship goes wrong.
Words: 809 (drabble)
Note: This is an old piece from years ago. I believe it came from a request for one of my previous writing blogs. It's pretty bad—I like to believe I have improved since then—but I figure we can just laugh at it together.
The Cullen-Hale family were not the only ones watching with rapt interest—interest which ranged from anger to excitement to concern—as Edward crossed the parking lot with the new girl tucked under his arm. Everyone found the sight fascinating and could not seem to pry their stares away from the unlikely couple to maintain even just a shred of their own decency.
You didn't have to be within hearing distance to know what Bella had just whispered to him, so soft and quiet as to not draw any more attention (as though there was any left to give). The warm color rising to her face would have been a key giveaway if you hadn't known her well enough to just know.
She was your sister, after all.
Your focus drifted away from them in response to the increasing tension radiating from the body at your side. A frown tugged at your mouth as you looked to your boyfriend, who had gone completely rigid with something other than the fight for control that consumed him every minute he was forced to be around his "peers." It worried you what might have been going through his mind as he watched his youngest brother hold open his car door for your fragile, human sister.
You reached over the console and took his hand in yours, gently. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered much had you gripped it hard enough to bruise—the bruises would have adorned your hand. A side effect of such a supernatural existence and stat of being that the Olympic Coven (and others around the globe) lived.
"You're worried," you observed.
Jasper sat still as the marble he looked to be sculpted of. Behind the tinted windows, he was safe from prying eyes who might have thought to follow in your footsteps and dig deeper into the Cullen-Hale enigma than they should (and subsequently be faced with a far less desirable outcome than you). The only witnesses were you and his family.
After a moment, he squeezed your hand and looked to you, a half-hearted smirk tipping his perfect lips up at the corner. "I thought I was the empath."
His deeply instilled Southern drawl made your heart flutter. It had ever since the first time you'd heard it, and you didn't think it would ever not hold the same effect over you so long as your heart was still beating. But his attempt to lighten the air—a wave of calm reassurance flowed into your mind, chipping away at the tension which ate at the edges of your soul—did not erase the consternation sinking in his deep gaze.
"I don't need special abilities to know when you're upset—and yours aren't going to make me feel any better until you've talked to me."
Jasper dented his forehead in frustration. He never wanted to be the reason for anything but your happiness and safety. His habit of shutting you out of his problems he still thought aided that, as he didn't relish the idea of you having even more burden to bear, but he knew you hated when he did.
You arched a brow at his momentary silence and slowly rubbed your thumb over his sculpted knuckles.
He sighed and leaned back in the driver's seat, two actions performed more out of habit than of need. His fingers curled around the steering wheel until the leather started to strain under the pressure.
"If they end badly," he said, "it all ends badly."
Jasper gently removed his hand from under yours to start the car. The engine rumbled to life as the meaning behind his words vibrated between you. It took a lot of restraint not to roll your eyes at his incessant paranoia that he had always displayed when vulnerable and alone with you.
You managed to keep your soft expression because you knew why he worried so much. As the newest "vegetarian," as Dr. Cullen dubbed their lifestyle, he struggled tremendously with keeping his bloodlust in control. His biggest fear was losing it and killing someone, killing you, and putting his family at risk again.
Taking your respectful silence, he pulled from the parking lot and elaborated vaguely, "A lot could go wrong, and if anythin' does... Them bein' together just puts a lot at stake."
"So do we," you countered, "but we're making it work. We should give Bella and Edward the same chance."
You leaned in and kissed his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. He entwined your fingers and held your hand on your thigh. The silence cocooned the two of you, leaving nothing but the smooth engine to fill the void.
Jasper then lifted your locked hands and kissed the back of yours. "I just don't wanna lose you. I can't."
"You won't. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
#twilight#twilight fanfiction#twilight x reader#jasper hale#jasper hale x reader#jasper whitlock#jackson rathbone#smeyer#twilight renaissance#twilight revival#multifandom account#multi fandom blog#multi fandoms posts#multifixwritings
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You Can't Go Home Again
Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 8.1K Words
Hawkins, Indiana - 2006. Reader and Eddie are both 40. The Reader has a 19 year old daughter that is mentioned.
Summary: You're both in town for a funeral. This is a love story.
Contains smut, death, love, booze, and weed. Just like all the best things in life, you take the good with the bad or your ass misses out.
+18 only. No one under the age of 18 has my consent to interact with anything on my blog. I am old enough to be your mother.
If you like this story, please let me know. Reblogs are strongly encouraged. If it doesn't get passed around, it dies in this spot. Thank you @jo-harrington and @br0ck-eddie for reading this over and telling me it's worth publishing on this blog. I love you both more than words can express.
---
You can’t go home again. Or so you’ve been told. Yet here you are, zooming down the familiar stretch of highway that leads back to that place. You turn the thought over in your mind while your hand surfs against the wind outside of your car window. You aren’t going home, not really. Hawkins isn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been since you pulled out of your parents’ driveway over a decade ago.
At least he had the common decency to die as the leaves started changing color, you think to yourself while your hand surfs in the wind outside your open window. The view is really spectacular. The trees look like they’re on fire as the sun begins to dip below the canopy. Indiana is flatland, but it’s still pretty in its own way. Wide open, it bares itself to you. It is what it is. There are no hills to hide behind. Not in these parts, anyway.
As you cross the county line, you flip on the radio and tune to the local country station. Might as well acclimate, you think, but really, you’re happy to hear Bonnie Raitt’s bluesy voice as you pull off the highway. She’s singing about how she can’t make someone love her, and you hold up an imaginary glass to toast the sentiment. That’s something you’ve learned the hard way.
I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see.
The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me.
You don’t realize a tear has escaped your eye until you feel it rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away angrily and wonder when every little thing will stop making the tears come. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Not this week. Tears are appropriate for a funeral, and it’s what everyone will expect to see from you. Even if they’re borrowed tears.
At the stop sign at the corner of Elm and Maple you sit longer than the 3 seconds required by law. It’s not until a BMW pulls up behind that you push up the indicator to hook a right. As you pass by the entrance to Forrest Hills, Deanna Carter is singing about Strawberry Wine and being 17. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks when you let your own memories flit across your mind. It’s true, the hot July moon really did see everything the summer of 1985.
You chuckle at yourself and turn the wheel, left this time. The old motel is up on the right, just at the Hawkins line. You’ve spent too much of your life thinking about a time that only existed for a moment. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because despite all of the daydreams you’ve had about running into him throughout the years, it’s never happened. And you’ve never taken the time to look. You’ve only seen him in your dreams, and what a delight that’s been.
The gravel crunches under your tires, and the feeling that something’s been forgotten rises like a wave. Every couple of hours, it comes unbidden. No, you haven’t forgotten her, she’s in her new apartment on the other side of town from your own. Right now, she’s probably out to dinner with Janey. It’s discount movie night, and that’s something every college student knows to take advantage of. You’re not forgetting her, but her absence leaves a hole that can only be filled with anxiety. It’s something no one really tells you, something that you wouldn’t be able to understand from words alone - your children are a piece of yourself that moves freely in the world. The further you move from them, the deeper the cut.
You’ve already decided you’ll try to call tonight, hoping against hope that she’s still at her place when you ring in. Hearing her voice will fill you a little, and maybe at least make sleep easier. Maddy told you she’d miss you, and you know that’s true. It’s a good thing to hear each other every day, even if it’s only for a moment.
When you come around a wide curve in the road, you’re pleased to see that the bar next to the motel is still standing, and that the lights are on. You’re getting drunk tonight. Why not? For the first time in a long time, you’re only accountable for yourself. Hawkins can swallow you up for the week, and no one outside of this place will see it. And then you’ll never step foot into Indiana again.
—
It’s stupid, and he knows it. He hasn’t been back here in years, and the only reason he’s doing this is because he liked the old guy. Wayne taught him to respect that. To show up for the family. Always go to the funeral, he’d told him, it eases the pain for the loved ones and makes ‘em remember there were people in the world that gave a shit about ‘em. When Eddie was a kid, he remembered how it felt to look out into the church and see so many faces with tears in their eyes. He remembered thinking that it was important that so many people turned out to say goodbye to his Mama, even if they were people that he never got to know outside of that mourning space. Wayne was right, it does matter. It does help. And he’s showing up, even if the thought of seeing you makes his stomach dip and his heartbeat faster.
It’s not about you, you fucking idiot. The words have been surfacing in his mind over and over this last week. It’s not about him, and he knows that. At least, his brain knows that, but there’s a place deep inside of him that can’t help but think about the possibility of something. Of what? Well, if he thinks too hard about it, his dick takes over. There have been many times over the years that Eddie let his mind wander back to his 18th summer, when the heat of your bodies rivaled the heat of the sun beating down on the two of you. Many times he’s touched himself, trying to find the right way to move his fingers to replicate the way your hands felt on him. He’s ashamed of it. He tries not to think about it, but the news of the funeral seems to have lit that spark inside of him again, just as he thought the old smoldering embers were finally snuffed out.
He told Wayne he’d be driving up for the services, hoping the old guy would be able to bring the rambler to meet him in Hawkins. It would save him the cost of a motel room, and the death of the old man’s friend is an unwelcome reminder that everything comes to an end eventually. But Wayne isn’t going to make it. Eddie should’ve known. As much as Wayne taught him about being there for the family, Wayne was closer to Jim than his blood ever was. Especially you. Wayne would be the first to admit that Jim made his bed, and now he’ll spend his eternal rest in it. Wayne will mourn in his own way, he’ll come down when no one knows he’s there to pour one out on his buddy’s grave. That’s alright. It’s how Jim would want it. The funeral will be a farce. People saying goodbye to an old bastard that no one really liked.
When Eddie passes the southerly Indiana border, his ass really starts to get sore. He should’ve flown in and rented a car. He’s getting too old for these long bike rides, and the Indian’s seat isn’t made for this kind of trip. He’s never seen the need to replace the warehouse installed seat, his daily commutes to the construction trailer are short, and he takes a work truck out to the job sites. Maybe it’s time to think about investing in a vehicle that allows for a little more comfort. His ass is only going to spread more from here on out. Turning 30 was like hitting a brick wall, all the years of fun have finally caught up. Now that he’s passed the 40-year mark, every day is a new opportunity to feel aches in parts of his body he never thought about in his younger years. Sometimes he would swear that he could feel his small intestine groan when he caught a whiff of something greasy. And sometimes he can’t go through the night without having to hop out of bed to take a piss. The most obvious reminder for Eddie is looking in the mirror and seeing the way his old tattoos have turned gray over the years, especially his beloved bats. Working outside in the sun has made them fade, and no amount of touch ups can bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes he thinks about you running your fingers over them, the way you ran them along the outline of the wings.
Time passes, and tattoos fade like memories. He knows too. He got to watch Wayne age, see the lines dig deeper and deeper into his face while he made sure Eddie kept a roof over his head. It’s amazing for him to think about the old guy, not really as old as he used to think. Eddie’s got more years than Wayne did back in those days. Close enough to be brothers more than father and son, but neither of them got a choice when it was time for his own Mama to go into the ground. The only one choosing in those days was Al, and every decision was a wrong one.
Eddie hates coming back to Hawkins, it stirs up the old shit he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s easier to see those times through rose colored glasses when he isn’t smack dab in the middle of the town that cut him so deeply in so many different ways. But he’s showing up. He’s doing this thing because it’s right. It has nothing to do with the minute possibility that he might get to find out how the years have treated you. Especially since he knows how you left Hawkins. But time does heal. Eddie’s proof of that.
—
The roadside motel is in better shape than you expect, so you strike your mental chalkboard on the pro side. At least you have a clean bed to sleep in for the next 6 nights. At least you won’t be forced to sleep on Uncle Jim’s couch. You think about what it will feel like being in his little shack. You think about how his own kids won’t show up to sift through his shit belongings to pull out any hidden treasures before the bank throws it all in the dumpster. You’re doing this thing for your father, because he asked you to. You need to make sure the stuff that ended up with Jim when your grandma died doesn’t get lost forever. No cash value to any of it, but it’s worth something to your dad, and he can’t face the ghost of his brother. Not even for his mother’s wedding band, or the family bible.
Your first thought when you opened the door to your home for the week was that you could still smell the faint scent of bleach hanging in the air. Good. These kinds of places have more personality, but it’s always a roll of the dice about cleanliness. The bed is soft, and the comforter smells of Snuggle. Also good. The scent is nostalgic, you can feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You’ll be able to sleep here. You think that’s exactly what you’ll do. The heavy shades are drawn, so it’s full dark and quiet. You’ve got the room at that butts against the woods, but it doesn’t matter anyway, your car is the only one in the small parking lot tonight.
You’re sinking deeper into the mattress, and you begin to float away. You sit on the edge of sleep, about to topple over it when your ears begin to register a distant sound growing closer. It’s a purr that grows into a deep growling rumble. You stumble to your feet to peek your head out from behind your curtain. It’s full dark now, but the orange glow of the lights at each door along the row of rooms illuminates the parking lot enough for you to see the bike and its rider. Leather clad, head to toe, he’s wearing a small bucket helmet - the kind your daddy used to say they’d have to scoop your brains out of if you wrecked - and sunglasses. You watch him make his way to the door next to your own and let himself inside.
Well, you can think of a worse neighbor to have. At least you know you’re not alone out here. Maybe you’ll make a friend while you’re stuck in the hell that is Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe he'll let you bum a smoke or two.
—
You think about your call to Maddy while you walk down the street to the Hideout. She’s fine. All good. She got her new set of pots and pans from the big Sears out at the mall, and she didn't even need your help picking them out. Her dad did a good job. You’re happy for her. A girl doesn’t forget her first move away from home, and you suspect she's more nervous than she's been letting on. You can almost feel the butterflies beat in your own belly at the thought of rent checks and overtime while making it to class every morning. You hope she knows she can talk to you about it. You hope she remembers that you promised to help her if she gets into any jams. Maybe. Maybe not. She deserves to keep her secrets if it's how she wants to go about life. You'll be there either way.
Before you even open the door to the bar, you can smell the smoke and booze wafting through the cracks. That’s perfect. It’s why you’re here. You look down at your black jeans and smile. It took a few good jumps to get into, but your ass looks fantastic in them. You think you might even manage to get a drink out of someone, as long as the clientele is the same as it was when you were here last. Tammy Wynette is coming through the speakers of the jukebox, and the old curtains are pulled across the jury-rigged stage at the back. No band tonight. Just a couple of old drunks passing time at the sticky counter. You take the stool at the end, back facing the door, and think about what song you’ll choose for the room.
“Hello, ma'am,” a bright eyed 20 something from behind the bar greets you as you shift your weight to get comfortable on the cracked cushion under your ass. Ma’am. You decide to let that one slide and give him a big smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Oh, I think I’d like a whiskey sour, kind sir.” The words escape your lips without much thought. You haven’t had one in ages. Possibly the last time you had a drink as sweet as a whiskey sour was in this very bar. It wasn’t hard to get served with Big Dave behind the bar, especially when Eddie and the boys played.
The boy nods at you and gets to work on your drink. You see him flip through a rolodex of cards hidden under the bar, cheat sheets. He likely spends his nights pouring pitchers of Budweiser, rarely having to figure out how to make mixed drinks. Especially when the customers are good ole boys between the ages of 35 and 70. Even back in your day, the girls only showed up when there were boys their own age on the stage. You wonder if Bev is around somewhere. If she’s still kicking. The way the place still feels the same as it did back in '84 tells you she's still the owner of this shit stain of an establishment. But it's her shit stain, and good for her.
The bartender sets the glass in front of you with a cocktail napkin under it, fancy, and you feel a draft when the door at your back swings open. The drink isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t know if it was wrong. You don’t do mixed drinks. You’re a neat bourbon drinker. The sweet liquor does what it’s meant to, because you swear you can almost smell something familiar from the past as a figure goes past you. Like smoke and Old Spice with a hint of weed. This place is full of ghosts, you think, returning your focus back to glass coated in ice sweat.
“Hey, man. Three Wise Men and 3 fingers of Jim Beam.” The voice of the newcomer at the bar makes your head snap up. You watch his profile for a second. You see his hand disappear inside his jacket and come out with a pack of Camels. With a flick of his Zippo, his face is illuminated by the glow of the flame. You’ve seen it so many times, but even from this distance you catch sight of the creases that didn’t exist the last time you saw him. You wonder if you really did fall asleep if you’re really back in your motel room having one of your dreams again. The too sweet liquor on your tongue is real, and so must Eddie Munson be real.
You can’t peel your eyes from him, so you don’t try. You keep your gaze fixed to his face and wait for him to notice you. There are no words in you, and you’re afraid your legs will buckle if you try to stand up and walk over to him. You look at his hand, black lines decorate his knuckles. The ring on his left hand is silver, and you’re happy to see it sit on his middle finger. You banish the thought and break your gaze for a second to shake your stupid head.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone looks at him, even the drunk in the corner that can barely keep his head up. “Jesus Christ.”
Blood rushes to your head as he stands and makes his way over to you. Your heart is in your throat. You’d refused to let yourself believe that seeing Eddie this week was anything more than just a fleeting fantasy. The same fantasy that’s been playing through your mind for years. Pinch yourself, you fool. Too late, you’re standing on wobbly legs and giving him the kind of awkward hug reserved for old classmates - and apparently old lovers.
You break apart slowly, and sink down into your barstools, eyes never breaking contact. You think if you look away right now, he might turn into smoke and escape through the air vents. Your hands are on your lap, body still turned towards Eddie, Eddie Munson, and you pinch the skin between your thumb and index finger on your left hand until it hurts. This is real.
You’re both brought out of your shared reverie when the kid behind the bar slides Eddie’s drinks down to his new spot, along with the ashtray holding his still smoldering cigarette. Without a thought in your head, you pick it up and take a long drag before pinching it between your fingers to hand it back to him, filter out.
“So.” You exhale smoke through the word and let it hang for a second while Eddie brings the filter to his lips. The smoke of a kiss between the two of you hangs heavy in the air. “Eddie Munson, what brings you here tonight? Is Corroded Coffing playing a set later?”
Eddie’s crooked grin sits on his lips the same as it ever has, but it’s complemented by more fine lines at the corners of his eyes. You think it would be something to run a finger along them and feel the texture of his skin there.
“You know, I had this-” Eddie shakes his head and makes a noise like a huff of incredulity at what he hasn’t even said yet, “-I had this idea that I might see you here tonight. I’m sorry about Jim.”
“Oh,” you can’t hide the surprise on your face. The sudden presence of Eddie has scrubbed your mind clean of your purpose in Hawkins this week. Uncle Jim is dead. You try for a small frown, but decide against it and say, “yeah. I’m here for the funeral. Also, I promised my dad to go through the house before everything ends up at the dump.”
Eddie nods. His eyes dart across your face and then down to your hands. You’re suddenly very aware of the way your ring finger on your left hand still holds the indent of a band that’s been missing for months now. You think it may never truly leave you. You wonder if he’s seen it.
“Well, I think this is fate.” Eddie slaps his hand down on the bar, still as sticky as ever, and waves over the bartender that’s drying a glass with a bar towel. He turns back to you and says, “We’re drinking to that old bastard tonight.”
—
“Do you remember,” Eddie’s voice is too loud, but the only person left in the bar other than the two of you is a drunk with his head resting on the counter. He doesn’t seem bothered enough to lift his head, “breaking into the abandoned warehouse? Oh god, you were shaking like a leaf ‘Eddie, we should leave. What if someone’s hiding out in here?’” Eddie’s impersonation of your 18-year-old voice is both insulting and wildly inaccurate.
“You fucking asshole, you were the one that hauled ass out of there when a squirrel crawled out from under a desk. The noise you made,” you snort at the memory, “you sounded like my mom that time she found a dead mouse in her sugar dish.”
“That little fucker went straight for me, you can’t deny it.” Eddie’s finger is pointed directly between your eyes in an accusation. On instinct, you grab it with your fist and twist his arm. This is an old routine, one that the two of you had down pat all those years ago. Except now, Eddie’s a lot stronger, and he’s able to twist his arm back. You find your wrist in his strong grip, and you have no idea how it got there.
This is when you notice it. This is Eddie in front of you, but he’s not a boy. It’s not just your body that’s changed since the last time you were together. With his jacket thrown on the stool beside him, his forearms are bare before you. Sinful. Old ink and new, black lines and gray. But right now, it’s the flexed muscle that’s caught your eye. Oh, to be held by him.
The laughter in your chest dies and Eddie releases you. He waves the bartender down before he can call out a last call. One more round for the road, and you’re wishing you had a way to freeze this moment in time and keep him here.
But you can’t, so you take your final shots and hug each other. Jackets are thrown over shoulders, and you make your way side by side to the door.
“I’m staying at the motel on the corner. You should stop by sometime, I’ll be here all week.” You shove your shoulder into Eddie’s playfully and find that the booze has made your feet a little unstable. He puts an arm around you to keep you from stumbling.
“Well, let me walk you home then.” His arm doesn’t leave your side. You’re both hyper aware of the way his thumb strokes against the patch of soft exposed skin at your waist while you wander up the sidewalk, a little zig zag to your movements.
It’s been a night of sharing memories with no talk of the present. No acknowledgement of that indent on your finger where a ring lived for so long. You let yourself drink in the cool autumn air with Eddie’s arms holding you close to him. You let yourself feel held by him. You let yourself imagine that maybe this is real, and you let a sliver of moonlight pierce the darkness you’ve been hiding yourself in for these long months.
“This is my stop.” You pull away and lean your back against the door to your room at the end of rooms that line the facade of the old motel. It’s dark out, and the pale orange glow of the light above the door frame does little more than cast shadows across Eddie’s face. He could be mistaken for that boy if not for the way his shoulders stand wider than you remember. “Will you come in, Eddie?”
He tastes like whisky and smoke, and that’s just how you remember him. Gods, his mouth. His tongue moves swiftly across your lips, and your knees begin to sink. Those strong arms hold you up, they keep you in your spot so he can take his fill. This is the kind of kiss, one that makes you weak in the knees, that you thought was a thing that only existed in your past.
“So, yes?” You break apart from his kiss and rest your head in his chest to catch your breath.
“Yes, please.” Eddie kisses the top of your head and breathes in your hair before spinning you around to face the door. “Open the door, Sweetheart.”
The clicking of the door, and the snap of the deadbolt. Those things are clear, the anticipation of what comes next makes you laser focused on the feel of the metal under your fingers. And then it’s a flurry of mouths and hands. Teeth clicking, noses bumping. A stumble over a shoe in your shared path. You fall to the bed in a heap, it’s surprising how many articles of clothes have been discarded in the short distance between door and mattress.
“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” Eddie whispers into your neck, hot breath on the spot that he remembers makes you keen. His teeth test the skin, and you reward him with a gasp and a roll of your hips. “Fuck, I don’t care if I wake in a mess like a teenager. If this is a dream, I never want to leave it.”
You’d forgotten the way Eddie uses his words, but your body remembers the steps. Fingers waltz along your wider curves, they’re a quick study and map out the places that make you whine. Make you catch your breath. This is what he thinks about so often, the way you get lost under his touch. Your trust in him is still alive, and his need reaches a fever pitch.
“Eddie, please.” It’s all you can say, but it’s enough to snap Eddie out of his reverie. His hands are stroking the valley at your chest while his cock throbs against the cotton fabric of his boxers, hypnotized by the way your skin gives under the pressure of his fingers.
As above, so below. Hot mouths reach into one another as he spreads your legs and sinks his length into your heat. For a fleeting moment, it's a perfect union of bodies. Two as one. You need your breath as he reaches deeper inside you. He rests his forehead on yours and snaps harder into you. His open mouth takes the groans that leave you as he hits that tender and hard to reach place inside.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” Eddie’s words float around your face as you reach your peak. It’s the words, not the ecstasy, which draw the tears from your eyes. Beautiful. You believe him, how could you not? You want to tell him that he’s beautiful, because he is. Instead you wrap your arms around him and kiss him while he cums. The last rocks of his hips move in rhythm with the languid kisses you share.
—-
You wake in the morning to find crumpled sheets in the space that was occupied by Eddie Munson as you drifted off to sleep. It really was a dream, you think, but the stickiness between your thighs tells you that there was a man in this bed last night. The idea that he’s left without a trace doesn’t even pass your mind, because not Eddie. He doesn’t do that.
You ignore the pounding at your temple and drop your feet to the carpet. A full bladder is an urgent thing that can’t be denied. The freezing tile under your toes jolts you to attention. You map your next steps while you piss, and then wash your hands. You take the time to brush your teeth before heading back into the dark bedroom to find an outfit for the day. It doesn’t matter where Eddie has wandered off to, you need to head over to Jim’s. Eddie can find you later. Eddie will find you later. That’s something you know. Right now? You need coffee. It’s when you go to put your shoes on that you see it. A tiny scrap of paper on the side table next to your keys.
I didn’t want to wake you. I had some business to take care of while I’m in town. Dinner? I’m staying in the room next to yours. I’ll be back by 6.
You shake your head. Your boozy brain missed it last night. Of course it’s Eddie in the room next to yours. The thought of him on that bike makes your head spin. Makes you throb. Dinner, sure. Food is fuel and you’re gonna fucking need it. In the meantime, you have a job to do.
The way to Jim’s house is familiar but strange. Like trying to hold onto a dream as you’re starting to wake. The roads have the same names, but the trees are taller. It feels smaller, the houses closer together. In no time, you’re pulling up the drive to the shack that stands at the far end of Oak Street. It’s easy to forget it, set a little farther back than the other homes, hidden in the shade of the oaks the road is named for.
With a deep breath, you step out of your car and move swiftly to the front door. The smell hits you immediately. It’s not overwhelmingly awful, but it’s not good. Mildew and smoke. It smells empty. So you fill it with the fall air by opening every window. You’re happy to keep your jacket on to replace the smoke with the smell of the dry oak leaves that litter the yard around the house.
The soundtrack to your day digging through the life of your Uncle Jim is provided by the records stacked up by the player in his living room. Bob Dylan, CCR, and Pink Floyd. It could be worse, so you’re grateful. The treasures you discovered hold no true financial value, but they are priceless. Photo albums of long-lost family members, depression glass cake stands and punch bowls, and the piece de resistance - the family bible. You run your fingers across the leather cover and smile. You did good, kid. Grandma’s ring, though. You’ll come back at least one more time and truly tear the place apart before you hit the road. If it’s here, it’s going home with you.
—
Rick’s place is still home for Eddie, more so than the trailer park ever was. Wayne’s home was never Hawkins, and it served him well to be back in the wild mountains of West Virginia from where the Munsons hail. But Rick is a Hawkins institution, and he’s only ever had love for Eddie without the pressure of the constant concern that weighed on Wayne and Eddie’s relationship. That’s how it is with a father and son. Rick is the fun uncle that taught Eddie a way to bring in cash without being under the thumb of some asshole. It’s served him well throughout his life, even now. Eddie can find work anywhere, he carries his skills in his hands.
Rick is expecting Eddie, and he’s sitting out front when the Indian hums up the road that hugs Lovers’ Lake. It’s still pretty out here from Eddie’s perspective, especially with the trees still hanging on to the leaves of various colors. Eddie’s already thinking about getting you to come out here with him before you both leave town at the end of the week. As soon as he caught sight of you last night he had decided to wring out as much as he could from this brief reunion. No time to waste, especially if maybe there’s someone you’re going home to. He’s not going to ask that question. He doesn’t want to know. For now, you’re both here, and that’s more than he thought could ever be possible.
“Eddie! Oh man, it’s been too long, brother.” Rick’s on his feet and meeting Eddie in the driveway for a bear hug. “Sight for sore eyes.”
They sit outside on the back deck for hours, talking about the old days and the new. They watch the sunlight dance along the ripples in the water when the occasional fish comes to the surface for a waterbug. They pass joints back and forth, and sip on the instant coffee that Rick swears is better than that overpriced bullshit the coffee houses try to con people into buying. And then they get down to business for a few minutes over a game of pool. Like the old days. It’s healing to remember there is a place in this godforsaken hellhole that Eddie can feel like himself. It was never all bad, but nothing ever is. Eddie knows this, his own life is a mixed bag. He has to take the bad or else lose out on the potential good.
The sun is starting to sink down below the trees when Eddie swings his leg over the seat of his bike to head back to the other side of town. He’s glad. He’s hoping that you’ve decided to accept his dinner invitation. The memories were fun to relive, but his mind is whirring with questions about who you are now. He’d like to hear it. He’d like to tell you about the bands he plays with on the weekends back in Charleston. Last night was nice, but he’d like to spend some time with you while the lights are on. He let his cock carry him away too quickly last night, he hopes he gets a chance to take his time with you tonight. His thighs vibrate from the hum of the engine while he weaves down the streets. He’s half hard remembering the way you smell and the sound of your voice when you get lost with him.
—
“You’d really like her. She’s a natural musician, like her dad. I’m just glad she’s sticking close to home for college. I worry enough even with her living less than a mile away.” You’re rambling on about Maddy while Eddie watches your lips move. He’d had a feeling there was at least one kid back home, he’s dated enough moms to recognize the signs.
“Oh, a girl after my own heart. I already love her.” Eddie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his arm reaching across the table. Your plates are empty, and your glasses are drained. Your concern about telling Eddie you have an adult child is forgotten now, and you’re gushing. Just as it should be.
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about Maddy for a while. She’s the sun my life orbits around.” You tip back your martini glass, searching for any last remnants of gin. No luck.
“Yeah, you’re a good mom.” That thumb rubs again. “Of course you are.” Eddie looks around the restaurant and watches as the servers very purposely place chairs on top of tables, inching ever closer to the one where the two of you are seated. “I think we should probably let them shut it down, head back to the motel.”
Head back to the motel. That sounds really good, because Eddie’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. You can just make out the farmer’s tan that starts at the middle of his biceps. You hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but Eddie’s skin is sunkissed from years of working outdoors. A contract carpenter, he told you, and you could almost smell the sawdust and varnish when he explained about his special word working projects. You want to see them. You want to touch them. You have no doubt that they’re unique and special pieces. Eddie’s always had the ability to pull beauty out of the mundane.
“Will you drive, Eddie? Take me the long way home?” You’re already handing him your keys before he can answer. Of course he will. He’ll do anything you want, it’s always been that way. He’d stop the world if it would make you smile.
“Let’s go, Love. You can rest your head on my shoulder.” And that’s what you do. The walk to the car is slow, but Eddie’s arms need to stay around you. It’s where they belong.
He does take the long way, hooking a right when he pulls out of Enzo’s parking lot and heading for the back roads. One hand sits on your thigh. Your head can’t reach his shoulder in the car, so you lean it back and close your eyes. Linda Ronstadt’s been cheated and mistreated, she’s wondering when will she be loved? Some day, Linda, even if it’s for just a fleeting time. The idea pricks your chest, and you push it down. We won’t think about the end until it gets here.
“Will you be my date for the funeral, Eddie? I might not go if I have to do it alone.” You keep your eyes closed, and he squeezes your leg. He’ll go with you, you already know that.
“Yep. And then we’ll go back to the bar and get shitfaced. Bev will love it. Give the old gal something to be pissed about.” You snort at the thought of Bev trying to wrangle two 40 somethings trying to relive their youthful dalliances. Poor woman. But she would probably love it.
“I like your plan, Ed. Now tell me, did you smoke it all, or do you have some weed back at the motel?” You turn to face him, you want to see that crooked grin of his. “I’ve gotta call Maddy when we get back, but I think it’d be nice to sit outside and get nice and toasty.”
“Yeah, well, I might have a little. Can I ask you something?” Eddie turns the wheel and you’re looking at downtown Hawkins. You nod, but your mouth is dry thinking about the possibilities of what he wants to know that you haven’t already told him. “What kind of an asshole wouldn’t hold on tight to someone like you when you’re so fucking perfect?”
“Christ, Munson. Are you high already?” You pull a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the dash and light it. Just a drag before handing it back over to him. You’re both giggling, it was too much. “Well, you might have been the first to let me go, but you weren’t the last. But look at us now, hm? I think it’s better like this. Makes you realize that the grass isn’t always greener, ya know?”
Eddie blows smoke out of his nose and quietly mutters, “I was blind.”
“Nah. What I told you back then is still true, I’ll take what I can get from you, Baby. Any time, any place. It doesn’t have to be forever.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at your words but keeps his response in his mind.
—
Eddie sits in his room rolling joints while you’re on the other side of the wall talking to your daughter. All that talk about the kid, and no mention of the dad. Eddie knows who Maddy’s dad is because word travels fast. He’s never really thought about the guy much, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the sadness living behind your smile.
Eddie pulls the comforter off his bed. He’s taking it outside with him to wait for you on the bench that’s at the entrance to the cemetery across the street from the motel. There are no streetlights out here, and the dead won’t mind the company. They never do. The plans he had for this week are fading into one persistent thought - be with you as much as possible before it’s too late. The threat of Sunday coming too fast hangs over every second that ticks past.
It’s harder for Eddie to push those thoughts away than it is for you, because of the regret. He can’t help but feel it, even though he knows that 1984 Eddie is not the same as Eddie today. He’s learned how to spot a good thing, and that’s you. The idea of holding onto you with both hands doesn’t send a lightning bolt of fear through his guts like it did when he was 18. This couldn’t have happened then, whatever this is. It’s a battle in his mind, trying to see through the haze of the memories, how real can it be when everything is shrouded by the past.
The inward battle halts when he sees the door to your room open. He focuses on your form growing larger with each step closer to him. He watches each step of your feet until you’re looming over him, blotting out the weak light from the motel across the street. You have a soft smile on your lips, and he memorizes the way those lips feel on his forehead before you flop down on the bench next to him. He spreads the comforter over your lap, and pulls you into his side.
“This is so romantic, Eddie. You, me, and the sleeping dead.” You sigh and nuzzle your nose into his neck. “You smell nice.” Your lips brush against his skin and the hair stands up in answer.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Eddie asks as he places a joint between your lips. “I’m hoping to wake up next to you again, but I don’t wanna make any assumptions.” Sparks fly out from his Zippo, and you breathe in the weed smoke before answering.
“Baby, as far as I’m concerned, you could cancel your room for the rest of the week and move into mine. You don’t even need to ask what I want. This is it.” You look up at him and place the joint in his mouth. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but you think his eyes look a little misty. “Hey now, don’t give me sad eyes, Eddie. We’ve talked about this already. I’ll take what I can get.”
“That’s bullshit.” Eddie’s voice is low and you’re already feeling a little lighter. It’s been a long time since you’ve smoked, and you can feel the cloud starting to creep across your thoughts.
“Oh? Well never mind then. Fuck you, Munson.” Your retort, but there’s no bite. You pluck the joint out of his fingers.
“I just mean, you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry.” Eddie kisses the top of your head, an apology of sorts.
“We all deserve better than we get, Baby. You should know that. It’s easier to accept it than to try and demand what other people can’t give.” You think the words came out right and can’t muster the energy to care if they didn’t.
“Yeah, but it’s still not right.”
Right or not, it’s a truth you accepted a long time ago. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it kills the resentment. What more can you do? Life is hard enough.
—
The light stays on in your room tonight. The weed slows down time. It swallows you and Eddie up, and gives you the space to study each other. The rough calluses on his fingertips travel along the lines of your body, creating a roadmap in his memory. He needs to remember how to find you again, even when you’re a thousand miles away. He needs to taste you on his lips.
The hunger is as strong as the previous night, it’s why your center on Eddie’s face. It’s why your nose leads the way down his torso, inhaling the smell trapped in the dark hair at the base of his cock. He tastes how you remember. Your mouth wraps around him while his tongue and fingers make you sing. He keeps one wide palm planted on the fat of your ass, his rip is hard enough to bruise. He keeps you in the spot until hot tears spill down your cheeks with the intense pleasure of it all. He keeps you there until he spills himself inside your mouth. And you drop, head on his hip, looking at his softening cock in front of you. You lean over and kiss its tip.
Eddie’s giggles are music to your ears. He suddenly needs to see your face, but your legs are still spread in front of him. He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, but it works. You slowly move your legs over to the side, freeing him so he can crawl down to the end of the bed. He can taste himself on your lips and is surprised to feel his cock jump. You need a little more time than that, Bud.
“I need to tell you something.” Eddie’s arms are wrapped around your sweaty body, and he’s peppering kissing along the bridge of your nose. You release a questioning hum, trying to focus on his words. Sleep is calling to you. “I’m going to the funeral with you tomorrow. I’m going to Jim’s with you to finish the scavenger hunt from hell. I’m spending every fucking second with you until we both leave this shithole. But I don’t want that to be the end.”
“Everything ends, Baby.” You mutter into the skin of his chest. You feel his breath hitch and wonder if there are tears to match the stutter. “But it doesn’t have to end so soon if you don’t want it to.”
“I want to hold onto this, Love. I think we both know this -” Eddie points a finger between the two of you, “- is something special. It always has been. I’ll fucking pick my shit up and move to wherever you are. I won’t even complain about the snow. At least not the first year.”
“I’ll complain enough for the both of us. I always do.” You kiss his chest and look up at him. There are tears, You reach up to rub them off his cheek. You look at the hair at his temple and see the way the gray hair threads through his dark curls. You think it would be something, wouldn’t it? To see the gray overtake the black over the years. And you know Eddie doesn’t say anything to you that he doesn’t mean. It’s not something he’s capable of doing. “For Eddie Munson, my door is always open.”
“What about Maddy’s dad?” Eddie chokes on the words a little, but he gets them out along with a fresh tear that leaks from the corner of his eye. That’s something you’ve always loved about Eddie, he’s never hidden the tears when they show up.
“That’s been over for a while, Ed. I should’ve told you that.” You stroke his cheek and smile. “You’re down bad, old man. Wow, that’s really something, ain’t it?”
Eddie’s laugh rumbles through both of you. The years in front of you don’t look so bleak when you picture Eddie’s arm around your waist. The tears won’t sting so much if you have each other to wipe them away. It’s not too late, you’ve got two feet above ground. You’ve got two hands to hold onto this thing, and Eddie’s hands are holding on just as tight now. The memories and the future swirl together, and you thank god for those years apart. It’s so much sweeter this time around.
You fall asleep with Eddie inside of you. I love yous breathed into your mouths. Eddie’s going to have to replace that seat on his bike if he expects you to ride on it with him. He’s adding it to the mental list he has running. Tell Wayne he’s moving closer. Pack his shit up in a Uhaul. Drive a couple hundred miles. Replace the bike seat. Wrap his arms around you and never let go.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fanfic#thanatos writes#stranger things smut#wayne munson
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Older Brother!Slider with Baby Brother!Ice
Okay, so another contribution rant to the Top Gun Fandom:
Big Brother Slider, but ONLY, ONLY to Ice. And not the generic sibling relationship, no, but Ice is his Baby Brother.
For any who don't have that 'Baby' Sibling, as an eldest child, let me explain: A sibling is a younger, less better, version of yourself because your parents were a bit delusional and now there is Another™.
HOWEVER, a Baby Sibling, a BABY Sibling? No, they are essentially your own child, typically the youngest, they are your pride and joy, and when I tell you that with a Baby Sibling you become so protective over them you would commit horrible crimes for them- literally becoming an attack dog on a leash held by said Baby Sibling, that is a true Baby Sibling/Older Sibling relationship. The minute they are born they're just, your child, like so what the birth certificate says that their parents are my parents, that's obviously a lie. They legitimately become your child in more ways than one, whose only role in life is to be happy and loved. And this is SO the relationship between Slider and Ice.
Ice is the Baby Sibling™, with Slider as the protective older brother. Slider makes sure that Ice is happy, and cared for/loved, protected, everything for the Baby™. I cannot explain enough how much I love this head-cannon, and all the proof I'll ever need to explain it is this one GIF;
Look at Slider, the protective arm around the shoulder, the glare, the judgement in his very being, the way his jaw tenses-, compared to Ice, who is just sitting there, not even noticing, focusing on something else all happy like (Or as happy as Ice can get while in Ice-man mode (Or as happy as one can get when translating languages, if you saw my other post about Russian!Ice ;D)).
Slider nearly getting kicked out of the Top Gun program due to beating a fellow pilot unconscious because he DARED shit talk Ice
So they never gave Slider a DOB/specified age in Top Gun, but his actor, Rick Rossovich is 2 years older than Val Kilmer, so that only furthers the point of Slider's Older Brother Agenda
One time Goose was showing Ice how to cartwheel after Ice was interested in how he did it on the deck of the ship they were stationed on and Slider refused to allow Ice to do it because "What if he falls and cracks his skull open on the tarmac Goose!"
When reassured that Ice cracking his skull open isn't going to happen, and Goose was only going to demonstrate, Slider still wont budge on it. Ice never learned how to do a cartwheel to this day
Ice's foot getting caught in the track and wheels of a stationary, not turned on/working tank on accident and one singular, quiet, whispered "ow" after pulling it out of said track/wheel, was all it took to have Slider screaming his head off carrying Ice into medical absolutely positive that Ice just "Broke his own god-damn ankle, GET A MEDIC-"
Someone shoving past Ice on their way to the mess hall in a rush, causing Ice to stumble back literally 2 steps, and Slider getting in their face, slamming them into a wall with a "I swear you put your hands on Ice one more time, your not gonna have hands AT ALL"
He then slings his arm around Ice's shoulder and directs him to the mess hall, glaring at any poor soul who dared look in Ice's direction
They were at the bar and a woman started to approach Ice, who, of course was not noticing (he only has eyes for a 5'7" gremlin named Mav), and Slider shuts that down REAL QUICK. Like, no, not today Lilith, pick a different naval guy-
Give Mav The Talk when he notices Mav giving eyes to Ice, and Goose because Slider can never be too sure, and everyone observing this is sitting there like 'what the actual fuck' after Slider threatens to, and I quote, "French braid your fuckin' nervous system you shitty dwarf" towards Maverick amongst other colorful threats
It gets to the point where Slider is so protective over Ice, people don't ask Ice anything without looking to Slider for some kind of acceptance or denial, like;
Hollywood: Hey Ice do you wanna-
Slider, the coldest look ever seen, actively dropping the temperature in the room while promising a slow and tortuous death:
Hollywood: -help me figure out this trajectory angle equation for this [classified] mission?
Ice, absolutely oblivious to the entire situation: Sure? I guess?
Its single-handedly the funniest and most terrifying thing to ever happen in Top Gun history, aside from whoever decided to put Maverick Mitchell in a plane
And the cherry on top is that Ice DOESN'T HAVE A CLUE at the entire situation
When someone tries saying how terrifying Slider is to Ice he just brushes it off, like, "Oh Slider? No he's very nice, he even walks with me wherever I have to go in the day. He's all bark and no bite"
And everyone in the immediate vicinity just looking at Ice either with pity or like he's stupid because he doesn't know
He never figures it out either
(This overprotectiveness doubles, if not triples when he meets baby Bradley Bradshaw, and Slider just cant compute because now there is another person who has my undying love and protection-)
(Goose once lost Bradley on a very important, very large Naval destroyer and the entirety of the Top Gun Class of '86 is frantically searching the entire ship before Viper finds out and one of them just stumbling into Slider sitting on a couch with Ice and Bradley just absolutely passed out, sleeping like a brick, essentially using him as human furniture, and the look Slider gives them promises a 100 years of death if they wake either of them up-)
(After Goose's death when baby Bradley lives with IceMav, he just clings onto Slider whenever he's over because "I feel safest with Pops, but Pops feels safest with Uncle Sli', so I'm safest-est with Uncle Sli'")
(Mav doesn't know whether to cry because that is so cute- or be annoyed that Slider is preferred over himself)
(After Bradley reconciles with Mav, he's caught sleeping(read absolutely dead to the world) on Slider's chest like when he was as a child and no one knowing what to do because "Rooster that is a 2-STAR ADMIRAL OF THE US NAVY-" Slider is just like "I'm safest-est", and Bradley sleepily chiming in with a "safest-est" and deciding to just go back to sleep like nothing happened)
#tom iceman kazansky#ron slider kerner#top gun 1986#top gun fandom#peter maverick mitchell#nick goose bradshaw#Big Brother!Slider#Baby Brother!Ice#siblings#icemav#iceman x maverick#headcanon#Russian!Tom Iceman Kazansky#bradley rooster bradshaw#aviation#overprotective brother#I will write a fic about this soon#i call dibs#I just love this SO MUCH#you can't prove me wrong
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The Family Ranch
Spencer Reid x Fem Reader
The reader takes Spencer home to meet her family.
Word Count: 1k
Genre: Fluff
A/N: Remember when he told JJ he wanted to be a cowboy? I remember.
Spencer drives slowly, his hands gliding over the steering wheel of his Volvo Amazon, which had seen better days. He rolls down the windows, and his unmanaged curls get caught in the summer breeze. They become a crown framing his face, kept from his eyes solely by the pair of sunglasses that shielded them. The road had long since turned from smooth pavement to trails of gravel inlined with dirt. (Y/N)'s childhood home hides behind valleys and hills, a small ranch tucked away from the rest of the world.
They can see the pasture of cows before they see the house, and (Y/N) sits at attention, crooning at the many calves shepherded by their mothers and kept in line by a Great Pyrenees. The dog turns to watch the car tumble down the road but doesn't dare to leave his post.
The sun is high in the sky, it's a hot day for Virginia, and (Y/N)'s already rolling up the cuffs of her jeans to prepare for time in the mud. Spencer watches her from the corner of his eye, pleasantly surprised to see her shuck off the professionalism she had to wear at the BAU.
They pass by a mailbox, its white metal covered in years' worth of colorful handprints. "Excited to be home?" He asks, not for the first time, in a tone sweeter than honey.
The Volvo lurches to a stop, and the screen door of her parent's house opens before she can respond. The words are unnecessary because she's out of the car before he can count to three and scooping up an eight-year-old boy in her arms. Spencer recognized him from pictures, with his freckled skin and outcrop of curly hair. His flannel was two sizes too big for him, a lizard sat in the pocket of his overalls, and as (Y/N) would say, he was undeniably Daniel.
"You've gotten so big!" (Y/N) says as Spencer retrieves their bags from the trunk. He had his reservations about staying the night with her family. Mostly, he worried they wouldn't like him, but if they were anything like the girl he'd started to consider a permanent life with, he knew he would come to love them just as much.
"Maybe you've just gotten shorter, Auntie." Daniel teases, and Spencer notices he has (Y/N)'s smile.
"You think? No, it's all you, kiddo, you're growing up on me!" (Y/N) hugs the boy again, finally letting herself miss her family after living in Quantico for the past year. "Do you remember Spencer? You spoke on the phone."
Daniel's gaze sweeps over the older man as he approaches, squinting at the dress shirt and slacks he wore, unaware of how casually Spence happened to be dressed compared to usual. "Everyone is excited to meet you."
"Are they?" Spencer's heart soars. "I'm excited to meet you all too! Who is your friend?"
Daniel pulls the lizard from his pocket and holds it aloft to Spencer, giving him a view of the spotted Bearded Dragon, rough to the touch. "His name is Dash."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dash. Did you know that Bearded Dragons are one of the few lizards who will mimic other creatures?" Spencer tilts his head to stick out his tongue, and when Dash reciprocates, Daniel takes a surprised step back.
"Woah! You have to come show my mom!"
When Daniel takes off towards the house, (Y/N) loops her arm around Spencer's. "You're good at that."
"What's that?"
"Kids."
Spencer shrugs, unwilling to admit that he finds children easier to talk to than most adults. "That's just because Dash vouched for me."
"A pretty cool guy, that Dash." (Y/N) plays along, leading Spencer inside as Daniel approaches a woman at the stove. Her light hair contrasts (Y/N)'s, but they share the same eyes. She watches with patience that only a mother could know as Daniel tries several times to get Dash to stick out his tongue. When it finally works, the woman offers him a beaming smile before acknowledging the couple in the doorway.
"The FBI has finally released my baby sister back to us humble cattle ranchers? Bestill my beating heart!" The woman, who Spencer knew to be Amelia, crosses the room to pull her sister into a bone-crushing hug. Spencer has to let (Y/N) go to allow this, but he isn't out of the woods yet. Amelia appraises him, trailing her gaze from his head to his toes. "He's cuter in person."
"Amy!"
"What? You don’t mind, do you, Spencer? I'm just repeating the things (Y/N)’s said about you."
Spencer beams, his gaze flickering between the two siblings. Their dynamic reminded him of how Derek continues to tease him daily. "Not at all. I hope everything she says about me is half as nice."
"Like you wouldn't believe! 'His eyes are so dreamy. I love it when-'" (Y/N) cuts off the embarrassing stories, most from when she first started working at the BAU and barely knew Spencer as an acquaintance. She shoves Amelia back towards the stove, threatening to knock a pan of homemade chicken noodle soup from the burner. "Hey, hey! Chasing serial killers has made you violent! MA!"
Amelia raises her voice so she’s heard in the recesses of the house, and not a few moments later, an older woman comes skidding into the room. She has the same friendly deposition as her daughters. Her skin’s notably wrinkled from years of hard labor, but there's a kindness in her eyes that Spencer can't ignore. "What's all the fuss about? (Y/N)! When did you get here?"
The mother and daughter close the distance between themselves. Spencer can't help noticing how tightly (Y/N) clings to her parent as if proving all her sleepless nights- fearing that she would never see them again- wrong.
"Hey, Ma," she finally says, after moments trickling into minutes. "I brought a boy home."
Everyone calls her Ma, even the people down the valley in the closest town, but Spencer knows her name is Beth. Against his better judgment, he holds his hand out to her, expecting a polite handshake to break the ice, yet he's not surprised when he's pulled into a hug. "Doctor Reid!" She greets him with an open welcomeness he isn’t used to. "We're so excited to have you finally join us. I hope you don't mind roughing it out here."
"Spencer, please, and not at all! Your home is lovely, and so is your family."
"Well, that’s very kind of you! You've both made it in time for lunch. Why don't you get comfortable while I find your father?” Beth excuses herself before the couple can respond.
Spencer finds himself at the dining room table, served a bowl of soup while having a riveting conversation with Daniel about the local reptile population. He was more comfortable in (Y/N)'s childhood home than expected, and even as the rest of her family settled to join them for their meal, he couldn't help holding her hand beneath the table.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#This was supposed to be longer#Lucid Romances
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I was summoned!Jason craver x male reader
Where m/n is Chrissy innocent twin brother and Jason and came over her house to to take her out but she’s not home so the m/n decided to let him until Chrissy comes back, turns out she went to a have girl sleepover at friends house on a school night.And M/n let Jason stay the night an let Jason sleep on the couch some min later , Jason couldn’t fall asleep the first time so he took his shirt off then try and sleep but couldn’t so he got up to get some water only to see m/n only in his boxers . Let’s just say it just ended up him fucking m/n the kitchen hard and rough
i can't think of a title-
a/n — i am so sorry for this taking so long! it snowballed into being my longest fic, and i rushed the smut so you wouldn't have to wait- (btw i can change the smut, i know it sounds stupid but i kinda hate that i rushed it :// )
warnings — 18+! Minors and fem!aligned DNI! internalized homophobia, smut, bareback (wrap before you tap!), jason carver has a big dick ;)
summary — check the request!
words — 3.9k
~~~
Soft ramblings came from the television as it ran through the loops of magnetic tape, playing out the entirety of Ferris Bueller's Day Off—a personal recommendation from the hair master himself at the Family Video, along with an old copy of Fast Times at Ridgemont High he let you keep. He said that his friend found it redundant to their romantic life, but you were too confused why he lent it to you to care since your rental history refuted anything about it being your kind of movie. And, well, it wasn't. It sat in the tape player for a total of five minutes before you shut it off, replacing it with what was currently filling the background noise. You tipped the couch cushion from sitting slightly too far forward to work on next week's homework, relying on the coffee table to keep yourself steady.
The sun half-slid down the white finish of the wall, making it nearly impossible to tell the color with the golden shine pouring in. It tainted the television with a glare, vanishing in the shade for only a moment as a car pulled into the driveway. Sounding aloud by the tires treading the cemented pathway until it faded, followed by the thud of a car door slamming shut. Time carried a knock from the double set of mahogany doors as the person meandered the small sidewalk leading to the front porch within seconds. You shot up and answered it by the time the third knock struck.
Behind it stood Jason, a smile as vibrant as the floral bouquet in his hands formed when you opened the door. They radiated an air of sweetness that challenged the dominating cologne that hung on his letterman jacket, the spicy bite reaching toward you by a petal's length first.
“Hey, Cunningham, Chris home?”
“Sorry, Jason, you missed her by an hour. Something important?” you kept a hold on the side of the door, ready to wing it shut if anything happened.
“No, surprise date since she said your parents weren’t home,” he explained, letting the flowers defeatedly hang from the bottom up in his lowered hand.
“Oh,” your hand tightened on the door, the temptation to keep his distance growing as the conversation carried.
Jason leaned his free arm against the doorframe, moving closer to you. The door would have to stay open, “Can I come in?”
Jason was intimidating, but not by his own choice. He was never in control of how the things he did affected you; he had a charm that wooed you over and an understanding about you that others failed to grasp, even with how little time you spent together. But, you often had to remind yourself that he was only being nice, and none of it was his fault in how you interpreted it. There was no problem with everything he did to make you fall in love with him. It came with the standard conflicts of wanting to date your sister's boyfriend. They were happy, and you were a creep. That was why you often tried to get out of spending time with him and Chrissy. Being the third wheel was bad enough already, but being the second person in the room to have feelings for the same guy was even worse.
You tried to talk him out of it, hoping he would follow the direction you urged him toward, “Uh, you don’t have to. Chrissy won’t be back until tomorrow. I'll see you then?”
He took hold of your shoulder with a soft grip and held an equally warm smile as before, “Doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with you. We can have some one-on-one guy time, bro. I think that out of everyone in Chris’ family, I haven’t gotten to hang out with you much, and it would be a waste of gas to drive back home, anyways.”
There it was: that stupid Jason charm. Overly kind and friendly, alongside a look that you could never utter the word no to—a natural boy-next-door, no matter how far apart you lived. It became complicated to pinpoint precisely how you felt, given that a guide for who you were remained untyped and unsaid by anyone brave enough to give in to their urges like yours. If Jason was the boy-next-door, you were the Hawkins' hermit.
He passed by you and into the living room, taking your silence as an invitation and reacquainting himself with the walls he had spent hours enclosed by when he watched movies with Chrissy or the big basketball game of the season with your dad. He even joined in on your mom's infrequent binges of various cooking shows and seasons of General Hospital, but none of it was ever with you. Never while you watched the latest release or whatever was playing on cable. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you weren't as avoidant of Jason as you thought. Was he the one who had made an effort to avoid you?
“Aw, good taste. I love this movie!” you joined Jason in the living room, seeing him standing in the golden rays, holding a finger to the television screen.
The copy of Fast Times sat atop the player for Jason to see. His hand traveled from the screen to the tape, picking it up and scanning over the title, "This one's fucking awesome! Tell me, why haven't we hung out more? If I knew you were into this, we could've had so much fun at Benny's place the other night."
"What do you mean?"
He placed it back on the tape-player, "You know, like movies and...stuff."
He said it so casually that you were sure it was the banal genre that a preparatory jock like him would pick out. But you still asked, "What kind?"
He slowly cracked a smile, followed by a laugh, "The kind they don't sell at Family Video."
You let out a forced, dry chuckle to act like you were aware of what he was referencing, your stale giggle joining in strident harmony with his enriched one. After a moment of letting the room fall silent, Jason moved so that he was now filling the space of your dad's bistered recliner, the cushions welcoming him into a world of well-worn ecstasy. You joined him in watching the movie on the adjoining couch and slipped into a comfortable position.
Eventually, you left the seat open to switch out the tapes in the video player, letting it cool for a moment but returning with a heated knowing of embarrassment. The movie advertised a few scenes with nudity, and either gender was bound to make the room fill with an uncomfortable silence. For the first half-an-hour of the film, it was tolerable. There were jokes you didn't get and conflicts that seemed silly, but the scenes of overly exposed women or men had yet to arrive. But, the second half of that hour proved to be the issue.
Fifty-three minutes and five seconds was when things started to go downhill. The main girl of the film lost her top after coming on to her best friend's brother, and what was underneath it plagued the screen. They didn't tempt you, unlike they had for Jason, who, from the corner of your eye, smirked at the television as his hand slid from the chair's arm to his denim-clad crotch, slightly grazing the area. You started to think that this movie was not the right idea to have either of you watching, considering that it was pretty damn close to real life—something you wanted to escape from at the moment. You tried to block out the remainder of the movie and whatever Jason was doing by not watching it, leaning your head back, and sinking deep into the couch.
The moon crawled along the sun's path, letting the light from inside fill the house. They spoke with a soft blink and a buzz as they went out and flickered on into your ears, nudging you awake, "Did I fall asleep?"
It was almost rhetorical, but you hoped to tune out the movie, not throw off your sleep schedule for the night. Your eyes were met with the sight of salt-and-peppery static filling the screen, and to your right, Jason laid back in the recliner, eyes shut but not asleep. He remained unmoved, "I'll sleep here."
He slipped his sneakers past the heels with the point of the other and kicked them over the hassock, letting them fall with a gentle thud.
"You sure? You can stay in Chris' bed since she's not—yeah, you can sleep upstairs."
Jason kicked the footrest back into place with ease, taking a stand on the hardwood floor. He waved you off, "Nah, I can take your dad's chair. He's always sleepin' in it, so I'll see what the big deal is."
He reached for the green and yellow cuff of his letterman jacket, pulling his arm in the opposing direction that he tugged at the edge of his sleeve, slipping it out and doing the same to his other arm. You planned to head to bed but wanted to guarantee he had everything he needed. As if he hadn't spent dozens of nights here before. But he was a guest, and you were the only one home. He didn't know the house as you did. He didn't know of the way the air conditioning never worked right in the summer or how you had to kick the bottom-left corner of the fridge to get it to spit the ice out. So you stayed, just in case.
His hands retreated further up his body and to the neck of his polo, sliding it off as easy as his jacket had let him do. There Jason stood, in waist-high denim flares and nothing else. It wasn't surprising to see him like this, as he had done this before, on the first night he stayed over.
You remembered the first night like you had lived through it the night before; it was in the middle of summer when the sun baked the Earth to a record-breaking high in Hawkins. Your parents were wealthy but not profligate buyers, meaning that the only room with an air conditioner was their own, and the rest of you had to suffer. Barely catching a wink of sleep, you went to the kitchen for a cold glass of water to drink, anything to help stay cool in the triple-degree delirium. You entered the kitchen to find Jason executing the same plan you had come up with mere moments before, gulping down a nearly full glass in seconds, then turning to refill the cup. That was when you noticed he was only in a pair of tight, non-dyed briefs that struggled to fit in the area that they were fighting to keep contained.
It was when you realized your feelings for Jason, two-thirty at night in nothing but the equivalent of a skimpy leaf. One tear and everything would be gone. But that was far from what you focused on at the moment. His body was nice to look at, but the intimacy made your stomach drop and caused your heart to double its pace. Never had another guy been so comfortable around you, going as far as to be nearly stripped down to nothing and still be as relaxed as he was. You had to remind yourself that he didn't know what you were at the time, and he still didn't know now. Later that day, when the sun scaled the wall, Chrissy announced to the family that she and Jason were official.
That was over a year ago, and Jason looked even more stunning. Age broke people, shattered them with time, but Jason wasn't susceptible to that. He went from pristine to unblemished, polished, highlighting his best feature that had only grown.
"Hope it's not a problem," he casually apologized, almost feeling as if he had to say it because it sounded puckish. It acted as a pricked hook, ready to tear you apart but still pulling your mangled mess of emotions to the surface to expose your darkest secret.
"Not at all," you struggled to get the words out, heading off to the stairs right after. Jason called out to you before you could reach the top, offering a quick, "goodnight," that you returned and veered into the hall and your bedroom.
You tried to get a wink of sleep, but nothing overtook the abyssal hole you fell into while trying not to think about Jason on the floor below you. It didn't help that you had just come from a few hours of shut-eye that now seemed impossible to regress into, but you knew that Jason was responsible for keeping you awake. Like many other things, it wasn't his fault—completely and utterly your own head's maladaptive ways. Earlier, it was so easy to fall asleep—ironically because you were near him—but now it felt unachievable to slip away for merely a moment. You figured that a drink—something warm and comforting—would soothe you to sleep, something flavorful to let your mind focus in on.
Jason felt similarly, looking at the white-daubed ceiling. He wished he could peer past—to see you, to see what you wore, how it clung to your body, and how easy it was to remove. He hated that it was his first thing to think of when it came to you, Chrissy's brother. He tried to rationalize it with the fact that you and Chrissy looked alike, and it just so happened to be that you were a guy. He almost convinced himself that what he saw in you was everything he loved about Chrissy, and that's the only reason he thought about you like that. Almost. Jason may have seen a bit of Chrissy in you, but the feeling he got was warmer and undeniably stronger than how he felt with Chrissy. If you and Chrissy looked the same, why did he feel so much different—so much better around you?
Jason kicked back the recliner again, fleeing to the kitchen for a bout of comfort if only temporary as it was. He put a hand under the faucet, bringing it and some water to his face. He needed to cool off and ease his head from everything he had trained himself not to think about while he was here. Smooth velvet crossed his face after he went for a towel.
"This is all stupid," he muttered, leaning against the sink with both hands. The dark outside couldn't help him. He could leave and not say bye, but then there would be lights at home, and he would have to see himself and all the ways he lies to himself there.
Bare feet padded along the cool tile of the kitchen, but it wasn't Jason's own. No, it was yours. He turned, careful not to let his jaw, or a sly comment, slip as he eyed your figure, bare except for a pair of low-hanging boxers.
"What is?" You asked, coolly heading for the cabinet next to him. Jason looked in your direction as you did, eyes slipping down the curve of your lower back and over your ass. He knew he shouldn't look, but you had been so oblivious to his unrequited glances in the past, whether it was at dinner or when you passed in the hall like two ships in the night.
But he struggled to keep it in. He let it out after fighting it for so long. No one was here. He wouldn't have to awkwardly meander to Chrissy's room and think about it for the rest of the night. He could redress himself and leave if you reacted poorly and bury himself in anything that wasn't your stupid, complicated family.
"Just...how everything is right now," he admitted.
You set the empty glass down and turned, much to Jason's dismay, to keep your glance trained on his melancholic expression.
"Is it about Chris?"
That was the only thing he didn't want to hear. Chrissy is what made this complicated, but he made it incomprehensible to sort out.
"It's more about you, actually."
"Oh," You weren't sure what to say other than that. But you didn't have time to think since he continued.
"You're prettier than her," Jason wasn't sure how to say it because he never allowed himself to, only thinking about it when you weren't around.
"Jason—," You interjected, trying to keep him careful with how he handled his words. The second you heard him say that, a small part of you found a glimmer of hope in his compliment. Or it could have been an admittance of his feelings. Whatever it was, the better part of you knew that he shouldn't be saying it at all, no matter how much you wanted him to.
"Stop, please. I need to tell you that I've been fighting something in me since I first came here. And this—this was the last I could take," Jason paused and motioned with his hand to direct toward your boxer-exclusive attire, "I thought it was because you look so much like her, but you're not."
He stopped talking and wrapped you in his arms, warm skin meeting boiling skin, ready to explode but tamed by him. Jason smelled like vanilla and cedarwood and a bit of himself, mixing with the smell of home, giving you a sense that he was home. That this was right. Deserved in the sense that this was what you wanted and longed for and was finally getting.
He pulled away too soon for your liking, but what he followed it with more than made up for it. The light couldn't shine on your face before Jason shadowed it. The space between you left as fast as it came, replaced by the small—but soft—touch of his lips to yours. It was hesitant like he didn't know what exactly to do. Jason kept his hands away from you, though, letting them fly down to reach for the button of his jeans, shoving them to his ankles once undone. Soon enough, you slipped into a passionate furrow, his fingers brushing against your jaw as yours kept a grip on his solid, well-buffed arms.
Jason struggled to find the words to describe how he felt, but there was this magical touch with each point of contact. He felt freer and resolute to take what he wanted from you; both your love and your body. The magic faded as your pressing effort into the kiss started to soften, and he was worried that you had your fill and started to have your doubts. But, in reality, you were ready to go further, even if that journey into the distant arrival was a walk in the dark.
Lips felt the lingering presence of the other's, and eyes held their stare for a silent moment.
"I'm ready, Jason," you asserted. You slipped your hand past the band of his boxers and into the soft, fabric chamber cradling his heavy girth. With only the feel of your fingers surrounding it, giving it a few tugs—understanding that it felt good by the twitch of Jason's face—you could tell it was long and a handful.
Jason kept his eyes on you instead of your hand, not allowing his icy blues to slip, "You know how to handle that thing?"
"Not at all," you proudly admitted. Jason made you feel accepted enough as it was, so another thing to be ashamed of was safe to say around him without eliciting a laugh.
A hand of Jason's took your wrist, reeling your hand from his boxers, "I can show you how to take it."
Jason wasn't being truthful when he offered that. He could show you with the make-shift fleshlight he kept in a drawer, but this was going to be more of a live demonstration for the real thing. He started yanking his boxers down carelessly. In turn, you took a position leaning over the sink, assuming that he would need access to somewhere along the backside of your body, but being wildly inexperienced, you didn't have the slightest clue for what. Briefly, you saw his manhood as you turned to the sink. From what you saw as he set it free, his cock had a bulbous tip that fed into a wider shaft with a few veins running along the length.
Jason's fingers hooked into the hem of your boxers, the cold air meeting your warmed skin. Your ass perked in the chill, and Jason was ready to let it warm against his defined hips. His hand took ahold of his length near the base, sliding his first two fingers to the tip for better aim. The other clamped to your waist, yanking your ass back, causing you to lean more and take a wider stance. He held his cock to your hole, toying with it for a moment.
"Fuck, you're nothing like her," His tip slipped in and out. Then, back in again, "So tight..."
All of that pent-up, building ferocity unleashed itself here as Jason pushed himself in. He was obsessed with how your hole quivered over the presence of his cock, and how the veins vanished and returned with each thrust in and out of you. He loved the exaggerated pop that came with pulling his cock out, teasing the tight-ringed muscle by circling his tip over it before your hole happily enveloped his cock for the whatever-numbered time. He lost count the second he started. His pumps into you were powerful, to the point that you were knocked forward against the sink. At least if the sudden and fast motions made you nautious, the sink stared back at you with an open gutter.
Your name spewed off like a cheer on his lips, repeated cries and pleas out to you, for you to feel good. It was obvious that Jason had been deprived of something like this for what must have been an eternity because only minutes had gone by and he was already a mess. That's when you peaked, your climax. Hearing Jason act desperately to resolve. Ropes of your load sprayed by his third and final thrust, with Jason shooting into you in the seconds following. He kept going, his cock growing slick and your hole emitting gushing sounds as his white-hot hit the tile below with a splat.
Jason unceremoniously pulled out, his cock going soft but still standing semi-proud at his work. Some more of his release piled on the floor, to which you were already heading for a towel. The small clock on the wall caught your eye, two-thirty-one.
On your way back, you asked the only question that came to mind in your clear-headed state, "What's going to happen between you and Chris and everyone else?"
Before you could clean up the mess made by both you and Jason, his warmth took you in, arms extending to hold you. You opened yours into the dark and unknowing, but into him. He was the light.
"We'll figure it out tomorrow."
#jason carver x male reader#jason carver x reader#jason carver#jason carver x y/n#jason carver x you#x reader#x male reader#request#stranger things#stranger things x you#stranger things x male reader#stranger things fanfic#mason dye x reader#mason dye#mason dye x male reader#jason carver x cunningham!reader#cunningham!reader#gay#lgbt#mlm fanfic#mlm fiction#mlm smut
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like a deja vu of heaven — hvc
summary: you meet your soulmate in a dream
tags: angst, fluff, soulmate!au, gn!reader, past hjs x reader
warnings: mentions of partner death, grief
wc: 4.4k
an: hansol best boy. i have this thought that hansol would be the best boyfriend in svt but that’s a whole different post. sorry if is reads a little weird :/ i liked this concept but really struggled writing it...
Your eyes flutter open and you’re met with a blue sky. A warm breeze brushes against your skin and you sit up. You’re in a field.
You feel strange. Like you’re not in a dream but you’re not in real life either. You’re in a limbo between the two. The last time you felt this way you were younger, and the feeling was comforting. This time you’re just on edge.
You’re afraid to get up but you know you have to. Slowly you remove yourself off the ground and look around. Everything around you looks the same so you just start walking. You’re only walking for a few minutes when you hear a voice behind you.
“Yeoboseyo?” You stiffen at the voice. The word is Korean, you recognize that much, but you can’t translate it. (You never really picked up on the language as much as you'd have liked to.) You don’t want to turn around. You don’t want to confirm what you think is happening. “Excuse me?” This time it’s asked in English. The voice is deep and smooth and heart breaking.
You wake up.
Sobs rip from your throat as tears stream down your face. You sit up and bury your hands in your face. How can this be happening? You don’t want this. You only want him but you know that’s impossible.
You don’t sleep for the rest of the night.
The next time you fall asleep and wake up you’re not in the field. You’re in the passenger seat of a car.
“Hi.” The same deep voice from last night speaks. You don’t want to look at him. “I’m Hansol, but everyone calls me Vernon. I think you’re my soulmate?”
You look out the window, turning your head away from him. The scenery that passes by is too much of a blur to make anything out. It hurts your eyes but the pain is less than the one that clenches at your heart.
“Oh. I get it. Finding your soulmate is scary. Or at least that’s what I heard. I’m honestly just more nervous than anything. Kind of freaked me out yesterday. This whole…dreamscape thing. It’s so realistic but also not? Then I wake up and it’s like I didn’t even sleep but my body feels like it did. Then there was you showing up and then just disappearing.”
Vernon continues to talk as you stare out the window. You want to tell him to shut up but talking to him means you have to acknowledge he exists. Acknowledge that he’s your soulmate. And that’s just something you can’t do. So you listen to him talk for the rest of the night, staring out the window the whole time.
This continues every night for a week. You have to give it to Hansol (you’ve internally decided you like Hansol better than Vernon), he’s very resilient. He talks to you every night. He tells you about himself. His family, his friends, his job, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes. He tells you all about him. He recounts his day to you and then tells you his plans for the next day so when you meet again he can tell you if things went how he planned.
Every time you meet you’re in a different location. It’s different from what you’re used to. You liked the night you guys sat at the top of a stilled ferris wheel. All around you guys were colorful lights of an empty theme park. It was the closest you had been to Hansol and his arm kept brushing up against yours. He told you about how he and his friends Seungkwan and Chan went to the fair that day which probably inspired the dreamscape.
You still can’t look at him, and it still pains your heart to sit next to him, but his voice has started to bring comfort to you. Listening to him talk as you stare at your surroundings. You let the night take you away and you suffer the consequences every morning. Crying quietly to yourself as you will yourself not to break even more.
It’s on day nine when you finally speak to Hansol.
“Y/N,” you offer up in a small voice.
Luckily for Hansol he hears. “Y/N? That’s nice. Pretty. I’m Vernon, but you uh, know that.”
Tonight you two are in a castle. It’s Hansol’s dream. He always seems to be dreaming of exciting places. You only dream of landscapes.
The way the dreamscape works is whoever falls asleep first you end up in their dreams. Hansol seems to have a strange sleep schedule as he might be asleep way before you while the next night it could take him hours to come find you in your dream.
Hansol is in a knight costume while you’re dressed up like royalty. You think it’s a little silly but it’s also nice. You two walk the corridors of the castle together.
“You’re uhm, older than me right?” Hansol asks. If this was any other moment you might tease him for the question but instead you just nod slightly. “Cool. You’re very attractive by the way. Sorry if that's weird.”
You smile softly, turning your head away from Hansol so he can’t see your grin. You think Hansol is cute in an adorable puppy type way. You find yourself enjoying his nightly company, even if it pains you as well.
It seems that Hansol is happy just knowing your name because he spends the rest of the night talking and when you wake up that morning, for the first time, you don’t cry.
Slowly you start to warm up to the idea of talking to Hansol. You answer a few of his questions or tell him a few things. Never anything too much or all at once, but it’s a start, and he seems elated to have even just the minimal interaction with you.
It’s on day fifteen when Hansol touches you. It’s different than that day on the ferris wheel when your arms kept accidentally brushing. This time it’s deliberately. You guys are in one of your dreams. You’re on a lake front with mountains in the back. You sit on the edge of a forest with your knees pulled to your chest as Hansol sticks his feet in the water.
“And then Seungkwan was all ‘hyung you can’t just do that’ but it’s Jihoon-hyung so of course he can just do that. Oh and then Y/N you would never BELIEVE what Seungcheol-hyung did!” Hansol grabs your arm and you jump a bit and Hansol stops his movements as well.
Even in the dreamscape touching Hansol feels strange. His grip is firm but still gentle and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his palms. His hands are big and his fingers are thick, his knuckles are pronounced. They’re familiar, they remind you of his hands, but not quite.
The touch makes you shrivel back, like he’s burned you. You stare at his hand as you back up. You realize it’s too much. It’s all too much.
“Don’t touch me!” You shout, terror laced in the back of your voice. “J-just…leave me alone!”
You wake up. Tears are already streaming down your face as you sit up in bed. You draw your knees up to your chest again and sob into your arms. Maybe things aren’t getting better.
You don’t sleep the next night. A part of it is because you can’t shut your brain off to think, the other part is because you’re a bit too afraid to face Hansol again. Unfortunately sleep takes you over sometime in the afternoon. Hansol isn’t there as you sit on a beach, staring at the way the waves lap at the sand. You wake up early in the morning, way before Hansol falls asleep.
The time you fall asleep you end up in Hansol’s dream. You sit together at a kitchen table. The kitchen is designed like one of those 1950s generic checkered kitchens. The cabinets are a garish mint color and the chairs and table are a bright red. Neither of you speak. You sit in silence the whole night, not even looking at each other.
The following night you’re in Hansol’s dream again. You barely have time to register that you’re in what you think is a botanical garden because Hansol practically pounced on you.
“Y/N! You’re here! Thank god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I touched you and freaked you out and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you last night. It felt wrong the moment I woke up and I went to bed extra early tonight so I could catch you as soon as possible. It scared me the other night when you didn’t go to bed and I felt awful and I knew I needed to apologize so I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that the other night,” Hansol rambles on. He’s out of breath by the time he finishes talking and you have to take a moment to process all of his words.
“You uh, didn’t do anything wrong Hansol,” you tell him slowly, choosing your words carefully. “I should be apologizing. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”
“No you’re okay! I was the one who scared you,” Hansol says with a frown.
“There’s something I need to tell you Hansol.” You walk a few feet to the nearest bench and Hansol follows, sitting cautiously beside you.
Neither of you talk for a while. You sit there in silence, calculating your words, what you want to say. You stare at the broken down dirt path beneath your feet, willing the right words to come to you. Willing yourself to be able to get through this conversation.
“I’m…terrified,” you whisper. Hansol doesn’t say anything, just waits for you to continue. “I’ve, uh, heard of it before, but I didn’t really think it would happen to me. Nobody talks about how hard it is though.” You pause again. Hansol’s hand twitches, like he wants to reach out for you, but stops. “Josh. That was his name. Joshua Hong.”
Hansol seems to realize all of it now. His mouth falls open slightly and his eyes soften. “Oh.”
“He was…beautiful. The best thing to ever happen to me. He’s been gone for three years now. I miss him everyday.” Your hand reaches under your shirt and pulls up the necklace with two rings on it. You fiddle with them. “You’re sweet Hansol, you really are, and I’m sorry you have to be in this situation. It’s just…so scary for me. This truly means he’s gone. And I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve replaced him or anything. It’s not like this is a choice you know?”
“Y/N…”
“I just think that if I let you in that it’s like it’s going to erase everything I had with him. Which I know is untrue and silly but he was my soulmate. And I know you are too, but…it’s different. And I hate having to tell you that but it’s the truth. A part of it for me is really hard too because I used to dream about him. Not soulmate dreamscape dreams but actual dreams. It was my way of still having him even though he’s gone. Now that I’m having dreamscape dreams again it’s…harder. Honestly I think I’m most afraid that I’m going to start to forget him. Especially if I let someone new into my life.”
“You won’t,” Hansol tells you, his voice firm. “He was the love of your life. He was your soulmate. You’ll never forget him. You’re not forcing him out of your heart, you’re just making room for another person. If of course…that’s what you want. If not I completely get it and we can stay friends or not at all and I’m sure there’s a way where we can stop doing this dreamscape thing and-”
“Hansol.” You grab his hand and his fingers enclose around yours immediately. This touch feels different again. It still burns but this time it burns in a different way. A good way. You hold his hand tightly, like you’re afraid you’ll lose him as well if you let go. “I want to let you in. I just…need more time.”
“Of course.”
The next time you see Hansol isn’t in a dream. It shocks you when you’re scrolling through your Twitter feed to see a photo of the smiling boy. It takes you a second to realize who you’re looking at but the wide toothy grin and kind brown eyes are unmistakable.
You look at the tweet again.
Vernon Chwe. Tuesday Night. 9pm.
The tweet is from the bar you go to. Sometimes they hire musicians to do gigs for live music nights.
You're at a loss for words. If you were being honest you thought Hansol lived in Korea. The one rule of the dreamscape is that you can't tell your soulmate where you are or give any hints indicating your location. You weren't expecting Hansol to live in New York though.
Joshua lived in California and you just happened to meet him when you were there for your aunt’s wedding. You guys did long distance during high school until you went to college and Joshua moved to New York to pursue his theatre major and to be with you. After you both graduated college Joshua proposed to you and you happily accepted only for him to get into a car wreck a year later. You’ve never lived outside of New York and a part of you is shocked that Hansol has been here all along, just down the street.
You look down at the tweet and contemplate if you should go see him. Is it too soon? It’s been three years since Joshua’s passing but it has never gotten easier. Would it harm you to just meet Hansol though? Just to make a friend.
Tuesday. That’s tomorrow. You wonder why Hansol hasn’t brought this up before, he usually tells you all about his plans for the week. He’s told you that he’s trying to become a musician but you didn’t know that he’s been getting gigs as well.
The small voice in the back of your head tells you that Joshua would want you to go. Would want you to meet Hansol. You had conversations about this before; what you would do if something happened to either of you. You both agreed that the other should find happiness again, no matter what form that came in. You knew that. Still you never expected to have another soulmate. Dating another person? Sure. But a new soulmate? It was a totally different situation.
You think about how Joshua would say that it’s even more reason to go meet him. Joshua was a big believer in the soulmate system. You remember when you first met him in the dreamscape, how excited he was. You also remember the day you guys got engaged.
“Joshua Hong, let me down!” You giggle as he spins you around.
“No way! You said yes and now I’m never letting go of you! My future spouse!” Joshua does put you down though but only so he can pull you into a kiss. “Maybe the universe does know what it’s doing with this soulmate stuff, huh?”
“Maybe,” you grin at him, “or maybe you’re just that irresistible.”
“That too.” Joshua kisses you again. “Hey Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m happy that it's you. That you’re my soulmate. Even if it doesn’t really matter. I’m glad the universe agrees that we belong together. That it brought me to you.”
He was like that. A true romantic at heart.
It’s decided then. You’re going to meet Hansol.
You’re at the bar. It’s fairly packed for a Tuesday night but you luckily find an empty table to the side. It’s 8:37pm and everyone seems to be excited for the performance. A part of you wishes that you brought someone with you. It’s nerve wracking sitting and waiting for Hansol to come on stage.
Five minutes until 9:00 Hansol walks on stage. Your breath hitches as you see him. It’s still the same Hansol you see in your dreams. Fluffy hair and wide smile and kind eyes. You watch him as he gets ready for his set, talking to the band and testing the mic.
Finally at 9:00 Hansol clears his throat into the mic, getting the crowd’s attention.
“Hello everyone! I’m Vernon Chwe and I’ll be performing for you tonight. Thank you Pledis on Fifth for having me sing tonight.”
His voice is the same voice you hear every night. It’s deep and smooth but hearing it in person sends shivers down your body. This is real. Hansol is really in front of you, only a few feet away. You contemplate leaving, just making a run for it while you can, but you also can’t seem to get up out of your seat.
The whole night you sit and watch Hansol perform. Everyone around you is mingling with each other and drinking their drinks and doing whatnot but you can’t tear your eyes from the man. His stage presence is natural and charming and his voice is calming and melodic. You stare at his face as he performs. A natural grin sits on his face and you soak in the way he glows under the stage lights.
Before you realize it his set is up and he’s thanking the audience. You realize if you don’t work quick you’ll miss your chance to talk to him. Maybe it’s a good idea, you’ll see him tonight anyways when you fall asleep. You’ve nearly worked yourself into backing out when suddenly a hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around to see who just touched you.
When you turn around you realize you’ve come face to face with the one and only Hansol Vernon Chwe. You suck in a breath as you stare at him. Your mouth goes dry and suddenly you freeze up.
“Hi,” Hansol breathes out.
“H-hi.”
“You uh, live in New York.” You can only nod. “I’m uh, wow. Sorry I just- I really wasn’t expecting to see you here. I understand if you want space though. Thinking about it now, I probably should have let you come to me on your own.” Hansol frowns a bit.
“Your set was amazing,” you blurt out, not sure what else to say. Hansol still grins at you though.
“Do you want to come get food with me? I’m super hungry after the show. Don’t feel obligated though!”
“Y-yeah, sure. Food sounds good.”
It’s not awkward, yet it is at the same time. You’re not sure how to feel.
You and Hansol sit in a booth at a diner as Hansol scarfs down a hamburger. You pick at your basket of fries, chewing thoughtfully as you think of what to say to Hansol. It doesn’t feel much different than when you dream together, but this time it’s actually real.
“I’d like to become friends,” you finally break the silence. “I think that uh, spending time together would be nice. It would help me out too. If you’d want to, that is.”
“Yeah!” Hansol perks up. “That would be cool.”
“I’ll still need some time and space. And everything won’t be perfect and glamorized, but I want to try.”
“I’ll be there for whatever you need Y/N,” Hansol tells you, sincerity written all over his face. “Just don’t push yourself, okay? I’ll be okay no matter what happens.”
“Thank you Hansol, I’m fortunate to have you.” And you mean it.
After your initial meeting, you and Hansol start to steadily hang out. You make sure to go out to his gigs when you can and he accompanies you to random places you want to go explore. You get more comfortable with his presence in your daily life and your dream life. You realize it’s been a while since you made an effort to connect with someone in this way and you’re glad you let Hansol in. He’s funny and caring and selfless and the most laid back person you’ve met.
Hansol’s presence doesn’t deter the grief of Joshua though. You still think of him everyday. Some days are worse than others. It’s been a few months since you and Hansol met in person and as much as you want to let him in even more, you don’t know if you would be able to handle it. You feel guilty about keeping him at arm's length, but you’re afraid you’ll feel even more guilty if you let him get closer. You’re grateful for how understanding and patient Hansol is.
You think that you could come to love Hansol one day. Maybe not in the same way you loved Joshua, but in a new way. A completely unique Hansol way. You know that you’ll always love Joshua and he will always be in your heart, in your head, that he will always have that impact on your life, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t learn to love again.
Your therapist has told you that healing isn’t linear but rather fluctuating. That you’ll learn to grow with it so it will be easier to bear, even if you still have bad days. You know he’s right because you’ve made a lot of progress since Joshua’s passing three years ago. Maybe the next step is opening up your heart more?
You groan to yourself and flop onto your bed. This has been eating you up inside for weeks now. You really like Hansol, but you can’t tell if you like him because he’s him or because he’s your soulmate and you feel obligated or because you’re trying to find another way to help you grow from your grief. You think it’s because you truly like Hansol, but then you over think it and wonder if that’s just what you’re telling yourself to feel better.
It isn’t until later in the day, when Hansol is at your apartment watching a movie, when you find your answer.
Hansol is telling you another one of his stories. He’s laughing about something that Seungkwan and Chan were fighting over and you can’t help but smile along. Hansol’s energy brightens up the room and you can’t help but be a little transfixed by it. It’s something you’ve found yourself doing more and more lately. Hansol’s energy is just contagious and you get pulled in by his warm personality.
Before you and Joshua met, you always thought about what makes a person a soulmate. What connects two people to make them destined for each other. How can the universe just match two people up and expect them to be perfect for each other. Then you met Joshua and you understood. You two were a match made in heaven, a true picture of soulmates. You think that maybe Hansol is also the perfect match for you. The person you need right now. The thought scares you, but gives you hope as well.
You know that you still need to do one more thing though. You need to know it’s truly right before letting Hansol in.
“Hey Hansol?” You cut off his story but he doesn’t seem to mind, just looking back at you with a curiousness in his eyes. “Would you…will you come visit Josh with me?”
You’re not sure how he’s going to respond. It’s a big ask and you would understand if he said not. Instead Hansol just grabs your hand. “Of course.”
Hansol is in jeans and a nice jacket when you meet him. He has a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I didn’t know if I should bring flowers or not. Sorry if that’s wrong.”
“No, it’s nice. Thank you, Josh would love them.” You smile at Hansol reassuringly. “Guiltily, it’s been a while since I’ve gone and seen him. Thank you for joining me today.”
Joshua is buried in New York, which was a difficult decision for his parents to make. You wouldn’t have minded if he was buried in California, but his parents agreed that he belonged in New York, where his heart was, where you are.
You guide Hansol to his grave and gently knee in front of it. The headstone is still fairly clean and there are withered flowers in the cemetery vase.
“Hi Josh,” you say as you take the old flowers out of the vase. “Sorry it’s been a while, there’s so much that’s been going on in my life recently. I still miss you everyday though. You’re always on my mind. I also uh, brought a friend today.” You gesture for Hansol to kneel down with you. He joins you and hands you the flower so you can add them to the vase. “Josh, this is Hansol…my soulmate.”
Hansol looks at you then but then looks back down at the grave. “Nice to uh, meet you Joshua. I’ve heard great things about you. I guess we’re also both pretty lucky guys.”
You roll your eyes at this. It’s a joke that Joshua would enjoy. “Josh, remember that conversation we had. Where we talked about what we would do if anything happened between us. We both agreed that we would want the other to be happy, no matter what form that came in. You know I love you, that I always will, but…I think that maybe…Hansol can make me happy too.”
“Y/N?” Hansol looks over at you. You reach over to grab his hand and he lets you.
“I’m not sure where this is going to take us, or what is going to happen, but I want to try Hansol. It will be a slow process but I want to let you in. If you’ll have me? I know I’m a bit broken but-”
“You’re not broken.” Hansol squeezes your hand. “You’re perfect Y/N. I know that things won’t always be easy, but I want to be here for you. In any form you’ll let me.”
“I,” you look down at Josh’s headstone, “I came here to uh, get closure? Which obviously it’s not really closure but, I just wanted to make sure this is okay. Come talk to him and see if he would send me a sign. I feel…lighter? Like I know that this is the right decision.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thank you for being so patient. Thank you for coming with me today.”
When you finally leave the cemetery your hand is enveloped by Hansol’s and your heart feels a bit less empty than it used to. You think to yourself that just maybe, things might work out.
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#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen angst#seventeen fluff#hansol vernon chwe#chwe vernon#vernon#svt vernon#vernon angst#vernon fluff#vernon fanfic#vernon x reader#vernon imagines#vernon scenarios#kpop fluff#kpop angst#kpop fanfic#rru.fics#★ sfw#rru.writes
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your best american girl.
pairings: platonic!nick sturniolo x black!fem reader
genre: sad, very sad
warnings: black girl trauma, slight mentions of colorism, just sad ok!
this was written for the dark skin black girl, babe you’re beautiful and more than enough. let no one tell you or make you think otherwise <3
you drove to the sturniolo house with tears welling in your eyes and your heart hammering so loud you could hear it in your ears. you took one hand off the wheel, wiping an eye before making a left turn and flooring it.
it happened again.
stupidly, you had fallen for this guy and you thought that he liked you back. you two had been talking for several months and you thought it was finally going somewhere until he hit you with all that “i’m not ready for a relationship” bullshit. he had wasted countless hours of your time and energy for something that was going ultimately no where which yes, left you feeling shitty, but it wasn’t why you were currently crying at the sturniolo’s front door.
he had lied. just days after saying he wasn’t ready for a relationship he had posted a photo on his instagram of this girl and him, clearly dating and happy together. the harshest part? she was lighter than you. that was why you were standing on the porch of the sturniolos in tears.
the door opening pulled you out of your thoughts.
“hey y/n- oh my god are you okay?” matt asked as he looked at your teary eyes. chris stood next to him with the same concerned looks. “what’s wrong?”
“i’m fine,” you lied. you were close with all the triplets, of course, but matt and chris were the last people you wanted to break down in front of. you actually didn’t wanna break down in front of any of them at all- because you knew no matter how many sympathetic nods and looks they gave they didn’t really understand what is was like to try and date as a black girl. that was your burden to carry and one they’d never have to face.
this wasn’t to say they didn’t struggle on their own but it was completely different from how you did. “is nick home?” you asked, blinking away some tears and they nodded, telling you he was up in his room.
each step you took up the stairs made your head pound, it hurt so much from all the crying and you literally hadn’t eaten all day. nick’s door was cracked open so you didn’t bother to knock. you looked at him, sitting with his computer on the bed- most likely editing a video.
“nick?”
he looked up, smiling to see you but it dropped as soon as he was the expression on your face. “y/n/n? what’s wrong?” he slid the lap stop away and stood, coming over to you. as soon as he was in front of you you broke down into tears.
nick didn’t say anything and wasted no time before pulling you into a hug which only made you sob harder. you didn’t know what to say, where to begin or how to explain it because of course everyone struggles in love. it’s part of the human experience. that hug lasted for a while before you were ready to pull away and take a deep breath. you knew he was anxious to know what the fuck happened judging by the look he was giving you.
“it happened again.”
“what?” nick questioned. you knew if you hadn’t just burst into tears a second ago in front of him he’d be berating you for being so god damn vague.
“nick he got a girlfriend.”
“he did fucking what?” he asked, following you as you went to sit down on the bed, him next to you.
“i’m sorry, didn’t he just fucking say he wasn’t ready for a relationship? which, by the way, was a complete waste of your time.”
you sniffled and nodded. “and she’s light skin- i’m so-” you couldn’t even finish the sentence before choking straight on your words.
“i’m so tired, nick. i’m just so tired of it of it all. i feel like i’m being pranked all the time, and i feel even dumber when i believe these guys could actually like me. it’s even worse because i don’t know how to explain it to you guys. it just sucks. no matter what i do i’m gonna be beat out for a girl that’s lighter, or white or has some kind 3c hair i just can’t take this anymore. i mean, like- do i not get to be loved too?”
nick turned his head to you. “what?” he asked, “babe of course you do.”
“yeah well you’re my best friend. you gotta say that.” you shrugged, sniffling a tear.
he shook his head. “no. i’m not saying it as you’re best friend, i’m just saying it as a person who knows you. y/n, you are easily one of the most gorgeous girls i’ve ever seen. you’re funny, and you’re smart, you’re loyal and you’re all around just an amazing person. these idiots know that.”
“so why does this keep happening to me?”
“because they’re idiots!” he exclaimed. “i’m sorry that it keeps happening and i can’t do anything about it, and i’m sorry that i don’t fully get what it’s like, but don’t for a second think that just because some dumbasses screw you over that you don’t get to be loved ever. okay? it’s gonna happen for you. i’m sure of it.”
you looked at him and smiled, wiping a tear from your eye.
“you’re the most incredible person i know, okay? i wish you would see yourself the way i see you. it fucking sucks, but it’s gonna get better. it just has to.”
“thank you nick.” you pulled him in for another hug. nick always knew how to reel you back in when you were going off the deep end.
“of course.” he stood up. “come on, let’s go get you a picture with matt or chris so we can make that dumbass jealous.”
you laughed as he grabbed your hand and you two ran down the stairs. nick made you feel 10x better in those short few moments.
•••
FAE SPEAKS,
this was sooo self-indulgent but idec
#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#imagines#fluff#i'm sad#black reader
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I’ve been working hard on my new fanfic of Ducktales. It takes place after the series. And I decided to show you all a sneak peek of it. Enjoy!
It's...all over. F.O.W.L has been defeated.
The adventures of Scrooge McDuck has come to an end. As the McDuck family and all of their friends were all riding the sunchaser home, Scrooge was the only one who was trying to keep himself awake as he watched Donald and Della sleeping beside him. Everyone in the plane was also sleeping. The kids and Mrs. Beakley were all cuddled up together.
As they almost reached McDuck Manor, the duck family decided to let their friends stay to have a well deserved rest. Donald also wanted to bring May and June so that he can have them meet Daisy. While Launchpad was taking the wheel, he turned around, even though he's not supposed to while driving, he looked at everyone sleeping and gave out a smile. He'll surely never forget the day that he went all out being a hero in that Gizmoduck gear.
"Launchpad!" Della yelled as she took the wheel. "Do I have to do everything myself?!" She groaned. Nobody would want another crash like what happened when Launchpad accidentally opened the back door of the plane that made everyone fly out. She gave out a sigh.
When they arrived, they all walked to the front door of the mansion. Everyone just wants to sleep after a long battle that they've faced.
"Night, Mr. McDee. I gotta get home to watch the Darkwing Duck marathon!"
"I had to face F.O.W.L on my own, Donald almost died, and you want to watch Darkwing Duck at TWO IN THE MORNING?!"
Donald shushed at Scrooge and Launchpad. "The kids are sleeping!" He whispered as he looked at May and June sleeping. "Awwwww." He carried them to the mansion.
Scrooge sighed. He noticed that Launchpad had left, meaning that he is the only one left outside. He looked up to the stars. Suddenly, he reminded himself of his past. The last couple of years have been frightening for him and his family. From the shadow war, to the alien invasion, and to the point where the world was almost erased from an evil organization.
Everything that man that he trusted all those years discovered his true colors in front of him.
Especially when he was the one who was behind Della’s disappearance. Scrooge will never forgive someone like Bradford ever again. After what happened today, he's wondering what will happen to his future of being an adventurer. He entered the mansion and closed the door. The kids heard Scrooge come in.
He took a few steps forward to his family. Everyone was silent. Each of them wanted to say something, but they didn’t have the strength to do it. It shows that everyone has had it hard yesterday. Scrooge took a deep breath.
“How’s…everyone doing?” He asked.
Webby looked up to her father. “…We’re fine, now that we’re all safe at home.”
“It sure was tough dropping everyone off tho.” Dewey stretched his arms.
“Yeah…”
"We're just glad that we took down F.O.W.L together. As a family," Huey added.
“And I’m so glad that my dad is safe too.” Webby jumped and hugged Scrooge.
“…Thank goodness…” A tear dropped from the old man’s eye and he began to sob.
“…Dad?”
“I’m sorry…I just…can’t even get over the fact that I’m a dad now… and I’m just glad that everyone is alright.” Scrooge swiped his tears away.
“Of course we are!” Della exclaimed. “Nothing can tear us apart now, Uncle Scrooge!”
Donald agreed. “You said it! We’ll always be with you. No matter what.”
“We had to save you, because you’re our uncle!” Dewey gives Scrooge a hug. “You’ve done so much for us, and now we want to return the favor to you. We are the Duck family after all. Right, guys?”
Everyone nodded in agreement and huddled together for a group hug. Mrs. Beakley checked the time and it was close to 3 A.M.
“We should all rest. We’ve been through too much yesterday. Even the past eleven years.” She said.
Everyone agreed. They were ready to get to sleep in their bedrooms, but Webby didn’t want to feel alone after what she’s been through. She stopped Scrooge.
“Hey, dad? You don’t mind if I…sleep with you?” Webby asked.
“Of course, Webby darling.”
After Scrooge and Webby changed into their pajamas, they cuddled up in bed together.
“Goodnight, dad.” Webby gives Scrooge a kiss on the cheek.
Scrooge smiled. “Goodnight, Webby.”
Webby turned off the light of the lamp. They both closed their eyes and went to sleep, until there was more than one footstep being heard from the hallway. The bedroom door opened as some people were sneaking around in the blanket. Webby turned the lamp back on and saw Huey, Dewey, Louie, Donald and Della on the bed with them.
“Wha?!” Scrooge caught the others on his bed. They gave out an innocent smile and some awkward laughs.
Della cleared her throat. “Uncle Scrooge? Can we all uhhhh….”
“Fine. Just for tonight.”
“Well it’s past midnight actually.” Huey clarified.
“Anyone wanna sleep in?” Dewey asked.
Louie nodded. “Everyday.”
“I could sure use it.”
Webby gave out a smile. “Us too.”
“Alright. Goodnight, kids.” Scrooge closed his eyes.
Everyone cuddled up with Scrooge. “Goodnight, Uncle Scrooge.”
And with that, everyone has fallen asleep. By the look on Scrooge’s smile, he really needed his kids to comfort him. He felt so lucky to have an amazing family. While everyone was asleep, Della suddenly remembered that Donald was leaving for his adventure with Daisy soon. She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep. After all the adventures they’ve been through and including their very last, the duck family and their friends slept for over a day.
#ducktales#ducktales 2017#fanfic#ducktales fanfiction#ducktales adventures in duckburg#dt17#scrooge mcduck#huey duck#dewey duck#louie duck#webby vanderquack#della Duck#donald Duck#duckverse#disney
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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 31: On the Scent
If you're on the scent for spoilers, keep reading! If you don't want to know everything about The Wheel of Time, including the books, show, comics, and card game all compressed into like, a couple thousand words inexplicably, definitely don't keep reading. The second you click that button everything will be psychically uploaded to your brain. I mean uh... something on theme... scentically uploaded to your nose.
We have a rising sun chapter as we're still in Cairhien and Thom's not around.
He gave one abrupt shudder and stopped laughing; she left him to crouch over Hurin.
Another not subtle thing to be doing. It's a good thing these Cairhienien are so politically suspicious that they miss the much greater threat right in front of them.
He said he didn’t know it, but he had a smile that shouted ‘lie’ a mile off.
Perrin could probably smell the lies on the dude before he opened his mouth.
I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t know whether his eyes were going to pop out of his head or he was going to swallow his tongue first.
I'm sure that Verin just did the usual Aes Sedai thing and that the specifics aren't important, but it amuses me to imagine that she just told the dude the truth straight out.
He heard gasps from the Cairhienin listening, but he did not care. They could play their Great Game if they wanted, but Ingtar had come, and he was finished with it at last.
This is called dramatic irony and also counting your chickens before they hatch and whatnot.
Rand glanced at Perrin—He’s a sniffer?—and found Perrin studying him in return. He thought Perrin muttered something. Shadowkiller?
Have you boys tried talking to each other about your-
Nope. Can't even pretend to ask with a straight face.
Everyone was watching now—not even Cuale gave any attention to his own burning inn—and Rand thought a little caution might not be amiss after all.
Exactly Rand. You're surrounded by strangers in an immediate sense and surrounded by Darkfriends in a metaphorical sense. No point celebrating being free just yet.
Suddenly he noticed that the others were looking at him, Verin and Ingtar, Mat and Perrin. He realized what he had been doing, and his face colored. “I am sorry, Ingtar. It’s just that I’ve become used to being in charge, I suppose. I’m not trying to take your place.”
It's fascinating, how this boy has to be dragged kicking and screaming into everything, but once he accepts it he just takes to it instantly. A couple weeks' leadership and the boy completely forgets Ingtar's even there.
You can see why Demandred, Sammael, and Etcetera'al got so pissy.
She’s Moiraine’s eyes watching me, Moiraine’s hand trying to pull my strings. But I have cut the strings.
If only Rand had tried to learn about politics while he was here. He might have realized that Verin knowing things doesn't at all mean she's on Moiraine's side.
I guess that would probably have only made him more suspicious.
Also I forgot to mention her directly when taking these notes but Tiedra's plump so we know she's a good innkeeper.
It almost seemed to him that she was in the room with him, that he could smell her perfume, so much so that he looked around, and laughed to find himself alone.
It wouldn't surprise me at all if she had popped in invisibly somehow.
It was him, he thought. Rand is the Shadowkiller. Light, what’s happening to all of us? His hands tightened into fists, large and square. These hands were meant for a smith’s hammer, not an axe.
The duality that Perrin will be grappling with rears its ugly head. At last he already knows the answer. Though that really just makes his plot arc all the more frustrating.
Also, points to Perrin for pulling off having Rand in his POV instead of what usually happens (thus far in the series) and Rand hogging the spotlight. This isn't the first time this has happened (Egwene did it back in Fal Dara), but it does show the transition this series is slowly undergoing.
One of Mat’s eggs hit the floor and cracked. He did not look at it, though. He was looking at Rand, and Ingtar had turned around.
Mat, the so-called idiot, irresponsible fool: Has a tell about Rand's situation but volunteers nothing and doesn't cause any trouble.
Perrin realized he was staring, too. “Well, he did not fly,” he said. “I don’t see any wings. Maybe he has more important things to tell us.” Verin shifted her attention to him, just for a moment. He managed to meet her eyes, but he was the first to look away.
Perrin, the so-called quiet, responsible kid: Tries to get in a fight with a woman several decades his senior over his friend's honor.
“Interesting,” the Aes Sedai said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I would very much like to meet this girl. If she can use a Portal Stone. . . . Even that name is not very widely known.”
Verin must suspect. How panicked does this make her?
Rand asked the innkeeper if there were any more books, and she brought him The Travels of Jain Farstrider. Perrin liked that one, too, with its stories of adventures among the Sea Folk and journeys to the lands beyond the Aiel Waste, where silk came from.
Is this our first real Shara reference? I think it might be.
The Shienaran played with a slashing, daring style. Perrin had always played doggedly, giving ground reluctantly, but he found himself placing the stones with as much recklessness as Ingtar. Most of the games ended in a draw, but he managed to win as many as Ingtar did.
Ignore the terrible pun and focus on how Perrin is being shifted by his experiences as well. Perhaps this is why he talked back to Verin earlier.
“There are Darkfriends among the high as well as the low,” Verin said smoothly. “The mighty give their souls to the Shadow as often as the weak.” Ingtar scowled as if he did not want to think of that.
Frankly Verin, if there weren't so few Aes Sedai I'd argue the Tower's horrible percentages make the mighty even more frequent donaters. And indeed note that Ingtar isn't "as if" anything. It's exactly the case that he doesn't want to think about noble Darkfriends.
“I know little of Cairhienin,” Ingtar told him, “but I’ve heard enough of Galldrian. He would feast us and thank us for the glory we had brought to Cairhien. He would stuff our pockets with gold and heap honors on our heads. And if we tried to leave with the Horn, he’d cut our honored heads off without pausing to take a breath.”
It's mind-boggling how actively detrimental to the cause of existence most of the modern day royalty proves to be. Like obviously they need to be toppled from their thrones and all that but damn.
There was a dignity to him that Perrin did not remember; Rand was looking at the Aes Sedai and the Shienaran lord as equals.
Well he's found the Horn of Valere twice now, so he's worthy of being a legendary hero even ignoring all the stuff he hasn't done yet. Selene's flirting sadly helped.
It will also help if you remember the way you behaved before the Amyrlin. If you are that arrogant, they will believe you are a lord if you wear rags.
Lan's training paying off in a dozen ways. He'd be so proud if he were here.
“A sa’angreal.” She sounded as if it were really not very important, but Perrin suddenly had the feeling the two of them had entered a private conversation, saying things no one else could hear.
For example, she's basically telling Rand what tools are available to him.
One by itself is powerful enough, but I can think of few women strong enough to survive the flow through the one on Tremalking. The Amyrlin, of course. Moiraine, and Elaida. Perhaps one or two others. And three still in training.
I guess Verin must think Cadsuane dead, since Lelaine and Romanda would make three if she were being counted. How terrifying that at this very point the White Tower has a total of eight, kind of nine women capable of using the Choedan Kal. It should be so much more.
As for Logain, it would have taken all his strength simply to keep from being burned to a cinder, with nothing left for doing anything.
Unless the male statue is quite different and only ever meant for Lews to use, Verin is very mistaken here. Logain is only a step below Rand, and there's sixteen tiers in between him and Moiraine.
She was talking to Rand. Perrin knew it, and from the queasy look in Mat’s eye, he did, too. Even Loial shifted nervously in his chair.
Thank goodness the empath is the POV to confirm that Loial is not blind or stupid but has in fact put two and two together.
Watching Verin’s smile, small and mysterious, Perrin felt a chill. He did not think Rand knew half what he thought he did. Not half.
Perrin you don't even know half of how right you are.
But we'll get to that next time, when our company visits The Huge Toad Crouching in the Night: Lord Barthanes's Manor! (Disclaimer: Toads may be metaphorical or even simileical)
#let's read#wheel of time#wot#robert jordan#wheel of time spoilers#wot spoilers#rand al'thor#verin mathwin#hurin#mat cauthon#loial#perrin aybara#ingtar shinowa#cuale#tiedra
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𝘞𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘞𝘦 𝘎𝘰. Part. 1
pairing : Tangerine x fem!reader
Warnings : mentions of blood, violence, guns, huge amount of swear words and sexual words.
NB : This is my work. I will not accept plagiarism.
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𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺, 10 p.m.
The streets were crowded with people coming and going from buildings, restaurants and more nightclubs. Cars almost blind everyone’s vision, but after all, aren’t we all blind ?
Somewhere beneath these giant screens, these lying TV commercials, these cartoons for children or even under the kind doctors who care for you, there are criminals hiding behind the most disconcerting bloodlust. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, more or less crooked spies, then individuals who work alone or in small teams. All are dangerous at their own level, but like any hierarchy, you have to make a name for yourself and be effective, be the most discreet, the smartest and the fiercest. The level of spilled blood is very important as well as the hunting list of each one, this is especially what the employer will inspect before hiring any murderer. Except if the murderer is part of a gang with a godfather, in this case it is he who will decide where to put his men including women. These guys do the dirty work for those who are too scared to do it and still few criminals do what some other comrades can do. Each has its own methods, from gory to refined.
The Twins are among the most gory individuals if they have money to earn, no matter the situation, they jump at the opportunity to bury themselves under the wealth.
The first one is called Lemon, medium height, very intelligent compared to his twin who is much more impulsive. What differentiates Lemon from his brother is his passion for Thomas the Tank Engine and his skin color. He is the brain of all plans.
The biggest is called Tangerine, impulsive, nervous and angry that’s what composes him and that’s why we call this guy for help when someone has to cut up a body, or anything that refers to murder. His hair is dark brown but curly and thrown back so that in his hectic actions, no discomfort is caused. His most distinct physical attraction would be his well-stocked pornstache just above the cupid arch of his envious and sinful lips. His style remains more distinguished, torrid, his blue jacket perfectly embraces the prominent pectorals of this man with the blood of thousands of people on his hands, You only have to look up to notice his small gold chain around his neck and enhanced by the opening offered by his shirt half open.
His rusty hands are clutched around the leather steering wheel of the black car that Lemon found a few weeks ago. The anger grew more and more as they were in pursuit of an important suitcase that had been entrusted to them and they were well told not to lose it, under no pretexts. Shit happens sometimes but just the idea of losing five million dollars, Tangerine remained on the idea of pursuing the unknown person who took one of the objects of his mission. If he doesn’t have it for three days, he and his brother’s head will be on the market. The lights are flashing around the car as the speed of the vehicle is unexpected, it zigzags between the different cars without respecting the rules of the road, even passing on a sidewalk having almost hitting a couple that was walking. Lemon’s eyes almost come out of their orbs noticing that they almost crushed poor innocents.
- Hey! Are you insane or somethin’ ? Imagine they were going on a date or joining their family ? And then it’s not even the right direction !
His voice rose a little more while the tall brown shook his head being sure of his plan. His eyebrows frowned upon noticing that the car was no longer in the street in which he was supposed to pursue it. Well-dressed women as well as men with more or less refined cotumes blocked all the way, Tangerine strucks the steering wheel with his two fists violently.
- Fuck ! Fuck ! Damn it Lemon !
The man with the pornstache was furious that the mission was not working as he had planned, but only as he lowered his head in order to disgorge his anger. From the corner of his eye, he notices heels at the feet of an elegant woman who was carrying the infamous suitcase. What is it doing in the hand of this myschevious woman ? His blood made only one turn before coming out of the car suddenly, his legs precede him in order to go in pursuit of the feminine silhouette urgely. Lemon got out of the car shaking his short arms in order to yell at Tangerine who was gone like a fury.
- Seriously? Wait for me, Tangerine !
Tangerine was stopped by the security guard who blocked him with his hand on his chest.
Fox finally looked at the man who had been chasing her for hours in the car, and had warned the security guard that he wanted to hurt her, which was not entirely false. Making Tangerine burst into fury and standing at the entrance with his brother trying to calm him down.
- This bitch, I swear I’m going to kill her and make her regret everything.
Lemon patted his twin on the shoulder as a warning.
- oh oh oh , she is a woman. Be respectful.
- Yea’ well she is running away so ... are you going to help me go in or what ? said Tangerine while looking at these heels walking away from him.
The young woman was only doing her job even though she knew who she was dealing with, her gaze is fixed on the path ahead of her trying to appear as least suspicious as possible. A small smile amused on her lips finely dressed by a lipstick that reveals what kind of woman she was, a femme fatale with an ounce of furious madness deep inside herself. She was very happy with what she had just played as a trick to the two twins especially the handsome tall brown, the most arrogant of the two she thought. Her mysterious look bears witness to many things, as well as techniques and that's why her referent had given her the code name which is "Fox", clever and Farrouche but discreet.
The sounds of her heels blend with the beating music as well as the sick cries of the nightclub guests, everyone danced tightly and tightly, the perspiration and the smell of alcohol made a rather unpleasant smell on the nose of our dear protagonist. She did not like making transactions in a nightclub, because it was unpleasant at the most with the men who insisted on giving them a dance or a drink at the bar. Fox clicked her heels up the stairs surrounding some waitresses giving the drinks to their clients before making her way to her teammate, she worked with him for quite a long time for dure, around 3 years from now on. Their work is always on point even if sometimes it didn’t work as planned but we all fail at some points of our life so why not him and her ?
As soon as she placed the suitcase on the glass table in front her teammate, he started to laugh loudly while siping his glass of whiskey like nobody can stop them.
- I never doubted your skills, Fox. You rather look ravishing tonight.
A lazy smile formed on her lips as she just nod in contentment while grabbing a glass he offered her with a cocky smile.
- Thanks you , you don’t look bad yourself. But next time, try to not wear your glasses. You are too recognisable. she said while crossing her legs and scanning the room to search for the twins.
During the little conversation the two had about the mission, Tangerine and Lemon have succeded to enter the bar by forcing the entrance. Tangerine made his way through all the people taking a glance on the few asses that walked by him. Okay , he is on a mission but as long as he is doing his job can he not have some funny time ? The music blasts the walls and his eardrums, waking him up from his thoughts. Now that he was fully aware of the situation, his feet made their way toward any indications of the mysterious woman. Eyes darting like an hunter chasing his prey. His baby blue eyes crossed those transcendent of the woman he was looking for while murmuring in his beard some insults. His body stopped on its own when he saw that the woman with the long hair was approaching him with this so feline walk. It was too difficult to detach himself from it but still he could not distinguish her face precisely.
Her hips swayed vigourously as she said to her teammate to runaway while she is distracting the man some meters away from her. At this exact moment, when she was only one meter away from him, her bare back shown by her blissful red dress was facing the assassin. His instinct made him come to her and sticking his body to hers, his hot breath on her neck while she was clearly handling the situation into her grasp. The problem is that he cannot try to fight her or make a tantrum there, too much crowd it would be unnecessary to do some side kills, his brother reminded that to him few minutes ago.
- Where is the suitcase ?
His voice was rough but yet not that loud as he whispered into her sensitive ear as they were sticking to each other still not facing. Fox was made for this moment, her ass cheeks create some friction between her body and the fabric of the trousers he was wearing which made the man crazy as he was trying to keep calm.
- The suitcase is safe and so far away from you, dear.
Tangerine grabbed her hips with his big calloused hands making her cut her breath as a mad smile was plastered on her perfect lips. Their bodies move on the music, Staying Alive was explosing in the room as if it was meant to be the music for the situation they were in. His cologne was invading her nostrils as she was perfectly playing her role knowing it by feeling the bulge forming into the pant of her opponent. His hands were implanted on the red fabric covering her skin as he made his lips nearer to her ear.
- I think I didn’t make myself enough clear here, doll... You tell me where is the suitcase ... then ...
The assassin made her swing by keeping their closeness and giving back the cockiness she was giving to him. Her perfume was very distracting as he tried to remain composed while his left hand was going onto her neck. Slowly squeezing it, his thumb gently caressing the delicate area on her throat.
- ... we will be all happy and never seeing each other again.
- No. Her tone was firm, not even afraid of his gesture on her neck, it was rather annoyingly sexy.
- No ?
His hand was squeezing a little more her throat while she was doing some breathing shit knowing very well what she was actually doing. Her manucured fingers went on the sides of the man, giving it smooth caresses as if it was ephemeral.
- What makes you think I can’t kill you, doll ?
The tone of his voice is so smooth that it was similar to an erotic voice in some porns. But, again, Fox beat her opponent at his own game turning around to finally face him. He didn’t change a bit, apart that his pornstache is well-stocked giving him some dominant vibe. Which he is. She didn’t see him for a surpassingly lengthy time, the last time was in Lima when Tangerine left her for dead with a dangerous drug dealer after doing some shitty business. Never she thought about seeing him again, her gaze was fully into is making her way into his soul.
- ‘Cause you can’t, Tangerine. And you will stay there and never following me again. Understood ?
Red lips was all he remembered from the moment his two blue orbs noticed who she actually was. He remembered Lima, 3 years ago. Not even surprised he could find her facing him, he was one of the best assassin with Lemon that any independants could find. All of their past together flashed before his eyes as his ex partner make her way out with a godly devout manner.
Was it true ? Was she really here ? Lemon suddenly appeared next to him trying to follow what he was staring at, seeing clearly nothing. It was rarely usual to see his brother in a trance like that so his hand shook him a bit.
- Nothing downstairs ... What were you looking at ? Did you find her ?
His gaze was still in its trance trying to remain on earth but it was too hard to realised what happened just now. So, Tangerine stated what he couldn’t believe himself.
- It’s her.
- o...kay man ? Who ? I don’t want to disturb you but there is something going on in your pants. Articulated Lemon as the music is so loud, gesturing to the big bulge that his twin was bearing.
His gaze dimly looked down on his most precious part of his body, Tangerine was swallowing and arching an eyebrow while passing a nervous hand through his dark curly hair almost pulling it off himself.
- Get in the fucking car Lemon.
The smaller in terms of height took some steps back while giving his brother a confused look, well he was genuinely trying to understand the situation but at the time he was supposed to know Fox they weren’t as close as she was with Tangerine. Lemon had a good relationship with her for sure, they were even drinking buddies during missions but his twin and her were something more, he noticed it by the way they were obviously flirting and touching themselves “ innocently “ as both tend to say. It was 3 years ago so his memory is quite blurred about her. Tangerine walked at a hurry pace out of the nightclub following his brother few seconds later then adjusting himself with his hand.
- Well that is awkward ...
Hoping that his boner will be gone in a few, his entire self got in the car then closing his eyes with the back of his head on his seat as if he was trying to not blow up out of anger. Patience was lost on the side of Lemon who turned to the side to face him like he was waiting for something with arched eyebrow.
- So are you gonna tell me what’s going on and who is “ her “ ? He questionned using quoting marks.
- Well “ her “ is fucking “ Fox “ . And we are in so deep shit that we will not see the end of it because you know what ? She will shove bullets in our fucking assholes so far that our holes will be an endless galaxy.
Tangerine aggressively did quoting marks then to back up his remarks, he pointed to the hollow of his right hand with his left index finger just as assertively. He was right, Fox is not a woman to play with and to betray so easily. Now he was facing the consequences of being so reckless and his brother seems to be as concerned and panicked as him while looking in defeat in the void.
- Man. Ya know that she is literally , like , a man eater ? Thomas The Tank Engine wouldn’t risk any harmful situation with that woman. Especially now that she is opposing us in this mission.
- Oh yeah ?? As if I didn’t know that ! Tangerine lost it as he starts the car in a mechanical way with the goal in mind to go to their hotel but it was his twin who had reserved the room. So after several meters, he stops by pinching his lips between them. Lemon gave him a knowing look then getting his phone out of his right pocket to look at the online reservation.
- That’s what i thought.
- What’s the adress again ? Tangerine asked him passing the palm of his hand on his face to wake himself up a bit. The two brothers drove off to their hotel room to relax and finally have some sleep.
Fox was sliding in her bubble bath, a delicious strawberry scent occupies the bathroom as she was laughing at the situation she put herself. She knew that accepting this plan from her teammate was insane knowing her past with Tangerine, he knew a lot about it but that was also the purpose of the plan. Getting the twins out of this to get the job done. Their referent chose her to back him up as the man didn’t have a lot of chance and always fucked up when he’s alone. A cigarette was hanging at her lips, blowing out the smoke in the air and looking at the ceiling. This feeling was short before thinking about who she was facing again. Tangerine made his way to the big glassed window having a magnificient view of New York City in front of his eyes, a cigarette also between his two fingers and his free hand into the left pocket of his straight trousers.
- Fuck. They both said at the same time not aware of what is going to happen next.
What would you do when you meet an old partner again ? Face the consequences.
#tangerine#tangerine x reader#tangerine x you#bullet train#bullet train fic#tangerine fic#aaron taylor johnson#brad pitt#tangerine bullet train#lemon bullet train#bullet train imagine#tangerine x fem!reader
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Tokyo Drifting
Semi Eita
Warnings: none
In and out, that’s what I told myself when I walked through those doors. So how did I end up here, in the passenger seat of a pimped out Viper ACR with Japans most infamous female F1 racer, in the driver’s seat. She had one hand on the wheel and the other on the shifter. From where I sat, she was the most dangerously beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But let’s back up, we need to understand what led to this moment.
“Goshiki, I’m not so sure about this. How did you hear about this place?”
“One of my classmates has a sister who drifts in the races, she’s supposed to be really good. Please come in with me, you’re the only one who answered me-”
“-Because you said it was an emergency?! Of course I’m gonna answer you…” I crossed my arms, looking down at Goshiki, someone who once asked me for help talking to girls, now asking me to come with him to an underground race meet.
“Pretty please Semi-Semi? I promise we’ll be in and out and we’re already here. Please?” He clasped his hand together as if praying and looked up at me, putting on his best puppy dog face. I had to look away, otherwise I think I’d have a heart palpitation.
“Fine, but in and out. You promised.” He grinned at me and opened the door, pushing his way inside.
Loud was an understatement. The ground beneath my feet shook like a constant earthquake. The vibrant lights changed color every five seconds, and there were people wall to wall. I could barely keep an eye on my prodigy through the sea of bodies.The smell of smoke filled my lungs, a familiar smell that reminded me of the band. Getting through everyone was a task, but I managed. I could have sworn I saw some familiar faces but currently my priority was Goshiki, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him under my supervision. The party never seemed to end, it felt like I was trapped in an alternate reality, one where I was chasing something I’d never catch.
Everything came to a head as I emerged outside through what I can only assume was the back door, the fresh air hitting my lungs felt like an escape, my eyes no longer strained from harsh lighting. I looked out over the bottom level of a parking garage. Supercars from every continent seemed to find refuge here. It took me a minute but I found him geeking out with some other college aged kids. I assume this is where everyone had parked, but clearly it wasn’t just a party, this was a car meet. He was staring open mouthed at a gray, all American muscle car, a rarity in Japan.
“He must be yours.” A voice came from behind me. I turned, startled by the sudden proximity.
“Not- no. He’s not mine- I mean, he is, but not like- you know…” The girl smiled, sending my nerves into overdrive. She wore a formula one bomber jacket over a white tee, her eyes shining like glitter under the streetlights.
“Relax, I know a chaperone when I see one. That boy is in shock right now.” I looked back over at him, now moved onto the next car, a bright orange Bugatti.
“Yeah, he’s been wanting to get into all this for a while. He basically begged me to bring him.” I looked back over at her, a shiver running up my spine.
“What’s his name?”
“Uhh, It’s Goshiki, why-”
“Goshiki!” The boy whipped his head around looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Wanna take a ride in one of ‘em?” My eyes widened in surprise. There was no way I was letting that happen.
“What?! Really?!”
“No, no way. You’re not getting into a strangers car.”
“Oh come on, please?!” He came running over, excitement evident on his face.
“No,” I turned to the girl, who was now grinning ear to ear, “I’m sorry, but as his chaperone I can’t let him. Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if anything happened to him? I’m sorry, I can’t take that chance.” She just smiled at me.
“But she’s not a stranger Semi, don’t you recognize her? This is (y/n) (l/n), the F1 racer? She’s placed in every race since she’s started.”
“Goshiki, you know I don’t watch TV unless Ushijima’s playing.”
“My point is, she’s not just some random person off the street. Please!” I looked from him back to her. Truly I didn’t know who she was, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“Come on, Semi was it? If you don’t want him riding why don’t you try it first? You know, a test ride.” I narrowed my eyes at her, skeptical. “You can say no, but I can guarantee you I’m the safest driver here, you included.” I hesitated, multiple scenarios popping into my head.
“Only if we don’t break 150, I’m not risking my life so you can prove a point.”
“Done.”
And that’s how I ended up here, one hand on the safety handle and the other on the dash. Her music shook the car as she turned sharply, shifting gears as we moved.
“I thought I said nothing over 150?!” I shouted, my eyes never leaving her face.
“This is only 140!” She yelled back, only giving me a glance. My heart was beating out of my chest, but I wasn’t scared. This was new, exciting. She wasn’t lying when she said she was a safe driver. I knew this wasn’t the top speed, not in a viper, and especially not when the driver knows the ins and outs of her car.
“Can you go faster?” She looked over, disbelief evident on her face.
“Did you seriously just ask that!?” Another sharp turn and I’m leaning into her, able to get a clear view of her face. Time seemed to fly in slow motion. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, her hair flying in every direction around her. In this moment I knew, it wasn’t the car, it was the driver. And what a driver she was.
She floored it, the hum of her engine now a roar that reverberated off the buildings and into the night. The streetlights are now just a blur as I’m forced back into my seat, the breath knocked from my lungs as we hit a straightaway. I closed my eyes and let the wind cool me down. I could have stayed like that forever. But I didn’t, and it was over all too soon. She pulled into the lot and rolled up the windows, turning the music down to that of a whisper.
“Well, what do you think Semi? Do you feel I risked your life ‘to prove a point’?” I felt the heat rush to my face, embarrassment at my previous words eating away at me.
“Not by a long shot…”
“Good, cause I think you’d make a pretty good passenger prince.” I blinked as she shifted into park, handing me her phone. “Text yourself so I remember.” I typed in my number and sent a smiley face, handing it back to her as a people swarmed the car, Goshiki included.
“Semi did she do it? Did she go over 150?” He asked eagerly. I glanced over at her and received a wink before looking away.
“I’ll let you think on what you just asked me. Now lets go, I told your mom you’d be home by 11.”
“What?! But you said I could ride-”
“-I never said that, I said in and out, and it’s been longer than that. I’ll bring you back next time, that I promise.”
“Really?! You promise?” He held out his pinky finger, which I locked with mine.
“Promise.” He whooped and hollered all the way back to my own car, this time going around the house instead of through it. I shot a look back at (y/n), one she just returned with a wave of her phone as if saying ‘See you soon’.
#semi eita#semi eita x reader#semi x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#semi eita fluff#hq goshiki#hq imagines#hq#hq semi
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"Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you." please please please please for John x Sabrina?
It felt fitting for the snippet to be a continuation of this one from a while back.
Prompt from this post.
"What am I going to do with you?", John's tone revealed he was more amused than angry at the way Sabrina had dragged him underwater for a kiss when she had gotten fed up with his brother's voice and preaching.
As they stepped out of the Henbane and onto the shore, she muttered quietly, "You will figure something out, I'm sure."
In a couple of steps they reached Joseph and she smiled sickly sweet as she said aloud for everyone to hear, "I'm sorry. I think I slipped on the rocks, my head feels a bit strange.", and for full effect she stumbled forward a little, making John catch her.
How's that for a Cleansing, "Father"?
She could feel the Bliss taking over her system for real, but she was set to push through it, refusing to show actual weakness.
Joseph's eyes narrowed as he stared at Sabrina through his yellow glasses, smugness written all over his face at overlooking her "Baptism".
Mathias stood on the side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, barely containing his worry.
"Welcome to the family, my child.", Joseph finally announced, putting a hand on her shoulder. She stood unflinching, steeling her gaze despite her whole being wanting to step away from the touch.
His tone made her feel sick.
Only one person has the right to call me his child. And he's dead.
And no matter how much he tried, Joseph could never be even half the man Scott Donovan was.
But for now, if it meant Savannah would be safe, she'd play the part.
John cleared his throat, probably sensing how bad of an idea it would be if his brother remained too much longer in her presense.
"This one was the last Sinner for tonight, brother."
Rude, Jonathan.
Though she knew it was all an act, keeping his distance to protect her and Savannah, pretending she's not important in any way.
Joseph's stare finally moved away from Sabrina as he looked at his brother.
"You did well, John.", he paused before saying, "We need to talk."
The two walked away, the conversation too hushed for her to make anything out from it.
"You're with me, Sinner.", Mathias joined her then, taking hold of her arm and leading her to an Eden's Gate truck. The rest of the "Sinners" had already been escorted back to the Bunker, where Joseph believed she'd go as well.
Sabrina climbed in the back as Mathias took a seat behind the wheel, but didn't start the engine, instead both of them watched the Father parting ways with his brother before he entered another vehicle and left the Baptism spot, headed for his precious Compound.
It was then that John opened the door and sat down next to her, pulling her into his embrace swiftly and inhaling her scent as he buried his nose in her hair.
"You smell of Bliss.", he whispered.
"So do you."
"Thanks to you deciding I'm in a need of a Cleansing, too."
"My service is free of charge. No cult obligation."
Sabrina laughed as a shiver ran through her body thanks to her soaked from the cold waters hair and clothes, the fabric sticking unpleasantly to her skin.
John caught the reaction, his gaze darkening, as he muttered, "That white shirt was a bad idea."
She shook her head, "Your idea. "All black is not a good color for a Cleansing, Deputy.", you said.", she mimicked his tone before adding, "And I'm wearing a top underneath. Don't be dramatic."
"Still a bad idea. Mathias, pass me the jacket. And drive."
The man complied, silently watching the two in the rearview mirror before staring the truck as John covered Sabrina with the jacket, despite the fact he was just as soaked.
"You're going to freeze, John."
She felt bad for having pulled him in at that moment, no matter how funny it was when it had happened.
"What's your favorite line? Ah, "I'm fine." And I am, Deputy. Not my first time.", he retorted as he put a hand around her.
A giggle escaped her, "I knew it. Someone did try to drown you, didn't they? Mathias said "not again", too."
"Nothing of the sort has happened.", he tried to sound dimissive, nonchalant.
"Liar.", she said in his ear, "Your hair was wet then. Oh, I was right."
As Mathias drove to the ranch, she leaned her head on John's shoulder, still feeling dazed from the Bliss his men had dumped in heaps in the river.
The ride passed in a blur, the silence and vibrations of the truck must have made her drift off, because the next thing she heard was the door opening again before John gathered her in his arms.
"Good night, Mathias.", he called out and the truck sped off, leaving them in the driveway of the ranch.
"I can walk, you know.", she argued despite the fact she didn't feel very confident she'd be able to, when her eyes barely managed to remain open.
"I've got you. Staying true to our tradition and all that.", he whispered, his breath fanning her face before he placed a kiss on her forehead.
Sabrina sighed and wrapped an arm around his neck as he carried her over to the front entrance, "You weren't joking about the Bliss. Fuck."
"I'm… sorry. It was the only way.", his voice was conflicted.
"I know."
"Sooner or later, you'll understand why we're doing this.", he whispered, cautious not to wake Savannah up as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, carrying Sabrina to his bedroom.
"I doubt it.", she huffed as he left her to stand by the foot of the bed and turned to close the door, "But…I don't want to argue, John."
She grabbed the metal frame for support as the room spun around slightly and John was in front of her again, worry clouding his gaze.
"You're a lightweight. I- I didn't think it would be that bad."
"I'm fine.", she blinked, willing her head to be rid of the vertigo.
He groaned, "That word. The bane of my existence. You look like you're about to drop at my feet any second."
"Is this your discreet way of calling yourself drop-dead gorgeous or something, Seed?", she quirked an eyebrow.
"At least your humor is still intact.", he shook his head as he reached for her shirt.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of these clothes and into the shower, the sooner you wash it all off, the better."
The shirt fell to the floor, then he kneeled down, instructing her to hold onto his shoulders as he took off her boots, her jeans followed suit and she was down to her underwear and top as he rose back up.
"If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask… instead of throwing me a drowning.", she joked.
"Sabrina.", her muttered in a warning, taking a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry."
His eyes met hers, the sincerity visible in the blue depths, "I had to do this."
Sabrina erased the distance between them, grabbing his face and kissing him softly, whispering against his lips, "I know. We agreed to it."
"I'm going to shower.", she made a move towards the bathroom but his hand remained on her waist, holding her in place as his gaze ran over her.
"I said I'm helping. This is for your own good, okay? Last thing I need is for you to pass out on me."
"My head is a bit better, I can handle a shower.", she argued, ignoring the dizziness that still ruled over her body.
John's palm found her cheek, his thumb stroking her freckled skin as he said, "Let me take care of you. It will make me feel better."
He didn't wait for her response and led her to the bathroom and into the shower, turning on the water while he stood outside of the stall.
"Might as well join me, Seed.", she uttered out as pulled him under the stream by his shirt, her lips meeting his before she added, "Someone has to make sure I don't lose my balance."
#“all black is a no-no for a Cleansing”...#ty for the ask <3#oc: sabrina donovan#ship: the diviner and the baptist#john seed x sabrina donovan#wip: in hope of tomorrow#story prompt#writing prompts#dialogue prompt#wip stuff#fc5 deputy#far cry 5 oc#john seed x female deputy#ocs#john x sabrina#dialogue snippet#snippets#original characters#my ships#ship dynamics#ship#mygifs#ask prompt
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Rowaelin prompt: "Stop pretending you care"
*angst monster crashes in* BEEN A WHILE SINCE I VISITED
Word count: 1,275
CW: Miscarriage, grief
A/N: *hits "post," runs away*
Empty
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Who. The. Fuck. Did. He. Think. He. Was?!
Rowan had left her. Left her. Strode out of her life, slamming her door behind him with a filthy curse on his lips and a bladed glare in his forest-colored eyes, masking the soul-deep chasm of pain that the fight tore open between them.
She’d be fucking damned if she was the one to move towards him.
No, the only thing she'd find if she reached out to him, if she tried to bridge the rift that had split them apart, was regret.
It had barely been three months since...since it happened. Since Aelin woke up from a nap feeling jolts of pain slice through her abdomen and was rushed to the emergency room. Three months since that tense, fear-choked afternoon and evening when Rowan held her hand the whole damn time they were in the ER, then held her close to his chest as her OB, tears in her eyes, delivered the news.
Three months since they'd lost their baby.
Aelin's OB could offer no explanation for the miscarriage. Both Aelin and the baby had been perfectly healthy, following all the instructions and recommendations to the letter, and nothing from any of her appointments had indicated that there might be any chance of complications to the pregnancy. Because she was into the second trimester, only seventeen weeks, she couldn't have pseudo-labor induced, but had to be rushed into emergency surgery to make sure she was safe and healthy.
No words, no sounds, no thing was enough to describe the ocean of grief in her eyes when she was wheeled out of the room she and Rowan had spend the last several hours in, when her fingers slipped from his as the doctors wheeled her away to surgery. Nothing could properly communicate the broken emptiness in her face, in his face, when she woke from the anesthesia with his hand linked with hers, alone and empty in a sterile hospital bed.
Aelin hadn't spoken for days after she came home except to cry into Rowan's shoulder, the salty heat of her tears soaking his skin. And when she broke her silence, her voice raspy from disuse and choked with grief, the first word out of her mouth was why?
"Why, Rowan? What did we do wrong? What did I do wrong?"
He hadn't been able to answer.
"It hurts," she croaked, gripping his shoulders. "It hurts, Ro."
"I know," he whispered, his own voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry, my love."
~
Too soon, Rowan had to return to work, and he left her alone in her house, murmuring his reluctance into her hair. He hated to leave her like this, he wanted to stay with her, but he couldn't blatantly refuse his boss's orders to come back. Couldn't use any more of his time off before said boss got angry.
To Aelin, a broken shell of herself, it all sounded like excuses.
"Tell your boss to fuck off," she'd said, her eyes pleading with him to stay. "Tell her you're sick, tell her you have to quarantine, anything. I can't, Ro." She gulped. "I can't do this alone."
"Fireheart," he breathed, cupping her face, "you aren't alone. You have me at the press of a button, and you have everyone else--your parents, Lys, Aedion, Elide, our friends. You aren't alone, my love."
"I don't want anyone else," she croaked. "Just you."
"I can't," he choked out around the lump in his throat. "I can't lose my job, no matter how much I want to tell work to fuck off."
Aelin pulled back, pain and anger narrowing her eyes. "Coward."
"Fireheart--"
"See you this evening." She shut the door in his face and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her middle, over the still-tender scar on her abdomen. And cried silent, heavy tears, a tidal wave of emotion breaking over her.
Midafternoon, she'd called Rowan, thanking all things holy when he picked up rather than letting her go to voicemail. "A--Aelin?"
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered. "I'm--I'm hurting, Ro. I don't know what to do with myself when it all hits me."
"Oh, Aelin," he sighed, his voice a caress through the phone. "I forgive you, my Fireheart." A beat. "I know you're hurting, and if I'm being fully honest, I...I don't know what to do either."
"Don't think there's any answer," she murmured. "I love you, buzzard."
"Love you, Fireheart."
~
Slowly, as the weeks passed, Aelin had started going out of the house again, started to see her friends and family, started to figure out going back to work. Nothing was normal. Not even close. But... but the searing pain of losing her baby was beginning to dull, the edge fading from blazing grief into a gentler kind of mourning. Her body was healing, as was her soul.
And yet...she didn't know if Rowan was.
He'd grown more distant after the loss, throwing himself into his work as if to stop himself from thinking of the miscarriage, and it seemed that every time she tried to reach out, he brushed her aside or never fully answered her gentle probing. She told herself it was just his method of coping, that he would approach her when he was ready.
But as the weeks passed and he pulled further away, her empathy curdled into anger.
Until one night, she couldn't stand it anymore.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demanded, storming into the living room and yanking the folder out of his hands.
"Baby--"
"Don't 'baby' me, Rowan Whitethorn." Her voice was steel, the cold edge hiding her tears.
His jaw locked. "Nothing's 'wrong' with me, Aelin. Why the fuck can't you see that?"
"And that's the problem!" she yelled. "Rowan, we lost our baby! What kind of heartless, soulless asshole just fucking forgets about it after he goes back to work?!"
"I'm not fucking heartless," he spat, pushing himself up to his full height. "You have your way of processing and I have mine. And gods, Aelin, stop using me as an excuse not to go to your therapist."
Her eyes flashed with sparks. "Don't you fucking dare, Whitethorn. You don't get to throw that bullshit at me."
"Not bullshit if it's true," he fired back. "Lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you're only leaning on me because you're too damn scared to go see Yrene."
"Fuck you," she spat, tears brimming up in her eyes.
His laugh was bitter. "Isn't that what got us into this argument in the first place? Too many lines crossed too soon?"
The crack of her hand across his cheek was deafening in the sudden silence.
They stared at each other, insults and emotions battling for dominance in each of their gazes. Until Aelin, her whole body tense with the effort of not crying, pointed towards the door.
"Get out." No more than a whisper, the two words malevolent nonetheless.
"Aelin--"
"Get. Out."
"Fine," he growled, collecting his work bag and striding across to the door. "Don't bother calling."
The door slammed shut.
And Aelin sank to her knees, a wild sob clawing out of her throat, her grief an uncontrollable storm.
Hours later, all her tears drained, she stood, wincing at the aches that came from spending too long crouched on the floor. She went to her bathroom, locked the door, braced her hands on the sink, stared into the smooth glass of the mirror. Stared into the broken, dull eyes that stared back.
Grief had emptied her completely, left nothing but a shell behind.
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@nerdperson524
@claralady
@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
@morganofthewildfire
@rowanaelinn
@wesupremeginger
@story-scribbler
@nicolivesinbooks
@mackenzieclutt
@stardelia
@shanias-world
@mybloodrunsblue
@swankii-art-teacher
@wordsafterhours
@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks
@violet-mermaid7
@holdthefrickup
@goddess-aelin
@rowaelinismyotp
@dealfea
@irondork
@elentiyawhitethorn
@live-the-fangirl-life
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@chronicchthonic14
@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart
@sweet-but-stormy
@hanging-from-a-cliff
@jorjy-jo
@rowaelinrambling
@thegreyj
@silentquartz
@backtobl4ck
#my writing#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#rowaelin#definitely not fluff#nope not this time#AAANGST
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New Parts- The Wedding 5
The three of you were led to a table set up for you. Sun sat on your right and Moon on your left. Moon set a glass of water in front of you. Yo took small sips as a staff bot brought you your meal. It was not the pizza you ordered for the party. No this was better. Much better.
A plate of your favorite food was put in front of you. You looked out at the crowed getting your own food. A family friend gives you a thumbs up and mouths 'potluck'. Tears fill your eyes again and you sniffle.
Sun chuckles and wipes your tears "If you aren't careful sunshine you are going to turn into a raisin."
You open your mouth when a little wet floor bot wheels up to your table with a cardboard box from Etsy.
Moon takes the box and gasps "Sun! It's here!"
Sun tilts his head "It's here? What's here? ... wait... IT'S HERE?! FINALLY!"
Everyone turns their head at Sun's loud outburst. Moon shreds the box to reveal a small black velvet bag. He dumps three rings out onto his palm. They are made of silicone swirled with blue, yellow, and your favorite color. Tears fall more freely now. Your husbands look at each other.
Sun puts one ring on Moon. Moon puts a ring on you. And you put a ring on Sun. The room erupts in a fit of cheers. People walk up to you to see the rings in groups. Moon walks you through breathing exercises to help you fight tears.
As you finish eating Pat with a cam corder walks up to your table "Here they are! The happy couple! Any words?"
You sip your water "First off Thank you for coming Pat. I have never cried more in my damn life! This is the best day ever and I get to spend it with to of the best people in the world! I don't know where I'd be without them. I would have found different work that's for sure. You two are my world. And every day it's expanding and changing for the better!" You pull Moon into a rough kiss. Lips tangling together. Moon makes a surprised sound. You spin in your chair and Sun pulls you into a heated kiss before you can.
Pat laughs "Hey! Save it for the honeymoon Damn!"
Moon looks right into the camera "I am so happy everything worked out today. Everyone made this so special for our spouse Y/N. I can't wait to see what the rest of our lives bring us." Moon chuckles "I remember when we first met they were so disappointed. They shouted 'I was lied to! You aren't spooky looking at all! I was promised scary! Liars.' Sun and I were so confused."
You laugh "I was lied to! I'm still lied to! You aren't spooky at all."
Sun waves Pat over "I am so lucky to have two strong partners. Y/N was so so brave when the accident happened. When I saw them covered in... red stuff... I broke. I was so panicked I had to be temporarily shut down. Moon had to carry me back to the tower. He was so strong to get the help he needed." He sighs dreamily "Every day that goes by I fall more and more in love with the two of them. I-... I don't know what I would do without them. I thought I lost both of them once. Never again! Ever."
You face plant into Sun's arm and whine loudly "Sunny!"
Moon pulls Sun into a deep kiss trapping you between them. When he pulls away Pat leaves to go talk to more people.
Moon whispers above you "I am going to fuck the souls out of your bodies. Your insides are going to look like a Picasso by the time I'm done with the two of you."
You chuckle "Not if I rail you from behind first."
Sun huffs "Naughty people! Not now! Besides, we all know Moon and I are going to destroy you together. Sorry sunshine but you can't overpower us. It's impossible."
You chuckle darkly a wicked plan forming in your head. Sun and Moon chuckle along with you unaware. Soon it was time to cut the cake. The three of you stared at the cake unsure.
You pick the slicer up "How do we do this?"
Sun smiles "Well first you insert the slicer into the cake and move it downwards to make the first cut."
Moon pushes Sun "Dick. We cut it together and Sun and I feed you a bite together. Sun and I don't eat anyway."
Sun hums in the affirmative "Besides, we get our meal later. And I like my meals served nice, fresh, and wanting."
You gasp and flick a bit of frosting at Sun. In turn Sun cuts a slice. The same one you swiped from and flicks frosting back at you. He misses and hits Moon instead. Moon makes an indignant noise. Moon moves around you and tackles Sun to the floor. You keep the table steady and save the cake.
The whole room is staring at the three of you. Pat is recording everything. Bonnie and Roxy are laughing. Chica and Freddy trying to figure out if she should step in. Foxy is shaking his head with a grin. Your husbands are play fighting on the floor. And you are eating cake.
You point to the cake "This is super good!" You take another bite with a moan and point your fork at the crowd "You should get a piece."
You walk over to your boys who are laughing as they play. You sit down on them and they pause. You can see the moment they remember where they are and what they should be doing. The camera does too. You enjoy your piece of cake atop your hunky perch.
Moon turns his head around "Are you going to get up?"
You shake your head "Not done with cake yet."
Sun sighs "Well guess I'll rust here then." He goes limp and pretends to be dead with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
You stand up "Your tongue is touching the floor."
Sun looks down. Sure enough his tongue is laying on the dance floor. Sun shrieks loudly. He throws Moon off and runs to the nearest bathroom.
Moon picks himself off the floor "Do we really have to spend the rest of our life with him? He doesn't seem very smart."
You slap Moon on the arm "Moonpie! We love our sweet little Himbo!"
The rest of your night is filled with the three of you greeting people and dancing. Sun seems to enjoy dancing with younger people of your family and friends. Moon enjoys your elders. You know they are telling him terrible stories about you.
The Mini Music Men pile together into a humanoid shape and you do a sort of shuffle with them. Even DJMM has you dancing with his hand. It was a perfect night. And now? It's about to get even better up in the daycare tower.
#cry some more#sundrop x reader#moondrop x reader#fluff#suggestive talk#no smut it just gets a little racy
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find the word tag CCCXXIII
why. did I have a cup of oolong tea just because the pot was made? now I am more awake instead of my natural sleepy and I'll have to take a thing. at least my back seems to have calmed down a bit. it did a couple of spasmy things earlier that were not fun for me, but I should be okay since I still have another day off. @diphthongsfordays @josephinegerardywriter
ignore (dirt in the doing)
"Are you just another Jet, now? You go around picking fights because you’re mad at the world?”
Wait, hang on. What? That’s not- Jet doesn’t pick fights because he’s mad at something else. If he throws a punch at someone it’s because he wants to throw a punch at that person. Even in a random fight. He chooses his opponent, and then they’re his enemy. He’ll take them down. His anger at the world is another thing entirely.
Neon text seems to flash across his brain spelling “hypocrite!” but he chooses to ignore it.
wheel (micro story written by my friends and me)
Long ago in a space village there was a purple monkey. The monkey's name was Frederic Zebo II. He was the captain of the starship Zagoth. But his ship had no steering wheel. I can't describe what happened next. Just kidding, the ship crashed and everyone in it had a great bounce. They crawled out of the ship and saw a rubber duck army sergeant. This sergeant was the greatest duck in the force and an expert marksman. But the duck had lost his arms/wings in battle and was confined to a wheelchair. I wish social workers took care of him from henceforth on, but the government budget was slashed and he lived in solitude.
The End.
straight (the sleepy stash, 2022)
I like people that are unburied, because I can talk in regular tones and get straight to the point: hi, nice to meet you, don’t mind me founding your family. But the buried ones are not to be neglected, and I can love them as much as they let me and when they poke their heads above the soil I’ll smile bright as the sun.
And for things that are not people, I don’t mind either way, unless someone is shoveling back the dirt that I just took out and it’s a struggle to reach the treasure I’m seeking for not because it’s very hidden, but because someone is working against me.
But! Not all things should be unburied, and some of them are not meant to be mine. And that’s alright.
shout nah I don't like my options and I'm not opening something else
brave no no I don't like these either why is nobody brave
cover (the wushanju diaries - I love this found family so much)
The first week into his stay at Wushanju, Pangzi gifts him a journal.
“Xiaoge and I picked it out together,” Pangzi says proudly, holding it out toward Liu Sang with a grin. “He said the color suits you.”
Liu Sang takes the journal, inspecting the sage-dyed leather of the cover and the yellowed pages. They’re lined on one side and blank on the other. “He said that?”
“Don’t sound so skeptical. Xiaoge can talk when he wants to. I said we should get you a welcome home present, and then Xiaoge looked at me and I said, ‘yes, of course, I meant what I said, it’s a welcome home present because this was always your home and you just didn’t know it yet,’ and Xiaoge went and found this by himself. I wanted to get you the blue one, since it looked bright and happy, but Xiaoge said, ‘green for Liu Sang,’ and who am I to deny Xiaoge’s excellent judgment! So you better like it.”
glow (the sleepy stash, 2022)
do you only glow when I cover you up because you've kept it a secret for me? can't be. I know you glow when I'm not looking. but I like it. I like to be just one reason. I want you to glow for anything you feel. and if you feel me-
thank you.
sympathy (soaked-through, see-through, 2021)
Quench the rabid questions burning brands into my skin
And write the dissatisfaction on my gravestone for my next of kin
If it rains any harder I'll think the sky is full of sympathy
The clouds won't part tonight, so again, the moon won't speak to me
I'll dance while you can't see me and I'll roam the gloam forever
Curse this miserable weather
cook(strawberry & sugar, 2021)
Taehyun has a backpack that is so full it looks like it might just sink him down into the floor by wearing it. Beomgyu instantly offers him a glass of lemonade and Yeonjun refrains from scolding him because he remembers heavy backpacks.
Beomgyu talks a lot as a rule but after meeting Taehyun, Yeonjun thinks that he just never shuts up. even on the days when Beomgyu doesn’t work, he comes around, and now he brings Taehyun with him.
“Soobin, you should hire Taehyun. he’s good with numbers and he doesn’t give people free food. also he can cook.” Beomgyu is so serious that he isn’t even shouting.
smirk, smart, smell, smoke. BONUS: sincere, sour. @vellichor-virgo @druidx @nikkywrites @penspiration-writing @souliloquyyy @aalinaaaaaa @writingbyricochet @oh-no-another-idea OR ANYBODY
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A Teenage Kind of Love
Episode 2
(Sal)
I feel bad for him. He doesn't have anyone like I do. I think I feel so bad for him because I know how it feels to not have friends, To feel completely alone. As I walk out of the bathroom I spot a paper crumpled on the floor, in front of but not in the trash can. People I swear, it takes two seconds to clean up after yourself. I pick it up and un-crumple it as I walk. It's a letter. Even more interesting is its confession. My heart sinks as I read on. It's a heartfelt letter full of emotion from some boy, the only thing is it's to a boy. The writer feels he is sinning by having these thoughts. I wish I could help him. I stuff it in my backpack pocket and move on. It's lunchtime.
My table consists of ash chug larry maple and Todd. They are all talking amongst themselves when I sit next to larry.
Travis is sitting alone.
"Hey Sally," Larry exclaims, wrapping his left arm around my shoulders.
"Hi guys," I say and everyone continues eating and talking. All I can think about is Travis and that poor boy. They both deserve so much better. The lunch bell rings and then the 5th and 6th-period bells, but I can't help thinking about them.
As I and larry climb onto the bus I'm in a daze. Then Larry punches my arm.
"Ow dude!" I exclaim
"Ugh earth to sally face," he says
"Did you hear what I said?" I sway my head no and he rolls his eyes.
"My moms getting a new car today and she wants me to go with her so I can drive her old car back" he pauses "AND SHE SAID I GET HER OLD ONE" he screams in a voice filled with excitement. My face lights up. No more bus rides or asking for dad or Lisa to drive us somewhere, we are truly independent.
"That's great Larry, are you gonna drive us to school?" he looks at me like I shouldn't even have asked the question.
"Of course, I am dude, no more bus rides that take an hour when we only live a 30-minute walk from the school." We got off the bus and his mom is already waiting in the apartment parking lot for him. We wave bye and I head inside.
(Travis)
The car ride home is silent for the first few minutes then my father says.
"Your mother's funeral is this Sunday," anger fills my body from head to toe and I roll my eyes.
"And how are we saying she died?" his jaw clenches and his grip on the steering wheel tightens.
"She fell down the stairs when no one was home, remember!?!" he asks.
"No" I reply knowing I'm in for it once we get home. The rest of the ride is deafeningly silent.
Once we get in the door he screams.
"I DON'T KNOW WHERE I WENT WRONG WITH YOU!" he screams backhanding me across the face, I stumble back the pain burning my face as tears swell in my eyes.
"YOU ARE BEING SO DISRESPECTFUL YOUNG MAN" he screams pushing me to the floor and then kicking me in the stomach. I look up and he's red with anger, I can't take it anymore.
"SO WHAT?" I scream "SO FUCKING WHAT? I'M ALMOST AN ADULT DAD YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE MUCH LONGER!" I yell. He looks like I offended him.
Then everything goes black.
I woke up on my bed. Everything is fuzzy. Then I feel pain rush to my abdomen. I lift my shirt wincing when It touches my skin. The word "disrespectful" is carved into my skin just below my ribs. My stomach itself is beginning to purple. I touched my eye to make sure he didn't re-blacken my eye. It's fine. I carefully head downstairs still dizzy, once I reach the bottom I grab the bandages from the cabinet and patch myself up. Putting gauze on my cut, wrapping tape around my abdominal to secure it. My father walks by as I'm washing my hands.
"I'm inviting a friend over to help us with dinner" he says completely ignoring what had happened to me. A few minutes later there's a knock on the door. After he opens the door a young woman walks in thanking him for having her over. My heart sinks. She has long blonde hair with lanky limbs and sunken eyes.
She looks just like my mother.
One thing is different though, She is full of life from head to toe. Her face is full of color and smiling. Just like my mother used to be, but She hadn't been like that for a long time.
"Thank you for inviting me, father Phelps,'' she says, setting her bag on the counter.
"No thank you, we've really been needing some help with cooking" he paused and called me Kenneth" he smiles and she nods her head.
"Oh hello Travis!" she exclaims.
"Hello, Alyssa," I say, then excusing myself to go do homework in my room. She was a girl from church. She was in my moms women's group, she had also recently moved from my mom's youth group to the adult womens group. I think they were very close as she was there when she was baptized, all her important life events and lastly her moving up ceremony when she graduated high school. She was only 3 years senior to me. I hear giggling and laughing downstairs an hour later there's a knock on my door. Alyssa walks in.
"Travis dinner is ready" she smiles, I get up and follow her out the door and downstairs to my father serving our plates. Mostly they talk to each other occasionally asking me about school and such. I'm mostly out of it in my own world. After she leaves my father turns to me.
"What do you think?" he says smiling and clasping his hands.
"She's nice" I say plainly, turning away from him.
"Good because she's going to replace your mother," he says walking away. I don't know if I want to cry, scream, or both.
"I'm going for a drive," I say quickly, grabbing the keys running out the door before he says anything. I have my driver's license and I've had it since the day I turned 16 but my dad drives me to school every day to work because it "saves money and time".
The cool fall air feels nice in my hair as I speed down the road. No one is on the road since it's late. I find my way driving to Sally faces apartment building, I Park the car and just sit out front not going in. I have a pounding headache and begin to cry. I can't help how I feel but sometimes I feel like it's my fault. It's my fault I'm different, my fault I'm like this.
It's silent for a few minutes until I see Larry and a woman who must be his mother dance walking through the parking lot. Shit. I slide down in my seat trying to hide but as they pass me Larry sees me and walks over knocking on the window.
"Travis? What are you doing here" he asks. Shit-shit shit shit.
"Ugh I was just going on an um on a drive and I got really tired and ugh stopped to take a break for a second and this was um the closest parking lot" I say stuttering over all my words.
"Want me and my mom to drive you home," he asks.
"Ugh yeah no thanks I'm fine," I say before quickly starting the car and driving away.
Smooth Travis smooth. I can't help but laugh.
Once I get home my dad is on the couch, arms crossed.
"Go upstairs Travis" he demands. I have no problem with this so I happily run upstairs and jump into my bed, soon drifting off to sleep.
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